#imprisoning war aside THAT is a can of worms.

[emberglowfox]

woke up from my “nap” (read: my sleep schedule is fucked so i slept from like 10am to 6pm 😬) and spent like an hour very seriously hypothesizing about the logistics and lore of hyrule kingdom in botw/totk before eventually realizing it is at best a weird mess of retcons and “oh but actually”s at best and lowkey weirdly pro-imperialism at worst and just going back to sleep

[k4marina]

— iii. Stormborn || Heart of the Dragon

synopsis: as plans to conqour westeros begin, daenerys and i are met with an unknown visitor

warnings: got cannon violence, war, battle nothing super graphic. this chapter follows the storylime of Stormborn (S7 Ep2) so spoiler warning ig

a/n: all dialogue italicized is in Valyrian & important note at the end!!

series masterlist || next part

4.9k word count

game of thrones x modern!fem!reader

[gif found on pinterest]

“Your Grace summons you to the Painted Table.” The servant had said after I had gotten back to my room from my morning training. Daenerys had gotten busier in the last few weeks as she planned ahead for the upcoming war. 

I found her standing by the fireplace with her back turned towards me and the table that was in the shape of the Seven Kingdoms. A few figurines of different houses of Westeros were laid out in their appropriate places. 

“You called?” 

She takes a moment to turn, collecting her thoughts. 

“In a few days Olenna Tyrell, Ellaria Sand, and Yara Greyjoy will be here to pledge their allegiance to me and further discuss our plans to take the Iron Throne.” She rounded the table, walking closer to me. “But before they arrive is there anything I must know?”

I furrowed my brows, thinking back or ahead in the future? Nonetheless, I wracked my brain for anything that would be useful. 

“Oh,” I remembered. “An ambush. There’s going to be an ambush.” 

A flash of concern comes across her face. “Who?” 

“Euron Greyjoy. After your meeting you ordered Yara to escort Ellaria and their troops to Sunspear. But along the way Euron ambushes them.” The whole ordeal was hard to read. Daenerys’ campaign was going so well until that point. 

“It was catastrophic. So many died and so many ships destroyed they were still finding wreckage when I was born.” I turned towards the map, thinking back to where we were told the ambush had taken place. 

 “Here. 50 miles north of Sharp Point in Blackwater Bay.” I pointed out. “That’s where they were ambushed.” 

“The damage?”

“Significant. Euron, Yara’s uncle, takes her and Ellaria Sand and her daughter as hostages for Cersie and imprisons them in King's Landing. And, his ships are equipped with Scorpions.” 

She takes in a deep breath, trying to keep her composure. Her eyes look down at where I’ve pointed just a moment ago, weighing her options and thinking of a new plan. 

“So what do we do?” 

I smile. “I have a plan.”

—

Rain had been pouring down for the past three days and it showed no signs of letting up all while the entire castle prepared for the arrival of Houses Greyjoy, Martel, and Tyrell. I sighed, walking away from the floor to ceiling windows of the library and back to the roundtable full of books. With the rain getting heavier Grey Worm had decided to postpone my lessons which left me in the library of the castle, hunched over a mountain of books.

“Not very fond of the rain?” Missandei asks from the table, peering over a book. “I am. Just not very fond of the dreariness of it.” I reply, sitting down across from her. “It’s interesting how something as simple as the weather can change a person's entire mood.” 

She nodded, setting the book aside. “In Essos it barely rained. Whenever it did, the sky would be clear and the temperature hot. Here, the rain is so…” 

“Heavy.” I finished off. “Whenever the weather gets like this all I want to do is sleep.” 

“It does, doesn’t it?” Missandei beams. “I just want to curl up under the hearth with a cup of tea and a good book.” 

I laughed, “after all the reading I’ve done, it’s the last thing I’d want to do when I’m relaxing.” 

We both shared a laugh before falling into a pregnant pause. I could tell that she was still apprehensive about me. When she came to me this morning, asking to join me in the library, I was shocked. Out of council meetings and occasionally bumping into each other we had barely talked. 

“You don’t trust me,” I said. 

