#imperial moon kin

[westeroslive]

𝘈𝘙𝘊  𝘐𝘐,  𝖶𝖠𝖱  𝖥𝖮𝖱  𝖳𝖧𝖤  𝖣𝖠𝖶𝖭  :  𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿  𝘁𝘄𝗼.

the  hour  of  the  wolf  has  passed,  darkest  shades  of  the  night  stain  paler  as  the  city  still  sleeps  peacefully  beneath  luminous  moon  —  only  servants  and  common  folk  have  halted  slumber  for  duty.  the  torches  in  the  tower  of  the  hand  flicker  ever  so  often,  never  dimming  as  the  small  council  members  appear  to  be  the  only  nobles  still  awake  in  the  red  keep  ⸻  obsequiously  serving  her  majesty.  hour  upon  hour  filled  with  discussion  -  to  elect  their  new  leader,  the  next  hand  of  the  queen  ...  but  who  is  worthy  of  such  prestigious  position  ⸺  there  is  no  unanimity,  midnight  exists  of  strained  colloquy  and  biting  emphasis  on  covert  self  -  interest  disguised  as  wishes  of  the  realm's  greater  good.  it's  a  tale  as  old  as  time,  from  the  day  aegon  conquered  the  kingdoms  until  the  end  of  the  targaryen  dynasty  -  one  only  has  own  interests  at  heart.  strong  currents  pick  up  across  blackwater  bay,  mighty  winds  roar  harshly  above  the  waters  as  it  nears  the  city  ⸺  a  storm  in  spring  brings  unrest,  a  bad  omen  for  the  rest  of  the  year.  if  only  the  council  members  could  pick  up  the  faint  sounds  growing  louder  with  each  passing  minute,  their  voices  drowning  out  the  tempest.

reunion  between  siblings  -  unexpected  yet  with  bare  bones  of  recent  events  carried  over,  message  shared  changes  the  course  of  diplomacy  between  two  kingdoms.  letter  by  raven  revealed  new  development,  crimson  -  hued  flames  grazed  city  -  states  of  the  empire  as  damage  was  done  by  breath  of  dragon,  not  a  final  kiss  of  death  but  wounded  by  fearsome  attacks.  all  politeness  and  rigidity  in  statecraft  gone  as  the  emperor  only  has  one  goal:  sail  back  to  essos  and  unite  his  lands  during  these  dire  times  of  war,  he  must  go  back  to  pentoshi  soil  and  lead  the  empire  from  his  seat  in  imperial  castle  -  to  be  a  united  front  against  the  enemy.  dagareon  royals  leave  the  quarters  as  servants  are  dispatched  to  gather  all  essosi  nobility,  they  must  set  sail  quickly.  freshly  -  lit  fire  warms  the  room  with  sullen  orange  glow  as  dawn  slowly  paints  the  outside  sky  in  lighter  tints  of  deep  blue,  the  emperor  stands  tall  in  the  midst  of  his  people  -  dragon  mosaic  in  black  and  red  underneath  his  feet.  they  will  overcome  the  challenge  of  the  three  -  headed  dragon,  victory  shall  taste  bitter  iron.  in  all  his  glory,  he  commands  the  essosi  to  leave  the  soil  of  king's  landing  in  exchange  for  the  lands  of  their  upbringing.  it  becomes  a  clandestine  mission,  operation  incomplete  as  not  all  enter  the  ship  on  time  -  some  will  forcefully  stay  behind  in  the  capital.  in  safety  according  to  the  emperor's  brother  -  danger  has  not  reached  the  shores  of  westeros  and  even  if  they  would,  they  are  weaponed  against  the  worst.  a  dance  of  dragons  will  protect  their  own  nobility  and  leave  the  targaryens  vulnerable,  creating  a  power  vacuum  ⸺  for  the  best,  for  the  greater  good  of  the  empire.  heartfelt  letters  written  by  quick  brushstrokes  explain  the  path  chosen  as  they  are  scattered  amongst  the  quarters  of  the  essosi,  their  kin  leaving  on  the  ship  cloaked  in  the  dark  as  dawn  begins  to  break  -  like  fugitives  they  leave  and  tear  apart  diplomatic  relations.  too  caught  up  in  everything  to  notice  the  faint  lights  on  blackwater  bay  as  they  go  deeper  into  the  narrow  sea  facing  the  heavy  gusts  of  wind  in  the  storm.  the  rumble  of  thunder  is  deafening  as  it  intertwines  with  dragon  roars  ⸻  their  loved  ones  safer  in  king's  landing  than  the  damaged  lands  of  essos,  to  be  brought  back  when  all  turmoil  has  been  eradicated.

gusting  winds  have  picked  up  above  the  waters,  thunderous  claps  of  dragon  wings  flying  low  near  the  waves  -  limbs  with  sharp  claws  touching  traitorous  sea  ⸻  it  starts  all  over  again,  at  the  mouth  of  the  blackwater  rush  with  three  dragons,  as  they  conquer.  magic  is  strongest  with  dragons  around,  long  fruitful  summers  with  short  winters  lightly  dusted  by  snow.  it  is  not  any  different  now,  something  in  the  air  shifts  -  thickly  coated  with  prophecies  and  the  fiery  iron  taste  of  fire  and  blood.  loud  roars  fill  the  empyrean  atmosphere  -  familiar  cries  of  dragons  that  do  not  wake  commonfolk,  but  to  the  trained  ear  it  is  foreign  ⸺  not  the  dragons  housed  in  the  pit.  finally,  the  three  dragons  in  shades  of  black,  silver  and  copper  fly  over  the  city  -  wings  large  enough  to  bring  entire  city  in  darkness  of  the  night  yet  again.  loud  uproar  shocks  the  castle  dragons  that  remain  unclaimed  ⸺  apprehension  of  the  unknown  causes  their  panic  as  limbs  push  them  away  from  the  dragonpit  toward  the  dome,  breaking  free  as  they  leave  their  home.  wings  carry  them  across  the  skies  toward  safety  -  castamere  and  dragonstone  within  their  reach  if  they're  fast  enough.  king's  landing  knights,  gold  cloaks  of  the  east  barracks,  watch  the  escape  of  dragons  with  mouths  wide  open  -  rare  phenomenon  before  they  are  brought  back  into  reality.  the  word  spreads  across  the  city  that  all  must  stay  inside  -  enough  warning  of  their  fellow  lowborn  as  they  run  toward  the  nearest  outpost  of  the  red  keep. 

                                                                                 ⸻  ring  the  bell.

the  bond  between  a  dragon  and  their  rider  strong,  together  against  the  world  even  when  all  odds  are  not  in  their  favor  ⸺  no  one  to  stand  in  between,  till  death  do  them  part.  the  dragonriders  wake  up  drenched  in  sweat  as  they  sense  the  fear  instilled  in  their  dragon  —  it  was  clear  that  something  was  wrong.  but  what  was  it  ?  heart  pounding  fast,  the  blood  rushes  to  the  head  as  everything  around  becomes  dark  and  fuzzy  ⸺  too  many  sensations  all  at  once,  connection  with  dragon  overwhelming  as  the  world  spins  out  of  control.

the  city  begins  to  wake  up  under  pale  orange  and  grapefruit  tinted  heavens,  the  soft  epilogue  that  all  deserve  -  dreamscapes  painting  homes.  the  terror  of  the  nightfall,  haunted  by  the  heat  of  dragons,  reappears  in  the  heavens  as  three  dragons  enter  the  battle  scene.  gruesome  near  reincarnations  of  balerion  the  black  dread,  vhagar  and  meraxes  as  they  curse  king's  landing  into  absolute  darkness.  together  they  set  the  capital  ablaze  with  dragonflames  escaping  mouths,  not  as  powerful  as  the  fires  from  trueborn  grown  dragons  but  still  a  devastating  blow  ⸺  alleys  and  houses  burned  to  the  ground,  charred  to  coal.  their  sights  now  turned  to  red  keep  after  the  city  parallels  the  field  of  fire,  a  relic  from  aegon's  war  of  conquest  -  only  the  targaryen  reign  has  fallen  victim  now.

heat  of  licking  flames  scorches  the  royal  gardens  into  a  wasteland  of  ashes,  now  a  palace  of  bruised  flowers  -  unable  to  grow  in  tarnished  ground.  while  castle  dragons  have  escaped  dragonpit  before  it  becomes  their  mausoleum,  bonded  dragons  arrive  on  torched  down  territory  at  the  foot  of  the  red  keep.  dragons  are  fire  made  flesh  ⸻  immunity  against  fire  as  the  royal  dragons  wait  on  their  riders  -  cannot  be  separated  as  their  roaring  cries  warn  the  queen's  children  of  the  imminent  danger  they  are  in.

the  raging  inferno  is  strong  -  waft  of  smoke  fills  every  corner  of  the    castle,  every  breath  taken  corrupts  lungs  with  sulfur,  the  smell  intense  that  nobles  of  court  rouse  ⸻  realization  dawns  upon  them,  trapped  in  the  keep.  visibility  at  all  -  time  low,  last  vision  is  dark  soot  as  flesh  is  burning  with  the  heat.  it  is  impossible  to  escape  -  screams  of  anguish  and  tears  of  despair  only  weaken  bodies  before  they  succumb  to  eternal  sleep.  the  royal  palace  now  their  grave  if  only  they  knew  they  are  the  lucky  ones.  heat  becomes  stronger,  melting  the  structure  of  the  last  resting  place  of  many  -  large  blocks  of  pale  red  stone  fall  as  it  burns  down  to  rubble.  some  casualties  of  the  morning  are  caught  under  the  weight  of  the  walls,  suffocation  as  it  becomes  harder  to  respirate  -  gasping  for  air  as  they  try  to  survive,  but  deep  down  they  know,  their  cries  for  help  will  not  be  heard  ⸺  death  welcomes  them  as  the  sweltering  heat  of  dragonflames  no  longer  burns  skin.

the  outcries  of  the  three  serpentine  dragons  is  loud,  it  nearly  engulfs  the  connection  between  dragonrider  and  dragon.  however,  it  is  the  prince  commander  who  feels  the  pull  strongest,  he  gathers  his  siblings  as  he  analyzes  the  situation  ⸺  the  spare  of  the  spare  knows  what  must  be  done.  with  quick  words  and  a  natural  commandeering  presence,  the  youngest  princess, little viserra,  is  tasked  with  seeking  out  nobles  and  fly  them  out  to  dragonstone  toward  safety  while  prince  daeron  secures  the  red  keep  before  doing  the  same.  three  other  targaryen  royals,  with  dragons  made  for  the  task,  are  entrusted  with  defeating  the  foreign  reptiles  ⸺  and  so  prince  aelyx,  princess  daenaera,  and  prince  calyx  climb  into  their  saddle  and  prepare  for  war.  they  must  be  defeated  at  all  costs,  even  death  of  their  own.

imposing  and  fearsome,  prince  commander  makes  the  first  move  as  he  scares  the  holy  trinity  of  dragons  away  from  the  red  keep  ⸺  with  great  speed  tyraxes  challenges  them  toward  the  mouth  of  blackwater  rush,  far  away  from  the  commoners  and  the  fleeing  court  that  refuse  to  be  entombed  for  eternity  in  the  ashen  debris.  as  the  oldest  dragon  of  the  royal  children  scares  the  trio  away,  it  allows  zeokas,  calaellis  and  balerion  to  follow  and  each  claim  their  own  adversary.  it  becomes  a  battle  of  serpentine  creatures  -  a  dance  of  dragons  above  blackwater  bay  ⸺  a  century  old  tragedy,  as  they  burn  across  the  sky  with  claws  intertwined  and  biting  jaws  filled  with  sharp  teeth.  it  draws  the  danger  further  away  from  the  city  while  the  few  volantene  ships  watch  on  -  scions  of  old  blood  have  signed  the  death  warrant  of  the  targaryens,  all  is  well.  the  acrid  smoky  air  envelops  the  city,  bright  fires  near  the  gates  and  markets  while  the  royal  castle  is  swallowed  alive  by  the  dragonfire  coming  from  purgatory.  the  distressed  screams  of  westerosi  aristocracy  and  queen  rhaena's  welcomed  guests  will  be  the  key  melody  in  the  ballads  immortalizing  the  victory  of  volantis  and  the  true  valyrian  descendants.  the  perfect  backdrop  as  the  dragons  fight  high  in  the  skies  -  the  sunrise  matching  the  bloodshed  in  the  capital,  the  sea  of  flames  as  times  of  peace  are  officially  over.  it  is  with  grotesque  surprise  that  the  essosi  delegation  realizes  what  fate  they  narrowly  escaped  -  the  images  engraved  into  psyche.  but  bombshell  only  builds  on  as  they  realize  some  of  their  loved  ones  are  still  in  the  city  -  sleeping  peacefully  in  their  quarters,  their  deaths  imminent.  inconsolable  grief  finds  roots  on  the  ship  but  there  is  no  turning  back  ... 

