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signalburst · 7 months ago

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Shōgun Historical Shallow-Dive: the Final Part - The Samurai Were Assholes, When 'Accuracy' Isn't Accurate, Beautiful Art, and Where to From Here

Final part. There is an enormous cancer attached to the samurai mythos and James Clavell's orientalism that I need to address. Well, I want to, anyway. In acknowledging how great the 2024 adaptation of Shōgun is, it's important to engage with the fact that it's fiction, and that much of its marketed authenticity is fake. That doesn't take away from it being an excellent work of fiction, but it is a very important distinction to me.

If you want to engage with the cool 'honourable men with swords' trope without thinking any deeper, navigate away now. Beyond here, there are monsters - literal and figurative. If you're interested in how different forms of media are used to manufacture consent and shape national identity, please bear with me.

I think the makers of 2024's Shōgun have done a fantastic job. But there is one underlying problem they never fully wrestled with. It's one that Hiroyuki Sanada, the leading man and face of the production team, is enthusiastically supportive of. And with the recent announcement of Season 2, it's likely to return. You may disagree, but to me, ignoring this dishonours the millions of people who were killed or brutalised by either the samurai class, or people in the 20th century inspired by a constructed idea of them.

Why are we drawn to the samurai?

A pretty badly sourced, but wildly popular history podcast contends that 'The Japanese are just like everybody else, only more so.' I saw a post on here that tried to make the assertion that the show's John Blackthorne would have been exposed to as much violence as he saw in Japan, and wouldn't have found it abnormal.

This is incorrect. Obviously 16th and 17th century Europe were violent places, but they contained violence familiar to Europeans through their cultural lens. Why am I confidently asserting this? We have hundreds of letters, journals and reports from Spaniards, Portuguese, Dutch and English expressing absolute horror about what they encountered. Testing swords on peasants was becoming so common that it would eventually become the law of the land. Crucifixion was enacted as a punishment for Christians - first by the Taiko, then by the Tokugawa shogunate - for irony's sake.

Before the end of the feudal period, battles would end with the taking of heads for washing and display. Depending on who was viewing them, this was either to honour them, or to gloat: 'I'm alive, you're dead.' These things were ritualised to the point of being codified when real-life Toranaga took control. Seppuku started as a cultural meme and ended up being the enforced punishment for any minor mistake for the 260 years the ruling samurai class acted as the nation's bureaucracy. It got more and more ritualised and flowery the more it got divorced from its origin: men being ordered by other men to kill themselves during a period of chaotic warfare. I've read accounts of samurai 'warriors' during the Edo period committing seppuku for being late for work. Not life-and-death warrior work - after Sekigahara, they were just book-keepers. They had desk jobs.

Since Europe's contact with Japan, the samurai myth has fascinated and appalled in equal measure. As time has gone on, the fascination has gone up and the horror has been dialled down. This is not an accident. This isn't just a change in the rest of the world's perception of the samurai. This is the result of approximately 120 years of Japanese government policies. Successive governments - nationalist, military authoritarian, and post-war democratic - began to lionize the samurai as the perfect warrior ideal, and sanitize the history of their origin and their heydey (the period Shōgun covers). It erases the fact that almost all of the fighting of the glorious samurai Sengoku Jidai was done by peasant ashigaru (levies), who had no choice.

It is important to never forget why this was done initially: to form an imagined-historical ideal of a fighting culture. An imagined fighting culture that Japanese invasion forces could emulate to take colonies and subdue foreign populations in WWI, and, much more brutally, in WWII. James Clavell came into contact with it as a Japanese Prisoner of War.

He just didn't have access to the long view, or he didn't care.

The Original Novel - How One Ayn Rand Fan Introduced Japan to America

There's a reason why 1975's Shogun novel contains so many historical anachronisms. James Clavell bought into a bunch of state-sanctioned lies, unachored in history, about the warring states period, the concept of bushido (manufactured after the samurai had stopped fighting), and the samurai class's role in Japanese history.

For the novel, I could go into great depth, but there are three things that stand out.

Never let the truth get in the way of a good story. He's a novelist, and he did what he liked. But Clavell's novel was groundbreaking in the 70's because it was sold as a lightly-fictionalised history of Japan. The unfortunate fact is the official version that was being taught at the time (and now) is horseshit, and used for far-right wing authoritarian/nationalist political projects. The Three Unifiers and the 'honour of the samurai' magnates at the time is a neat package to tell kids and adults, but it was manufactured by an early-20th century Japanese Imperial Government trying to harness nationalism for building up a war-ready population. Any slightly critical reading of the primary sources shows the samurai to be just like any ruling class - brutal, venal, self-interested, and horrifically cruel. Even to their contemporary warrior elites in Korea and China.

Fake history as propraganda. Clavell swallowed and regurgitated the 'death before dishonour', 'loyalty to the cause above all else', 'it's all for the Realm' messages that were deployed to justify Imperial Japanese Army Class-A war crimes during the war in the Pacific and the Creation of the Greater East Asian Co-Properity Sphere. This retroactive samurai ethos was used in the late Meiji restoration and early 20th century nationalist-military governments to radicalise young Japanese men into being willing to die for nothing, and kill without restraint. The best book on this is An Introduction to Japanese Society by Sugimoto Yoshio, but there is a vast corpus of scholarship to back it up.

Clavell's orientalism strays into outright racism. Despite the novel Shōgun undercutting John Blackthorne as a white savior in its final pages - showing him as just a pawn in the game - Clavell's politics come into play in every Asia Saga novel. A white man dominates an Asian culture through the power of capitalism. This is orthagonal to points 1 and 2, but Clavell was a devotee of Ayn Rand. There's a reason his protagonists all appear cut from the same cloth. They thrust their way into an unfamiliar society, they use their knowledge of trade and mercantilism to heroically save the day, they are remarked upon by the Asian characters as braver and stronger, and they are irresistible to the - mostly simpering, extremely submissive - caricatures of Asian women in his novels. Call it a product of its times or a product of Clavell's beliefs, I still find it repulsive. Clavell invents (nearly from whole cloth, actually) the idea that samurai find money repulsive and distasteful, and his Blackthorne shows them the power of commerce and markets. Plus there are numerous other stereotypes (Blackthorne's massive dick! Japanese men have tiny penises! Everyone gets naked and bathes together because they're so sexually free! White guys are automatically cool over there!) that have fuelled the fantasies of generations of non-Japanese men, usually white: Clavell's primary audience of 'dad history' buffs.

2024's Shōgun, as a television adaptation, did a far better job in almost every respect

But the show did much better, right? Yes. Unquestionably. It was an incredible achievement in bringing forward a tired, stereotypical story to add new themes of cultural encounter, questioning one's place in the broader world, and killing your ego. In many ways, the show was the antithesis to Clavell's thesis.

It drastically reigned in the anachronistic, ahistorical referencees to 'bushido' and 'samurai honor', and showed the ruling class of Japan in 1600 much more accurately. John Blackthorne (William Adams) was shown to be an extraordinary person, but he wasn't central to the outcome of the Eastern Army-Western Army civil war. There aren't scenes of him being the best lover every woman he encounters in Japan has ever had (if you haven't read the book, this is not an exaggeration). He doesn't teach Japanese warriors how to use matchlock rifles, which they had been doing for two hundred years. He doesn't change the outcome of enormous events with his thrusting, self-confident individualism. In 2024's Shōgun, Blackthorne is much like his historical counterpart. He was there for fascinating events, but not central. He wasn't teaching Japanese people basic concepts like how to make money or how to make war.

On fake history - the manufactured samurai mythos - it improved on the novel, but didn't overcome the central problems. In many ways, I can't blame the showrunners. Many of the central lies (and they are deliberate lies) constructed around the concept of samurai are hallmarks of the genre. But it's still important to me to notice when it's happening - even while enjoying some of the tropes - without passively accepting it.

'Authenticity' to a precisely manufactured story, not to history

There's a core problem surrounding the promotion and manufactured discussion surrounding 2024's Shōgun. I think it's a disconnect between the creative and marketing teams, but it came up again and again in advertising and promotion for the show: 'It's authentic. It's as real as possible.'

I've only seen this brought up in one article, Shōgun Has a Japanese-Superiority Complex, by Ryu Spaeth:

'The show also valorizes a supreme military power that is tempered by the pursuit of beauty and the highest of cultures, as if that might be a formula for peace. Shōgun displays these two extremes of the Japanese self, the savagery and the refinement, but seems wholly unaware that there may be a connection between them, that the exquisite sensibility Japan is famous for may flow from, and be a mask for, its many uses of atrocious domination.'

Here we come to authenticity.

'The publicity surrounding the series has focused on its fidelity to authenticity: multiple rounds of translation to give the dialogue a “classical” feel; fastidious attention to how katana swords should be slung, how women of the nobility should fold their knees when they sit, how kimonos should be colored and styled; and, crucially, a decentralization of the narrative so that it’s not dominated by the character John Blackthorne.'

It's undeniable that the 2024 production spent enormous amounts of energy on authenticity. But authenticity to what? To traditional depictions of samurai in Japanese media, not to history itself. The experts hired for gestures, movement, costumes, buildings, and every other aspect of the show were experts with decades in experience making Japanese historical dramas 'look right', not experts in Japanese history. But this appeal to 'Japanese authenticity' was made in almost every piece of promotional material.

The show had only one historical advisor on staff, and he was Dutch. The numerous Japanese consultants, experts and specialists brought on board (talked about at length in the show's marketing and behind the scenes) were there to assist with making an accurate Japanese jidaigeki. It's the difference between hiring an experienced BBC period drama consultant, and a historian specialising in the Regency. One knows how to make things look 'right' to a British audience. The other knows what actually happened.

That's fine, but a critical viewing of the show needs to engage with this. It's a stylistically accurate Japanese period drama. It is not an accurate telling of Japanese history around the unification of Japan. If it was, the horses would be the size of ponies, there would be far more malnourished and brutalised peasants, the word samurai would have far less importance as it wasn't yet a rigidly enforced caste, seppuku wouldn't yet be ritualised and performed with as much frequency, and Toranaga - Tokugawa - would be a famously corpulently obese man, pounding the saddle of his horse in frustration at minor setbacks, as he was in history.

The noble picture of restraint, patience, refinement and honour presented by Hiroyuki Sanada as Toranaga/Tokugawa is historical sanitation at its most extreme. Despite being Sanada's personal hero, Tokugawa Ieyasu was a brutal warlord (even for the standards of the time), and he committed acts of horrific cruelty. He ordered many more after gaining ultimate power. Think a miniseries about the Founding Fathers of the United States that doesn't touch upon slavery - I'm sure there have been plenty.

The final myth that 2024's Shōgun leaves us with is that it took a man like Toranaga - Tokugawa Ieyasu - to bring peace to a land ripped assunder by chaos. This plays into 19th century notions of Great Man History, and is a neat story, but the consensus amongst historians is if it wasn't Tokugawa, it would have been some other cunt. In many cases, it very nearly was. His success was historical contingency, not 5D chess.

So how did this image get manufactured, to the point where the Japanese populace - by and large - believes it to be true? Very long story short: after a period of rapid modernisation, Japan embraced nationalism in the late 19th century. It was all the rage. Nationalism depends on a glorified past. The samurai (recently the pariahs of Japanese history) were repurposed as Japan's unique warrior heroes, and woven into state education. This was especially heated in the 1920s and 30s in the lead up to the invasion of Manchuria and Japan's war of aggression in the Pacific. Nationalism + militarism = the modern Japanese samurai myth, to prepare men to obey orders unquestioningly from a military dictatorship.

This persists in the postwar period. Every year since 1963, Japan's state broadcaster NHK commissions a historical drama - a Taiga Drama, where many of this show's actors got their starts - that manufactures and re-enforces the idea of samurai as noble, artful, honourable people. Read a book - read a Wikipedia article! - and you'll see that most of it stems from Tokugawa-shogunate era self-propaganda. It's much like the European re-interpretation of chivalry. In Europe's case, chivalry in actual history was a set of guidelines that allowed for the sanctioned mass-rape and murder of civilians, with a side of rules regarding the ransoming of nobles in scorched-earth military campaigns. In Japan's case, historical figures that regularly backstabbed each other, tortured rival warriors and their lessers, and inflicted horrific casualties on the peasants that they owned (we have a term for that) are cast as noble, honourable, dedicated servants of the Empire.

Why does this matter to me? Samurai movies and TV shows are just media, after all. The issue, for me, is that the actors, the producers - including Hiroyuki Sanada - passionately extoll 'accuracy' as if they genuinely believe they're telling history. They talk emotionally about bushido and its special place in Japanese society.

But the entire concept of bushido is a retroactive, post-conflict, samurai construction. Bushio is bullshit. Despite being spoken of as the central tenet of 2024's Shōgun by actors like Hiroyuki Sanada, Tadanobu Asano, and Tokuma Nishioka, it simply didn't exist at the time. It was made up after the advent of modern nationalism.

It was used to justify horrendous acts during the late Edo period, the Meiji restoration, and the years leading up to the conclusion of Japan's war of aggression in the Pacific. It's still used now by Japan's primarily right-wing government to deny war crimes and justify the horrors unleashed on Asia and the Pacific during World War II as some kind of noble warrior crusade. If you ever want your stomach turned, visit the museum attached to Yasukuni Shrine. It's a theme park dedicated to war crimes denial, linked intimately to Japan's imagined warrior past. Whether or not the production staff, cast, and marketing team of 2024's Shōgun knew they were engaging with a long line of ahistorical bullshit is unknown, but it is important.

It's also important to acknowledge that, having listened to many interviews with Rachel Kondo and Justin Marks, they were acutely aware that they weren't Japanese, to claim to be telling an authentically Japanese story would be wrong, and that all they could do was do their best to make an engaging work that plays on ideas of cultural encounter and letting go. I think the 'authenticity!' thing is mostly marketing, and judicious editing of what the creators and writers actually said in interviews.

So... you hate the show, then? What the hell is this all about?

No, I love the show. It's beautiful. But it's a beautiful artwork.

Just as the noh theatre in the show was a twisting of events within the show, so are all works of fiction that take inspiration from history. Some do it better than others. And on balance, in the show, Shōgun did it better than most. But so much of the marketing and the discussion of this adaptation has been on its accuracy. This has been by design - it was the strategy Disney adopted to market the show and give it a unique viewing proposition.

'This time, Shōgun is authentic!*

*an authentic Japanese period drama, but we won't mention that part.

And audiences have conflated that with what actually happened, as opposed to accuracy to a particular form of Japanese propaganda that has been honed over a century. This difference is crucial.

It doesn't detract from my enjoyment of it. Where I view James Clavell's novel as a horrid remnant of an orientalist, racist past, I believe the showrunners of 2024's Shōgun have updated that story to put Japanese characters front and centre, to decentralise the white protagonist to a more accurate place of observation and interest, and do their best to make a compelling subversion of the 'stranger in a strange land' tale.