She watched my expression as she replied. “Can you blame me?” 

I shook my head. “No, I’m glad that you are, though. I’d be more concerned if you’d blindly trust me. Especially with my.. sudden appearance.”

Out of everyone in Daenerys’ council I knew from the start that Missandei would be the hardest to build a relationship with. She’d been with Dany for years. She’d seen her at her lowest and highest. Which is why she would be one of my most important allies, other than Daenerys. 

“You also don’t trust us,” Missandei says. 

“Wrong,” I correct. “I trust Daenerys. You. Grey Worm, and Tyrion.” 

“Not Lord Varys?” She asks. 

“No. Varys is… different, in a lot of ways.” I needed to tread carefully. I couldn’t just outwardly say that he would betray Daenerys and be the reason why Misssandei would die. But, I could sew in the seeds of doubt. 

“He’s.. somewhat unpredictable.” I pursed my lips. “His origin and journey is admirable, don’t get me wrong. It’s just his methods and means and history that are a bit questionable.” 

Everyone knows that Varys has his “little birds” but they don’t know the truth behind them. Missandei didn’t say much after that, letting my words sit in her mind for the rest of the day. I knew what I had said had left her stumped and that she would tell Daenerys of our conversation. I just hoped that the seed had been planted deep enough. 

—

The storm had raged on into the night. I was getting ready to turn into the night when a servant informed me of a small council meeting at the Painted Table. Quickly, I made my way over, seeing that everyone else was already there. 

“I hope I’m not late.” I say to no one in particular. Missandei and Grey Worm give me a few nods while Tyrion and Varys watch Daenerys who had her back towards us, deep in thought. 

“On a night like this, you were born,” Tyrion remarks. 

“I remember that storm. All the dogs in King’s Landing howled through the night.” Varys adds.

“I wish I could remember it.” Daenerys says, finally turning around. Her face was somewhat stoic as she walked over to the table. “I always thought this would be a homecoming, this doesn't feel like home.”

She’s upset, I noted. Did Missandei and I’s conversation work?

“We won’t stay at Dragonstone for long.” Tyrion reassures. 

“Good.” She says, looking at the figurine on the table. “Not many lions.”

“Cersie controls fewer than half of the Seven Kingdoms. The lords of Westeros despise her. Even before your arrival, they plotted against her. Now…” Varys says. I don’t know why but the tone of his voice makes me want to jump into the sea.

“They cry out for their true queen? They drink secret toasts to my health?” Daenerys walks closer to Varys, almost as if she were sizing him up. “People used to tell my brother that sort of thing, and he was stupid enough to believe them.”

Everyone in the room watches carefully as she picks up a dragon figurine from the table. “If Viserys had three dragons and an army at his back he’d have invaded King’s Landing already.” 

“Conquering Westeros would be easy for you. But you’re not here to be the queen of the ashes.” Tyrion interjects. 

“No,” Daenerys puts down the dragon figure. 

“We can take the Seven Kingdoms without turning it into a slaughterhouse,” I say. “We already have three great houses supporting your claim.” 

“I agree,” Tyrion nods my way. “With the Tyrell army and the Dornish on our side, we have powerful allies in the south.” 

Daenerys looks at Varys. “I never properly thanked you for that.” Though, her voice lacked any bit of gratitude. 

“They joined our side, my queen, because they believe in you.” Vays says.

“You served my father, didn’t you, Lord Varys?”

“I did,” He replies. 

“And then you served the man who overthrew him?” Her tone shifted. 

“I had a choice, Your Grace– serve Robert Baratheon or face the headsman's axe.” Varys says defensively.

“But you didn’t serve him long. You turned against him.”

“Robert was an improvement on your father, to be sure. There have been few rulers in history as cruel as the Mad King. Robert was neither mad nor cruel. He simply had no interest in being king.” Varys countered. 

“So you took it upon yourself to find yourself a better one.” She pressed further. 