                          one  can  only  go  forward  and  pray  to  their  gods.

through  speed  and  endurance,  tyraxes  and  iridessa  bring  most  nobles  to  safety  ⸺  a  reconnaissance  mission  happens  to  find  the  missing  aristocrats  but  a  mournful  aura  paints  the  castle  of  dragonstone  in  even  more  somber  colors,  unremovable  mist  of  gloom.  the  entirety  of  the  small  council  gathered  at  the  highest  floor  of  the  stone  drum  with  eyes  on  the  carved  map  of  westeros  -  dreams  of  revenge  ...  and  for  once  the  queen  shall  agree  without  help  of  her  precious  hand,  there  is  no  more  liege  hand.  but  how  does  one  rage  war  against  an  invisible  enemy  ⸺  what  is  a  noble  to  a  dragon.  nothing.  the  queensguard  protects  her  majesty  as  she  overlooks  the  battle  happening  over  blackway  bay  ⸺  three  of  her  blood  risking  their  life  -  she  may  lose  another  one,  grief  that  nearly  killed  her  last  time.  is  this  another  punishment  from  the  gods  ?

the crown  prince  seeks  out  frantically  for  the  dagareon  royals  in  the  hallways  of  his  own  keep  -  impulsive  decision  made  as  he  flies  away  from  the  sanctuary  that  is  dragonstone  to  the  tomb  of  king's  landing.  his  duty  forsaken  to  find  more  survivors  but  the  palace  is  nothing  more  than  a  pile  of  ashes  and  melted  stones  -  harrenhal  was  nothing  compared  to  this  ravage  -  the  targaryen  ancestral  castle  no  longer  stands  tall,  brought  to  the  ruins  by  dragons  similar  to  their  ancestors.  dragons  do  not  burn,  but  he  weeps  at  the  fallen  nobles  in  the  midst  of  the  cinders  ⸻  too  many  faces  he  recognizes.  purple  gaze  is  drawn  to  the  body  of  a  sibling  of  the  ruling  lord  stark  -  figure  bloodied  and  bruised,  halo  of  crimson  surrounding  head  as  fire  still  licks  at  the  stones  around.  he  pulls  the  noble  away  from  the  slowly  -  dimming  flames  and  continues  the  quest.  near  the  gardens  the  ground  is  scorched  and  the  sulfur  scent  is  strong,  another  member  of  a  great  house  fallen,  this  time  a  young  rose  plucked  away  from  highgarden  too  soon  ⸺  young  with  a  future  ahead.  the  path  ahead  is  dark  -  howls  of  highborn  in  pain  are  everywhere  and  nowhere  at  once,  it  never  stops  like  they  are  in  the  walls  and  beneath  his  feet.  the  dragons  roar  on  -  rumbling  and  loud  enough  to  shake  king's  landing  to  the  core  with  ground  moving  and  stones  falling  all  around.  he  sees  the  first  sword  of  braavos  in  the  distance,  pushing  against  heavy  structure  to  save  the  lives  -  and  yet  another  loud  cry  from  the  reptiles  causes  rocks  to  topple  down  on  top  of  him.  hard,  painful  and  heavy  enough  to  break  through  the  ground  straight  into  the  secret  tunnels  ⸻  the  sword  joins  the  ones  he  tried  to  save  in  death.  finally,  eyes  meet  the  dead  stare  of  the  imperial  crown  prince,  nighttime  robes  kissed  by  dragon  fire  with  valyrian  steel  sword  melted  to  his  hand.  foolishly  brave  to  fight  the  dragons  on  his  own,  a  noble  mission  that  became  his  death  as  flames  scorched  his  flesh  -  swallowing  him  alive  in  heat,  but  it  is  the  fall  from  great  height  that  was  his  end.  perhaps  the  enemy  did  not  win  when  it  came  to  prince  kusa,  the  final  blow  not  serpentine  blazes  but  a  freefall  from  the  highest  tower  with  broken  neck  and  eyes  wide  open.

the  confrontation  between  dragons  rages  on  above  the  waves  of  the  bay,  dragonlords  holding  onto  tightly  to  their  reins  as  they  steer  toward  fatal  clashes.  with  careful  glances,  prince  calyx  notices  the  barely  -  there  lights  on  the  water  as  he  redirects  balerion  toward  the  volantene  ships  watching  the  burning  city  ⸻  oh  how  they  go  up  in  flames  with  practiced  ease,  what  a  tragedy.  calaellis  and  princess  daenaera  go  after  the  smallest  dragon  of  the  enemy,  brutally  strong  jaw  biting  into  other's  neck  until  their  limbs  no  longer  move  ⸺  after  a  long  battle  the  copper  dragon  is  no  more,  crashing  into  the  water  to  have  a  sealord's  funeral.  the  shyest  royal  of  them  all,  the  prince  of  summerhall,  with  zeokas  made  for  combat,  fights  the  two  largest  dragons  at  once.  narrowly  avoiding  death  until  the  claws  of  the  silver  dragon  and  his  own  copper  intertwine  into  a  tango  ⸻  allowing  the  black  dread  to  escape.  a  slight  turn  of  his  head  to  find  the  black  monster  again  -  easily  found,  but  then  he  watches  him  dive.  with  horror,  prince  aelyx  watches  the  balerion  -  reincarnate  bite  maegor  in  half  as  his  brother,  prince  rhaeys,  sits  on  top  of  the  crimson  reptile.  and  like  magic,  onyx  serpent  disappears  into  thin  air  ⸻  like  he  never  existed  before,  gone  with  the  wind.  nonetheless,  there  was  an  operation  to  be  fulfilled,  he  was  not  going  to  abandon  the  ship  and  together  with  calyx  and  his  beloved  balerion  -  the  two  siblings  defeat  the  silver  moonlight  beast.

𝘈𝘙𝘊  𝘐𝘐,  𝖶𝖠𝖱  𝖥𝖮𝖱  𝖳𝖧𝖤  𝖣𝖠𝖶𝖭  :  𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗿.

and  with  this  final  part  of  the  plot  drop  we  conclude  our  time  in  king's  landing  and  move  toward  a  new  location  as  constructions  are  underway  in  the  capital.  as  soon  as  the  three  dragons  were  defeated,  court  was  allowed  to  go  back  home  -  since  then  three  months  have  passed,  making  it  currently  mid  to  late  summer.

the  ruling  lord  tyrell  has  opened  the  doors  of  highgarden  and  welcomes  court  inside  his  home  ⸺  some  may  wonder  if  it  is  a  bid  to  push  his  heir  as  hand  of  the  queen  since  the  spot  is  yet  to  be  filled.  her  majesty  has  accepted  this  arrangement  to  push  forward  the  betrothal  proceedings  between  her  second  -  born  and  the  lady  tyrell.

there  is  no  immediate  celebration  upon  the  arrival  of  the  guests,  so  threads  may  be  written  in  and  around  the  grounds  since  is  the  first  time  court  meets  again  after  three  months  filled  with  raven  -  sent  letters  and  mourning  of  the  deceased.

after  the  events  in  king's  landing,  with  the  fresh  realization  that  a  strong  alliance  with  the  dragonlords  is  of  utmost  importance,  the  emperor  has  decided  to  send  a  small  delegation  of  essosi  nobles  to  westeros  as  ambassadors  -  official  envoys  of  the  essosi  empire.  therefore,  all  existing  essosi  muses  will  be  diplomats  for  the  kingdom  while  the  open  positions  are  back  in  their  respective  lands  unless  they  are  deceased.

if  our  current  members  wish  to  drop  any  muses  and  pick  up  new  ones,  you  are  welcomed  to  create  a  ticket  in  the  server  for  easy  back  -  and  -  forths.

we will be posting the full list of the deceased as soon as we have most of the character drops confirmed in the server.

moreover,  members  have  until the next activity check  to  post  at  least  once  in  -  character  on  all  their  muses.  there  is  an  exception  for  members  on  hiatus,  for  those,  we  kindly  request  to  confirm  if  you  wish  to  stay  with  us  within  48  hours  and  with  which  muses.

there  is  a  lot  of  information  in  the  plot  drop,  so  please  ask  us  any  questions  you  may  have  in  the  server  or  on  the  main  -  we  will  happily  clarify  the  situation.

[ervona]

Day 7: Profane / Sword for @tes-summer-fest

Out on the Inner Sea, where Ebonheart had crossed to Vvardenfell with one one bold leap set in stone, the port was rocked to sleep by languid waves. Southwards lay the vast expanse of Thirr, eastwards the City of Swords over which loomed a frozen moon, and thence a ferry sailed in worn and weathered. One of the passengers, a young lady, bowed to the boatman as she disembarked. 

Rather undistinguished in her clean but simple clothes, she was glad for it and took a deep breath of sea air that mixed with the cooking from Six Fishes, watching as stevedores hauled barrels and crates onto a merchant ship. For a few more paces across the cobblestone, she needn’t have been a duke’s daughter up until the bridge to the castle, so she took a slight turn at Forth Hawkmoth.

In the Skyrim Mission hall, she asked of a friendly ambassador all the latest rumors brought in on western winds, while in the neighboring Argonian Mission she exchanged a courteous greeting and hidden scrap of paper with the consul. The significance of each meeting was not as it must have seemed, and she continued to Castle Ebonheart whither the Imperial knight at the bridge led her in without issue.

The guards inside were all aglint in silver, but the mer that strode up to her was in beetle-green silk, embellished with countless shimmering wings. Uncle appeared to her more boyish than ever, though he’d never been older, as his face and hands showed no signs of age that more closely followed the working mer. She leapt into a hug, for the illusion of their friendship was always worth upholding.

“You look like a pilgrim,” he said with a smile; she trimmed the condescension off of it like the hands of Fishmongers’ Hall fileted fish and moved on, carving a smile on her own face. “I see them crossing the lakes daily now, all sorts of pleasant people, long traveled–”

“Good evening to you too. But where’s Father?” Often enough he would have been holding court at this hour, now his seat was an empty ornament flanked by his personal guard.

“Up in his dining hall. Shall we go, then?” So she took him by the hand and followed up the spiraling staircase, soon liberated from his idle chatter by the fact that the chamber with her drawers stood afore Father’s. She excused herself to go change her clothes before sitting at the dinner table, and he proceeded rather than wait for her, which was suitable just fine.

It was apt to call it a guest room, but it had more or less been reserved for her, and all the things she hadn’t taken with her were where she’d left them. She wasted no time dressing, though she did not miss the more restrictive, overly ornate clothing she’d worn at court. Her neighbors in Saint Delyn on the other hand would work themselves to the bone for a brocade blouse like hers. 

Once when in Tear visiting Mother’s kin, she’d taken a liking to the airy anther fabrics they favored in the humid marshlands. Grey was their color, but the city had soon been wreathed in black after a high councilor’s undisclosed passing, strife had been sown and blood ran cold. These days the young, the dissidents, and all those who’d lost their spirits and loved ones in the war had many high seats to fill. 

Her time there had taught her not the evils of slavery, for she’d already looked upon them in Empire-chartered lands, but certainly more ways to strive against it. Even with her Serano cousins had she found kindred spirits, and through them much needed contacts, Black Marsh and beyond. The Dren side of the family was truly no better or worse, distinguished Hlaalu nobles as they were, but she would put that thought aside for dinner. 

Father awaited her in his golden moth robes, and she sank into a silent embrace with only the murmur of endearments into her hair and the clatter of cutlery. There was no need to say too much. He already had the perfect image of her in his mind, carefully cultivated, unable to grow beyond it even when they were alone, for too much shared grief weighed on them. The table was set for three, each with ample space of their own and the appetizer already served. 

She nibbled on a wickwheat biscuit as Uncle seemed to continue what he’d been talking about, his newly established netch ranch, the fine leather it brought, and she bit her tongue in frustration. Him and his blood-stained netch leather and the yoke that pulled lives and souls asunder. The three of them were in different worlds by now, though still only a ferry away from each other in the isles where the sacred and worldly embraced with hidden blades. 

Then he turned to her, wondering aloud why she’d chosen to live in a pauper’s residence. Without breaking her composure, she took a sip of her mineral water. She’d explained it enough to Father, and had lived well for a better part of the year, so where had he been?

“I’d seen it and thought to myself of what wisdom I could take from living in modesty. Our kin in Tearmarsh live simple but the light of the Three hardly touches them, unlike us,” she recited something akin to what she had before and before. Uncle whose kena had been a blademaster of Saint Felms giggled at that, and Father cut him a glance across the table.

“What? We’re not in Vivec, but in Ebonheart,” he stressed that last word with a Cyrod lilt, “I’d hazard to say the Three are asleep at the helm when the people are wanting for them.”

“The Three do not judge mere ill-spoken words, but the people do. Let us eat,” was all that Father had to say before calling the next course, ornada marinated in plum and comberry.

She continued to sup in silence, but imagined if they’d cleared the table and dueled in a knightly manner. A challenge of honor, for the gods at that, had been more common in warlike times but the custom was very much alive. Say they fought to the death, Uncle if he by chance won would get his final rival out of the way and send her to wed the King’s heir Ser Talen Vandas. Father had planned much the same, though not urgently, and he would hesitate to kill his brother in the first place but if he did, she would carry the Dren name.

What did she want, then? For the dinner to carry on in peace, not to lose her composure, and not have to marry the King's dear nephew. But perhaps a queen of Morrowind would carry power, more so than a duke, only the profane ruler of all Vvardenfell. There was a cloak of decorum about Father that fit a very refined doll, having his armor shined as if every day was a holy-day, little else for him to do but dictate legally worded letters for contractless builders on Azura’s Coast and hang his head. She could never become so complacent.

Father ate rather delicately to not stain his bead-woven beard and mustache, and his younger brother followed the lead, though prior stabbing his cooked ornada without grace. The knife he sliced with, dueling the carapace, was as her cutlery gilt and engraved to go along with the ebony plating. Overhead the chandelier of green glass hung as a sword pointed at them, a thousand shimmering blades. Cruel and acute was the castle, had been from its very first stone.

After dessert, she retreated to her chambers still chewing on the apple sweetcake. Father and Uncle having bid her good night continued talking, for which she was too tired, tired of her studies at the Temple and the fragile cover they made, of parlaying with smugglers or worse playing as abolitionists, of crossing betwixt and across sharp edges, and most of all knowing that she was ill-fit for their beautiful world even if she’d ever wanted to return.