But I don't want anyone who reads my words or has followed this series to think that the samurai were better than the armed thugs of any society. They weren't more noble, they weren't more honourable, they weren't more restrained. They just had 260 years in which they worked desk-jobs while wearing two swords to write stories about how glorious the good old days were, and how great people were.

Well... that's a bleak note to end on. Where to from here?

There are beautiful works of fiction that engage much closer with the actual truth of the samurai class that I'd recommend. One even stars Hiroyuki Sanada, and is (I think) his finest role.

I'd really encourage anyone who enjoyed Shōgun to check out The Twilight Samurai. That was the reality for the vast majority of post-Sekigahara samurai

For something closer to the period that Shogun is set, the best film is Seppuku (Hara-Kiri in English releases). It is a post-war Japanese film that engages both with the reality of samurai rule, and, through its central themes, how that created mythos was used to radicalise millions of Japanese into senseless death during the war. It is the best possible response to a romanticisation of a brutal, hateful period of history, dominated by cruel men who put power first, every single time.

I want to end this series, if I can, with hope. I hope that reading the novel or watching the 1980 show or the 2024 show has ignited in people an interest in Japanese culture, or society, or history. But don't let that be an end. Go further. There are so many things that aren't whitewashed warlords nobly killing - the social history of Japan is amazing, as is the women's history. A great book for getting an introduction to this is The Japanese: A History in 20 Lives.

And outside of that, there are so many beautiful Japanese movies and shows that don't deal with glorified violence and death. In fact, it makes up the vast majority of Japanese media! Who would have thought! Your Name was the first major work of art to bridge some of the cultural animosity between China and Japan stemming from WW2, and is a goofy time travel love story. Perfect Days is a beautiful movie about the simple joy of living, and it's about the most Tokyo story you can get.

Please go out, read more, watch more. If you can, try and find your way to Japan. It's one of the most beautiful places on earth. The people are kind, the food is delicious, and the culture is very welcoming to foreigners.

2024's Shōgun was great, but please don't let that be the end. Let it be the beginning, and I hope it serves as a gateway for you.

And I hope our little fandom on here remembers this show as a special time, where we came together to talk about something we loved. I'll miss you all.

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quitealotofsodapop · 6 months ago

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Well, that saves them a trip to FFM, Uwkong is right there with them! Problem is getting him to actually go fight the Demon Bull King is a little trickier. Who gonna take care of MK while he's gone!? What if Wukong accidentally destroys Pigsy's Noodles or hurts them during his fight!? Wukong isn't exactly known for being able to take down enemies without casualties or property damage!

And that doesn't even get into the co plicatwd matter of that being Wukong's actualnolder brother out there and the amount of guild he had having been forced to seal him away the first time, much less being expected to do it a second.

MK also grabbed the staff again and refuses to let go.

prev.

Wukong is panicking hard, cus DBK's sealing was supposed to be his *last* big fight. He officially hung up his golden armour when MK came into his life.

Pigsy appreciates Wukong's cautiousness on the matter; especially the parts on who takes care of MK + what if the restaurant gets demolished in the fight? He honestly expected the Monkey King to be more reckless, but clearly he's matured since his Journey-ing days.

Tang is pouting that he won't see the Monkey King is his legendary glory, and this sparks off a bit of an argument between the adults and Mei (who believes that DBK needs to be taken down). Sandy is trying his best to mediate the situation when they all notice that *someone* is missing.

During their argument, MK decides to just Leave and hope for the best.

Due to the chaotic nature of MK grabbing the Staff and Mei grabbing him and speeding away on her bike before the Demon Bull family could see, DBK didn't actually get a good look at the Little Thieves before they escaped.

When DBK finally sees up close who he's beefing with he's... less than impressed.

DBK, disgusted: "Has Sun Wukong become so cowardly as to elect a mere calf to fight for him!? MK: "Hey! My baba isn't a coward!" >:( DBK, shocked: "Sun Wukong... is your father?" MK: "Yeah! He's the strongest baba ever!" Red Son, still in fight-mode: "I disagree!" MK, turns and starts swinging: "I disagree with your face!" Red Son, dodging: "That doesn't make any sense!" DBK: "ENOUGH!! I do not care who disagrees with whom! What I do care about is seeing my younger brother once more!" MK, remembering: "Oh yeah!! You and baba were brothers during the war! He told me all about you and Princess Iron Fan, and how you fell in love, and how you had Red Boy and-" (*continues rambling*) DBK & PIF: (*turn their attention to one another*) PIF: "He's certainly Wukong's child..." DBK: "Has my xiandi sent his child ahead to free me to make up for the mistakes of the past? Was my resurrection poorly timed?" PIF: "He literally fell onto our son as he managed to lift the Staff, I wouldn't be surprised if Wukong and his child have been waiting to greet us." DBK: "We must ask." DBK: (*turns back to MK, who's already gotten into another argument with Red Son and is biting him*) DBK: "Child, where is your father now?" MK, stops biting: "Umm... I left him at Pigsy's." DBK: "Left him!? You mean you went to confront me without his permission?" MK, sheepish: "He didn't want me to go in case I got hurt..." DBK & PIF: (*sharing another look*) "He's become afraid of me..." "Only afraid that you may wish his child harm." "That hurts more than any cudgel to my skull..." (*Pigsy's food truck finally appears*) Wukong, bursting out the side with his armour half-fastened: "TIME OUT!!! NOBODY MOVE! I did not give Xiaotian permission to fight! Now let's calm down and- nobody's fighting? What gives?" DBK: "I have no intentions to fight your child, xiandi." Wukong, sigh of relief: "Phew! That's one BIG worry dealt with! Now comes the matter of grounding my son till he's a hundred!" (*turns to MK*) "Young man, I TOLD you not to go running off with that Staff! It's a weapon, not a foam sword! Just wait until your aunts and uncles here about this!" MK: "Aww man!!" Tang & Mei, disappointed: "So we aren't going to see The Monkey King and DBK fight?" "Boo!"

Fortunately as it turns out, DBK is far more interested in learning how his little bro became a dad than actually fighting. Wukong and the rest of the adults decide to sit down for a long overdue talk while their kids get acquainted (i.e. MK and Mei both arguing with Red Son for being so rude and chasing them earlier).

PIgsy, Tang, and Sandy feel a little awkward being there, but clearly the Demon Bull Couple think they belong. Tang is especially delighted to be sitting and having tea (Sandy provided) with THE Monkey King and THE Demon Bull King and Iron Fan Princess!!

MK is forced to put the Staff away unless absolutely necessary, the monkey cub pouting all the while.

#lmk aus #lmk mk #qi xiaotian #sun wukong #dad sun wukong #lmk dbk #lmk demon bull king #lmk red son #lmk pif #lmk princess iron fan #lmk demon bull family #lmk mei #long xiaojiao #lmk tang #lmk pigsy #lmk sandy #lmk #lego monkie kid #marbled stone egg au

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hyacinthusmemorial · 3 months ago

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Thinking about how the Greeks conquered the Trojans, who went and became the Romans, who conquered the Greeks. I reiterate, Troy is a Revenge Story in my head. Apollo and Achilles gives the Punisher.

You killed us, but we killed you back. You killed my son, but I took everything from you and then I killed you back.

Someone said the Iliad is a love story between Apollo and Troy, and I agree. A revenge story always has a degree of love to it. Something loved is lost, and the person who stole it now loses it too. I think Revenge is one of the finest returns of Love: "I loved you so much, they took you, but don't worry, love, I'll make them pay for it."

But, also, Powerful illustration in war leads to war leads to war leads to war, and I think we may be fighting the same war they were fighting three or four thousand years ago, but the faces and names have changed because all the conflicts we have to day we can trace them back thousands of years and nothing ever changes. Our swords get bigger, our horses are made of metal, and there are still a million cassandra's saying don't do it, you'll die and we still f*cking do it because its war--and we must because we're human and we love.

The Greeks understood--the heart of war is Love. War is Revenge on a great scale.

No country goes to war because of OIL. The politicians may. But, by gods the people do it for LOVE. Love of Country, Love of Kin, Love of Strangers.

Early Christian authors said there will always be war because of lust, but I disagree. There will always be war because of LOVE.

#trojan war #the iliad #apollo #greek mythology #thoughts #israel #gaza #there is no thing as a just war #ukraine #russia

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prezaki · 11 months ago

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Marianne's Past

I went and read the Marianne vi Britannia chapter from Mamoru Iwasa's "Knights of the Round" short story anthology that was released as a bonus volume to his Code Geass R2 novel series.

I am 80% sure that this image that is often seen floating around online was made to promote this specific short story (or maybe accompany a serialized release?), but the illustration itself is not included in the tankobon release.

I'll provide summary of the short here here, but please be aware I am reading with machine TL and there may be errors even despite the best of my double-checking. If you want these details for, idk, academic reasons please go to the source text first!

Anyway this story rules, here it is. Italics mark direct quotes.

We start off strong with Charles thinking "I had no reservations about wasting my own life." Standing in the middle of a battlefield, he laments that Britannia is a dying country structured around a bloodthirsty elite. No dreams, no hope.

"Born into such a world, why would you desperately try and such a small thing as your own life?" he thinks, but then Marianne's voice cuts through to him. Marianne waltzes into the room where Charles stands surrounded by soldiers pointing guns at him. Injured, in her bloodstained white uniform, she fights her way through to him with unbelievable competence and elegance. She beheads all the men as the narration describes the beautiful glisten of her sword and the flow of her hair.

Marianne, the Knight of Six at this point, sheathes her sword and bends the knee before Charles, in the middle of corpses and with both of them splattered over and over in blood.

"I sincerely apologize for any trouble I've caused you by being late," she says.

Marianne tells Charles to evacuate, but he remains stoic and only looks at her arm, which is rendered unmoving by her injury.

"That wound. You've killed, Knight of Six. You've killed the Empire's most powerful knight, the Knight of One."

Only he would have been able to hurt her this badly, Charles reasons.

The Knight of One turns out to be the person who staged this rebellion in the first place and Marianne did indeed kill him before coming to find Charles.

We learn that Charles' reign is being questioned by conservatives because he was such a distant candidate for the throne originally and ascended mostly due to the past emperor's insistence.

"There is external trouble, and the internal anxieties are becoming more and more serious. This a country on the verge of ruin. Don't you agree? Knight of Six," says Charles who is feeling talkative.

Marianne disagrees. After all, she's here and so is Waldstein, still Knight of Five at that time. They won't let it come to that.

"Then, will you come to my side, Marianne?" It's the first time he's ever called her by name and not title and she blushes.

(Here we briefly learn Marianne had a normal military career before being promoted to the Knights of the Round.)

Before she can ask what he means, Marianne realizes the truth for herself and blushes harder. Through a whirlwind of emotion she finds unwavering determination within herself.

"I humbly accept your offer."

He looks at her with eyes that seem almost sad.

"You might regret it."

The narration suggests he may be trying to make sure she knows he isn't going to force her.

Marianne denies the possibility. She won't come to regret this, because as long as she's by his side she will prevent all causes for regret from occurring.

"So you're saying your own happiness depends solely on yourself." Charles finally smiles faintly. "You're bragging, Marianne. Show humility."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Amidst the smell of gunpowder and blood, a man's hand was slowly held out. The girl's hand rested on top of his, a little awkwardly, but with a certain intent.

We then learn that this rebellion, the Blood Crest Incident, took place May 6th 1997 so a bit less than three years before Lelouch is born. Most of the Knights of Rounds were murdered in it or executed for being complicit.

The narration spends some time discussing whether Charles should be seen as a good or bad ruler, coming out conflicted.

Arguments for being a good ruler: Britannia was on the verge of collapsing and being divided between the other two super-powers before Charles revived it. Arguments for being a bad ruler: ... well, about that bloody conquest though.

Fun side details: leader of Charles' political opponents was his uncle the Archduke Louis. Anyway, we skip forward 5 years, and the civil war and unrest has now ended.

Marianne is the 5th Empress. We are treated to her in the Aries villa garden, sparring with three young teen girls from the military academy: Cornelia, Beatrice and Nonette.

None of the girls stand a chance and Marianne harshly critiques their swordplay, but she ends with saying they're getting better and she's looking forward to the next vacation. She winks at them.

We briefly learn that Cornelia's mom comes from a pretty traditional family and wanted her to be more of a palace lady but Cornelia's own wish was to enter the military. Whenever she has time off from school she comes to the Aries villa to let Marianne train her.

As Marianne talks to the girls about their training later, a small kid looks out from under her skirt.

Barely 3year old Lelouch enters the scene! He's entered a shy phase and has to be coaxed to say hi to Cornelia. (But he does do a proper bow and greets her as 'elder sister'!)

Cornelia mentions that Lelouch's shy phase is the total opposite of Euphy who is currently following everyone around 24/7 and being SUPER social no matter the person.

Then, Bismarck comes in. He is holding a crying baby Nunnally and is locked in a vicious circle of trying to get her to stop crying by smiling but having a smile that is too scary to comfort the poor baby. Cornelia laughs at the Knight of One in such a predicament.

Of course, Marianne was the one who forced him to hold the baby despite all his protest that he, who's not even married, would be shit at it. She appears remorseless.

Marianne says she was trying to teach him the stress of a mother who has some maternity nerves due to taking care of two kids, and he's just like. Ma'am the nannies take care of your kids, there is no way you are that exhausted. (He does not say this out loud.)

Beatrice, who has many younger siblings, saves Bismarck and calms down baby Nunnally. Nonette, who likes throwing babies in the air, is banned from approaching the bappy.

Marianne tells the girls to watch the kids for a bit and walks off to talk with Bismarck about serious matters. There's a cute paragraph about the girls helping Lelouch do his first tumble roll and him being really happy about it.

Bismarck muses that not too long ago it would have been unthinkable for there to be the laughter of children in the palace. Marianne teases him that continuing to ensure this is possible is why he's here, isn't he?

Bismarck is Knight of One and also the ONLY Knight of Rounds at this moment. Marianne left the Knights after becoming Empress and the others all died due to the Blood Crest Incident. No new ones have been appointed since.

Bismarck tells Marianne that he thinks she is more suitable to be Knight of One than him.

Marianne doesn't entertain the thought. Bismarck wants more Knights appointed but Marianne says that Charles was ambivalent to the suggestion, being not really concerned about his own safety. Also there are no promising candidates right now.

Anyway, the main reason Bismarck dropped by is because the current Chinese Emperor passed away. This unrest and uncertainty has Charles setting his sides on border expansion and conquering more territory.

Marianne grows pensive. Is Charles good or evil? She's wondered often. We launch into a flashback:

“Your Majesty--do you aspire to be a conqueror?”