Tyrion, feeling the tension in the room, comes to Varys’ defense. “Your Grace,” Daenerys turns towards Tyrion. “When I was ready to drink myself into a small coffin, Lord Varys told me about a queen in the east who–” 

“Before I came to power,” Daenerys turned back to Varys, “you favored my brother. All your spies, your little birds, did they tell you Viserys was cruel, stupid, and weak? Would those qualities have made for a good king in your learned opinion?”

“Until your marriage to Khal Drogo, Your Grace. I knew nothing about you, save your existence and that you were said to be beautiful.” Varys deflects. Daenerys looks past and towards me. 

“Are you sure?” I hummed, catching everyone’s attention. Varys’ face hardened and he glared towards me. “Because from what I remember, you’ve always known about Daenerys.” 

I stepped forward, standing behind Daenerys. “Matter of fact, you were the one who planned Daenerys’ marriage to Khal Drogo with Illyrio.”

Varys opened his mouth to speak, but Daenerys beat him to it. 

“You and your friends traded me like a prized horse to the Dothraki.” 

“Which you turned to your advantage.” He was starting to panic. It was clear the Varys didn’t like to have his back against the wall. 

“Who gave the order to kill me?” 

“King Robert.” He replies quickly. 

“Who hired the assassins?” She steps closer to Varys. “Who sent word to Essos to murder Daenerys Targaryen?” 

“Your Grace,” you could hear panic set in his voice. “I did what had to be done–”

“To keep yourself alive.” Daenerys says firmly. 

“Lord Varys has proven himself a loyal servant.” Tyrion says, trying to calm the situation. 

“Proven himself loyal?” I scoffed. 

“Quite the opposite.” Daenerys, turned towards her hand. “If he dislikes one monarch. He conspires to crown the next one. What kind of a servant is that?”

“The kind the realm needs.” Varys says firmly. “Incompetence should not be rewarded with blind loyalty. As long as I have my eyes, I’ll use them. I wasn’t born into a great house. I come from nothing. I was sold as a slave and carved up as an offering. When I was a child, I lived in alleys, gutters, abandoned houses. You wish to know where my true loyalties lie? Not with any king or queen, but with the people. The people who suffer under despots and prosper under just rule. The people whose hearts you aim to win. If you demand blind allegiance, I respect your wishes. Grey Worm can behead me or your dragons can devour me. But if you let me live, I will serve you well. I will dedicate myself to seeing you on the Iron Throne because I choose you. Because I know the people have no better chance than you.”

Silence lingers in the air as Varys’ words settle into the room. The rest watched the three of us carefully, holding their breaths. 

“Swear this to me, Varys.” Daenerys’ voice is calm, and no longer holds any edge. “If you ever think I’m failing the people, you won’t conspire behind my back. You’ll look me in the eye as you have done today, and you’ll tell me how I’m failing them.” 

Feeling satisfied that he’s in the clear, Varys stands straight. “I swear it, my queen.” 

“And I swear this– if you even betray me, I’ll burn you alive.” She quickly warns. 

Varys smiles. “I would expect nothing less from the Mother of Dragons.” 

Amidst back and forth a servant had entered the room, informing Grey Worm of a visitor. 

“Forgive me, my queen. A red priestess from As’shai has some to see you.” 

––––

The doors to the throne room open, revealing a woman in red standing alone. She had red hair and dark red-ish eyes. Could this be?

The woman bows, her eyes linger on me before addressing Daenerys in Valyrian. “Queen Daeneys, I was a slave once, bought and sold, scourged and branded. It is an honor to meet the Breaker of Chains.” 

“The Red Priests helped bring peace to Meereen. You are very welcome here. What is your name?” Daenerys replies. 

“I am called Melisandre.” 

“She once served another who wanted the Iron Throne.” Varys says from behind us. “It didn’t end well for Stannis Baratheon, did it?”

“No, it didn’t” Melisandre replies with no emotions. 

Not only did it not end well for Stannis, but it also didn’t end well for his daughter who he burned alive under Melisandre’s orders, but if you ask her it was the “Lords” doing. 

“You chose an auspicious day to arrive at Dragonstone.” Daenerys turns to look at Varys. “We’ve decided to pardon those who served the wrong king.” 