She fell upon her bed face-first and rose back up, hair tousled from the impact giving her the feeling of peeking from a thicket. Through her eastward window she could see the lanterns of the city below, Ebonheart’s diadem. Further still across the water was the palace dome awash in cold fire, circled by celestial spheres that seemed like marbles from this distance. In there did Vivec dwell, as far from the cries of the helpless as one could be in the Ascadian Isles.

Once the gods had walked among them, before her time. Perhaps it rang true that they were asleep at the helm, or had spun the wheel and left it to turn uncontrollably as gods were wont to do. It fell to the people to take hold of, but only in hands that meant well could a better tomorrow be spun from the frayed yarn of the past. 

Her bed here was softer than in Saint Delyn, only the finest, most delicate fabrics for the Duke’s household, but it didn’t let her rest easy. In the morning, or the next, depending on how much Father wanted her to stay, she would disembark once more. She would watch the waves play, sway corkbulb boats like merlings on the seaside who had been told the world was their oyster. 

There was much work to be done, but it could wait the morning, or the next, as it had waited for far too long. And she cast a wish, just a small one, to each of the three moons that adorned the sky and sea.

[sr-8eep5]

Here’s the lore of my series Magic & Melodrama. (Although I might repost with art later.

The Big Ragnarok

After eons of floating through space, the creatures we to used to call Gods found a planet overflowing with delicious primordial magic, and covered with tiny people. For thousands of years, they watched and drank magic, until the tiny people died out.

Using their personal reserves, the Moonbeast magically reshaped the world and added new creatures of their own design, influencing their new creations with Godwhispers and gambling on entertaining outcomes.

For unknown millennia, the Moonbeast would reshape the world, play with their creations, and reform new worlds from the old, either when everything died or when things just got boring. These magical apocalypses would, of course, kill everything on the planet, and the act of rebuilding a new world from the old made the magic emanating from the core of this clay toy planet evermore volatile and unstable, creating separate dimensions: imitations of the previous worlds.

When the Zephtacea of a former world retreated in their underwater mountains, our world, known as Terreztriall, was born on top of theirs.

With magic more potent and wild than it had ever been, Moonbeast sought to create their most entertaining show yet. We call this period of time the First Era, or The Imperial Age.

It was an age of tyrant kings, slave armies, and shackled sorcerers wielding violent explosive magic, waging ceaseless war goaded on by the Godwhispers of the Moonbeast. But they made shocking discovery.

The Zephtacea of the Former survived.

When they came to the surface world, they spoke of the realms of broken worlds they found linked to their waterhomes, how the Moonbeast toyed with us for their own amusement, and how the tyrant kings communicated with them for personal power.

It was at this point the gods knew they fucked up.

This lead to the Big Ragnorak; a series of worldwide magically cataclysmic uprisings against the cruel leaders. Where millions of newly liberated people toppled the empires and city states of god-backed kings and their few loyal servants. The world basically turned into a churning cauldron of raw magic, oozing the bones and bloods of anything living, making us stronger, smarter, taller, and jigglier.

The ghosts of the past found away to have physical bodies and woke back up and went to work on connecting crypts to make this huge network of mausoleum cities.

This is also when half-kin started to appear, like the half-haemo half-elzen Relmers, or the half-elzen half-bijen Dwellers, and the Dragonkin got new looks too.

Blood magic got created, using the magic in us to shortcut all that wrist and finger stuff to cast spells.

Speaking of spells new ones were learned every week, like to transmute metals: that helped calmed the dragons and made the leftover kings money worthless, then you got morphing someone’s body, reviving the dead, and cloning yourself.

So in short, the Moonbeast lost control of their masterpiece. And since they couldn’t create a new world, they transferred their remaining reserves of the power onto 5 kin. They hoped that receiving god-like powers would cause them to take over Terreztriall and return things back to the messed up status quo. But they fucked up for a final time as they can’t even Godwhisper their intentions, so that plan backfired stupendously.

Now, they’re stuck on the moons starving and powerless, as everyone and the new demi-gods, toppled the remaining empires and were ready to bring an era of equality, prosperity, and love.

And then the Fae arrived.

Creatures willing themselves into existence from the raw magic. The Fae were devious, alien, and cruel. When the northernmost castle of the Imperial Era fell, the ugly fortress of Euphorasm, the peasant armies had no time to rebuild their vision of a utopian society, and fled by the millions south; harassed and attacked on all sides by Fae creatures.

Until, finally, after thousands of miles, the peasant armies found a new home.

Sadly that wasn’t the end of the bullshit, we kinda didn’t realize at the time but we caused climate change to get worse.

Realizing the effects of climate change were exponential and devastating.

Not only we had to rebuild basically everything but had to deal with famine, crazy weather, and many things going extinct.

So, any sort of governments we had gathered all the scientists, architects, engineers, and wizards to get everything on track.

First, genetic engineering tech got better quickly because all ethics were thrown out. This lead to the Forced Bio-evolution Project. We ended up with entire food chains made from older species to handle the new world, new crops, and the earliest chimera treatments.

Second, funding solar tech let us power damn near everything we use; robots, cars, cargo ships, and even cruise liners. So, charging stations got place everywhere for them and to swap out batteries.

Thirdly, we started to work with the undead to build an underground bunker network for everyone to live in. They had everything nuclear reactors, hydroponic farms, and first stem-spa vats to heal anything.


Finally, we tried to battle against the hurricanes and monsoons by getting them into reservoirs, added with desalination plants too, so that a huge irrigation system can be placed to keep the Back Alleyway green.

It wasn't enough.

People were upset cause we were starving, dying, and overall just despairing over everything.

After a couple of years, the population had been shot down to about a third of what it was. Desert got absolutely everywhere. The majority of people were displaced nomads with no ties to their host cities.

People were getting desperate with little food and no shelter, so resentment grew as the pseudo governments had none to offer.

Then, the Zaibatsu stepped in.

The land of the Alleyway wasn’t that valuable outside of potential tactical military plans. So, the majority of imperial stuff here were fortified dungeons and military ports.

But these guys were thinking ahead, despite the rebellions some laws still held power.

The remaining wealthy people and businesses bought massive tracts of land, so they can offer the starving masses an ultimatum; work for us or starve. It was a bold proclamation but not a hard decision, it was backed by licensed advances in hydroponic farm, patented genetically modified crops, and a new gemstone currency.

Any sort of nationalism was drowned out by hunger and desperation, we traded governments for Holdings Companies. Who can fill the bellies and pockets of their billion-strong followers.

Megacities were built in important strategic or resource locations, housing millions of people. They were designed to be built higher and wider as the need for space grew without evacuating bunkees.

Massive agricultural projects placed in the majority of the western continent and south of the east one.

All the people had to do was sign away the rights of their and future generations' lives for a hot meal and a cool pillow.

Meanwhile, a forgotten paranoid rich guy financed and built what is known as the Star Citadel, modular ring of inter-connected space stations orbiting the planet. This amazing thing contained the wealthiest, brilliant, and most influential people off-world as the world heals and to keep an closer eye on the Moonbeast.

Once the invitees were onboard, the Star Citadel's leader offered its seats to anyone who could afford the exorbitant cost. These costs were for a rocket flight to the ring and the expensive annual subscription fees to pay for maintenance and one's own luxuries.

Years passed, more cultural groups became Zaibatsu and their subsidiaries became known as Peers. They became ever more powerful, their wealth ballooned astronomically, but invitations to the Star Citadel became fewer and fewer. Shareholders and the ultra-wealthy walled off the launch pad leading to the Star Citadel, creating what's known today as The FiDi Port. The area acted as a large fortified gated community, allowing its wealthy residents to wait for their turn on the rocketship while keeping the riffraff out.

Over Five hundred years passed since events of the Big Ragnorak, the desert has ceased expanding, and after a handful of near economic collapses, zombie incursions and dragon attacks, Terreztriall is finally finding its feet. The world is a dangerous place, filled with monsters, bandits, pirates and fae creatures, so adventurers and mercenaries are in high demand. The few remnants of the Imperial Age are now quaint hidden relics of the past; tomes filled with ancient knowledge, fragmented technology, armors, and weapons, toys, entertainment, and the occasional piece of jewelry.

But across Terreztriall, morale remains high, perhaps because no one answers to a higher authority than their own carrier.

The gods are starving and silent, and what few towns exist outside the megacities are led democratically and Zaibatsus placate the masses with bread, circuses and automation allowing more leisure, and with the fates of the last kings taught to every child.

The population is booming, thanks to inter-kin breeding, Zephtacean techniques, Reborn industry, and a little bit of magic has allowed almost every home in the world a few creature comforts, such as running hot water and refrigeration cellars.

[queer-starwars-bracket]

Queer Star Wars Characters (Round 4): General Bracket Match 4

Kaeden Larte | Identity: queer | Media: Ahsoka novel

Kaeden Larte was a young farmer on the isolated moon of Raada. When she was fourteen her parents died in a farming accident and she was given special permission to take their job. She also became the guardian of her younger sister Miara. When Ahsoka arrived on Raada, Kaeden was quick to welcome her and developed a crush on her. When the Empire arrived, Kaeden joined a resistance cell. Their attack on the Imperial garrison failed, and Ahsoka to save them, was forced to reveal that she was a Jedi. Feeling betrayed that Ahsoka kept such a secret from her, she abandoned their hiding place in the caves and was captured by the Empire. They tortured her, but Ahsoka was able to rescue her. When Ahsoka left Raada to get help, Kaeden was captured again by the Sixth Brother to lure out Ahsoka. When Ahsoka rescued her again, she confessed her feelings, which Ahsoka gave a noncommittal answer to.

After Ahsoka’s battle with the Sixth Brother, the residents of Raada were welcomed to Alderaan. Kaeden eventually went to medical school and afterwards joined the Rebellion as a medic. If she ever reconnected with Ahsoka is unknown. She was present at the medal ceremony at the end of A New Hope.

The episode “Resolve” from Tales of the Jedi is based on the same episode concept as the Ahsoka novel, and thus has potentially retconned Kaeden and replaced her with a white man. However a reference book has attempted to establish the two as just coincidentally similar separate events. The identity “queer” is based off E K Johnston’s statements regarding what orientation she imagined Kaeden with. 

Art by @jedikvghts on tumblr

Just Lucky | Identity: bisexual (male and nonbinary) | Media: Doctor Aphra comics

Just Lucky, to pay for his brother’s gambling debts, was forced to become a member of the Canto Bight based crime syndicate the Sixth Kin. There he began a relationship with another lieutenant of the syndicate, Ariole Yu. He later left the active service of the Sixth Kin and broke off his relationship with Yu, which he could do as long as he kept paying off his brother’s gambling debts. He took jobs off planet and eventually became an associate of Doctor Aphra. But when she attempted to obtain the Rings of Vaale, he became a double agent for the wealthy Ronen Tagge. After Aphra “killed” Ronen, he captured her for Dominia Tagge. She offered Aphra a job, while cutting off Lucky.

Needing a constant flow of cash, he returned to the Sixth Kin to see if they had any jobs. He was forced to work with Ariole Yu, his ex, to kill their shared mentor who had defected to Crimson Dawn. They fought Crae, refusing his offer to join Crimson Dawn. After they lost, they were thrown in the brig where they joined Aphra and Sana Starros is escaping. However, Aphra eventually stranded the two. Qi’ra gave her pitch for Crimson Dawn and then let them leave. Back on Canto Bight, the Sixth Kin attempted to bait them into killing each other. They saw through this and decided to take a job from Ronen Tagge to steal the Spark Eternal.

To do this job, they confronted a Spark Eternal possessed Aphra on the Vermillion. But seeing what they were up against, they decided to hit the bricks. As they fled, they ran into Sana Starros’ “Save Aphra” crew, running to confront/save Aphra. Just Lucky ended up convincing Ronen to save Sana’s team after they were defeated and their ship destroyed. Sana convinced Ronen that his only choice was to kill Domina, and that her team would join him to repay their “debt”. They joined Ronen in his Crimson Dawn supported coup for the Tagge Corporation, which turned out to be a trap Domina and Sana set to lure Ronen and his supporters into the open. Sana arranged for all of their debts to the Tagge Corporation to be forgiven, so Ariole and Just Lucky joined her in attempting to save Aphra.

In addition to his reignited relationship with Ariole, he also has a crush on the non-binary Lapin Tagge.

[mochigobrrrrrrr]

Qin Kha Ottile Srivastava / A workaholic machinist

This character hasn’t always been exclusive to XIV, if anything I always liked making him in different game’s character customizations. Before I only had drawings and placed him in different universes or anything I was obsessed with at the time. Qin’s been more or less a muse for my art work and imaginary best friend since I was 13 yrs old. (I’m weird lemme alone.)

Full Name Qin Kha Ottile-Srivastava Species Au Ra / Hyur Birth Date / Age 3rd Sun of the 6th Astral Moon / 38 yrs Guardian Nophica, The Matron Clan Xaela Gender Male Height / Weight 6'10" / 260lbs Body Type Lean / Mesomorph Hair Color Dirty Blonde Eye Color Chartreuse (left) Hazel (right) With Gold Limbal Ring Distinguishing Features Sparse Facial and Body Scales / Pointed Ears / Tattoos / Intricate Scars / Magitek Tail Birthplace / Current Home Azim Steppe / Empyreum Profession Engineer / Gunsmith Sexual Orientation Bisexual Relationship Status Married - Rajani Srivastava Kith and Kin Shal're Kha (mother) / Lian Ottile (father) Sarnai Kha (non-bio sister) (deceased, age 8) Personality Easygoing / Subdued

Qin has always been a tad introvert and selective about it, only coming out of his shell and outgoing with people he warms up too. Now of late he lives more carefree and opens up more easily, feeling less forced about putting himself into a public setting. He always carries a sarcastic and rowdy demeanor. When the time calls for it, Qin can be serious and strict.