Marianne asked him one day, and Charles, laughed happily, which was unusual.

"Hmm...Is that what you see, Marianne?"

"Yes. At least in my eyes."

"Conqueror, huh? If that's what you want, that's not bad either," Charles muttered, an even more amused smile appearing on his handsome face.

When Marianne heard this, her expression turned grim.

“If you are serious about such things, I will refuse to touch His Majesty from now on. Please do not enter my sleeping quarters again. I will immediately decapitate myself.

"I thought you'd say that. But, Marianne, there's one thing you forgot to mention. In that case, you would only kill yourself after beheading this emperor, right? ”

......

"Is it untrue………?"

"Mhm."

"You are a person who never compromises on yourself. Just like me. Therefore, your wings are something that even this emperor cannot control, and the way you flap your wings nobly captures his heart." Marianne couldn't help but smile crookedly as the truth was whispered to her from an unexpected source. Seeing this, Charles also laughed.

"Marianne. My desire is not to conquer the world. It is to strip away the lies of the world. In the process, I hope for the world. I will rid the world of lies. That is my oath. ...But let me promise you this, Marianne. The inside of your heart that you never show to others. That emptiness that cannot be wiped away. Even that, I will make up for it.”

Marianne's expression returned to normal and she fell silent.

Then she said, "If His Majesty truly thinks so, I will create a 'vessel' for His Majesty. His oath, the power to approach it. The path - an army strong enough to conquer the world."

The emperor laughed loudly this time.

"That means you're joining forces with the worst sinner in history, Marianne. Your children and grandchildren will continue to be accused of being witches who assisted the most evil king in the world."

Marianne smiled too.

"Of course, I am prepared. Your Majesty does remember what I am called, right?"

"The Flash. It sounds good, but a flashing light burns people's eyes out. Moreover, your light is by no means the halo of a saint..."

"A bloody hero's death. I have never wielded a sword for anyone other than myself.

"Even when you protected me... that's why I wanted you. Would you like to see the world together, Marianne?''

“Even if it costs me my life.”

Since then she knew.

This person was planning to spread his wings even bigger someday.

Britannia, a continental country. However, this person cannot fit into such a small container. He has to involve many countries and puts the world under its control. Even if he was called a tyrant, or the king of Hades with the sickle of death. Moreover, his motivation was never ambition. Nor was it vigor. Instead it was because of the tears of blood that this person shed when he was young. To fulfill the vow he made. In that case, what she can do after deciding to walk with this person is--

With this cut-off phrase we go back to the present.

In the evening of her meeting with Bismarck, Marianne calls the three girls to meet her. She appears wearing her old Knights of Round uniform and tells them she won't be able to accompany them in their training for a while, so they should use this opportunity to come at her like they mean it because she also won't hold back. For the first time in their sparring, she is dual wielding which was her preferred mode of combat during her active days.

We skip the combat and go right to Marianne coming back out to talk to Bismarck. He remarks that this was quick. The girls stood no chance, though Beatrice held out slightly longer than the others. Marianne asserts that a Knight of the Emperor needs no naivety or kindness so she tried to knock that out of the girls here. She expects they will be changing bit by bit from here on out. Marianne and Bismarck begin to leave for the capital.

Marianne: "Then let's go, Bismarck. To help the king commit the worst crime in history."

Bismarck: "And so it's the return of the empress general."

As they are about to leave a nanny and a crying baby Lelouch stop them. Lelouch had a scary dream during nap time and needed to see his mommy. He had a dream his mother was going very far away.

Marianne tells Lelouch that she isn't going anywhere. But her eyes are cold, as if she was looking at a wooden dummy. Bismarck has seen this expression on her many times before - it's the face she makes before cutting somebody down on the battlefield.

Bismarck is so used to this expression signifying killing intent that his body almost intuitively moves to protect Lelouch - but Marianne just hugs him.

"Lelouch and Nunnally are mother's treasures. I will always be with them and protect them. Forever and ever."

In her heart, Marianne adds: 'However, this is only true so long as you do not stand in the way of he and I.' She suddenly finds baby Nunnally staring at her - she smiles, and Nunnally suddenly trembles as if frightened.

All she can do is stare at her mother's smiling face.

Six months later the Britannian Empire starts its massive expansion campaign, with Marianne The Flash serving as Charles' greatest support.

#code geass #marianne vi britannia #charles zi britannia #het powercouple of all time they make me insane #bismarck waldstein #is also here

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svcredveins · 17 days ago

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Came across a Tiktok audio that really hit me with nostalgia, but also, the words are true. Respect goes such a long way when coming across people’s opinions or beliefs and that is what is severely lacking these days. I speak on behalf of the cardiophile community, not only just us, but many other communities as well and it’s sad to see that one simple belief can really cause so much conflict and suffering when we can all just agree to disagree like adults. We are not children, we are not fighting for what crayon colour is better, we are grown adults who have gone through childhood already and has to make grown up decisions in this world. Opening up a different perspective on people can really change your own views to make peace with yourself and others around you.

I know this is out of the blue, but I felt inspired to make this in Assetto Corsa Competizione after hearing the audio on titkok. It’s so true though, and it’s sad to see the world have no sight of respect for people because kindness goes a long way even if it seems silly to you. It is the golden rule that I have grown up on. “Treat others the way you want to be treated.”

Like for example too, if someone makes a video edit that they’ve worked hours on, why comment to say that you look like you have Parkinson’s disease? It’s just rude and disrespectful. And yes, that’s what happened to my post on Reddit lol, but that’s the example I’m giving. If you don’t like something or someone, you are not obligated to, but you are certainly obligated to respect others and move on because you can just simply scroll by instead of snapping at a person to ruin their day. Some people may take it harder than others, so words are like a two edged sword; be careful what you say.

Even goes with saying about respecting women as well on this app. Thankfully I don’t think I’ve seen any big drama on here lately, but it goes without saying that regardless of any situation, respect would make the world a better place.

Anyway, in times like this though, this definitely needs to be resurfaced. It brought me major nostalgia because I used to watch Markiplier years ago lol. Enjoy this edit I made yesterday. Also, I finally did a thing!!! I did two edits in one day! I finally finished my Kyalami race recap after nearly two weeks of not doing it haha

#cardiophilia #heartbeat #cardiophile #cardiophile thoughts #stethoscope #self stething #beating heart #female cardiophile #female heartbeat

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mushroomwoods · 1 year ago

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One Year, Eleven Months and Twenty Days…

When Hyrule set off into yet another unfortunate journey, he didn't expect a sudden, skittish and nosy you to throw yourself into his life, much less for you to hang around him long enough for him to get attached. He believed he didn't need any company for as long as he lived as the hero, however as you proved him wrong, he started to fear for the possible time limit he could to have around you.

character — Hyrule, romantic.

cw — angst, hurt/comfort, mention of battles/injuries, paranoid behavior, self-blame.

I don't know why I'm starting a long fic, but rulie brainrot took over me, so here we have it. Chapters may not be as regular as I'd like, but I already have the general outline and can say it will be from something in between three to five chapters, so... Yeah, I hope you guys will like it!

Chapter 1 — Of a lonely hero and a daring traveler

Two minutes.

It took him less than that to notice that you were injured upon your first encounter, even when you tried to batantly hide the fact with a few poorly timed jokes. He inspected your form from a distance he deemed safe enough, unconvinced by your clear act of amicability towards him. You were just a traveller, just as himself, he happened to stumble upon while running away from yet another village, a very nosy traveller who took upon yourself to help him, the Hero of Hyrule himself, because of his seemingly weak state — he was just a tad tired from the long run, nothing less than usual for him —, while not noticing how poor your own state was, bandage around your upper arm bleeding through your coat.

You were quick to make yourself comfortable on his presence as the two of you had been making way towards the same destination, "Two are way better than one when travelling" you said and while he'd much rather disagree, he didn't do much more than offer a curt nod, accepting of you for as long as you didn't make the first move for a fight.

Fifteen hours.

Was the time before the first nightwatch, the forest far too dark for anymore walking to be productive. You tried to keep watch first, however he disagreed — far too paranoid to let himself be vulnerable on another's presence —, winning the heating discussion with his stubbornness alone. You went to sleep clearly disheartened — you'd take that as your chance to attack, he was sure.

When you woke up to take your turn he didn't offer much complaint, much to your surprise, and went to lay beside a fallen tree, back pressed tightly into it, too afraid to let his back exposed to any lurking enemies.

He did not sleep however, no, of course not. That would be a stupid move when he wasn't clear of your intentions yet, he was sure you were hiding your claws yet, ready to pounce whenever he was the most vulnerable, unable to fight back.

Surprisingly, the night ended peacefully, you dealt with a lurking wolf and even hunt down for breakfast, but made no moves towards his seemingly sleeping form, no glances, no traps, no poisons, nothing.

Three days.

Before the tiredness started catching up to him.

He hadn't slept for the few days your accompanied him, his body slowing down and his reaction time getting worse by the day. If you noticed his state, you made no comments on it, he could see, however, how his workload seemed to decrease slowly, you started walking more slowly saying your injured leg seemed to get worse — a light strain he was sure he had cured the night before as you slept —, you started checking the surroundings before the both of you walked into the next area and started carrying most of the weight around.

The next time he woke up, it must've been at least a days later, his head resting upon your now clean coat, as you sat farther into the clearing, beside a waterbody apparently cleaning down your sword and refilling the water flasks. He could feel the weight of one of your spare hoods on his head, along with a fresh smelling bandage who was poorly wrapped around his head, from this alone he could guess you didn't attempt to take a closer look at his face, which he was minimally grateful for.

In his usual state he'd make sure to go against your action, but in all his tiredness he couldn't bother himself to care enough for it.

It was only a matter of time before he fell down, the workload too much for his system to process. His vision blackening and mind wandering before he could even make contact with the ground.

As much as he wanted to depart soon towards the next city for a restock, your battered state made him hold his tongue. Your sunken eyes were enough of a tell of how much you took care of him in the time he was off. After that he made sure to sleep at least enough during the nights to come so the journey wouldn't be anymore delayed.

Two weeks.

The young boy couldn't even begin to wrap his head around the thought that this money wasn't just yours, but his too. When he tried shaking his hand in disagreement however, he could already see the frown starting to form on your face, stopping before another argument could start, not noticing how lately he seemed to cave in to any of your pleas.

You had reached the first city and he could finally bid you goodbye.

Or so he thought, before you were pulling him through the market, selling off any pelt, spare meat and any shiny object you got your hands on during the short time, the loot he found annoying you took everywhere soon making a hefty amount of rupees he didn't think of before. The most off-putting part of it however was how you naturally turned to him, showing the bag of money to him, while saying " We made so much money this time, all thanks to you" with a big grin.

One thing he could notice that day, was how you were just as awkward as him when it came to human interaction. The moment one of the innkeeper around your age tried asking about your relationship with him, clearly showing a romantic interest in you, you brushed it off with a laugh, running up to your shared room without even looking back, avoiding the attendant eyes for the whole time you spent around there. It was also the first time you had the pleasure to hear him laugh freely, as he made fun of your situation when you talked late into the night.

Two weeks and two days.

The day the both of you departed from the small city, rupee bag noticeably lighter and equipment way more polished, his arrows switched for more durable ones and his sword sharpened — the smith gave him a side glance, however your chattering stopped the man from making him any questions about the unusual blade.

He gave in to the idea that you might accompany him to wherever he was going for as long as he got your attention, also accepting that you were more useful than he thought at first, as you seemed to distract any possible threats by simply existing. He wasn't sure if it was your charisma or if you made other too afraid to question the both of you, but it still made the last two days he spent around other hylians much calmer than he could ever remember being since he finished his journey as the hero of this land, anytime someone as much as made a move to question him about the hood covering his face you started bombarding them with questions about their wares or glared them into silence, getting a pretty big discount as consequence.

It was uneventful enough as your chattered away, sharing with the boy any information and rumor you got from the locals, the few moblins that were found wandering around in strange patterns, the criminals getting more and more aggressive over the last few days and, of course, the newest cuisine that was created in the next town. The last bit you had gotten from a young postman who had to stay for little longer on the last city he visited, as the monsters attacked and everyone had to retreat to safety.

The thought that it may be his fault made him uncomfortable.

Three weeks and four day.

You were getting closer and closer to a dungeon the both of you wanted to explore, for different reasons, but still.

A certain merchant had talked relentlessly about how he could hear Pols Voices getting louder and louder inside a dungeon over the last few days. You didn't seem too keen on helping out until the man said something about a plentiful reward, but still, you waited so the boy could make the final decision. He agreed more out of familiarity than anything, too used to helping others to say no.

It had been some time since he had fought Pols Voices, and he had forgotten how much they strained his throat, but it was enough of a laugh when you prepared to make the first move and he beat you to it, screaming louder than you had ever seen anyone do in you life. Your eyes went wide, as you could do nothing but watch the ghostly monsters dying before they could even approach any of you in the large room.

"How can your voice be so loud when you're so quiet?" You questioned as soon as you got out of the dungeon, still stuffing the spoils into your bag, and he shrugged in answer, to which you pouted.

Upon seeing the merchant waiting for the both of you a little farther on the road, you didn't think before running up to the man, failing to notice the few other shadows that surrounded his figure. A trap.

Fortunately you were quick enough to act when you noticed what was happening, your hands curling around your fellow traveler's own as you fled with a single cut brushing against your neck.

It could've been worse.

Three weeks and five days.

You believed you were already far enough from your chasers.

You were sweating buckets, blood dried over your whole clothes, probably beyond salvation at this point. The boy beside you was unscratched fortunately, and even when he offered to help heal your injury, you denied adamantly. He could do nothing but watch as you clumsily cleaned and bandaged the cut with yet another herbal mixture, probably the same mixture you had used on him before and worked wonder on his body.

The two of you continued your path without your chirpy voice this time, only the few warnings you gave him the few times he tried to eat or feed you something clearly not edible, upon your standards at least.

Your eyes were peeled open ever since that day, barely sleeping at night and the thought that it might've been his fault plagued him yet again that night.

Four weeks and a day.

He should've noticed the signs sooner.

That night you came up with a ferver. Or actually, since the last confrontation you weren't getting any better from your injury.

He saw how restless you were during the nights, tossing and turning with quiet whimpers of pain, however he made the decision to not cure you from your ails, following your wishes.

How stupid he was.

A hero who couldn't offer his help. A hero who was too afraid to even say his own name. A hero who brought more problems than solutions.

Could he even call himself a hero?

That night he was even more scared than the first time he had someone after his head, he couldn't even begin to understand why the thought of never hearing any of your terrible jokes or see any of your stupid life choices made him so restless, however he just understood that if you were like this because of him, the least he could was curing you before parting ways. It'd be for the better.