Varys doesn’t reply and just bows his head, thankful that Daenerys hadn’t fed him to Drogon. 

Daenerys turns back to Melisandre. “The Lord of Light doesn’t have many followers in Westeros, does he?” 

“Not yet. But even those who don't worship the Lord can serve his cause.” 

“What does your Lord expect from me?” Daenerys questions. 

“The Long Night is coming. Only the prince who was promised can bring the dawn.”

I sucked in a breath through my nose. We were getting closer to Jon’s arrival and everything else that would follow suit. 

“The prince who was promised will bring the dawn.” Daenerys repeats. “I'm afraid I'm not a prince.”  

“Your Grace, forgive me, but your translation is not quite accurate.” Missandei corrects from the side. “That noun has no gender in High Valyrian, so the proper translation for that prophecy would be the prince or princess who was promised will bring the dawn.”

“Doesn’t really roll off the tongue, does it?” Tyrion comments. 

“No, but I like it better.” Daenerys turns back to Melisandre. “And you believe this prophecy refers to me?” 

“Prophecies are dangerous things. I believe you have a role to play, as does another. The King in the North, Jon Snow.” Melisandre explains.

“Jon Snow?” Tyrion says, shocked. “Ned Stark's bastard?” 

“You know him?” Daenerys asks. 

Tyrion nods. “I traveled with him to the Wall when he joined the Night's Watch.” 

“And why do you think the Lord of Light singled out this Jon Snow aside from the visions you’ve seen in the flames, that is?” Varys inquired. 

“As Lord Commander of the Night's Watch he allowed the Wildlings south of the Wall to protect them from great danger. As King in the North he has united those Wildlings with the northern houses so together they may face their common enemy.” 

Even after hundreds of years after the events of this time, Jon’s heroism is still marveled  upon. The North still remembers the King in the North.

“He sounds like quite a man.” I say.

“Summon Jon Snow. Let him stand before you and tell you things that have happened to him, the things that he has seen with his own eyes.” Melisandre urged Daenerys. 

Tyrion nodded, “I can’t speak to prophecies or visions in the flames, but I like Jon Snow and I trusted him, and I am an excellent judge of character.” 

“If he does rule the north, he would make a valuable ally. The Lannisters executed his father and conspired to murder his brother. Jon Snow has even more reason to hate Cersei than you do.” Tyrion added. 

She glanced up from Tyrion to me, asking if it were true. I gave her a subtle nod and she turned back to Tyrion, smiling. 

“Very well. Send a raven north.” She says. “Tell Jon Snow that his Queen invites him to come to Dragonstone… and bend the knee.”

–––

Our new allies arrived early in the morning, just as the sun rose over the horizon. I wore a black dress with a wool outer layer with silver clasps running from my collarbone to above my navel. The shoulders, forearms, and collar had a dragon scale pattern. It was simple, but still full of detail, but most importantly it kept me warm in this dreaded weather.The rain had stopped overnight, but the clouds had stayed, blocking any sunlight.

Everyone was gathered at the Painted Table, all ready and waiting for Daenerys to make her entrance. As I entered the room, conversation between our guests dulled down as they couldn’t look away. I didn’t have to look to know what they were thinking. 

Another Targaryen? 

The room was cold from the night's rain and the cold sea so I threw more wood into the hearth and stood by Missandei as we waited for Daenerys. I glanced around the room, watching as Yara, Ellaria, and Olenna talked but occasionally glanced towards me. 

“They seem to be interested in you.” Missandei comments. 

“I thought they’d have a bigger reaction,” I say. “Maybe a few jaw’s on the floor, or a few gasps of shock.” 

Missandei chuckled. “I’m afraid all you’ll get is a few stares and gossip.” 

“I guess I can take that.” I hummed. 

The doors swung open as Daenerys entered. Everyone stood at attention as she made her way to the front of the room. 

“I want to thank you all for making the journey to Dragonstone. Now, let us begin.” 

Yara was the first to speak. “If you want the Iron Throne, take it. We have an army, a fleet, and three dragons. We should hit King's Landing now. Hard. With everything we have. The city will fall within a day.”