Notable

His early work depended heavily on where he stayed, but he never stayed in one place for too long. Using what skills he had acquired from Azim Steppe, such as hunting and long distance combat, Qin became useful for bounty boards and quick jobs. Soon enough he found himself falling into the life of a mercenary and ran a small company for several years; Qin used it as a means to ship goods from Azim to Limisa and sell hired swords.

One day he found a passion for firearms. The once talented archer became enamored with them; to the point of commissioning his first firearm, He commissioned a custom-built Wander from the Skysteel Manufactory. Since then, it has become his passion to collect and care for each arm he acquired throughout the years. Today, he owns a total of five firearms that he himself modified, not counting his multi tool.

His Magitek tail is one of the many interesting features but how he gained the prosthetic though, is less interesting. Perhaps it’s one story kept between him and the multi-tool responsible. His multi-tool is an ever-expanding arsenal equipped with a: drill cannon, air anchor, chainsaw, and a grenade launcher. The last one was more or less the cause; a simple weapons test involving homemade explosives went horribly wrong. While the initial blast did not cause the majority of his injuries, shrapnel and infection did. Walking around with a stump for a tail didn’t bother him, but it did impact his quality of life. His stump caused balance issues in day-to-day life. A collaborative effort with colleagues and himself soon took off, where they began researching magitek and utilizing their engineering knowledge to fashion a prosthetic tail.

Likes

Traveling

Working (Seriously. You have to make him stop or he won't.)

Drinking (Whiskey served neat.)

Smoking

Solitude

Dressing nice

Dislikes

Alcohol that tastes like piss water.

Pointing at his ears.

Inability to let things go.

Asking him what happened to his tail.

Backstory

Qin Ottile spent most of his childhood raised on the outskirts of the Azim Steppe, growing up in a small Kha village that accepted both Xaela and other races alike. It was there Qin’s mother met his father, a Midlander who traded in Reunion. During the war and unrest caused by the Imperial invasion, a rebellion of pirates from the Ruby Sea managed to broker a trade agreement with the Qestir, whom allowed them to trade fish for much-needed medical supplies. Qin’s father was among the few chosen to trade in Reunion, where he met her. A young Kha woman with dark skin and golden eyes, with scales black as a beautiful midnight. Her lovely smile stole his heart and he would never want to leave this place again. As time went on and trading continued, Qin’s father spent more time with her, even staying for nights on end. Eventually he would never return to the Ruby Sea again.

After living together in the Steppe for a time, the Kha woman would welcome a new life into the world; Half Xaela, Half Hyur. In spite of their love and preparation, nothing they could teach would steel Qin for the lifetime of bullying and bigotry that awaited him. Not fully Xaela. Not fully Hyur. He was stuck in between, constantly struggling to find the place where he fit among them. How do you teach your child to protect themselves from a word they shouldn't have to understand? Discrimination. In spite of being shunned by most of the Xaela, his mother taught him the ways of their people while his father, the pirate, would teach Qin how to defend himself. Even if it meant fighting dirty.

For years he endured, strengthened by the lessons of his parents…And of their people. His people. Qin became an excellent hunter, quite skilled with the bow handed down to him from his grandfather, using his prowess to bring home game for his parents to trade in Reunion. He held his own, proving that not only had he survived but that he thrived, able to protect himself and provide for his family. Amongst Xaela who prided strength above most else, he had at least earned a measure of respect. However, Qin would find his adventuring heart longing to experience the lands his father had spoken of until he, like his father, would leave the land he had known in search of more.

Current

Nowadays, Qin spends his life in Ishgard, working diligently as an engineer for the Skysteel Manufactory, residing within the newly built Empyreum. With old comrades and new, they run a new company where Qin happily spends his days crafting firearms and any invention that comes to mind.

How he found himself where he is now is shrouded in a haze of fractured memories. Bits and pieces of his past life as a mercenary, familiar faces forever blurred, a life in Limsa Lominsa running a company with a forgotten name with freelance adventurers and dear friends alike, all lost in the recesses of Qin’s mind to never recover no matter how much he has tried.

But as old memories fade, new ones arise with just as much curiosity…

The sting of ice and the stench of blood fill Qin’s senses as he stands alone in the alleyways of the Brume.

Or so he thought…

The flutter of wings and a bright turquoise light radiates around him, a memory that shines bright in his mind. A small colorful hummingbird, an uncanny resemblance to the tattoo, perches on his right shoulder. He remembered the voice, a warm voice that brought peace to his very soul. An assurance that even through all of his heartbreak, through all of this fear and doubt and darkness, that there was light, that there was a bright future ahead. Since that day, he came to know this small creature as Sorianna, his guardian, his friend.

One shot "Time was still"

Time was still, yet the signs of an unhurried morning slowly peaked it’s sleeping head out from the horizon. It was dark, still, and the silence deafened any and all ears, though slight movement could be heard from the single occupant within the small confines which the man, who sat at his desk, called an office. With whiskey on his breath, and the embers dancing to their death in a dying fireplace, there was life in this abyss of an office, yes….but it was as if time itself had ceased to be.

A striking eye of gold pierced through the ebony darkness, a feature that always caught anyone’s attention as it shimmered alongside it’s brother eye of chartreuse green, the two scanning the room. From a desk of elder wood and hanging uniforms with tattered, patched holes, to retired guns and a beaten down bow that out-ages it’s current master, there was history in this room. His mind leapt into wandering as his eyes reminisced, memories flooding his mind as he downcast his gaze to the hands that sat before him, one of which held his favorite beverage, whilst the other held something more…

An azure crystal that filled its surroundings with radiance, the crystal was held together by a tattered leather string, decorated with beads to match. A thumb caressed the crystal with affection, this object, this crystal, it meant something to him. His hand gripped and clutched his precious possession…

An abrupt sound of glass broke the eerie silence.

Red, crimson liquid dripped from the halfling’s grasp as shards of the once bottle of whiskey embedded into a callous hand. Overwhelming feelings washed over the small half-Xaela, with tears forming slowly whilst mouth gaping for a scream that never came. Frustration, a clutched bloodied hand raised up, only to crash down onto the elder wood of the desk. The desk was stained with blood, tears, and emotions….yet time was still.

Comfort never came. The only solace Qin could find was rocking his body, back and forth, back and forth, a rhythm that his body knew too well. Over and over, as if a babe in its crib. Doubt filled his heart as the golden eye never left the glisten of the crystal. It was his anchor, his strength, and yet….the darkness, the bastard who went unseen, ate at him, as if a wolf starved of elk, ripping and tearing at his corpse with no end in sight. His heart, soul, his body felt numb. Hues of pink and orange hinted from the outside world, a new dawn was approaching.

Fear, his worst enemy. Failure, doubt, the willingness to believe in himself…it was shattering every fiber in his being, chipping away at the little hope that remained.

Yet time was still.

Qin and Sarnai Kha

Sarnai and Qin had formed an unbreakable friendship as children. You would think they were bothers and sisters, given how close they were. Growing up and living next door to each other, their families practically did everything together. It would have fooled anyone into thinking they were just one big family.

The pair would always start their day doing morning chores together before running off and playing. Sarnai and Qin were so inseparable that their own mothers used to tease them, asking if Qin would be the next Khagan and Sarnai his Nhaama. This obviously embarrassed the two, but everyone knew if fate had kept on its path, they would have ended up together as a bonded pair.

Sadly, that day never came. Sarnai had returned to the lifestream at the tender age of 8 after a tragic hunting accident on Qin's 10th birthday. The young boy had cornered a small game animal, but the commotion had attracted a baras, which had attacked him and Sarnai. It had left Qin with only minor injuries, but his sister... While it was never entirely his fault, he still carried her death in his heart. He was foolish and naive, only wanting to prove his worth. His ego and desire to constantly fit in had led to his sister's fate.

[herohikara-wol]

FFXIV Write 2k23 - Day 15

Portentous - Emperor AU

“That sentimental old fool is supposed to be keeping you too busy to interfere.” Lahabrea snarled moments before Thordan’s betrayal. Hero didn’t know who he meant, but it hadn’t been the first nor the last time he’d heard of someone who was supposed to be tugging at his strings.

Before Lahabrea had been Titus, who’s attempted assassination wasn’t exactly unexpected. Titus, like Varis, was supposed to be one of Solus’ heirs. Where Varis chose to become his supporter and give him the full might of the military, Titus tried to undermine trust in his position. Titus was the voice of the nobility, who saw Hero as a commoner, an outsider, and a child with no concept of how to rule. Worse yet, Titus openly considered him a usurper, despite Hero never having asked for his role.

It was little surprise Titus chose to duel him in public, claiming he’d been given a boon that could bring Hero low and make him a footnote in Garlemald’s history. Titus forced Hero’s hand, refusing to let the young Viera show mercy or kindness to his rival. Considering it a grave insult that Hero wanted to let him live, he instead forced Hero to kill him, and dubbed him the prince-slayer with his final words.

Varis spit on his coffin when none but Hero and Regula were around to see it; but Hero offered his apologies to Titus’ only son, Nerva, in private. Nerva mentioned that his father had been chasing a crown that was never promised to him in the first place, and that he’d witnessed his father allowing a black-robed man with a red mask over his face into his office a week before the challenge.

At the time Hero thought it was a normal overlord, but then they caught Illberd on the wall several moons after Lahabrea’s death. He failed in his summoning attempt, yes, Varis stopped him before he could sacrifice himself and finish the ritual. His words were chilling though. “I got the eyes from your predecessor, so you could learn what happens to those who betray their kith and kin for an imperial collar. Your gilded cage won’t protect you from him.” Varis blanched, and Regula reflexively raised a blade to silence the man, but Hero stayed deathly calm. 

The Emperor before him was an Ascian. 

Worse, he was an overlord. 

The empire was created by Ascians.

Those thoughts swirled in his head as he tried to comprehend what he could possibly do about this. What control did he really have? How could he face this threat knowing that at any moment the old Emperor could return from his grave and strip away all the changes he’d made for the good of the people. Hero was dedicated to making the Empire work for the people who lived in it, instead of using the people to enrich himself, and little by little he was making changes to do that. If that was running counter to the plots of the Paragons- they’d make removing him a priority.

What was this summoning attempt on his soil supposed to be, except a message? 

Hero took a deep breath as he poured the second glass of wine and set it across from his seat, then waited. “You know, you could have just talked to me. I may belong to Hydaelyn but I like to pretend I’m not the stab-first-talk-later kind of man.”

A hand reached from the void to delicately take the glass, followed by the rest of the man as he stepped forward to put it to his lips. The spitting image of a young Solus zos Galvus, based on the portraits of him still around the palace. “Mmm, disappointing. A good vintage, yes, but not even a hint of poison.”

Hero chuckled a bit and tapped the bottle with one of his long, near-clawed nails, “I didn’t think the Paragons were susceptible to poison.”

“We aren’t.” Solus sneered at the Viera before him, “however, I came to recognize the taste during my tenure as Emperor, and relished the face of my would-be assassins when they realized their plot had failed.”

“Ah, well I’ll remember that for next time then. I don’t like it much myself, the aftertaste ruined apple cider for me for weeks after the attempt on my life in Ishgard. All it gave me was a bad hangover and a forced echo flashback though.”

“Clearly Ishgard has the inferior poisons then, the ones here you’d barely notice at all. Odds are you’ve ingested several already and shrugged them off as merely feeling under the weather. You’re not as popular in the capital as you’d think, Hero.”

“Oh I know I’m not popular in the capital, that’s why Varis keeps getting upset I refuse a food-tester. He doesn’t understand why I’m willing to risk my life just to protect a hypothetical man from a hypothetical toxin.” His eyes moved from the sneer of the ascian to the room around him. “I don’t belong here, but I’m doing my best.”

Hero didn’t see the Ascian’s face soften, his lip quiver, or his eyes cloud from the memory of a boy with a kind heart and open mind. A black mask on his face as he looked around an office both too big and too small to contain his light. “You were chosen for a reason.” The words came out soft and gentle and kind before the Ascian remembered himself, and that he was not talking to his son from twelve-thousand summers ago, but his shade.

Hero laughed lightly and turned back to him with his trademark grin, “I know I was chosen for a reason, but only you can elaborate on it. You did choose me after all. I can guess why though, it keeps me isolated from the scions. From my friends. You put me in a place where I have to rely on people who ought to want me dead to survive, and I’ve been thriving just enough to become a problem, haven’t I? Illberd was a message, telling me to learn my place and behave.”

“Well if you have it all figured out, why do you need me here? You know what you have to do.”

“I needed to tell you, to your face, that I heard your message loud and clear. However, I am choosing to ignore it. I refuse to be a useless figurehead, I am the Warrior of Light and I will do my duty.” The conviction in his voice reminded the ascian again of another, Elidibus. Then again, Elidibus too was so much like his long lost son in little ways. The pair would debate, and discuss, and fight, and occasionally be found in the Convocation hall closet with hair and robes far too messy to have been innocent. Just alike enough that summoning Zodiark broke them apart forever.

Instead of telling Hero that just looking at him broke the old man’s heart in a million different ways, the ghost of Solus turned his back on Hero. “Then I’m afraid I’ll have to work harder to keep you struggling to hold onto your crown, until either you break, or the world does. The Empire has been so good at invoking calamities to aid the rejoinings, I’d hate to lose a good tool just because a child can’t be taught to utilize it correctly.” The portal opened and the Ascian left, dropping the wine glass to the ground behind him.

“Fuck.” Hero leaned back into his chair and drained his glass, closing his eyes as he let the weight of the exchange settle on his shoulders.