His powers didn't work.

A month and two days.

It had been five days and you hadn't woken up. Your ferver was still high as he followed the path, your form slumped over his shoulder.

The first day he cried for hours when he noticed that his powers weren't working, but he knew that the longer he spent on the same spot, the easier it'd be for his enemies to find him.

He was quick to change gears and continue his path, even when his mind ran miles a second, he shouldn't let you get hurt again, he should protect you for being the one who put you through such troubles.

It was hard, and his mind wandered sometimes to the first week he spent by your side, how even with his clear distrust, you took care of him, yet never made any complaints when he fell or made any mistakes, covering everything with an easy smile and a wave of the hand.

It was late at night when you first made any sound that wasn't akin to the sharp pain you were feeling, a low "traveler" falling from your lips, before you coughed because of your dry throat.

When he heard the title you used to call him he was quick to drop anything he was doing, running to your side — just now he noticed he had never told you his name.

You tried to laugh at his desperation as he offered you the flask of water, asking if the layers were too cold or too hot, already rummaging through his bag for anything that might help you now that you were awake, but the moment you noticed the tears falling down his hood and into his shaking hands, you shut your mouth, just taking the bottle and gulping down the liquid without a word.

The both of you sat in silence for a few minutes — he wished you'd stay laying down, but you insisted you were healthy enough to sit at least —, but you sighed when he seemed too lost to even make the first move.

"I was poisoned" He flinched. "Fortunately it was nothing fatal, but the side effects can last a few days… or weeks, I already have experience with these things, so it's not like I'll die from something like that."

He felt himself wanting to cry again when he saw that easy smile of yours, the one you always offered when you knew he was a little down, and somehow you always were right.

The hood that covered his face finally fell as he tugged into it, revealing his chestnut hair, curling until right under his pointy ears, much unlike your own, his eyes had a similar color with a forest green undertone that seemed to drawn you in, even when it was bloodshot from his previous crying, his skin glowing under the moonlight, reminding of the tales you often heard during your childhood about the Great Fairy.

He opened his mouth after a few seconds of a heavy silence.

"My name is Link..." He gulped, eyes descending to his fidgeting hands, too nervous to meet your clearly awed gaze as he wondered if it was the right choice, if you'd recognize him and go after his life just like the others. "I'd like to continue travelling with you… Even after we complete this journey."

You stayed silent for a long time, enough so he would look up to you again seeing the warm, real smile you wore.

"Of course! I'd love to, Link!"

#lu hyrule #linked universe x reader #linked universe #hyrule linked universe #linked universe hyrule #hyrule x reader #fungi's delicacies

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damn-stark · 2 years ago

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Chapter 13 The court of women

Chapter 13 of Sandstorm

A/N- It keeps getting better!

Warning- Violence, blood, swearing, talks of death, fluff, and there’s changes that depart from the show!

Pairing- Jon Snow x Targaryen!fem-reader

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

“My son was stolen from me, my first born boy. He was sweet, good, and he was taken from me,” you swallow back the thick clump of emotions that had begun to cling on your throat. “I know there are fathers, mothers especially here who understand such pain. It’s a pain unlike any other, one you can never recover from. It’s why I ask you now, mothers, sisters, aunts, fight with me. Join my armies, rise alongside the men. Protect your children, your nephews and nieces, your cousins, siblings. Don’t hide under the shadows any longer.”

Whispering against your speech begins to fill the room, men mostly seem to be the ones with something against it.

You albeit knew this would happen, people aren’t as open minded as they are in Dorne. Sansa told you this would happen, it’s why you sat here with no plan to back away, you were only going to push forward with new ideals to progress this old world further.

“From now it will be law that any woman who wishes to be a knight, a soldier, can do so without protest from their husband or father,” you continue, causing the row to get louder. “From now it will be law that disregarding gender, the first born will inherit lands, families homes, castles, and titles like the first born male does. Of course this will apply for the new generation, I don’t wish to start wars between families who have already settled.”

You glance at Sansa to share with her a quick passing look, and she manages to shoot you a faint supporting smirk.

“You really expect me to put a sword in my daughter's hands and send her off to battle with all those men?” A lord interjects as he stands up to be seen and heard by everyone. Some agree, but some don’t say anything. “They are the ones who bring new life to this world, they…support homes, and are the warmth men return to after war.”

You remain nonchalant and shrug. “Aye,” it slips from your mouth after getting accustomed to the word thanks to Jon. “They are, but need I remind you it also takes men to create life. You all still go to war and risk your lives. They support homes, keep the children fed and your clothes clean, but no one will obligate them. They will have a choice. All women.”

“What does a woman know about ruling a land?” Another man cuts in, making Sansa, Arya, your sisters, and you scoff.

“So what?” You quip with a bit of annoyance now. “Are you saying that Lady Sansa, and I know nothing? I can give you a long list of women rulers that were far greater than any man. I can give you a list of women who have taken over the kingdoms of their husbands. They will learn, as boys do.”

“No,” another person disagrees. “I cannot agree to these….” He pauses and looks at you and then at your sisters, letting you know at that moment what he’s referring to. Of course he’s being racist.

“If it does not please you, my lord,” Jon cuts in this time in your defense. “You may leave. No one will stop you, you can join Daenerys after you get past the dragons past these gates. There is no argument to be had lords, it’s not up to debate, the law is made by your Queen,” he says in a louder and more firm voice. “It is time we move on from some old ways. I will do the same, if a daughter is born to me first she will be heir to her mothers throne. My own sister will rule Winterfell and all the north once we take the throne, Ser Brienne is Lord Commander of the Queensguard. If your ego is so fragile then perhaps you can find luck with the other Queen, or try and be independent. Let's see how that goes.”

You raise your chin with pride and shoot the men a pointed glare.

“Moving on then,” you continue and flick your wrist down on the armrest. “Soon we will be conducting an attack against Queen Daenerys to retrieve Tyrion Lannister, in an attempt to gain The Westerlands as an ally. I need women volunteers willing to fight.” You look around at the women around the hall. “The fight won’t be a long one, it’s just our first strike to start this war, the attack will be an ambush, a ruse to say. I and the King will watch from the skies and swoop to burn the remaining army that will be outside the gates attempting to help. Any volunteers?”

“If I may?” A lady pitches as she stands up. “Why should we risk our lives for someone part of Daenerys court? Is Ser Jaime not enough?”

You sigh, and Sansa steps in this time. “Possibly, but our cause will be stronger if both Lannister men are at our side, besides you won’t risk your lives to save him. We have a plan for that, you will risk your lives for your Queen, for yourselves so the injustice done to Prince Rhaenar won’t be repeated. So our home won’t burn to the ground the same way Daenerys burnt Kings Landing.”

You lower your gaze and fist one hand to fiddle with your rings.

“I will volunteer,” a women in the back interrupts and stands up to be seen.

“I will as well,” another stands up, and twenty more women follow after that, making you straighten up and smile faintly.

“Good,” you say. “You all can go with Ser Striker, here,” you point to the tall, lean and broad shouldered Dornish warrior at the end of the stairs. “He and Ser Jaime will overlook training.”

Now with the Lords who pledged their allegiance to you, and this new law shared, this meeting comes to end, letting you slouch and exhale deeply. Albeit as the crowd filters away, Jon is taken away too to help others.

“My Queen,” Ser Brienne interjects and walks around the throne to face you. “I have chosen some candidates to join the Queen's Guard. I just need your approval.”

“Oh,” you mutter and offer her a thankful smile. “Alright. Let’s go now then.” You attempt to push yourself off the chair, but Sansa grabs your arm and helps you up.

You roll your eyes since the action is small, but feel grateful regardless. Even as she holds onto you as you walk out the training yard with Ser Brienne.

“I swear you got bigger overnight,” Sansa mentions and looks at you with a happy smile.

You sigh and rub your belly. “Aye, I think I did. My dresses aren’t fitting anymore. It’s not time yet but it feels as if I’m going to burst,” you giggle softly and meet her gaze with a smile.

Sansa hums softly and then uses her other hand to feel your swollen belly. “Does it feel different than before.”

You look ahead and nod. “Yes, completely. Now my urge to use the lavatory is more often. And there is a constant dull pain on my ribs this time since there’s one little babe who is constantly kicking.”

Sansa’s grin widens at the mention. “That one will be a fighter then?”

You can’t help but mirror her gesture and nod. “That’s what Jon says. He’ll grow gray hairs for sure.”

Sansa laughs softly. “It’s lucky he’s quite patient then.”

You nod, letting her continue.

“I don’t know if I have said this before, but I am glad Jon met you. It seems that ever since I have seen him with you there’s this spark that wasn’t there before.”

You blink in disbelief and meet her pale blue eyes.

“He smiles a lot at you, and is never far from you.”

You scoff softly and can’t help the heat that begins to burn your face as you grow flustered.

“And I have never seen him so excited as he is now waiting for those baby’s to be born.”

“I’m lucky I met him too,” you mutter softly. “He,” you sigh. “He’s very kind. Gentle, loyal and passionate.”

Sansa giggles. “Is he?”

You nod. “He is, of course he’s mostly so in private. I never thought that I’d actually be fortunate enough to have someone like him, you know? I was told that I was going to be matched with someone, at first it was my uncle, Viserys, Daenerys brother, then it was your brother Robb Stark.”

“Really?” Sansa cuts in with disbelief.

You nod. “Yes, but of course before the proposal could be shared it was heard he was married.”

Sansa smirks. “That’s something I would’ve liked to see.”

“But,” you continue to add. “Marrying out of love is something I never knew I would get, now that I have it I’m thankful.”

Sansa hums softly before she grabs onto you tighter. “I’m glad the gods put you in our lives. I’m glad you got what you wanted. You deserve it.”

“You,” you press her now and meet her gaze. “Will you give love a shot now? And I don’t mean marry someone because it’s what’s best for someone else, but for love.”

Sansa looks ahead and swallows thickly. “I,” she sighs. “Don’t know. Perhaps maybe in a couple years. Then again my duty should come first.”

You scoff and shake your head. “You’ve done that already; Respected your duty and married someone you didn't like, now it's time for you to control your own destiny. You deserve to be loved, and love someone unconditionally.”

Sansa blinks repeatedly as she lets out a deep breath. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Well,” you add excitedly. “If you are willing, I know some people. I have a cousin from my mothers side, he’s brothers with the new prince of Dorne. He’s tall, kind, and devoted. He likes poems, and he is a skilled fighter.” You grin, and see Sansa hide her smile.

“Take your time though,” you assure her and just smirk deeper. “And you, Ser Brienne,” you pull her into the conversation and peer back. “Have you and Ser Jaime deepened your relationship?”

The knight looks at Sansa in disbelief as to how you knew, before exhaling and shaking her head as she meets your curious gaze. “No, not since he left. But even if he didn’t I am now a sworn knight to the QueensGuard, I’m forbidden.”

You snicker. “Forbidden from marriage and bearing children, yes, but not forbidden from having fun. You can still divulge in your own pleasures, men do it all the time even after they’ve had the same titles you do. Just make sure to make it to your watch and be attentive when it’s your turn. That’s all.”

“I don’t think I will,” she says. “It’s just not me.”

You hum and respect her decision. “All right, I respect it, but just know that if you want to drink until you pass out or lay with men, you may. I trust you to know your limit. That’s all.” You offer her a kind smile before you look ahead and watch guards open the doors to the training yard.

There are many people scattered about the yard all occupied on their own thing, there a group of women gathered around Podrick Payne, Ser Brienne’s squire. When they all see you walking down the steps they all turn and stop what they’re doing to bow and curtsy.

It’s still a strange concept to see, all these people now so attentive towards you. It’s not unfamiliar, you’ve been apart of royal life because of your uncles, but it’s strange now because it’s directed at you.

“It’s okay,” you address the crowd. “Back to you were.”

Those scattered around focus back on their own thing, letting you come to a stop regardless to let Ser Brienne walk ahead towards the group of women and Podrick.

“My Queen,” Ser Brienne interjects and shoots the women and Podrick a passing look that makes them line up in a straight line. “These are the candidates. Here,” she points to a young looking, but rather short, and muscularly toned woman with dark brown skin and black hair that almost matched the night sky. “Lana, she was picked from the Dornish forces, she’s not as tall as the others, but she’s quick on her feet, harsh with her strikes, and skilled with many weapons.”

You hum and study her toned body before landing on her black eyes that looked as if she was piercing into your soul. She looks intimidating, making for a perfect demeanor for a Queensguard.

“Good,” you comment. “The next?”

Ser Brienne nods and walks past Lana to point at the next woman, she’s average height, leaner, but she still has toned muscles.

“This is Marielizabeth, she’s one of the freefolk that remained here. She’s vicious, and strong. She’s mostly skilled with an axe, but still very skilled with other weapons. Impressively so.”

You hum and notice scars all over her arms; stories you always liked to think. So she’s quite experienced, and not afraid to get hurt, which is good.

“This is May,” ser Brienne points to a tall woman you recognize from the Dornish armies; she’s not the same height as Ser Brienne, but she’s close. Her shoulders are broad, and her biceps are big, she’s built like an ox. She’s very impressive.

“She was one of my first picks, she’s commander of one of the Dornish armies. That speaks for itself,” Ser Brienne adds, making you hum in comprehension. “This is her twin sister, Rayne,” Ser Brienne continues to point at the woman next to May. She wasn’t as muscular as her sister, but you can tell she’s just as fierce. “She’s skilled with a great many weapons. Reserved, but fierce. Next, is Alys Snow, she prefers long rage attacks, but she is also good at hand to hand combat.”

Alys has very strong northern features, dark eyes, dark hair, tall, pale, and dark long hair, albeit her hair does have a white streak that goes with the paler patches on her arms and over her left eye.

“And lastly,” Ser Brienne finishes and stops by Podrick. “The man I vouch for, Podrick Payne. He has trained under me for years now. He’s grown skilled, he’s loyal and will never let you down.”

You lift your chin and narrow your gaze whilst you let go of Sansa to slowly approach all the candidates. “I’m impressed Ser Brienne, by all the candidates, there are somethings I want to ask all of you though,” you draw in a deep breath and look down the row of people. You then exhale at the same time a mighty roar breaks in the sky, like a clap of thunder, sudden and booming. All their eyes snap to the sky above you to look for the dragon that they hear, but Eraxis is quiet and surprises them by descending down from behind them.

They only know of her presence when her large feet hit the roofs, and her head is already lowering in the courtyard.

“Are you scared?” You ask the lined up candidates whilst you slowly stride around them to reach Eraxis’s side. “Are you willing to give your lives for me, are you willing to give your hearts, and spill your blood?”

All eyes leave the dragon at your side and try to focus on you even as Eraxis begins to snarl. “Yes,” they all answer simultaneously.