“If we turn the dragons loose, tens of thousands will die in the firestorms.” Tyrion shook his head. 

Ellaria looked towards him with disgust, which was noticed by all. “It's called war. You don't have the stomach for it, scurry back into hiding.”

“I know how you wage war. We don't poison little girls here. Myrcella was innocent.” Tyrion bit back. 

Ellaria scoffed. “She was a Lannister. There are no innocent Lannisters. My greatest regret is that Oberyn died fighting for you.” 

“Oberyn was a grown man. He made his choice, no one can change that. Myrcella was a child, she didn’t do anything. I think we all here know that a child isn’t responsible for their fathers sins.” I said from the sidelines, giving her a pointed look. 

“That's enough. Tyrion is the Hand of the Queen. You will treat him with respect.” Daenerys reminded. Both Tyrion and Ellaria backed down, Ellaria giving me one last look. “I am not here to be the Queen of Ashes.” 

“That's very nice to hear.” Olenna said from across the table. “Of course, I can't remember a queen who was better loved than my granddaughter. The common people loved her, the nobles loved her. And what is left of her now? Ashes. Commoners, nobles, they're all just children really. They won't obey you unless they fear you.”

“I'm grateful to you, Lady Olenna, for your council. I'm grateful to all of you. But you have chosen to follow me. I will not attack King's Landing. We will not attack King's Landing.” Daenerys says, genuinely. 

“Then how do you mean to take the Iron Throne? By asking nicely?” Olenna asks. I smiled at the older womens sass. 

Daenerys looked towards me and I stepped forward. “We will lay siege to the capital, surrounding it on all sides. Cersei will have the Iron Throne, but no food for her army or the people.” 

“But we won’t use Dothraki and Unsullied.” Tyrion adds. He walks around the carved table, “Cersie will try to rally the lords of Westeros by appealing to their loyalty, their love for their country. If we besiege the city with foreigners, we prove her point. Our army should be Westerosi.” 

“And I suppose we’re providing the Westerosi?” Ellaria clarifies. 

“You are.” Tyrion reached down, picking up a figurine that resembled a Kraken in a longship. “Lady Greyjoy will escort you home to Sunspear and her Iron Fleet will ferry the Dornish army back up to King’s Landing.” He walked over to the south of the map and picked up a figurine that resembled a sun. Taking both figurines, Tyrion places them at King’s Landing. “The Dornish will lay siege to the capital alongside the Tyrell army. Two great kingdoms united against Cersie.”

“So your master plan is to use our armies? Forgive me for asking, but why did you bother to bring your own?” Olenna asks Daenerys. 

Tyrion reached down, picking up a figurine that looked like an Unsullied helmet. He walked around the map. “The Unsullied will have another objective. For decades House Lannister has been the true power in Westeros. And the seat of that power is Casterly Rock. Grey Worm and the Unsullied will sail for the Rock and take it.”

He stops in front of Casterly Rock, a lion figurine sitting on the Rock. Tyrion takes a moment before knocking over the lion with the Unsullied figurine to everyone's pleasure. 

A clam settles and Daenerys addresses the room. “There is another matter to discuss.” Everyone looks at her, caught off guard. “I’ve come to learn that there will be an ambush in Blackwater Bay led by Euron Greyjoy under Cerseis’ order.” 

“What?” Someone says. 

“Your Grace,” Varys steps forward. “Forgive me, but I’ve heard no such thing to take place.” He eyes me suspiciously. “Perhaps you’re mistaken.” 

“There have been no mistakes, Lord Varys.” Daenerys says. I moved to stand on Daenerys' side. 

“Euron will strike at night.” I explain. “His ships are equipped with Scorpions, they’re deadly and will tare your ships to shreads.” 

Yara’s face drops. “What the hell do we do? Our ships aren’t fully equipped to take on his.” Theon, behind her, is equally terrified. 

“We know,” I say, calmly. “That is why I’ll be escorting you.” 

“Forgive me, my dear, but what can you do?” Olenna asks. 