[agirlinsearchof]

Some things I noticed playing Crimson Flower, with spoilers for it and Azure Moon below:

The very first thing I noticed was that Onset of a Power Struggle has its position flipped compared to To War. Makes sense, considering that you’re the invading army. It’s also much more difficult, not only lying about the objective (defeating all commanders, not rout enemy, though the displayed objective changes when Rhea shows up), but featuring multiple commanders instead of just one. Crimson Flower often features multiple commanders. It’s a very interesting and, on other routes, very underutilized concept.

The Bridge of Myrddin chapter was also made drastically different. In The Rose-Colored River, you have to take out three commanders who are pretty far from the starting position, with another coming in on turn two, while Beyond Escape has one commander fairly close to it. As such, Beyond Escape is considerably easier. The position flipping was rather interesting! It also makes sense. The bridge connects the Alliance to the Empire, and since you’re controlling the Empire and invading the Alliance (as opposed to passing through Alliance territory into the Empire), it makes sense.

Derdriu had you in the same map position as Azure Moon, except you’re supposed to take out Claude instead of helping him and Arundel doesn’t show up. So effectively the direction your army takes gets flipped, even if your starting position doesn’t. Fun fact, Claude mentions Almyran reinforcements even if you beat the chapter before any even showed up!

Protecting Garreg Mach is also considerably easier than on other routes! It was definitely a difficulty spike for my second Azure Moon and my Silver Snow playthroughs, what with being a rout map, but in Crimson Flower, you instead take out the commanders. Flayn doesn’t show up unless you saved Seteth for last, so it’s easier if you take him out first or second.

That chapter is also where I found out that the generic replacements for Church-affiliated characters are called Knights of Seiros (as opposed to Imperial, Kingdom, and Alliance Generals).

You know how I mentioned Seteth is carrying in my Silver Snow playthrough? He’s an even tougher mfer as an enemy. I actually had to use Raging Storm here to have Edelgard take out the sniper boss and then attack Seteth without killing him, because I wanted to spare him and the only way to do so is to defeat him with Byleth. He was also very difficult in Onset of a Power Struggle.

Lady of Deceit is much harder than The Silver Maiden, again because of the multiple commanders. I had to use Raging Storm again. Edelgard took out Gwendal, Ingrid, and Cornelia, while Byleth took out Rodrigue and Hubert and Constance worked together to defeat Felix. When Paths That Will Never Cross played, only to be cut short by Felix and Ingrid’s echoing screams? That felt like a punch to the chest.

Field of Revenge was also difficult because of the multiple commanders. It also hurt to kill Dimitri and Dedue. Killing the Kingdom General that replaces Mercedes was anticlimactic sandwiched between the deaths of Sylvain and Dedue, so next time I probably won’t recruit Mercedes. It helps my decision that I got all of her support conversations with Jeritza.

The music also felt unfitting. The Long Road feels more like an auxiliary battle track than something fitting of the penultimate battle.

To the End of a Dream may use Fhirdiad as its setting, but it sure as hell ain’t the same level as The King’s Triumphant Return. For one, Fhirdiad is on fire this time around, and it is far from an easy one-turn unless you have a fully-repaired Aymr and a willingness to spam Raging Storm and rig critical hits. Aymr was at three uses, so I had a squad of Edelgard, Byleth, and Jeritza charging for Rhea, while Hubert helped clear out a few enemies and Lysithea warped Jeritza forward when he fell behind Edelgard and Byleth (a Wyvern Lord and Dark Flier, respectively).

Overall? I really enjoyed Crimson Flower. I kind of wish you actually got to go to Shambhala (heck, the nuking of Arianrhod was the perfect opportunity for Hubert to find it!), but other than that, it was a fun time! It was certainly a fun challenge to try to clear the chapters in as few turns as possible! Hehe. I may actually become seriously interested in LTC-ing other Fire Emblem games, now that Azure Moon minimum deaths has altered my very playstyle regarding this game.

[ladysunbite]

"We are lucky it wasn't years, trust me," something sour and unspoken shifted beneath the immaculate face. Fear. Not of the man, the wolf, the child in front of her. It would be a simple story otherwise. It looked alien and out of place on Orianna, like an ill-fitting dress. A step-child of that world, wasn't she given a free run of it? Kill-whatever-you-will. They should end it quickly. She was even grateful at his outburst and a snap of his jaws, a silly and craven gesture. It brought her mind to present matters swiftly. "The blood does not lie. Not to me. Are you reluctant to believe me because you shun fatherhood? " A good hostess always hides behind a smile and a chore. So the refined vampiress did, slipping into setting their makeshift table for another course. Another set of precious plates and sharp cutlery that looked like fangs under moonlight. It took all her composure not to press hard upon her eyes, with both hands, till the darkness beneath her eyelids spilled out, down pale, gaunt cheeks and into her heart, calming its unearthly bit. What a shame would be to let Temerian see her like that. "I am rather curious to know your reasons, for I was under impression humans - at least, you - value their children as a...mmm...memento. Would it be different if she was a boy?" Orianna's questions were not mockery or idle chat, there was something akin to deep curiosity in her gaze, a craving for knowledge that amidst all confusion found pleasure in discoveries of odd. "Forgive me, I regress. I am afraid we do not have much time for me to lament an ill-fated choice of a gift. My answer is no." arms folded upon her knees, the refined vampiress cut the last word with imperious, detached coolness. "According to the law, Francis saved your kin. Even if he killed your beloved with his own hands, with clear intention to do her harm, which he did not, Val's life weights more. For she is of your blood. And according to my very partial, private judgment Francis is my child." before the man, the wolf could react in any way, the sun-eyed extended a hand forward, something arresting and ancient in her gesture. Before him, upon the snow, eyes dark as the night, skin white as the snow, hair crimson as blood, was no refined mistress of Mandragora. It was a Judge, a step-child of death and time. "But all of these doesn't matter, Vernon. I own you a debt. And that I intend to pay in full. You see...what you desire, truly desire is not my help with the revenge. I am very sorry I did not see it earlier," the previous vision had shifted and fallen, as Orianna slipped a cloak from her shoulders, her voice grew low and warm. If there ever was sincerely and kindness in her, it was peaking betwix her skin and bones, that human masquerade, right now. "If you think of leaving the mountain, do not. The fogs around are full of foglets, you shall not pass..." the words spilled like wine, one could have thought the sun-eyed gave a lover's vow not a promise of demise, with such sad, soft, moon-light like smile.

"You crave death, my dear Vernon. And I shall be yours. As you shall be mine tonight." click clack, the forks and knives formed a perfect little army for two besides several servings of dessert, the cream looking colder than snow, the seeds of pomegranates like droplets of blood. A capricious luxury, to get pomegranates so late in season. And besides stood a very unsuspicious bottle, a destiny-knows-very-procured bottle of beer, usually favoured by Temerian soldiers. By the looks of it seemed the refined vampiress had to scourge the dark market to get one, such care and confused contempt read into her gesture as she put out the bottle upon the cloth on the ground.

"...So eat and drink, for it is the last pleasure for both of us, my friend."

Of course he was alone, you only had to look around this place to know that you only came here, to get away from everyone else, or to merely finally at long last, meet your end of your life, and right now, truly he was not all too sure which one he was seeking for himself.

“It has been months.” He commented to the refined vampires, as he would shake his head, like this, up here, within the snow and the mountain, to try and live and hide from what had happened, from her and what she called master and from the duchess and her forces who would demand blood for someone harming her.

“You actually came here with news for once.” As he looked at her, but not once did he stop for the moment, as he would circle around her, look her up and down, take her all within and ensure that there was no tricks, no games, nothing, to ensure that she was not here to take his head in return, he might not be able to kill her, but this far up the mountain and on the spot that they had first come into contact with one another, he can make things, like they once were.

He can leave her torn and dying in the snow.

“You and your fucking children!” As he snapped his jaws at her heels, just out of annoyance and nothing more than that, how many of these fucking bastards did she have and how many spreads through the world aiding her, fucking hell, she was such a pain in his ass.

“No, those are for the actions of others, hands to pretty and clean to do the deed himself, signed the papers, gave the orders, made it happen, sold them out. Ves is dead, Val as well, you know the saying an eye for an eye, a life for a life, I am owed two, and you will deliver.” Raised by a higher vampire, the value of life, a good raising, the fuck was she talking about, he knew her, he knew what she was, how she worked, how that twisted mine would shift and spin.

“You lie.”

He knew she was either lying or telling the truth, it was just hard to know which was which with a cunt like her, but what she said, if it was true and Val was alive, it did not change anything at all, what did she expect for him, to go and find her, bring her back, be a father to her, that was not the way this story goes, he had no right, the mother was dead, killed, all because he had not been there for Ves when she again needed him the most, everything that had happened to her within her life, was because she had put all her trust and faith into him and he had failed her, over and over again, time and time again, finding new and creative ways to just, fuck everything up for her. As he would shake his head.

“The child and the beggar king.” He comments as he walked back around to be before her, tempted to pin her down and see how quickly she can heal, when he starts to eat her faster than she can grow back the missing pieces of herself. “I want him dead, I’ll do it myself, but if you care so much, your methods will be quicker, mine will not be.” As the man still had to die, despite what he had done, Ves still was hanged and killed and he was not letting that go ever.

“You kill him, or I will.”

[horuseye78]

Eye of Horus Meaning and Symbol

Eye of Horus Importance

The Eye of Ra is an old Egyptian image. Despite the fact that it was available in various structures, from pictographs to carvings, the most notable portrayal would be a natural eye with a tear emerging from it.

At times, the eye acts in various female-related connections to the God Ra, like mother, kin, associate, and even girl. So her job is diverse.

The Eye of Ra/Re/Rah has been known as the "eye of truth," since it was accepted to have the option to see anything, and nothing could get away from its careful look.

The tear coming from the eye could likewise imply a couple of things-one being water or downpour tumbling from paradise, alluding to one of the Eye of Ra's parts in fruitfulness and resurrection.

Eye of Ra Different Substance

The Eye of Ra is free of Ra himself and should be visible as a different substance. It is likewise viewed as a female image, while Ra is viewed as male.

It's critical to be cautious while recognizing the importance and reason for an image, as they can frequently have different purposes consistently.

Ordinarily, the Egyptian Eye of Ra addressed the damaging force of the sun, which by and by was one of the main pieces of Egyptian life. This is on the grounds that it addressed all life, since without the sun they wouldn't have the option to develop crops and live as a general public.

It likewise addresses truth and equity, and its control over nature (life) is seen in many spots all through Egyptian history. It was in many cases utilized as an image of imperial power, alongside the convict and thrash.

The Eye of Ra was likewise accepted to have the option to see anything, which is the reason it was in many cases put above entryways or passages in sanctuaries so nobody could get away from its vigilant look.

Horrendous Power

Its horrendous power can likewise be viewed as an advance notice against fiendish deeds; in the event that you accomplished something off-base, the Eye of Ra would see you and rebuff you.

In one of those fantasies, Ra's kids, known as Tefnut and Shu, vanished. Consumed by sadness, Ra conveyed his eye to search for his kids, which had the option to find them and rejoin them with Ra.

While this occurred, Ra grew another eye instead of his initial one. At the point when his previously returned, it felt deceived and upset, so to mollify the eye, Ra transformed it into a uraeus and wore it on his brow.

In one more Egyptian legend, when Ra became angered at the manner in which people had become, he conveyed his eye to rebuff them. It would go out of control and kill the vast majority of humanity, so Ra made his eye drink red brew until it dropped from inebriation.

Egyptian Goddess

In this situation, the eye had become Sekmet, the fearsome Egyptian goddess. It wasn't long subsequent to dropping from the liquor that the eye had the option to quiet down and return to Ra.

The Eye of Ra addresses the right, while the Eye of Horus addresses the left eye and the moon.

The two eyes together address equilibrium and congruity, yet additionally insurance from malicious elements or terrible things that could happen to an individual.

Horus was a sky god related with life and ripeness he had a wide range of structures, for example, bird of prey or human, which met up in syncretism (the mix of strict convictions) to make a novel, new thing.

Ra was a sun god and thusly connected with nurturing power and obliteration, just like his eye.

One hypothesis is that it was motivated by naturalistic perceptions in antiquated Egypt - like watching felines or crocodiles.

The primary utilization of Ra's eye was in old Egypt's Predynastic period, which was between around 6000 - 3150 BCE.

The Eye of Horus created during the Main Administration (around 3000-2890 BCE) and became related with a few unique divine beings over the long haul. When of the Pyramid Texts from the Old Realm, both existed as isolated elements.

The Eye of Ra was by and large seen as a sun powered image or a Ra image. It addressed the right eye of the sun god. Eyes overall were viewed as images of sight and discernment, yet the possibility that this eye had the ability to see anything made it all the more impressive. As referenced before, this is one motivation behind why the eyes were put over the passageways to sanctuaries.

Which Kinds of Egyptian Folklore

The Eye of Ra should be visible to have had two kinds of defensive jobs in Egyptian folklore. The eye was viewed as both a defender, averting the powers of tumult, and a forceful power, searching out foes.

We see this in the legend of Sekhmet when she, in the job of the eye, ruined to humankind. Hence we see the disastrous idea of the Eye of Ra.

There are numerous sanctuaries given explicitly to loving or remembering the eye, and there is a sanctuary for Sekhmet situated at Karnak which has been dynamic since around the fifteenth century BCE.

On account of these spots that hold such importance, they have become famous traveler objections. The Sanctuary of Hathor at Dendera, where she assumes a significant part as both Woman of Amentet and Paramour of Enchantment, draws in thousands each year who wish to see all perspectives related with her power.