“Good,” you assure them as you nod. “Now,” you say and reach over to caress Eraxis' side. “I will give you a choice, all of you. You can leave,” you say honestly and drift your gaze to them. “You may follow Daenerys if it suits your beliefs, if you see her as the true Queen. You may leave anytime you want in fact, just know if you turn your cloaks and betray me there won’t be a corner in this world where you can hide from me and Eraxis.”

The mighty white she-dragon snarls louder, flashing her sharp and large black teeth.

“We will give our lives for you, Queen,” May says and steps forward to get on one knee. The others do the same thing right after, letting her add on. “From this day until the rest of our days. Our lives and weapons are yours.”

You exhale deeply and drop your scowl to offer them a soft nod. “Good,” you comment. “Very good. Get up Knights of the Queensguard.”

Eraxis pulls her head back and grows quiet, letting you lean your head against her. “I hope,” you add. “You get accustomed to Eraxis quickly, we’re quite attached, and if the gods are generous then there will be more dragons when my children bond with their dragons.” You sigh and face them. “And now you may get fitted for armor, and white cloaks, thank you.” You turn and hurry to Eraxis' neck.

“I don’t think you should ride her,” Sansa suggests.

You flick your wrist down and brush her off. “It’s alright. I flew when I was about eight months with child with Rhaenar. Besides, Eraxis takes good care of me. I won’t fly far.”

Before Sansa can argue further, or before Jon could come and stop you, you climb on Eraxis and let her take you to the skies.

——

*LATER*

How could life turn out this way? How did you get here? So far North, so far from any grain of sand, from the beautiful glimmering sea, far from the sun? Far from home?

For so long you always longed for more, you never fit at Sunspear, there was always a part of you missing. When you met Jon it seems that the gap was filled, but now? Now with Rhaenar gone, you wish you had relished that time, your family, Sunspear, those summer nights with your sisters that are now gone. You truly belonged there and you longed for more, now there’s no place you’d rather go back in time to then those times. You’d take Jon and you’d have all you ever wanted.

You exhale deeply and open your eyes to welcome the sight of the starry sky, you reach one hand out for the shining moon in the night sky as if that was the thing needed to turn back time.

A tear escapes past your eye and brings warmth to your face.

“Wouldn’t you like to go back home, Eraxis?” You ask your dragon.

Alas she doesn’t answer and just keeps sleeping. You drop your hand back to your chest, and just as you do there descending from the stars is a dragon that looks almost black at night, but his scales gleam green thanks to the moonlight's hues; Rhaegal and Jon.

You stay where you are and watch Rhaegal land not far from you. The sound of his feet hitting the snow covered ground causes Eraxis to wake up and lift her head whilst she curls up further to hide you. Albeit when she notices it’s just Jon she eases.

His footsteps soon begin to crunch closer to you, but you continue to stay where you are and watch the stars painted in the sky.

“Aye, love,” you hear him say as he gets closer. “You had me worried. You’re not frozen there are you?”

A smile cracks on your face, and you quietly assure his worry. “No.”

He stops by you, but you can’t see because your eyes are on the sky.

“I waited for you at home, but when you didn’t come we came to you.” He continues to add. “You…have Ser Brienne worried. I think she almost climbed on Rhaegal to come search for you.”

You let out a deep sigh and answer his questions. “I just….needed to get away from it all, you know? I…I’m not used to being Queen yet.”

Jon sighs and he takes a few cautious steps forward to now be beside you, and then leans his face over so you can see him, and so he can make sure you’re actually okay.

“No one’s ready,” he says. “But we don’t run away.”

You blink slowly and finally meet his brown eyes and sit up. “Life was easier when I was just a lost princess. I…never imagined life would bring me here. I never imagined I’d be in this position.”

Jon slowly begins to take a seat beside you and lifts his gaze to the sky. “And life was easier for me when I was just a bastard outcasted in my own home….I never imagined I’d be here either.” His voice begins to soften. “When I was dying that night my brothers betrayed me, I came to terms with my death. I had to…” he pauses and lowers his gaze to the snow below you both. “But here I am, for some reason I’m still alive. Maybe it was to find you,” he admits and lifts his gaze to meet yours. “To finally understand what I want.”

You scoff softly, but can’t help your bashful smile. He proceeds to grab your hand and cups it, providing warmth to your flesh. “What do you want?” You ask softly.

Jon shoots you a soft smile and shares. “I never imagined having a family, I never gave it too much thought. I was a bastard. Here unfortunately they aren’t so welcoming to bastards like in Dorne. My place was at the Night's Watch, but after I got a second chance, when I met you I knew at that moment I wanted to be with you. I wanted a family. Now that the dead are gone I want peace, I want to see our children grow, that’s all I want.”

You draw in a deep breath and drop your gaze. “We’ve,” you breathe out. “Strayed from what we wanted haven't we? Maybe we should have stayed here in this cave.” You mention and glance at the waterfall that was in the distance, the same one you came to when Jon first rode Rhaegal.

Jon swallows thickly and nods. “We should have.”

“Do you think it was a mistake?” You blurt and keep your gaze averted. “Naming myself Queen and declaring war? I know we can’t go back anymore, but was it a mistake?” You blink and look up to meet his gaze and wait for his response.

Jon takes a moment before he answers. “No,” he admits. “It wasn’t. Besides, there's no turning back now. There’s only ahead, we fight for us, for them, for our children.”

You hold his gaze for a minute before you nod in agreement. “You’re right.” You sigh and then rest your forehead on his shoulder. “Can you stay here with me for a while longer? I don’t want to go back yet.”

Jon wraps his arm around your neck to begin caressing the back of your neck. “Of course.”

You smile softly with content and snuggle yourself closer to him. You let some silence pass before you break it with a happier topic. “Rhaenyra and Robb, does that work for you? Just Robb, Robert is a bit too inappropriate considering he’s the man that killed…you know who.”

Jon scoffs and you feel him shrug. “I truly don’t know, I’m stuck. Perhaps, Aemon? Aegon?”

You pull your head back and look at him with a questioning and judgmental look. “Aegon? Really? Aegon, the what? The tenth? No,” you shake your head. “Not Aegon. And I mean that very offensively to you, Aegon.”

Jon chuckles. “Yes, I agree, Aegon is overused. I’ll ask my sisters what they prefer.” Jon’s smirk then widens. “Sansa has shown me what she made the baby's. They're matching outfits.”

You grin. “Really? That’s cute. I can’t wait. But you’ve got to be careful, she might take your children away.” You giggle. “And raise them herself.”

Jon snickers. “Might save us the headache. They’re twins after all.”

You nod. “Very true.”

Jon’s gaze lingers on you, his smile softens and a breath catches in his throat, making your face burn hotter and your smile turn timid once again.

“I want to show you something,” he break his short silence. “It will require us to go on dragonback though.”

You squint your gaze and retort. “As long as you’re not tricking me and taking me back home then alright.”

Jon scoffs and shakes his head. “No. Not home. We’re going to the wall.”

Your curiosity grows, but you let him help you up to your feet, and then let him walk you to Eraxis side so you can climb up to your saddle. But just as you lift one foot, there in the distance approaching the waterfall you catch sight of a White Stag.

It’s white fur glistens against the moonlight's touch, its large antlers curve to the shining stars, and it’s dark eyes…they find you.

It can’t be true though, can it?

It’s a figment of your imagination….

“Jon?” You whisper and put your foot back on the ground.

“What?” He queries and looks at you.

You point at the white hart ahead, causing him to follow what you point to. When he sees it his breath catches in his throat, and you feel his body stiffen under your touch.

“You’re seeing it?” You ask.

Jon swallows thickly and nods. “Aye, I am,” he agrees, letting you know that you aren’t going crazy.

“It’s beautiful,” you muse and take a step towards it.

The white stag departs from the waterfall and slowly begins to walk towards you, alerting Rhaegal of its presence and causing the dragon to also approach.

Albeit, Jon catches his attempts and stops him. “Rhaegal, no. That’s not food.”

You pull the corner of your lips to a soft smile, and stop just as you reach Eraxis back legs so as to not startle the white stag as it comes to a stop as well.

“What do you think it’s doing all the way out here?”

“Probably just looking for food, or wandered too far,” Jon responds.

You hum in agreement and let your eyes linger on the mythical creature for a moment longer before you touch Eraxis and turn away. “Let’s go,” you tell Jon and your dragon. “Let’s leave it be.”

Jon offers his hand, and even if you really don’t need it, you take it anyway and let him help you up to the saddle. Once you’re mounted he goes to Rhaegal to climb, when he’s on top, the dragons then take flight and you don’t take long to be a part of the night sky.

Feeling the breeze on your skin refreshes your being. You wish it could blow away all the sorrow, but the wind brings no such solution, just a short relief and joy.

Once Jon and you arrive at a part of the ice wall that still stands, your curiosity only heightens since you see nothing unusual.

“What is it?” You ask him as you meet halfway between your dragons.

Jon interlaces his hand with yours and responds. “Just wait. Look ahead though.”

You squint softly before hesitantly following orders and looking at the dark horizon ahead. You wait there and let him embrace you to keep you warm since being so high up is colder.

You wait, but not so long after, just as you were going to ask why you were here, you catch it, the sun breaking over the horizon. You see its sun rays hitting the icy wall and making it shine. The bright but soft hues are mesmerizing and breathtaking. All you can do is smile.

“I’m sure you’ve missed the sun, I apologize you can't see much here,” Jon breaks the silence. “I hope this helps.”

You nod softly and break your eyes away from the rising sun to meet his blazing brown eyes already focused on you. “It’s beautiful,” you murmur.

Jon nods. “It is.” He coos and then cups your cheeks to pull you in for a sweet kiss, there in front of the blazing sunrise.

——

*SOMETIME LATER*

“Y/N, my love. While we were out at sea. We were ambushed, they hit our ship with a cannon before they attacked…we tried, we fought hard, but there were losses due to a fire…Rhaenar didn’t make it...”

This is for you Rhaenar. This is all for you.

You exhale deeply and press your hands on your face and drag them down to smear blood down your face. A sign of your devotion, your anger and revenge. A frightening sight as well for the enemies.

When you look up at the mirror the sight of the scarlet blood on your face even catches your own breath out of surprise, but that quickly washes away as your anger rises and replaces your disbelief. You then raise your chin and drag out a deep breath before turning and walking out of the room.

And the moment you walk past the door, two of your Queensguard knights follow behind you in their shiny silver armor that’s not as bulky as the men’s are; it lets them move better and swifter. They drag their white cloak that contrasts against your red one beautifully. More and more of them join you as you walk outside to head to your dragon and ride towards Kings Landing to commence your first attack while Jaime, Arya and your sister Sarella snuck Tyrion out.

Once you make it outside, past the gates Jon and Ser Brienne join your side and stop as you do as you see all the women that had volunteered to be a part of the diversion. It catches you by surprise, but also pride and joy that so many chose to risk their lives.

Yet just as you were going to thank them, a woman with long black hair, an aquiline nose, and tan skin places her right hand over her heart and goes down on one knee and bows her head. Some others see her do it so they mirror her actions, leaving you stunned and happy since you know what it means.

“What’s happening?” Jon asks in confusion.

Elia steps forward and you see her grin before answering. “It’s a sign of respect in some parts of Dorne. It’s only ever used for prayer, or for when you talk to your ancestors like say our Princess Nymeria. They’re showing y/n the outermost respect.”

You smile and catch that your own guards, the ones from Dorne also mirrored the actions of the women ahead, slowly causing everyone else to fall on their knee and put their fist over their heart. So you then put your own fist over your heart and bow your head.

“I swear,” you interject loudly. “I will do my best to bring every single one of you back.” You sigh with content, and then turn to face Jon as they rise. “Don’t you dare leave me alone in this world.”

Jon doesn’t question what you have on your face and cups your cheek. “I’ll try my best:”

You hold his gaze and chuckle softly before you let him pull you in for a quick but deep kiss. When he pulls back he then presses a kiss on your forehead as one last goodbye before you’re off, because regardless if you’re flying side by side, even if you were going to stay together the entire time when you’re at battle, it’s still war and either of you can still vanish. It’s why goodbyes are hard and so meaningful each time.

If it were up to him you’d be riding on the same dragon, especially the moment you arrive at the gates of Kings Landing, but you wouldn't let that happen, you’re too blood hungry, and require for this first attack to be a spectacle.

“What do you see?” Jon asks as Eraxis and Rhaegal begin to hover in the sky above the grounds of the gate. You pull out the extra telescope you always carried…out of instinct because of Rhaenar, and throw it at Jon as you look down through yours.

“The women are approaching the gates,” you share.

There was not an army of them but there were a few. And you can’t hear them all from so high, but you know what they’re saying, “mercy,” “we seek refuge from the mad queen that is forcing us to fight”. They all look homely too, exhausted to make all the unsullied believe their cry for help.

And just as you assumed they do, they take the fucking bait!

“Thank the gods,” you sigh with relief and glance over at Jon to share a relieved smile.

“I hope Arya is doing well,” Jon worries.

You look back at the women, seeing that the unsullied are bringing backup to try and help.

“I'm positive she is,” you assure him. “She’s truly impressive. I never hear her approaching when we’re home, she’s always lurking too. Besides, she was the one that got revenge for your brother and his wife, right?”

“Aye, she did,” he agrees.

“The story of how she did it is impressive and badass,” you continue. “She said she was going to uh, use other faces this time too, so perhaps, the person you should be worried about is us. Let’s hope Daenerys doesn’t come out.”

Jon stays quiet for a moment as you keep watching below.

“I don’t see Drogon anywhere,” Jon points out. “So either that’s a good or bad thing. We’ll have to wait and see.”

You hum in agreement and lean more forward to get a better view as you finally spot a glimpse of Ser Brienne, and the other girls under their cloaks as they finally begin to walk through the crowd of women to reach the leading Unsullied soldier, and begin the attack.

“It’s about to start,” you let Jon know with excitement.

And from one moment to the next, as you watch Ser Brienne pretend to be helpless she then swings her arm out of her cloak and slashes the soldiers throats, causing the twins, May and Rayne, to swiftly twirl around and switch sides to then stab more unsullied. Lana uses her speed to knock a man half her size off his feet and then rams her sword through this face, whilst Alys throws her whip around one soldier and pulls him to her blade, and lastly MariElizabeth stabs her dagger through one guards eye and then grabs him to turn him and throw him through Ser Brienne's sword.

The other women drop their helpless act and strike as well before any unsullied soldiers can strike, managing to take down half of the small army that had gone out to help.

And now before any lives can be lost on your side, Jon and you share a quick smug passing glance before you nudge your dragons. They then flap their wings, and then shoot down towards the ground with quick speed.

You may not be able to actually join the battle with your own spear in hand, but this? Feeling this rush pump through your veins and striking your heart does make up for it.