“I’ll be on dragonback. I’ll be flying high enough to go unnoticed, but close by to help when the attack happens. There will be casualties on our end, that's certain, but this is war.” The others look at Daenerys and I in shock as they try to find the words to speak.

“But you’ve never flown into battle.” Tyrion says. 

“So?” I shrug. “I’ll have to fight at one point, might as well start now.”

“My Lady, you’ve never flown out that far, you’ll be all alone.” Missandei says. 

“No I won’t. I’ll have my dragon and I’ll have our new allies besides me.” I say, nodding towards Yara and Ellaria. “When I bent the knee to Daenerys and promised to get her the Iron Throne, I meant it. This is what I have to do.”

Daenerys gives me a reassuring look. She turned towards the room. “Do I have your support?”

Yara glances between Daenerys and I. “You have mine.” 

“Dorne is with you, Your Grace.” Ellaria says. 

Lady Olenna nods her head in agreement. 

“Thank you all.” Daenerys says, somewhat relieved. “Lady Olenna, may I speak with you alone?” 

Everyone bows and leaves the room. Before leaving I turned towards Daenerys, “I’ll go get ready for my departure.” 

She nods. “Stay safe, sister.”

I smiled. “I will. When I’m back I’ll let you put a braid in my hair.” I say, leaving. 

I stepped out into the hall and down to where my room was where everything was already ready for me. When I first had my conversation with Daenerys about the ambush I had also asked for some armor to be made for me. And with the help of the servants I was able to get into it quickly. It was simple but protective and it allowed me to ride my dragon without hurting either of us. I took two daggers that I’d also had made and placed them into their places on my hip.

Afterwards I headed to where the ships were docked and where Viserion was waiting for me. I stepped outside and saw everyone getting ready to leave. I spotted Yara and Theon were still on the docks giving orders to their crew. 

“Is everything ready?” I ask. 

“It is, My Lady. We’ll be leaving shortly.” Yara says. 

“Good. You’ll leave first and I’ll be behind you not far off. We need to make it look like you’re alone and unsuspecting.” I explained. I glanced back at Theon who still hadn’t said anything, but had something on his mind. “Is something bothering you, My Lord?”

Theon looked taken aback, surprised that I was talking to him. “I’m not a lord.” 

“You’re not?” I repeat. “You are Balon Greyjoy’s son, are you?” 

He nods, not fully looking up at me. 

“That makes you Lady Yara Greyjoy's brother, yes?” 

He nods again, still not looking up. 

“Then that makes you a Greyjoy, an Ironborn. You are every bit of a lord you are now and when you were born on Pyke, do not forget that. What’s happened has happened, no one can change that. All we can do is move forward. We Do Not Sow, yes?”

He nods, finally looking up at me. 

––––

The ships had cleared out of the docks and were making their way into Blackwater Bay. I stood near the cliffs, ready to leave, when Tyrion came to stand beside me. 

“What you’re doing is heroic, My Lady.” He says. 

“I guess it is. I’ve never done anything like this.” I flexed my fingers. “My entire body’s buzzing. Was this what you felt before the Battle of the Blackwater and defeated Stannis’ army?” 

Tyrion nodded. “It did. I felt like throwing up and shitting the floor at the same time.” We both laughed. “I had to drink a few glasses of wine to calm myself down. Perhaps it would help you, My Lady.” 

I laughed, shaking my head. “No, I’m fine. I need a clear head. But, you can save me that glass for when I get back. Then we can talk about everything that needs to be talked about. Don’t you agree?” 

“I do.” 

––––

It was pitch black and cold. The heat from Viserion’s body was still keeping me warm, but the cold wind blowing past my face was getting to me. Even from up there I could hear the waves crashing down which meant that I’d be able to hear when Euron’s fleet attacked. 

“How you feeling, big guy? Good?” I asked Viserion. He let out a small purr, his entire body vibrating. I sighed, looking up at the sky above. The stars and the mood were my only light as we flew further out. 