[findinyourkin]

I'm Guren Ichinose with the Imperial Moon/Imperial Demon army of Owari no Seraph. I'm 24 yrs old and looking for pretty much anybody. If you reblog or like the post, ill get in touch. Thank you.

!!!!!!!!

[inquisitorius-sin-bin]

Ride or Die

Grand Inquisitor x F!Reader

18+ Fic (Minors DNI)

Chapter 1: The Stranger | Chapter 2: Wet Moon | Chapter 3: Favors | Chapter 4: Negotiations | Chapter 5: The Eagles' Fall | Chapter 6: Survivor | Chapter 7: Flight | Chapter 8: First Watch* | Chapter 9: Lanternbeetles* | Chapter 10: Youngling | Chapter 11: Kin | Chapter 12: Birthright | Chapter 13: Theo | Chapter 14: Handprints | Chapter 15: Vella* | Chapter 16: Fletchers | Chapter 17: Awaited | Chapter 18: Unwell | Chapter 19: Temple Guard | Chapter 20: Home | Chapter 21: Juleper Berries | Chapter 22: Forgiveness | Chapter 23: Listening | Chapter 24: The Weavers | Chapter 25: Guilt | Chapter 26: Pyrefalcon* | Chapter 27: Mother | Chapter 28: Precipice | Chapter 29: Operating | Chapter 30: Flesh and Blood | Chapter 31: Worthy | Chapter 32: The Comet | Chapter 33: Imperial | Chapter 34: End of Report | Chapter 35: Nurtured Flame | Chapter 36: Spirit-sent | Chapter 37: Guidance | Epilogue : Solstice

Working Glossary

*chapters containing porn

Summary:

It has been seventeen years since your rebirth on the plains of Utapau. An orphaned child with nowhere else to go, you were adopted by your clan leader Drago and his mate Bolen, who made you their own daughter through the unique tattooing rituals of the surface-dwelling Pau'an.

Now you lead a group of your kin to trade with a neighboring clan, when you come across a lone stranger riding across the grasslands. Nothing about him makes sense, least of all the marks he bears on his forehead in conflict with the symbols he carries on his shoulders.

You must guide him on his mission, while you ponder the secrets of his past that might just align with yours, and balance the survival of your small clan amongst two powerful opposing forces.

Content Warnings:

Canon-typical Violence, Graphic Depictions of Sexual Situations, Smoking, Drinking, Descriptions of Death, Manipulation, Gaslighting, Animal Death, Xenobiology, Fingering, Breast Fondling, Mourning, Mind-probing, Order-66 Flashbacks, Pregnancy, Nipple Play, Major Character Injury, Blood, Needles, Medical Procedure, Surgery, Unhealthy Relationships, Vomiting

Word Count: 159,344

Tag List:

@oh-three @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @keebeees @stardustbee

[alectoperdita]

i’m watching love between fairy and devil on netflix. i do think kaiba should be cursed to be nice to jounouchi and nurture his heart and feel his emotions and fall in love with him because he’s learned to be a human being again in jounouchi’s presence. i want a thousand fics just like that

I just looked up the synopsis for that one, and oh boy! Patricide? Forced psychic/mystical bond? On top of everything else you described? That is one delicious setup for this ship. <3

Gotta admit reading that did inspire me a bit. I didn't have time to watch the show itself (will maybe give it a try when I have the time to read subtitles), but I took a stab at writing a short drabble inspired by that premise. I'm sorry if I've missed the mark due to my unfamiliarity with the original source material, but I hope it entertains you.

Flower imagery, classical Chinese poetry, and plenty of footnotes ahead.

🌕🌻🌕🌻🌕🌻🌕🌻🌕🌻🌕🌻🌕🌻🌕🌻

The Moon Supreme.

What a pompous title for a pompous blowhard.

With a name like Kaiba, he should've been one of the Dragon King's retinue. But otherwise, the epithet was a fitting one for the ethereal being—cold, distant, and unfeeling. And if the legends bore truth, a cold-blooded killer down to his core.

All that stood between the tall, imperious creature and the destruction of the Three Realms was Katsuya. Plain, old Katsuya, the lowest of the blossom xians [1]. While the others of his kin bore heads of lovely reds and blues and purples, as vibrant as plum, peony, irises in bloom, his hair was colored yellow like wheat.

Hay-head, the other blossom xians had mocked him in their youths.

Nor was he delicate and slim-limbed. His arms were sturdy as tree trunks, his palm as broad as lotus pads. His face, perhaps handsome enough for mortals, didn't carry the same dignified features that greater painters drove themselves into a frenzy to capture.

Hardly beautiful.

A xian in mere name.

His temper flared. He kicked a stray stone into the pond, disrupting the reflection that gazed up from the water.

"You're moping." A deep voice piped next to him.

Katsuya jumped and spun to face the intruder that dared to impinge on his solitary reflection. Speak of the devil. Kaiba loomed, a lanky monolith in his ice blue hanfu, in the shadow of the nearby willow tree. The slender vines and verdant leaves swayed in the warm breeze. The same wind ruffled Kaiba's chestnut locks, pulling back the curtain of long bangs to bear his ocean blue eyes.

The verse rose within Katsuya's mind, unbidden.

"Green, green, the riverside grass, Dense, dense, the garden willow." [2]

Kaiba arched an elegant brow at the sudden couplet, but he answered with the next lines.

"Dainty is the maiden upstairs, Shining bright through the window." [3]

Just as quickly, Katsuya's mood soured again. Dainty maidens, his ass.

Kaiba winced. A grimace cracking the flawless marble of his handsome face.

Faintly, Katsuya wondered how the man processed those feelings of inadequacies that didn't belong to him. A superior asshole like Kaiba probably never felt deficient, even before he sacrificed his ability to feel emotions. But he pinned Katsuya as moping before, so he learned enough to put a name to that feeling.

Perhaps their time together wasn't a complete waste. Kaiba could learn, however slowly. But would it be enough to stave off his thirst for vengeance?

He turned his back on Kaiba, bending down to sort through the stones on the rocky banks. Kaiba hung back, safe from the mortal realm's sun under the willow tree's protection. It took a few seconds, but Katsuya finally found a suitable flat stone. He wound his arm back, throwing all his strength into launching the stone across the water's surface. It skipped no less than a dozen times before sinking into the center of the sizable pond.

Pride bloomed in Katsuya's chest before it withered twice as quickly.

That finally spurred Kaiba into action.

Katsuya listened as the man stomped forward, grabbed his elbow, and hauled him to his feet. Soon, he was dragging him away from the riverbed and uphill toward a grassy knoll.

Katsuya fought. But even his strength failed when matched up against the Moon Supreme's stubbornness. "What are you doing? Lemme go!"

Kaiba did not let him go. He seemed intent on bodily dragging Katsuya, if it came down to it.

"Where are you taking me?" he snarled.

This time, Katsuya threw a punch with his free hand. It collided solidly with Kaiba's shoulder, and had he been something other than a cold-blooded bastard, it would've hurt. But as it was, he merely shrugged off the hit.

"To the city. To feed you. Distract your simple mind with simple amusements. Whatever needs to be done to rid you of this wretched malaise," Kaiba spat out past his gritted teeth.

"Leave me alone. Maybe I wanna mope. Maybe I want you to feel as bad as I do!" he shouted.

With teeth bared, Kaiba stopped and spun toward him. He dropped his inhuman grip to Katsuya's wrist and squeezed. Were Katsuya not divine or weaker in constitution, it would've crushed his bones. Instead, his wrists twinged.

"As long as I'm stuck with you—as long as we're entangled like this—I'll do what I must. You don't get a choice," snapped Kaiba.

Katsuya glared back. He supposed if another of his kin were subjected to this, they'd burst into tears. He'd do no such thing, though. "You still don't get it, do you? You can't just force people out of their bad moods. You can't just snap your fingers and make them feel better. Especially when the only reason you're trying is for your own sake!"

Theirs was a wretched arrangement. It may be Kaiba's curse, but Katsuya was being no less punished for it. It wasn't fair.

Everyone expected Katsuya to fail. That hurt more than anything.

Never being enough.

His pain sharpened. Kaiba grunted and dropped his hand like hot coal. Katsuya hugged his wrists close and sank to the ground again.

He stared at the grass, heaving heavy breaths. "You think I wanna feel like this? You think I enjoy this?"

Kaiba said nothing. His feet remained locked in place on the periphery of Katsuya's vision. "Then why won't you let me make this better?"

"Because this isn't something you can fix. You can't fix me, Kaiba. You can't make me a proper blossom xian," he muttered.

The wind picked up again. A lark sang in the bushes. They said nothing to each other in the wake of Katsuya's declaration. The pain dulled to an ache inside Katsuya's chest. A worn and familiar feeling that pressed on his heart.

Grass crunched as Kaiba shifted. To his surprise, Kaiba joined him on the ground. "Who's to say you're not a proper blossom xian? You are one because it's your nature."

His gaze snapped up to Kaiba's face. "Please, you've seen me, you've seen the others. I mean, just look at this—" He tugged a tuft of yellow hair at his temple. "The color's so plain. So common in flowers. They used to call me 'hay-head.' Some of them still do."

"Chrysanthemums are among the Four Gentlemen," argued Kaiba. [4]

Chrysanthemums also came in shades of white, pink, and violets. But as soon as he opened his mouth to argue, his temple stung. He gaped as Kaiba withdrew his hand with several strands of Katsuya's hair clasped between his lithe fingers.

Kaiba looked him straight in the eyes, entirely serious and without a hint of mocking. "You're the only blossom xian I've spent time with. As far as I'm concerned, you're the only proper one."

Something in Katsuya's chest fluttered.

An odd expression flashed across Kaiba's face. He surely felt it, too. Without breaking eye contact, Kaiba transferred the hairs into his palm and made a fist before drawing from his considerable well of qi. Katsuya stiffened, alarmed by the overt use of power. But he was even more shocked by what Kaiba revealed when he unclenched his hand.

A sprig of osmanthus blossoms in the exact shade as Katsuya's hair. [5]

His breath hitched when Kaiba next spoke, low and melodious in his recitations.

"A pale wash of light yellow, gentle in substance and character. Aloof by nature, yet its fragrance carries afar. What need is there of light cyan or pale red blossoms? This one ranks first among all the flowers." [6]

Despite himself, warmth flooded Katsuya's cheeks. He could only dumbly accept the flowers when Kaiba offered them to him. He could feel the frosted bite of Kaiba's qi within them. But it didn't make them any less beautiful.

A slow smirk spread across Kaiba's lips. It was impossible to hide the fact that Katsuya was charmed when he literally felt what Katsuya did. But Katsuya couldn't find it within himself to be annoyed or mad. He twirled the sprig in his fingers.

"Is there really an osmanthus tree on the moon?" he asked instead.

Kaiba's smile turned mysterious. "Perhaps you'll find out one day."

------

[1] I've never been very hot on the translation of xian to fairy. Not that I have a much better suggestion, but thankfully, the rise of western C-Drama fandom has made it easier to use the original terms.

[2] [3] Translations of lines 1-4 of 《青青河畔草》 from 《古詩十九首》, an anthology of classic Chinese poems with no attributed authors. Lines 1-2 were taken from Pleco’s translation because I really like their alliteration. Lines 3-4 was translated by me since I couldn’t find better ones. ^^;;;

青青河畔草，鬱郁園中柳。 盈盈樓上女，皎皎當窗牖。

[4] The Four Gentlemen are the plants most commonly depicted in traditional ink paintings. They include the plum blossom, the orchid, bamboo, and the chrysanthemum.

[5] Osmanthus flowers are often associated with lunar legends in Chinese tradition. It's said that an osmanthus tree grows on the moon, which is why Katsuya asks Kaiba that at the end of the story. It was just too perfect of an association to pass up! Jounouchi's blond! Kaiba's from the moon! It writes itself!

[6] Ronald Egan's translation of a poem about osmanthus flowers by Li Qingzhao.

[morihaus]

Domina

cw for a vampire talking about mortals like cattle and mentions of molag bal (just his name)

---

Atop a balcony of the Imperial Palace, the young emperor casts her gaze westward, over the canopy of the great forest, off to the dark horizon laid over the Colovian highlands. Past the borders of Cyrodiil, there lays the outlying province of the Empire, Craglorn, home to the distant Nedes never chained. Cities of stone and high towers, traditions older than the Empire of Man, faith older than Saint Alessia herself; Hestra was born to these lands, to the Cyrodiils who came from Colovia to lend aid to their kin, to enlighten them, to fasten and secure their ties to the Empire, and to keep wary watch of the expanding dominion of Verkarth, whose king had spent a century splitting the land in two, harrowing the Nedic allies of the Empire, unopposed in the distant and foreign borderland.

It was this that brought her to power. She became warrior to the faith as many in her family had been before her, as was the Colovian style of the priesthood, and she worked to stymie the tide of this burgeoning power henceforth unknown- as well as the dark creatures who cavorted within its borders, fanning out to the neighboring realms to terrorize the populace. Vampires, werebeasts, monsters of all sorts became the scourge of Craglorn in those days, and the Empire of Cyrodiil did nothing, for what was their concern for the fate of provincials? Nedes who knew nothing of Paravant, or Pelinal, or the One, whose degenerate practices ostracized them from polite Imperial society.

Hestra was one of many in Craglorn and Cyrodiil who saw need for action, but alas, small militias could do nothing but root out loose ends, small cells of the fiends who dogged the western reaches. A coven here, a pack there, but this was to treat the symptoms rather than the sickness, and without organized action against Styriche and his Gray Host itself, nothing would be done.