Alas, just before either Rhaegal or Eraxis can hit the ground they swoop up and rain fire over the remaining army that was unfortunate enough to be outside of the gates. Just as both dragons meet in the middle, they turn to their sides to pass each other, and then swing around your army to land in the empty space behind them.

The moment your feet hit the ground, the women all line up and let the Knights of your Queens guard stride pass to reach you, and surround Jon and you.

“Any casualties?” You ask Ser Brienne as she falls beside you.

The knight shakes her head. “None, your Grace. Just them.”

You smirk smugly and look at small flames raising out of the ash covered ground.

“There’s a few wounded,” Ser Brienne continues to add. “That’s it, nothing severe. They did good.”

You nod. “As did you. All of you,” you compliment the rest of your Queensguard. “Have Ser Podrick and my sister Elia lead the women out to get looked at before we meet up with Ser Jaime and the girls.”

Without saying anything Ser Brienne looks back to speechlessly tell Ser Marielizabeth to lead the women to those you named, whilst you stride towards the gates to wait.

Luckily you don’t long because then out comes Lord—no sorry, the King Consort, Gendry Baratheon on horseback, by his side is someone else, a tall man with brown hair, a rugged look, and wearing brown leather armor. He’s new, you haven’t seen him before, so he must be the one and only Daario Naharis, Daenerys' ex lover.

“King Gendry,” you're the one to break the silence. “Suits you. I would curtsy, but I don’t show respect for traitors.”

Gendry shakes his head and then glances at Jon beside you. “It doesn’t need to come to this. We can stop this now, just bend the knee to the Queen and all will be forgiven,” he says.

You share an unbothered look with Jon before you look around first before looking at the man again. “Where is Daenerys?”

The other man, Daario Nahris steps forward and answers. “She’s gone. She went to some place called Dorne. You know of it?”

You immediately pretend to act shocked and hurt by his insinuations so it could seem that you didn’t already have a plan.

“Daario Nahris,” you name and tilt your head. “The Queen's lover. It’s nice to finally meet you, she’s spoken a lot about you.” You smirk and drift your gaze to Gendry, catching him go stiff.

“No,” Daario clears his throat. “Just a faithful commander and follower.”

You hum and nod. “Well anyway,“ you sigh deeply. “Can you give Daenerys a message for me?” You raise your chin and continue. “If she wants me dead tell her to come face me alone, no dragons, no army, just us in hand to hand combat.” You scoff softly knowing she would lose in a second. “The winner becomes Queen. If not, well, I’m looking forward to facing her in battle.” You turn to end the conversation, but you remember one thing.

“Ah,” you share and turn around on your heels. “A congratulations is in order, I’d say becoming a father is much more complicated than leading.” You look between both men not knowing who could be the father of Daenerys child that Bran said she’s having after you did your spell.

“Regardless,” you continue. “A baby is such a miracle, especially after being told you’re barren. Give her my sincere congratulations.” You feign a smile and glance at Gendry and Daario one more time before focusing on Daario alone. “So I hope that Daenerys took company to Dorne, she’ll come to find it a futile trip. She may burn our homes, but she’ll never find them until they attack first.” You exhale and shoot them a small smirk before turning again and heading back to Eraxis, missing the confusion in Jon’s look after you shared the news about Daenerys pregnancy.

How would you know he asked himself.

He doesn’t ask you at that moment though, he stays quiet and climbs on Rheagal to then meet up with Arya, Sarella, and Ser Jaime.

It takes a few minutes for them to meet up with you at the crossroads, but when they eventually come all three come back alive and unscathed, and a man sits behind Ser Jaime.

“Arya,” Jon greets with relief and walks over to her horse to check for any wounds. “You’ve made it are you hurt?”

Arya looks down at Jon and shakes her head. “No. Thanks to the disguises we went in without getting spotted.”

“Albeit,” Sarella interjects. “He wasn’t at the dungeons, so we took a detour.”

You hum and try and examine her as best as you can. “Are you okay, Sarella?”

Said girl nods. “Of course. You might want to check Lord Tyrion’s pants, he basically shat himself when he saw us take the face masks off.” She snickers and side eyes the man behind Ser Jaime.

You follow her line of gaze and see him there, dirty, and with his facial hair a bit longer.

“It’s not true,” Tyrion rebuttals. “Just surprised, that's all.”

“Are you alright, Ser Jaime?” You continue to ask and focus on the one handed knight.

The man nods. “Yes, I’m still taken back by the fact that I had to wear someone else’s face, besides that, yes I’m fine.”

“Good.”

Tyrion then clears his throat and interjects. “I should thank you…Queen Y/N, and…King Jon, my brother says it’s thanks to your mercy that I was rescued.”

You nod stiffly. “Yes, but I’ll be honest, you're a political gain. If we didn’t need you you’d still be there.”

The man nods. “I assumed so. But just so you know I am not of high value to the Westerlands, I'm a dwarf who killed his own father.”

You scoff. “Yes I understand, but some of these Lords rather have you as their lord than follow me or Daenerys, so they’d say anything to reject me, I’m taking precautions. Isn’t that what a good ruler does?” You ask.

Tyrion sighs. “I suppose yes.”

You hum softly and then look around you. “Let’s pack up and get going before we find trouble. There’s no casualties, I want to keep it that way.”

“I swear I’ve had this very same dream once,” Tyrion mutters as he notices all the women in armor.

——

*LATER*

“Anything from the Velaryon’s?” You ask as you tilt your head and watch the small orange dragon fly about outside the window.

“The Lord Montery’s Velaryon says he will remain faithful to House Baratheon,” Sansa shares whilst she slowly approaches you. “Those taking over for the little Lord are scared. We can’t blame them.”

You sigh and nod softly. “I know. What about the man that calls himself Lord of the Waters, Aurane Waters?” You continue to ask for the bastard of Driftmark since he’s an experienced pirate with enough ships to possibly fight Daenerys.

“He says that if there’s no Queen then there’s no deal,” Sansa shares and stops by your side to watch Helios.

You scoff and roll your eyes. “Isn’t a dragon egg enough? He has Tagaryen ancestors from years of our family alliance and intertwined lineage. There’s a chance a dragon may hatch and bond to him, small but it’s there.”

“You’d think,” Sansa agrees. “But sometimes the desire for too much power is the downfall.”

You lift your head and meet her gaze to nod with a small smile. Silence then follows for a moment when you focus back on the orange dragon, but she then grows curious and interjects.

“What happens to him now?” Sansa refers to Helios. “Does he stay?”

You let out a deep breath and shake your head. “No. He’ll leave soon. He’ll wander the world alone and riderless now. Grow and just fly.” You drop your gaze to hide your watery gaze.

Sansa notices nevertheless and reaches for your hand to hold it in hers. You don’t look up at her, but you acknowledge her attempts at comfort and give her hand a gentle squeeze.

You remain that way for a few minutes until a knock raps on the door.

“Come in,” you speak out loud.

The door opens, making you peer back and catch Jon walking in. He looks the same as usual, brooding and handsome.

“Sansa is it okay if I talk to y/n…alone?” He breaks his silence as he stops past the door.

Sansa let’s go of your hand and nods before turning to you and bowing her head before walking out and leaving Jon and you alone.

“What is it?” You ask Jon and break away from your spot to approach him with a small smile. “Are you okay?” You ask and press your hands gently on his chest.

Jon meets your gaze for a second before he drops his head and sighs deeply whilst a frown forms on his lips, cluing you that this wasn’t a pleasant visit.

“What’s wrong?” You ask Jon more seriously now.

“How did you know about Daenerys?” He asks without hesitation.

You blink in surprise and scoff softly. “Bran,” you tell him the partial truth, since Bran did confirm that Daenerys did get pregnant after her wedding, after your spell.

Jon meets your gaze regardless of your answer as if he could read your mind, and presses. “Is that all? Why didn’t you share the news then?”

You shrug. “I just thought it would be surprising if I announced it when I told them too. Why does it matter?” You turn around and begin to walk back to the balcony.

Jon follows slowly and retorts. “Why does it matter? Because we’re supposed to be doing all this together. You’re supposed to share stuff with me y/n.”

You sigh and turn to face him and press on the matter carelessly. “I’m sorry I just didn’t think it was such a big deal.”

Jon holds your gaze for a second before you look away and try and turn back to continue towards Helios still flying outside your window.

“I like to think I know you well enough to tell when you’re lying,” he adds, making you hold your breath. “Please tell me I’m wrong about this matter. Tell me you’re not hiding anything about this y/n.”

You slowly breathe out as you approach the window, and argue back. “Does it matter if I am or aren't?”

Footsteps approach before he interjects. “It does. We are man and wife, you’re…you’re my best friend. Don’t you trust me?”

You let out a deep sigh and nod softly. “I do, but…” you pause and grip onto the windows railing.

“Tell me,” he insists.

“There’s just somethings you wouldn't understand,” you share and turn slowly to face him. “Things from my culture that you don’t understand.”

Jon blinks in slight disbelief before he sighs and counters. “What things?” He asks. “Help me understand then. We’re partners, help me understand because if it’s about Rhaenar than I do understand, I know you’re pain.”

You scoff and slowly shake your head. “But you don’t,” You counter. “You don’t understand my pain, my grief. He wasn’t your son, he was mine, and…everyday that passes without him I break a little inside. You—you will hopefully never feel such pain with our children, I don’t want you to. So you don’t understand Jon. You wouldn't understand why I did what I did.”

Jon holds your gaze for a moment, letting you see the wave of emotions that pass in his gaze; disbelief, hurt and confusion. “Then help me, tell me.” He insists

You hesitate for a moment, you just hold his gaze as you debate between telling him or not. But he wants to know so you do. “She was barren,” you begin to explain and stay where you are. “I did a spell that made her fertile again. Not so long after she got married Bran told me about her expecting a babe of her own. That’s all I did.”

Jon’s gaze widens and he finally closes the gap between the two of you before retorting. “Magic? You used magic?”

“It’s a war Jon—” you cut him off. “It’s a war. And it didn’t harm anyone, it was just one spell. So please don’t judge me. Magic is a part of my culture as a Valyrian. My ancestors did it, I did it before, I did it now with Daenerys, but that’s all.”

Jon parts his lips and scoffs with disbelief before he shakes his head and turns around to gather his thoughts. You stay put and watch him before you add one more thing. “A son for a son, that’s all I want. She…she needs to feel my pain, she—”

“You can’t let your anger cloud your judgment, y/n,” Jon cuts you off and turns around abruptly to face you, causing your breath to catch at the sound of his words since those words are something you’ve heard before…from your uncle Doran.

He’s gone now too. He along with everyone else.

He said those words to you before he died.

“You’ll just become one of them,” Jon adds. “You want to fight against that. You can’t become what you fear. I will support you, but not if you keep secrets, not if you kill innocent lives.”

Tears begin to fill your eyes, and your legs begin to weaken before you fall to your knees and drop your head to cry quietly.

Jon sighs and falls on his own knees to grab your cheeks and lift your face. “I,” he says. “I know our cultures are different. I can try and understand all that…magic stuff, but not if it involves sacrificing innocent lives. If Daenerys has her babe, you can’t harm it. You’ll get no relief from it, only more pain. Take her throne, get rid of her armies, but not her child. You’re better than that, I know it.”

Tears fall from your eyes, and you can’t help but drop your head as guilt begins to slam into you. “I did it,” you cry. “I did do it…but they were dying already…I just…I'm sorry. I just miss him.” You begin to sob and push his hands away out of your own shame. “Please don’t leave me. Please don’t judge me…please…I need you.”

Jon watches you for a second as he process your words before wraps his arms around you and pulls you in for an embrace. “My love,” he whispers. “I’m here. Always. I love you. Just promise me it’s the last time. Just promise me you won’t harm her child when it comes.”

You hold onto him and nod stiffly. “I promise,” you whisper but don’t mean it.

Tagged: @watercolorskyy @jessimay89 @cecespizza01 @theroyalbrownbarbie @crybabyatthediscooffandoms @neenieweenie @midnightpantherxo @ashleyforeverareject @dark-night-sky-99 @starwarsslut @stargaryenx @defiantblade12 @cloudroomblog

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tgrailwar-zero · 4 months ago

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*bows*

Thank you Rikyu for your understanding and please pass along our sincere gratitude to Koma for staying your hand. Our earnest goal right now is to aid the Solar Cell in its fight against the Titan so that the Heavenly Deity need not wake and thus the humanity both within and without the Solar Cell may stay safe. Even if the rage was not our own, we were still the instruments it used to wreck destruction across this burgeoning land and so we pursue that goal to atone. In the name of full transparency, we also hope to reclaim at least the memories of who we were before we were made into a tool and perhaps even find a way to separate back into individual people.

RIKYU: "Very well then. If this 'Titan' is the one that is responsible for snuffing out so many innocent souls, then this 'Titan' will face the 'Blackness' within Rikyu, and we have a common enemy."

RIKYU: "However, the bout is in the morning, so we'd best rest ourselves."

With that, you gently guided by RIKYU back to the streets of the Megalopolis. MUSASHI approached, looking clearly a bit worried.

MUSASHI: "God, there you all are! I could feel my tether to you get real strained- what happened?"

She squinted at you, before sighing.

MUSASHI: "...Okay. We're going back. You've got a 'we just had a harrowing experience and we're mentally exhausted' energy about you, and I wouldn't want to exacerbate it. So let's just… get you back. We can chat about it in the morning."

It wasn't a long walk back to the hotel. The ritzy atmosphere was either relaxing or even more stuffy, depending on your perspective of things. Luckily, MUSASHI remembered the Room number for the key, and stuck close to you as she guided you down the hallway. You stopped at the door as she knocked.

MUSASHI: "Huh? Is Little Miss Empress not here?"

She put her hands on her hips, and then on her swords, as if considering cutting the door open. However, reason kicked in and she simply decided to walk back to the lobby with you to wait.

After a few minutes, you heard the gentle sound of snoring down the hallway and saw three figures approaching.

'LITTLE GUY': "Uooahh… zz…."

NERO: "Ah. You're back. I hope you weren't waiting outside for too long."

MUSASHI: "You two look nice. Well, Rider's dressed all dapper as usual, but you're… phew. Well, I better keep my thoughts to myself."

CONSTANTINE: "Antecessor Nero and I went out to investigate the city with the little one. He fell asleep about halfway through, though."

NERO: "Alas, with the little one in tow, I couldn't engage in some of the more… enticing vices presented by the city. However, it was a fine way of getting a feel for the locale."

CONSTANTINE: "Right. We met someone, 'Duryodhana', was his name. He had apparently met you all earlier in one of the casinos."

NERO: "We began discussing the upcoming Bout. You all were planning on registering, right? That man, 'Duryodhana', claimed that he would be a shoe-in for victory. I disagreed, and Constantinus made a wager before things got out of hand."