And for all the dire circumstances, this is why she stands here, amulet of dragon-fire around her neck, looking west with purpose. She has been emperor for but two years, and the Empire is more united than it has been in some time. She is what Cyrodiil needs, a decisive emperor, to cut through the internal bickering of the Order; a conquering emperor, to show no quarter to the enemies of mankind; a common emperor, who understands the plight of her subjects and refuses to rest until justice is done.

With the Empire whole, it prepares for a full-scale invasion of Verkarth, to sunder and destroy the foul abominations commanded by its king.

Something approaches silently from behind her. She is without guard, but not alone, for tonight she is entertaining a particular guest.

"Second thoughts, Emperor?" The pale woman clad in deep red silks asks her with a playful tone. Playful as a cat toys with a mouse, but decidedly playful nonetheless.

Hestra turns to face her, Exarch of the Gray Council, undying vampire, a mistress of the dark forces she plans to destroy. She faces her and sees her ever-so-smug grin, her round face, pale like the moon with dark shadows and painted colors framing her scarlet-orange eyes. She sees her jewelry reflect the light of the night sky, a shimmer along the chain of her belt as her eyes trace her waist, a shine around the swirling ringlets of her arm, up to the clasp of her dress on her shoulder, even a sparkle from the jewel earrings when her long black hair fell just so to make way for the light. "I consider my actions more often than you think. This is why I'm here, Vem."

Vem moves forward to press up against the other woman, lifting a manicured hand to trace her jawline. She is without reverence for the Emperor, but not without admiration, and often she shows her appreciation with touch. "This is why I see such potential in you, fair Hestra." The mortal woman doesn't flinch- but might shiver- at the vampire's chilling touch, and allows it to happen. This close she can see the subtle scaly texture speckling Vem's skin, around her eyes and her bare neck and arms, her eyes fix to this instead of Vem's hypnotic gaze- she wouldn't dare attempt to bewitch the warrior emperor, but she does much without noticing it. "We have more in common than you do with your councilors. They fill their heads with petty concerns, worthless mortal vanity- you and I, we focus on what's truly important: power."

Hestra, for as steely as her countenance is, lets her head droop to one side, warm cheek pressed against Vem's cold hand. She raises one of her own to Vem's waist, closing her eyes. "I have power, Vem. I'm the Emperor, blessed by Akatosh, anointed before the One." She doesn't need sight to picture the frown grow on Vem's face as she speaks.

She hears a sigh, and the cold hand moves down from cradling her head, sliding across her bare neck and stopping at her shoulder. Hestra opens her eyes again to see the predictable sight. She'd call the expression on Vem's face perplexed, as she is always baffled by her refusal. "Have I not explained to you the difference in magnitude hundreds of time?" She scoffs. "You are a Queen, a mortal Queen, you command great armies and rule over all of your citizenry. But I could make you more. As vampire, you would never age, never die, you would be indomitable."

"Indomitable," Hestra repeats. "But dominated by the foul machinations of your master."

Vem furrows her brow, twitching her nose. "Lord Bal is our master in name alone. He holds no true sway over us- we only need make one pact, but one ritual, and we may reap the rewards of his gift as we serve ourselves. You cannot tell me you would not desire such a power."

"Power at a price." Hestra lets her hand fall back, and now furrows her own brow as she looks back at Vem, somewhat yearning for the years she hadn't known of her true nature, or for a time where they could spend time ignoring the doom that surrounds them, before this decision had to be reached. "I do not want to join your Gray Host."

"You would not have to." Vem retracts her hand as well, folding her arms over her chest. "As immortal Emperor of Cyrodiil, you would be of much greater use as an ally to the Gray Host, to relinquish your power over this land would be foolish."

"Imagine I disagree with what your Host does, terrorizing innocent people, drinking of their blood and eating of their flesh."

Vem tisks, she almost seems to roll her luminous eyes at that. "This is because you are clinging to mortal notions of morality. You do not weep for the butchered cow, do you? For us, it is no different than hunting simple animals."

"And if I care for these animals?" Hestra asks.

She receives a raised brow. "Do you really care for these people, Emperor? These people who are not yours, who you do not know- how much would you sacrifice for their lives?" After a pointed silence, she adds: "If you could trade your life for theirs, right now, would you?"

Hestra answers honestly. "No."

"If," Vem begins. "The inverse were true, and you could sacrifice the lives of many to achieve greater power, greater dominion, wouldn't you?"

Hestra considers. "...I might." She gazes off to the side, looking behind Vem into the palace's quarters. "But what you speak of, this is the truth of politics, of warfare, of the life of an Emperor. These ugly decisions are mine to make, and I must."

"This is what holds you back," Vem turns and begins to pace, steps silent as she does. "You deny what you truly want: power. You claim it out of responsibility, you make these excuses for yourself..." She looks over her shoulder, Hestra meets her piercing eyes. "Why do you let yourself be ruled by such foolish thoughts?" She approaches again, so gently as though gliding through the air. A fanged smile plays on her lips. "You are Emperor. I am offering you power, it is in your very nature to accept it. Do not deny your true calling."

Hestra looks to her vacantly. She wonders how often she has been tempted, how close she's come before now. "You talk of offering me power- power of my own- and yet you speak as though to dominate me yourself."

At this, Vem laughs. It breaks the tension somewhat, and she takes Hestra's hand in her own, rubbing circles on the back with her cold thumb. She looks at her with half-lidded eyes. "You would not like to belong to me, dear Hestra?"

And at this, Hestra is pulled two ways, and such a grave conversation becomes very silly, and for the first time tonight, the Emperor smiles. "You speak in circles, love, like a turning wheel." She leans in and very easily presses her lips against Vem's; a shallow kiss, undercoated with some feeling of fleeting passion and intimacy, something that feels like a last chance, a final moment in which they can both pretend they share the same future. Vem puts her arms around Hestra's head, the mortal reciprocates with a hold on her waist. Hestra pulls back to breathe and laugh. "Sometimes, I still can't tell- do you want me a vampire, or a thrall-" Vem interrupts her by kissing her cheek, laughing along.

They embrace and they laugh for awhile, standing on the balcony, nipped at by the chilly night air. Eventually they stop laughing and just hold each other. Vem tucks her head into the crook of Hestra's neck, and Hestra lets her, and runs a hand through her silky dark hair.

"...You know," Vem softly breaks the silence. "That of course I want you to join me as I am- a vampire, the rightful rulers of the unliving. Because you are a ruler, Hestra, and this drew me to you, for I recognized how great you could be if you could only see what lies beyond your mortality..." One of her pale hands turns to run across the close-cut hair on Hestra's head, and Vem turns to look her in the eye, one side of her head still pressed against her shoulder. Her expression is warm, and not regal. "I do not doubt how far you will go as a mortal. You will be remembered for centuries, for a hundred centuries, your death will be something glorious, remembered in song, you will be indelible... but you will die. And it breaks my heart-" A laugh- or maybe a sob- spills out between words. "I know you could never understand, you are mortal, impermanence is everywhere in your life, to be everlasting is... difficult, to communicate. It's something you need to feel for yourself. I ask... that you allow me to grant you this, Hestra. Please."

She'd never seen Vem posture in such a way. They have been intimate with one another, they've spoken of sadness before, but never has she been so melancholy, so sorrowful as to look up to her with those eyes, dry but full of sadness. "...My love, you know I can't-"

"Why?" Vem asks immediately.

"Because- Because I am Emperor first, divine regent of the One, descendant of the Ascended Saint Alessia, defender of Cyrodiil and the Faith. I am dutybound to destroy the Gray Host... and I cannot accept your power, it would render me an abomination in the eyes of the Order, and all I've worked for would be for naught."

Vem pulls back, Hestra lets open her arms to give her space. She looks at Hestra, fear in her face, steeled by frustration. "They would not have to know. There are ways- many of us disguise our true nature, some get away with it for a century or more. You yourself had no idea before I revealed to you my nature."

"You're right. I didn't," Hestra admits. "But this is because I was young and stupid. The pelates of the Order are older, wiser, many of them savvy to the affronts to the divine. And in any case, I would still need to invade Verkarth."

"No, no you don't. We could- if you'd postpone, delay, we could destroy this Alessian Order-"

"Destroy the Order?" Hestra's brows fly up at this, almost more shocked than insulted.

Vem clenches her fists at her sides. "They are just mortals, Hestra. Mortals can be manipulated, they can be herded and culled by their true masters. If all of the threats to your power were turned, were on our side, would you still deny this?"

"You're speaking in fantasies." The Emperor says, colder than she meant to. She is just as frustrated, not only by Vem's assertions, but by how her mind meanders and considers them.

"Answer me, Hestra!"

"I could not- I could not disgrace my line, my ancestors-"

"Your ancestors were nothing more than cattle!" Vem shouts.

"Your family is nothing but a pack of monsters!" Hestra replies.

Vem, incensed, points a sharp finger at Hestra as she bares her fangs. "We are NOT monsters!" She growls, throwing a hand up. "'Monsters', 'daimons', 'abominations', these are all the labels feeble-minded sheep apply to us, the true masters of Tamriel! And here you are- so different from them, so close to us, and you refuse your rightful place on our Council, your rightful taste of our blood, all because of these vapid mortal commitments to the lives and deeds of mortals, the ways of people who lived and died as nothing more than stupid animals- you let them limit you, hold you back, drag you down to their level!" Snarling, there is a quivering to her frame and face that belies her nerves. "You do not deserve to be another pile of bones in a pasture! You deserve to be Domina, High Emperor of All Tamriel, Immortal Ruler of the weak and impermanent!!"

Hestra stands stock still, shadows cast on her creased face. "I cannot do this. I will not take knee before your king."

"You would not have to! Do you know how few of us respect King Styriche? How fewer revere Lord Bal? To depose him, to usurp him, it would not be difficult, you would only have to delay your invasion!" Vem's composure is all but faded as she pleads for what she wants, the safety of her family, an immortal paramour, and all that she wills be made real, as in true domination of the world. The fact that she screams this hoarsely and with such desperation- the desperation of someone not in control- is not lost on her.

The Emperor hangs her head, heavy with troubles. She grits her teeth as she speaks with attempted finality. "I cannot, Vem, and I'm sorry that I cannot." Her own eyes, still living, well up as she speaks. "It does not mean I don't love you- I do, I give you my word and I mean it: I do, and if I were anyone different... you need to know how much I want to be forever beside you, I truly want this, but..."

Vem suddenly darts forward, pressing herself against her, looking up at her with pleading eyes. "If you want it, you can have it. Let me turn you, forget the Empire, let it fall under someone else's rule- we could make of it that you died in battle, that you were- you were betrayed somehow, sow dissent in the Empire, let it rot and fall. Leave my family alone, let us go together into a new life." Her plan is flimsy, her voice is quickened and shaking, but she bears her soul to Hestra like never before. "Take what you want, Hestra."

She bows her head. Hestra leans down to press her forehead against hers. She wants to take her into her arms, as they used to, like lovers would, but she doesn't.

[boethiah]

also also on my second playthru ive noticed that the plot of morrowind itself is super cool and good. ur a spy working for a badass old drug addict, you perform jailbreak on the moon, you cure the incurable, etc

tribunal is cool too but i wish they wrote almalexia a bit better. a descent into madness for the goddess is believable and a neat idea but idk the way they did it rubs me wrong, it feels so quick, especially since vivec always seemed to be relatively sane despite losing powers.maybe when i get to that part i should read deeper into that too bc i mightve missed something, my first time thru tribunal i glossed over everything and was just enthralled with the fact i made a shield that gave me 600 strength

oh yeah the plot of morrowind is just. robust ngl. just wait until you get into the discourse about the nerevarine technically being a foreign spy agent sent in to overthrow morrowind's sovereign power in violation of a treaty lol... there are LAYERS

as for tribunal... i'm a weirdo in that i kind of like almalexia in tribunal but that's because i have personally invented a complex backstory fo her that perfectly mirrors the events of tribunal and makes everything meet a tragic yet sensible end. like i think tribunal makes more sense if you play it as a girl with undiagnozed bpd and are capable of recognizing almalexia as someone who's just scared out of her goddamn mind to the point of lashing out. also her design is great. and i love her. i agree morrowind has its huge misogyny problem and i dont blame you for not liking tribunal but almalexia is like just going to be my precious always i kin her i feel bad for her she was right the nerevarine had to die they're an imperial agent sent in to overthrow morrowind's sovereign rulers

[ladysunbite]

@fallesto || continued from here  She saw only half the moons to her maturity and was too young, if not too reckless to taste any true fright. More than anything Orianna felt the intoxicating haughtiness. How she would tell her young, bored cryptmates about a new toy she had discovered; a challenge to their strength and stalwartness in a form of a cursed wolf. A new bit of land unclaimed and uncharted. Raiding local villages and scaring humans became too easy for her kin... Still...the crimson-haired vampiress was no fool. Yet it was no hive of glowing eyes that made her uneasy. Giving her blood was not a small favour... What if I gave too much and the human would die? Such an embarrassment. Or if she simply overindulge and...ugh, Emiel, I do not desire to see your copy in a human form. Thinking about Emiel Regis and his sarcastic laugh and disarming, shrewd half-smiles made Orianna hold herself with more inner calm, even if she would loose all her teeth and claws rather than to admit such an effect. “Very well, if you ask respectfully. Your attitude pleases me. I shall raise no hand to your unfortunate kin. You state that you can talk reason into them. I have never seen cursed being conversing before...” the words slipped easily from her mouth, her head held high as befitted a divinity. With the same languid benevolence she did...something not expected from a goddess. Purposefully tearing a bit of her tunic she soaked the rag in her blood, letting out a thin line from the tender wrist. The strange unfamiliar moon winked from the sky, while the crimson-haired choked any suspicions with a dizzying sensation that if her apa thunchultha knew that she was gracing a common eterau with her life force, her very essence, he would be enraged. Mayhapse THAT would make him leave the dunk cave at last and start discovering and changing the new world around him, rather than whining about the favours of the old homeland. A wave of anger made Orianna even braver. She extended the hand with the bloodied rag towards the woman, imperious. Verily, more than playing theatrics with no one familiar to share a laugh with, she would prefer to talk with this afflicted human in a settled privacy. When the wind lifted the slipping bandages, her sharp eyes have caught a definite sight of fur upon her skin... “Take this, healer. Thusly, you can sip the blood slowly and it will not get into your head,” or the scent would not be too rich and potent to drown the cursed in a frenzied crave... Orianna’s smile was smooth as the moon, yet her plan not exactly followed. It seemed one of the cursed had a keener senses than the rest. With the back of the neck the red-haired vampiress sensed the movement, a staccato of the paws upon the ground, a muzzle opened in a snarl just a breath from her arm. Instincts taking over, Orianna moved aside, even before her wrath screamed to reply to the challenge. The beast miss her by the inch, brought forward by the momentum of his rush. “You told me, you could control them, eterau!” the voice lost all its luxurious softness and left the aching echo in its wake. Vampiress’ own face turned bestial - fangs, nuzzle and eyes as scourging as the sun -  yet she controlled herself enough to attack the woman only with sharp accustations, not her claws. “Do something before I changed my mind and tore your kin to shreds!”