CONSTANTINE: "It's a rather simple gamble. If you place second, he promised us an audience with the Pharaoh. If you place first, then he'll grant an audience, and provide us with what he declared is a 'worthwhile prize'. If we don't fulfill either one of those goals, then we'll owe him a favor."

As the RIDER and the CASTER explained themselves, you walked back to the room, NERO fishing a key out from... well, somewhere, and using it to open the door.

MUSASHI: "Ooooh, making bets on the Master's behalf? Rather careless of you, isn't it?"

CONSTANTINE: "It's not ideal, but I figured the odds were in our favor. That, and it was the only way to swiftly de-escalate the argument. If I've overstepped, I can find Duryodhana in the morning and tell him that the deal is off."

He sighed, adjusting the child on his back.

CONSTANTINE: "…I'm going to put this one to bed. You all should rest as well. Nero says there should be enough rooms for everyone, at least with our group split as it is. See you in the morning, Masters."

With that, CONSTANTINE walked up the stairs to the suite, cradling the LITTLE GUY in his arms. You felt the magical 'tug' from his presence lighten slightly, but not go entirely slack. With the type of person your RIDER was, he was most likely finding a good position to keep vigil, either over the room or the building, you weren't sure.

MUSASHI: "That's not a terrible idea. I think I'll just meditate in my Spirit Form, though. Night, Masters! Let's kick some butt tomorrow, okay?"

Like the wind, she vanished. The only one left being the CASTER.

NERO: "…"

The Emperor stared at you for a moment, as if trying to discern something. Whether she found what she was looking for or not, she smiled and lightly clapped her hands together.

NERO: "I'm going to bed. If you require something of me, at least knock first so that I may make myself decent. Or not, I have no shame in my body. Either way... goodnight, my Ensemble. Sweet dreams."

You watched her walk up the steps, claiming a room to herself.

It was quiet now. Really just you and your collective barrage of thoughts. Even with the big day tomorrow, it seemed like there was a lot riding on your shoulders. The Solar Cell, the Void Cell, your past… question… after question… after question. You could feel exhaustion on your shoulders, though it wasn't that deep into the night.

You found your way into a room, and for the first time in what seemed like a long time, had an actually restful night's sleep.

Which was good. Because you felt as if you were going to have a VERY busy few days coming up with the Flaming Bout.

#thgw story #main post #endless whispers #thgw: chapter 6 #i wanted to bookend today with the Main Plot so it's been a pretty hefty day progress-wise #i promise i won't make most sections this dense #but up next: chapter 6 kicks off the flaming bout!

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aryas-faces · 3 months ago

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1) thanks

2) yes, and i interpret it in this way. him comparing book aegon with show aegon, also bc show aegon for me can hardly be see as a villain. to me it only seems as a child who grows un in a cold environment (he kinda fucked up with dyana, tom made a beautiful interview where he said that aegon didn't think that his family loves him, so the only love he can have is the one he takes)

3) i didn't remember, sorry

4) if u mean kill, i think she's reluctant in part because of her religion and in part bc killing her would have been a very hard task. bc you can't just kill rhaenyra, you had to kill her, daemon, all of their children (baela and rhaena included) which mean war with house velaryon. and aegon would have seen as a maegor 2.0, especially if you take into account that at that moment rhaenyra was pregnant. my point is that alicent always put her wish above aegon's (and his safety) , since she put that enormous burden right above him, she should have at least the decency of preparing him. but she didn't worry of that, cause she wanted to rule through him

1) You’re welcome!

2) I mean, that’s just not how interpret it. Aegon was definitely portrayed as a villain in season 1: he bullies Aemond, he assaults Dyana and possibly raped her, he went to child fighting pits, he is portrayed without a single good trait. He’s written very one note in season 1 vs season 2 where, while not perfect, is a lot closer to his book counterpart. And I don’t think George would phrase it as the actor bringing Aegon alive in ways not seen before if he meant in contrast to the book so we may just have to agree to disagree on this point

3) 👍 its fine!

4) I do agree that Alicent favors ambition over all and killing Rhaenyra would be hard. I just don’t see her as evil though and think she’s in a very tricky situation because if she does nothing, she’s as good as sentencing her children to death. Even if you believe Rhaenyra wouldn’t put them to the sword to secure her claim, Daemon definitely would. There’s no situation where Aemond, Helaena, Daeron, and especially Aegon are completely safe, so going with the route where you have allies of other powerful houses AND get the power you want is the best route

#team green #aegon ii targaryen #alicent hightower #anti team black #anti rhaenyra targaryen #a song of ice and fire

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darkphilosophies · 1 year ago

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Helion x Reader SFW Headcanons

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Touch is his love language; his hands roam all over you, and it doesn’t matter where you are or who you are with. He wants everyone to know you are his, and you don’t mind, because his callused hands and the gentleness they possess make you tingle all over. Just last night, during dessert, he was playing with your hair, twirling it around his finger. You looked at him a bit annoyed, only for him to smirk and tug the strand gently towards himself. "You are sweeter than all these desserts, my light!" he whispered in your ear and pulled you onto his lap. You melted under his touch.

B = Beginning (How would the relationship start?)

You fell for him the moment you met those amber eyes, but you knew his reputation with the ladies (and the lords), and you didn’t feel like being just another nightly entertainment. So, you kept your distance as much as possible, which was not much at all because somehow he was always there. You struggled to get a book — there he was, taking it from the high shelf, bracketing you with his muscled arms. You finished your drink — he was there to wave his hand, magically refilling your glass, a smug smile on his face. You wanted to learn to fight — he was in the pit offering free lessons, a sword already made specifically for you. Helion was inescapable, and you slowly started looking forward to his presence. One day, he wasn’t at training, and you didn’t see him for the rest of the day. Then at dinner, there were whispers about his “nightly escapades,” and your blood boiled. You winnowed right into his chambers, prepared to bite his head off, only to find him alone and naked in bed. “Took you long enough, love.” It suffices to say you didn’t leave that chamber for a few days.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He loves to cuddle, and he would often have you in his lap when he reads, or lying on his chest if you are still in bed. He spells his books to levitate so that he can hold you with both his arms. And, oh boy, does he hold you tight.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Helion would never admit that he wants to settle down, because it “really doesn’t fit my reputation, my love,” but he does. He loves nothing more than to watch you go about your housework, and frankly, there is a lot of it because he is the messiest male you have ever met. He makes up for it, though, by chopping veggies when you cook or washing the dishes after dinner. He fluffs the "already fluffy" couch pillows and draws you a nice scented bath late at night. No job you give him is beneath him, and he usually does it quite well.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Helion may appear all about fun and vanity on the outside, but once his heart chooses you, there's no turning back. In the unfortunate event that you were to leave, he would do anything within his power to remain your friend.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

At the end of that first week of profound lovemaking, Helion gifted you the most exquisite white and gold gown, then winnowed you directly to the largest temple. "What are we doing here?" you asked, even though you already knew the answer. "Life is too short to wait, my light," was the simple reply before he opened the temple door, with your inner circle already awaiting you inside. "We are immortal, Helion!" you protested with pursed lips, pretending to disagree. "Precisely. You never know when we'll die, and if I were to die tomorrow, I'd want to make you my wife today."

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

When others see Helion for the first time, they see a flamboyant warrior, but you know better. You see the calloused hands that gently wipe your tears away when you're sad, you see the deft fingers that massage your neck after a long day of work, and the soft lips that tenderly touch yours and make their way down.

H = Humour (Do they like jokes? How often do they make others laugh? What are their jokes like?)

"Helion who?" More like Mr. Hilarious. The male is a walking stand-up comedian, but only with his Inner Circle. The rest of his court gets the High Lordly version of him.

I = I love you (How often do they say the L-word?)

He tells you at least once a day, sometimes sending you little notes with just those three words on them.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He isn't jealous; he's possessive. You are his, and he wants the world to know. Still, he trusts you fully and is willing to invite anyone you might fancy into your bed.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

You are captivated by his strong and oh-so-capable hands. So, whenever you get the chance, you take them in yours and plant small kisses on his knuckles. In return, he gently brushes his lips against your fingertips, then moves to your arms, your neck, and finally, the delicate spot under your ear. "I can never get enough of you, my light!" he murmurs against the shell of your ear.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Helion adores kids, and he wants a few running around, making lots of noise. He has even started the first children's library and written a few books with fairytales himself—under a pseudonym, of course, because "I have a reputation to uphold, love!"

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Helion likes to train at sunrise, but he always leaves a sweet note on the pillow next to you. Yesterday it was a little poem: As the sun delays its warm embrace, She graces us with her stunning face, Sleeping in late, she's a vision to adore, High Lady at rest, captivating to the core. With every breath, she casts her spell, In late slumber, our desires swell, Oh, how we yearn for her to rise, For in her awakening, love truly lies.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

The High Lord's palace in the Day court is resplendent during the day, but at night, it's exquisite. It's peaceful and quiet, the stone it's made of shimmering with a faint glow throughout the night. At the top of the palace, there's a small balcony surrounded by everblooming jasmine and candles that never extinguish. This is Helion's favorite place; he would often sneak out as a child to come here and marvel at the city spread before him. Nowadays, you both come to the balcony together and spend hours sipping sparkling wine, discussing anything and everything.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

In Dawn, they have a tradition of never discarding cherished items when they break. Instead, they fill the cracks with gold or silver, making them more beautiful than before. Helion lets everyone see the impeccable and shiny parts of himself, putting it all on display. But when it comes to the places he's been broken, those tiny veins of gold and silver, they are exclusively for you. It took a while before he allowed you to see, but once he did, everything was laid bare. Not a single part of himself remained hidden from you.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

There is one thing that tests his patience, and that's when he has to search for something and he can’t find it. For the rest, his patience is infinite. He will spend hours explaining to you the intricate design of the new device his scholars have made and answer all your questions. He will readily listen to you for hours as you go over the plot of the new book you are reading and then help you recreate "those very interesting scenes."

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

The male is like a walking library, and within it, there's a book solely about you. He remembers everything you say and uses it to his advantage. Once, you told him you loved lemon tarts, and suddenly there was a small greenhouse full of tiny lemon trees. When you casually mentioned your desire to spend more time outdoors, he designed a garden especially for you.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

The moment he saw you for the first time, he was in a hurry and preoccupied with his High Lordly affairs when he accidentally bumped into you. You looked at him and simply scoffed, as if he were an excessively annoying fly, not even acknowledging his status as a High Lord, let alone the most sought-after bachelor in the Day Court. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever witnessed.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He is protective, and he can't help it. Taking a tiny step in front of you, his hand pushing you behind him, his eyes scanning every room you are in. He becomes your shield.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?

He goes above and beyond. He brings you flowers, chocolates, or small presents every day as tokens of his love for you because he feels he doesn't show enough of how much you mean to him. Every once in a while, he arranges quiet candlelit dinners just for the two of you, and when your anniversary comes around, it becomes a three-day event dedicated solely to his love for you.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He is messy —books, inventions, documents, candles, wine glasses—everything is lying around in a whirlwind of chaos, and in some inexplicable way, he always knows what's where.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He puts the "V" in Vain. Helion has way more jewelry than you, although he is doing his best to make your collection match his. Not to mention all his togas—everything is crafted with the finest detail, even the threads are made of pure gold.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Helion views himself as a complete person in his own right, yet whenever you are away, he becomes a little lost, because "you are my light, love."

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Helion writes smutty books based on your "adventures," and you proofread them.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

He hates politics, even though he is very good at it, and he often wishes he could speak candidly instead of using his words as weapons.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

Helion has one rule, and that is "no clothes in bed." He follows it religiously, and you love it because you get to feel his skin pressed against yours all night long.

#helion #helion spell cleaver #high lord helion #day court #sfw headcanons #acotar #acotar fandom

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blackjackkent · 8 months ago

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Today in "Rakha makes everyone just a little bit worse"... we have officially convinced everyone in camp that listening to the Dream Guardian is a good thing and we should slurp the worms.

Astarion and Karlach were already on board. Gale decides without any input from Rakha that he sees "no harm" in taking the worms, given the existential threat the Absolute poses. Shadowheart (after a Persuasion check from Rakha) agreed that it was worth taking every advantage available.

But of course, because they're her best friends and greatest influences, the most interesting conversations are with Wyll and Lae'zel.

-----

"I had another dream last night. The visitor came to me and ordered me to penetrate the heart of the very cult that's spreading the infection. It gave me a tadpole gift too. Just like it did the first time it appeared. I suppose it hoped this would help. At first I thought we should avoid these 'gifts,' no matter what advantage we gain. And yet... I can't help but recall the words of my father. 'The best plan is the one that works.' These powers could be enough to edge us towards victory."

Rakha, deeply relieved to hear him coming around to her point of view: "We need these powers to infiltrate the cult. This is 'the plan that works.'"

"Very well. If it's mind games these parasites wish to play, we'll play. And we'll win."

-----

"Another dream, another order from that dubious visitor. It announced that we will find the answers that we seek in the Absolute cultists' lair - and offered another generous 'gift'. A persuasive creature. It tempts us with power, expresses its admiration, its adoration. Avert your eyes, whenever it appears. And do not avail yourself of this new power, no matter how alluring. You've no idea what damage it could do to us, how far into illithid madness it could drag us."

Rakha trusts Lae'zel so instinctively in all other matters that disagreeing with her here is hard - but with all the others behind her now and the memory of the dream-peace in her head, she has to try. "We can use this skill to manipulate the cultists. We'd be fools to refuse it."

"Battles are won with swords, not mind-games born of brain-worms. The ones we fight with these cultists will be no different. And there *will* come a battle, of that I'm most certain. The one truth that fell out of the dream figure's cankered lips."

"These dreams linger in my memory. Do you think that strange figure will come back?" No doubt Lae'zel can hear the flash of hope in the words. Rakha wants the visitor to come back, to bring her a peaceful night again... like the craving for a drug.

"It is a certainty," she says coolly. "I had assumed our parasites served a ghaik Elder, but I believe they serve a greater master still."

"A greater master? Who - or what - could that be?"

"A question that burns in my belly day and night. Elders and collectives abide by their own tenets. It would require a powerful Creed to unite them. And now this voice, this Creed, finds our own ears. If it reaches this plane, it may reach others?"

"Have you thought about making use of the tadpole's power?" Rakha asks, prodding the subject cautiously.

"Mark my words," Lae'zel snaps. "This power would be no blessing but a curse. You might as well ask me to gouge out my eyes for the promise of sight, or slice off my tongue for the promise of taste. Consume all the ghaik tadpoles you wish. I'm not so craven."

[PERSUASION] "If we must bear the tadpoles' burden, we should also avail ourselves of their power," Rakha points out.