[iamnightduchess]

There were originally two Asks for this but the draft got deleted by accident. To the two anons, I am so sorry 🙈 I also spent quite some time on it, so I had to rewrite everything all over again. But the Asks wanted to know what happens after their confession & their lives together afterwards in Hizuru, their courting process, marriage, kids & what Reiner does for a living when Mikasa ascends the imperial throne as the new Empress.

Reiner x Mikasa (ReiKasa) Canonverse AU (18+) Post-Rumbling Headcanon #18 (Pt.2) a.k.a a ficlet

A continuation to this post. Show me some ❤!

‼️Contains: mentions of PTSD‼️

Aftermath of Confession

Jean, who was also there with Annie & Armin, was very happy to see that two of his loved ones are finally embracing each other's feelings. He asks the new couple, "So, what's next?

Reiner looks into Mikasa's eyes and says, "For now, I just want to make out with the new most important woman in my life."

Annie sneakily jabs, "Get a room."

Reiner snarkily replies, "Good idea," causing Mikasa and Kiyomi both to panic before Reiner adds, "It was a joke, ladies."

"Jerk." Annie grins, as she holds her paramour's hand tight in hers. One could also see the look of pride and happiness on Armin's face, upon realizing that his sworn sister is genuinely loved by a good-hearted man, who would be her true anchor & life companion after the horrors she was forced to go through.

Reiner immediately approaches the Azumabito family matriarch and asks for her blessing and advice with the intention to officially court her kin. Kiyomi states that once Mikasa ascends the throne, the rules of Hizuru forbids the empress to marry a commoner but the spouse of a married ruler who ascends the throne will be recognized as the empress or prince consort. Thus, Kiyomi advises for their courting to proceed after the marriage, which will be held in a week.

Reiner and Mikasa, together, also talk to Jean and Armin in making it a triple wedding instead.

As soon as they return to the settlement, Reiner wastes not a second as he also looks for Levi, to get the older man's blessing as his soon-to-be wife's last living kin on her father's side.

Levi shakes his hand, albeit sternly, to which even Jean and Armin would cower in reflex, yet no one can miss the tender look in their former captain's eyes; one of a proud father when he said, "Be true. Be loyal."

Karina, Gabi and the rest of the Braun family are over the moon over the news of their immediate engagement & the family spearheads the wedding preparation together. The men go out to hunt and the women help with the simple but homely decoration as well as cooking preparations. Connie prefers to help the women and part of the reason is he's really interested in getting to know one of them; a single lady who had adopted 4 children whose parents were killed in the Rumbling.

The evening after Reiner had received Levi's blessings, Mikasa asks him out for a stroll around the settlement. Reiner also wants to spend more alone time with her. Teary-eyed, Mikasa confides in Reiner on everything that happened during the moment when she decapitated Eren's head, a truth that she has never told anyone. Not even to Armin. She told him that she placed her lips on Eren's cold dead ones to say her last farewell and that she is haunted by what she has done ever since. She is scared & terrified of what she has done and she feels she is being unfair to Reiner because of how 'broken' she is from within. Mikasa also says that she understands if Reiner wants to call off their wedding because he deserves to be happy with someone who doesn't have immense emotional baggage like she does.

Reiner, wordlessly, only holds her close in return. Mikasa almost flinches but she gradually allows the shackles inside her head go. However, she isn't able to return Reiner's physical affections as yet because of the unbearable guilt she still holds, thinking she is unworthy of Reiner's genuine love.

Reiner also confides that he has his emotional baggages himself; namely the day he tried to shoot himself in the head right before the assault in Liberio. Reiner also shares the reason why he has stopped thinking of dying, in particularly, the moment he realizes he did not want to give up on life so easily was the second he saw Mikasa's helpless face when the alliance decided to kill Eren. He accepts if Mikasa refuses to proceed with their wedding, but he would still follow her to Hizuru and be by her side - even as a friend.

At that moment, they both realize one fundamental truth: all these horrors they had to go through especially together only made them even more compatible with each other. No other man could ever understand and love Mikasa the way she is. No other woman could truly understand and love Reiner the way he is. They were both broken, emotionally weighed down but the strength they each needed was in the other all along.

Reiner and Mikasa are indeed two odd-shaped puzzle pieces who turn out to be a perfect fit after all.

That night, Reiner makes the first pledge to Mikasa way before his wedding vows: He will love her and make her happy for the rest of his life. He will never give up on her. Not even after death.

Wedding

The wedding had been a simple but a merry affair. Falco had been the ring-bearer & Gabi the flower girl.

Kiyomi had a craftsmaker from Hizuru and a blacksmith from Marley to make wedding bands from melted 3DMG blades and titan crystals for the three couples.

Kiyomi had found beautiful western-style white silk dresses in the Azumabito family's garments chest on the main ship. The brides, along with the help from Gabi, Karina and her sister, personalize the dresses according to their preferences.

Mikasa wears an ankle-length princess cut dress with tight long sleeves. She embroidered the hem with forest green trimmings (her new favorite color) and sewn gold laces and ribbons on the wrists and neck to match the color of Reiner's eyes. So as the gold teardrop stone on her silver headpiece. Reiner wore a matching white dress shirt and dark pants with a long beige overcoat, with a silver garnet tie to match the colors of his bride's beautiful eyes.

Annie wore a shin-length bell-shaped dress, with a sky blue drape silk wrap across her shoulders and sky blue hair ribbon to match the color of Armin's eyes. Armin wore a crisp beige coat with a light blue dress shirt and a matching dark blue bow tie.

Pieck, who's already 7 weeks pregnant at that time, wore a long halter bare-back dress, with a flowy dark purple ombre gradient skirt and a violet satin waistband, which matched Jean's bowtie and suit vest. He paired it with a crisp dark brown full suit.

Annie & Pieck were walked down the aisle by their respective fathers. Levi was the one who accompanied Mikasa down the wedding lane to Reiner.

Reiner was just captivated - he had tears in his eyes the moment he saw Mikasa in her wedding dress. He immediately kisses her hand when Levi gave her away.

Reiner & Mikasa's vows brought the guests to tears. Reiner vowed that he will always place Mikasa's life & needs before his and will always be with her through every second of their lives together - side-by-side, not behind her or in front of her. Mikasa vowed that Reiner will always have not only her heart but her whole life, in which their souls are bound for all eternity.

When they shared their first kiss as husband & wife, Mikasa truthfully savored & surrendered her heart to her first true love's kiss with Reiner.

Since Captain Levi was injured, it was Armin who sweetly offered his hand for Mikasa's father-daughter dance, as her sworn brother.

At the reception, Connie, being the best man to all the grooms jokingly said to the three of them, "You boys might have been married first, but I already beat you guys in being a dad," proudly proclaiming while cradling his adopted 3-month old baby girl in his arms.

Wedding Night & Courting

That eve of the wedding, Reiner had been a perfect gentleman and he wants Mikasa to know that they will always be each other's equal. He only asks her to take the lead when it comes to the physical intimacy in their shared life & they will only consummate their wedding when she is ready.

Reiner & Mikasa spent their wedding night just talking & reminiscing about their time as 104th cadets and positive memories of everyone they know until they fell asleep in each other's arms. Reiner wanted Mikasa to remember only the good memories with Eren and that night, Mikasa had a minor night terror but Reiner's embrace helped calm her down as he helped her back to sleep.

The next morning, Reiner & Mikasa spent their time helping the resident cooks in the main kitchen with breakfast. Reiner likes to sneak in quick kisses on Mikasa's forehead in between the kitchen chores & despite not being able to fully initiate physical affections towards Reiner, Mikasa have become more comfortable in accepting Reiner's physical affections without being subconsciously defensive.

They spent the next several days together by doing domestic chores around the settlement in particularly, they discovered that they both share the same enjoyment towards harvesting in the fields. Reiner loves seeing the peaceful expression on Mikasa's face underneath the sun when she's working hard at plotting soil for the vegetable roots. He never stops seeing her as the strongest, most beautiful woman in his life.

They both went on evening walks with Falco & Gabi and stargazing at night. Sometimes they would talk, sometimes they would just sit in silence while holding each other's hands. They also discussed on their near future plans in settling down in Hizuru, bringing Karina with them so they can still take care of her together.

Reiner carries her from the main walkway to their shared unit every single night, much to Armin & Annie's amusement and Mikasa's horror. But by the third night, Mikasa had become more relaxed and she leant on Reiner's sturdy shoulders, accepting his comfort naturally.

Reiner also loves giving Mikasa surprises - whether it's a wild flower, a ripe edible harvest or any interesting things that he found while he was out helping at the fields.

Reiner's honesty, diligence and romantic wooing won Mikasa's heart and the last evening before they left for Hizuru, they finally consummate their marriage. That night, he carried her all the way to bed and they never left until they woke up in the morning. Reiner spent the whole night just worshipping every inch of his wife's body and never took his eyes off hers when they made love for the first time.

Life in Hizuru

As soon as they docked in Hizuru, Reiner & Mikasa, respectively, went into an immediate intensive training to prepare them for the duties & expectations of the imperial throne. Mikasa, to prepare her as an Empress and Reiner, to prepare him as her prince consort, especially him being the first non-Hizurian blood to sit on the imperial throne.

Reiner also voluntarily enlisted with the Hizurian naval forces to learn the new ropes of being a sea military member, as oppossed to land. It wasn't long when the higher-ups took notice of his exceptional skills, natural leadership & battle experience, that he was made an Admiral in training within three months of his enlistment.

Reiner & Mikasa had to spend the first few months apart and that made the newlyweds miss each other even more.

During this temporary separation, Reiner and Mikasa had been writing love letters to each other, everyday without fail. Karina made sure that her daughter-in-law would never feel alone & she always helped Kiyomi in supporting the empress-to-be so it would not be a lonely, isolated period for Mikasa while she's being separated from Reiner.

Reiner & Mikasa were only reunited a week before their enthronement, which was held six months after they arrived in Hizuru. Everyone of their loved ones in Fort Salta's residence had been invited as the royal guests. Despite having challenging pregnancies as former female shifters, Annie and Pieck wouldn't miss the opportunity to support Mikasa & Reiner's historical day as they officially become the new age imperial monarch of the East Sea country. Pieck went into an early labor during the visit. Jean & Pieck's eldest son was born in Hizuru.

Enthronement & the royal Azumabito (Ackerman-Braun) family legacy

Mikasa's royal title is Her Imperial Highness Empress Mikasa of Azumabito.

Reiner's royal title is His Imperial Highness Reiner Braun Consort to Empress Mikasa.

The first night after Mikasa & Reiner's enthronement, they conceived the firstborn heir to the throne - His Imperial Highness Prince Ryuujin Marcel Ackerman-Braun of Azumabito. In the following years, they were also succeeded by twin princesses, Her Imperial Highness Princess Reina Mathilde Ackerman-Braun of Azumabito & Her Imperial Highness Princess Ryoko Minerva Ackerman-Braun of Azumabito and the second crown prince, His Imperial Highness Prince Ren Mathias Ackerman-Braun of Azumabito.

Mikasa will then make history as the first royal empress who had built the greatest legacy & the strongest, peaceful empire in the world. She is the global icon of world peace & female empowerment, with her husband's neverending love & support.

Reiner is known in history as not only as one of the World's heroes & Eldian consort to the Hizurian empress, but he is the first non-Hizurian naval leader who unites three major nations in the world - through his battlefield intelligence & military prowess.

Under Levi Ackerman's watchful tutelage, Reiner & Mikasa's four children (consecutively their descendants that followed after) have become existential symbol of humanity's unity through the four major bloodlines running through their veins : Hizurian, Ackerman, Marleyan & Eldian from their parents. Each child becoming successful scholars who would continue to fight for humanity in their respective chosen fields; Prince Ryuujin in military & global peace efforts, Princess Reina in women's studies, Princess Ryoko in medicine & Prince Ren in industrialism - all fortifying the legacies their parents have inspired them with growing up.

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I truly had fun in working on this. Just imagining such potential future for my two beloved characters never fails to leave an everlasting warmth in my heart. Even if 139 may not promise a future for Reiner & Mikasa, I'd hope this vision would offer a much-needed comfort for my fellow RK shippers ❤🫂 xoxo