(A/N: 21 on a DC20, out of the park. XD Whatever feelings Lae'zel caught during their night together are doing a number on her.)

Lae'zel flinches uncertainly. "Perhaps you..." she begins, then catches herself and scowls. "No, that's absurd. When the tadpole has stretched to every pore and slithered through every vein, what am I to do then? It won't hear my screams. It won't care if I beg. I will be remade in its image." Her shoulders straighten defiantly. "My faith in Vlaakith will guide me and my own might will sustain me. I have no need of this depraved power."

Perhaps she is right. But Rakha is too lost in her own memories - of the Guardian, of using the worm - to let the matter go. She wants Lae'zel on her side.

[PERSUASION] "This Cult of the Absolute is dangerous," she says firmly, holding Lae'zel's gaze. "We should take all the help we can get."

(A/N: I was fully expecting a higher DC for this second check but it's actually LOWER - 18 instead of 20. Oh, Rakha, you're a bad influence. Poor Lae'zel.)

Lae'zel frowns. And then her shoulders slump and she looks away. "You... you might be right," she mutters haltingly. "The githyanki have long studied ghaik and used what we've learned. The zaith'isk itself was devised from such knowledge." Her voice strengthens as she lets herself be persuaded by Rakha's intensity just as Rakha has, in the past, been persuaded by hers. "The tadpole is perhaps not just a curse, but a weapon I can twist and mold to my advantage."

She sets her jaw. "Very well. I will swallow my disgust and avail myself of the parasite's powers."

Rakha feels herself relax distinctly. Good. Good... It pained her surprisingly deeply to feel at odds with Lae'zel and Wyll on this matter... but both have seen the logic and accepted it. It is a deep, comforting relief.

#bjk plays bg3 durge #rakha the dark urge #oh dear :P

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keter-kan · 3 months ago

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Chapter 4!! Although I've gone through more than once for some brief editing/re-reading of what I've already got written, I didn't realize how much of a set-up there was. This chapter is the final chapter of "set-up": after this, a bit more action comes into play.

Also, please keep in mind that although this has already been edited, it's nowhere near how I'd like the end product to appear. I've got lots of ideas for additions and changes and would greatly appreciate any and all feedback!!

tw: mentions of death and war

Ch. 4

“War?”

May sighed, standing and brushed herself clean of the bit of dirt. “It’s hard to explain,” she started, holding out to hand to prompt Oryn to do the same.

He took it, standing and joining her. They started their walk back towards the cabin—towards the witches and a warm lunch, a soft rug, and a place to forget all these things for a little while.

“What is it?”

She shook her head, not wanting to meet their eyes. Years ago, when May had first laid eyes on the place she now visited so often, she saw the woods as nothing but hostile; both in nature, and in who it inhabited. There was an aura of fear permeating around the tree line, warning all who crossed the threshold that something unwanted and probably painful was awaiting them on the other side. And yet, tucked inside of all that, was someone so innocent as not to know of war; of death and blood and battle and victory. She didn’t know when it happened, she didn’t know the cause, but the fear was replaced with a warmth that had been missing from the manor for quite some time. That aura became a beckoning call when it was once the Witches’ defenses.

“It’s nothing good, Oryn.” May said, stopping in her tracks and looking to them. “I don’t want to think about those things. War is… it’s something men don’t always come back from. I don’t want to think of my brother like that.” She took a moment before continuing to walk, their paces now slowed, lethargic.

“Alright,” Oryn said, a look of clouded questions hiding in their gaze. “Would the Witches tell me?”

May smiled, shaking her head. “Probably not, but I don’t see how it’s something they could avoid. It’s everywhere, all the time.”

Oryn sat up a bit straighter. “Is it here now?”

May laughed, bumping into them as they continued. “No, no. Not like that. Think of it as an argument between big groups of people. As long as people live, they’ll have things to argue about, right? Differing opinions and such.”

Oryn nodded.

“War is like when you and I disagree on something, but instead of just you and me, it’s one kingdom versus another. If there are people, we will fight. If there are kingdoms, they will go to war.” She kicked a small stone along their path, her words falling from her tongue before she could stop herself thinking of them.

“Oh,” Oryn mumbled under their breath, slowly nodding as their brows furrowed with more questions than understanding. As May realized the plethora of things she had just unearthed for them, she looked at them with a worried glance. They chewed their lip, staring at the ground ahead with each step they took. “I argue with the Witches all the time. They say it’s normal; that a person is supposed to question things and feel strong emotions. But, in the end, we are still the same. We don’t go anywhere. Why wouldn’t your brother come back?”

She saw it coming. “People fight with more than words, Oryn. Weapons. Spears, axes, swords and bows. They…” she followed suit to them, looking down at the path ahead of them. “They die.” Please, for the love of the Waters and Winds, tell me they’ve explained death to them.

Oryn stopped in their tracks, eyes wide as they met May’s. “People just go and— they just run off to fight so hard they die? Why would someone…” they shook their head, continuing down the path.

“You have no idea what you’ve just done,” Maureen seethes, pacing the creaking wooden floor of the deck. “The things you put in his head!”

May sat straight-backed, a stern look of her own displayed on her face. “If you’d just told him—”

Maureen stopped in her tracks, her cold gaze settling on May’s, as if sizing her up.

“You still don’t understand, do you?” She said under her breath, her thin tendrils of what was once beautiful hair flinging itself into the breeze behind her.

“Understand what, exactly?” May huffed in exasperation. “The three of you do nothing but talk in circles!” Her throat started to constrict as she went to ask about the vile, viscous brown liquid she drank those many nights ago. “And you—”

She choked on her words, gasping for breath, hacking up phlegm and bile. There was a taste permeating her tongue, enveloping her entire mouth as she struggled to catch a breath. With each arduous inhale there was more gagging, more pain. She could taste it, feel it lethargically slugging its way down her throat again, coating her insides with something rancid. It didn’t matter how much time passed, how hard she tried. This is what happened every time; what held her back from speaking her truth.

That’s what this must be, she thought, retching yet again, this is lies. This is what lies taste like.

One of Maureen’s thin arms snapped towards May, her hand grabbing the girl by the neck as her steel grip tightened, piercing gaze causing a shiver to ravage her body. “Stop struggling,” she said, voice thick with authority, “and stop trying to speak of it. You can’t. That’s what makes it so effective. Don’t you get it?”

May took another moment to gasp and struggle, digging her nails into the bony hand wrapped around her neck. When there was no flinch—not even a modicum of pain splaying on the witch’s face—she decided to do something different for once and listen.

Breath slowly steadying as Maureen released her grip, May raised a hand up to her own throat and rubbed the sore skin. It’s their fault, she thought, locking eyes once again with the witch. She wouldn’t back down; she would be told the truth tonight.

“What did you do to me?” she muttered.

Maureen scoffed, brushing her skirts with the backs of her hands. “We saved you, child. I saved you. This life you live? The freedom and luxury of not having to do anything to cover it up?”

They knew.

“Because of what we did for you, no one will ever know what you did, May. No one will ever have the privilege of locking a spoilt girl such as yourself down in a dank cell. No, not you, May. You’re—”

Elisa rushed into the room with a gust of wind behind her, the door whipping open and slamming itself shut after she entered. “I swear, if you’ve laid a harmful hand on her—”

“I couldn’t if I wanted to!” Maureen shrieked, knowing full well her intention behind her brief stunt a moment ago, even if it was out of her command to execute it.

As they looked at each other with disdain, May found herself starting to tremble in her seat.

They knew.

“My Lady, we have to advise against—”

“I’d have asked if I wanted your advice,” she said, secure in her judgement as she swiftly made her way down the hall. To think, just days before, blood and gore painted the walls. You wouldn’t know if you hadn’t seen it. “I’d have already asked for it.”

The shuffling of leather and clinking of mail grew louder behind her, too afraid to stop her but holding too much respect for her to listen. “But he—”

She stopped short, turning to face the gaggle forming behind her. They stumbled over one another at such a short stop, most looking towards her with wide eyes full of something she hadn’t seen in any of her men for a very long time: fear.

“I took him here,” she started, making eye contact with each soldier, one by one, “therefore I am responsible for him. I’ll be the one to decide what comes next. If you cannot trust that your lives are of the utmost importance to me, then why have you ever taken my orders in the first place?” She paused, allowing the men to think on her words. “I know more now than I did a week ago, as do you. Trust that I am doing what’s right.”

One of the spearmen—a guard—from the back row of soldiers shuffled where he stood, eyes darting between May and the men standing beside him. With what must have been an enormous amount of courage, he spoke.

“Our lieutenant trusted you,” he mumbled.

May’s ears perked, eyeing the man. He couldn’t have been much older than herself. “What was that?”

The guard blushed, his cheeks matching the deep crimson of the uniform he wore beneath his leather vest. Yet, still, he spoke again. “Lieutenant Riker, my Lady. He, uh… he trusted you and, well, he died.” He seemed to sink into the small group even more, if possible.

May shook her head, her piercing gaze not letting up on the poor spearman. “Did you forget that Lieutenant Riker expressly denied orders to leave our guest in peace? Do you think the proper warnings and precautions were not taken? Do you think,” she said, her voice raising, gesturing towards the door at the end of the hall; her ultimate destination. “I would risk the lives of my men—our men—by inviting something hostile into our home with no reason?”

She had their attention now.

Looking once again from one man to the next, she sighed. She owed them more than she could ever tell, and yet they’d all have her head if they knew the truth. It may be time.

“Tell your officers there’s an impromptu meeting this evening,” she said, gazing towards the shadow through the ornate window adorning the plain stone wall. “Give it four hours' time. I’ll tell you. I swear it.”

As she started striding once again down the hall, Oryn’s door coming ever closer, the men behind her merely watched. The door hadn’t been open since the attack, locked from the inside by a man who thinks he’s a monster. May approached, taking a deep breath, her hand reaching for the handle as she heard a soft click, the door opening but a sliver to reveal the dark recess of the room beyond.

“Just you,” Oryn said, voice but a whisper, pulling the door back slightly more, allowing May in.

They sat in silence, looking at one another. May’s ambitious attitude melted away at the sight of them, all shriveled up upon themselves, draped in two or three robes hiding their visage from being seen. There was nothing in the room but a shredded mattress upon a stone dais, raising it slightly in the center of the room. All other furniture—most likely broken beyond repair—had been removed. Long scratches lined the walls, trailing from one end of the room to the other, their twins cascading over the floor. The smell permeating the air was rancid, of rotting meat and decay. The closer May got to Oryn, the worse it became. As Oryn sat upon the remnants of mattress, May adopted the soldier's stance—hands clasped behind your back, feet apart, chin down—giving them ample time to prepare for her onslaught of questions.

Suddenly, the thoughts were flying away, leaving nothing but an empty void in their wake.

“I’m sorry,” Orryn said, breath hushed and full of something heavy and painful.

May shook her head with disbelief, pinching her nose between her fingers and sighing. “I didn’t invite you here to watch you rot in this room. I didn’t come here today to chastise you for what happened.” She made her way closer to them, standing over them near the mattress and offering them a hand to stand next to her.

Oryn, between the hoods of the robes they wore, looked at May’s outstretched hand. “You aren’t afraid?”

She leaned closer, peering between the sheets of fabric with might. “I don’t think you could hurt me. Now get up.” She reached down and took their hand in her own. It took everything in her not to recoil with shock as she felt the cold, dead weight laying limp in her palm, sweat starting to bead on her brow.

Oryn felt something when May grabbed their hand, warmth flowing freely from her body into their own. They looked upon the two hands sitting together, held there by the sheer will of two people.

“I said,” May barked, tightening her grip on Oryn’s hand, “Get. Up.”

She pulled on their hand, yanking him off the tattered mattress and out into the cold center of the empty room. Limp and cold, Oryn stumbled behind, finding themselves standing next to May, her conviction visible and flaring from her ears.

“You can’t do this anymore. Sit here, brooding. Wallowing.” May sighed, eyes narrowing as they continued to stare.

“But I... You—”

“You’ve never killed anyone before? Not once? Not for any reason?”

Oryn shuffled where they stood, refusing to meet May’s eyes, wishing they could curl into the mattress behind them. “Why would I have...”

As they lifted their chin into the light, meeting May’s gaze but for a moment, she saw something there that she’d never seen before. She shook her head, dropping Oryn’s hand and letting it fall beside her as she started pacing the room.

She sighed, the sound of her boots hitting the stone matching the drone of the soft pounding playing in the back of her head. “What did the Witches tell you about death?” she said, her breathing even.

“Everything dies,” Oryn mumbled, “it’s a part of being alive. It might be the end part, but it’s a part we all come to.” They hugged their arms to their chest, pulling the robes tighter around them. From the corner of her eye, May could see the shape of the body underneath; one she wasn’t familiar with. She kept pacing.

“Do you remember when I told you about war?” She kept her eyes straight ahead.

“Yes.”

May nodded. “I’m fighting in a war,” she said, pausing her pacing to meet Oryn’s eye.

As expected, the shock on Oryn’s face was magnifying. She could see the layers to the fear crossing her mind, the horror of murder and untoward death upon the innocent. May knew that—in Oryn’s mind—there was no real understanding of the world as it is. If she was going to stay here, she needed to understand. And, despite the pounding ringing through May’s skull, she couldn’t think of any outcome to the events leading here in which she didn’t take Oryn home.

They shuddered. “I don’t understand. Why would—”

“I’m going to explain everything to you. I promise. But it’s going to take a lot of time: there’s a lot I need to teach you. But,” May said, stepping closer to Oryn, keeping her eyes locked on theirs, no matter how wrong they looked. “I need you to know that those men—my men—they all choose to be here. They all choose to fight. And they’re not fighting in search of death, but in spite of it. Do you understand?” The hardness in her eyes melted away as she leaned forward, taking her hand to pull back the hood concealing Oryn’s face.

She tried her best to hide her shock, but Oryn read her like a book. They knew something was different; whenever something like this happened, they always were. First it was subtle, but as the days passed, the differences became more obvious. They didn’t dare to look at themselves since the attack, but they knew. The soreness brooding in their ribs when they took a breath, the aching in their joints, the tight feeling of their jaw... it always happened.

Oryn nodded, shallow and slowly. “I understand choice,” they started, hands trembling, “and I trust you, May. But I can’t just… I can’t just kill.”

“I never asked you to.” May took in whoever it was in front of them; the new shape, the new structure. “But I’ll need your support. Your undoubted, unequivocal support. No questions asked. Can you do that?”

“I’m not going to be another one of your men—”

“I never asked you to, Oryn. I’m asking you to be my friend. To trust me. And you just said you could, didn’t you?”

Another nod was exchanged between them.

“Good,” May sighed. “There’s a meeting a few hours’ time. Come to the Hall, okay?”

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