“Okay,” I say out loud. “Let's go over our plan. When they attack our ships we fly down and torch them, but we have to be careful not to get too close or else we’ll be caught and we have to watch out for the Scorpions. One hit with that and we’ll be recreating Queen Rhaenys and Meraxes. And keep your eye out for Euron, we need him alive.” 

Viserion purrs again and I take that as a sign that he agrees with the plan. The last few weeks I’ve flown with him were good, we’d stay around Dragonstone, the furthest we’ve been was Driftmark, so this was a huge risk. 

When I had explained to Daenerys my plan she was apprehensive. It was clear that she didn’t want either Viserion or I to get hurt, but she knew that we also couldn’t risk our fleet and our army. 

A loud crash brought me out of my thoughts, and a glow erupted from below. The steady waves of the ocean now clashed against one another as Euron began his assault. 

This was it. 

“Now.” I command. 

In an instant Viserion flies down past the clouds and we’re met with Eurons fleet fighting against Yara’s. Almost instantaneously my body and mind knew what to do. Without a word Viserion flew down and prepared himself. 

“Dracarys.” 

Fire erupts out of his mouth and lights the enemy ships below us ablaze. He lets out a loud scratch, gathering everyone's attention below before striking again. It takes them a minute before they aim their Scorpions up towards us. The massive arrows fly past us as Viserion weaves between them while burning Eurons fleet. 

It doesn’t take long for the battle to die down, the air filled with the smell of burnt wood and flesh. Our fleet was damaged but Eurons was completely destroyed. Anyone who could have survived the dragonfire were either killed or taken hostage. Like planned, a Targaryen flag is flown under the Greyjoy’s on Yara’s ship, Black Wind.  

–––––

Once I’d landed back on Dragonstone I quickly said goodbye to Viserion, letting him rest, and made my way down to the docks where everyone, minus Grey Worm, would be waiting for me. 

Daenerys was first to see me, giving me a tight hug while the others nodded my way, smiling. 

“Well done, My Lady. You’ve done well.” Tyrion says. 

“Thank you, but we’ve still got work to do.” 

Right on que, a ship comes into the docks. The crew works quickly to anchor down and disembark. The Ironborn and a few Dornish step off before Theon and a few of his men step off. He’s a little bruised, and he’s got dirt and ash on his face, but overall well. He bow’s towards Daenerys and I, giving me a small smile before he steps aside and allows his men in front who are dragging a beaten up Euron Greyjoy. 

“We’ve got him, Your Grace.” Says Theon. 

“Good,” Daenerys’ eyes never left the unconscious Euron. “Bring him to the dungeons.” 

The men hull him off and everyone makes their way back into the castle. I turn over to Tyrion. 

“Let’s have that drink.”

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!! A/N: I will be going on a hiatus for a few months. I've got some personal stuff going on so I won't be updating any of my series including this one. I don't know when I'll be back, but when I am I'll get you guys a new chapter so hang on tight. Thank you for all the support you've given so far. I know thing are only just getting started story wise but I have a lot to do and I'll make it up to you all when I'm back.

[mwolf0epsilon]

Ok i'll bite, tell me more about the superhero AU please? (I need to know how you're doing the clones without them being clones or related to Jango)

I know this has been in my inbox for a few days now Anon, and for that I'm sorry! Just had a lot of stuff come up that I had to finish before I devoted attention to this ask.

But oooh boy, what a can of worms you've opened up! I'll keep it under a cut because it's gonna get long.

Ok so, the premise for the Superhero AU is a simple one: It's a modern world AU where the Jedi are people (and sometimes creatures) with superhuman abilities bestowed upon them by an unknown entity known simply as the Force.

They live and train at a monastery, and are raised on core values that are designed specifically so that their powers are put to use for the betterment and safety of man kind, instead of being misused for personal gain or chaos. Basically the Jedi are Jedi, even in this world. They just also have regular lives outside of the monastery so that they are more connected with the people they're meant to protect.

(Examples: Obi-wan works as a science teacher at the high school Ahsoka and Barriss are studying at, Mace is an acclaimed actor at a theater, Plo Koon is an archeologist that collaborates with the local museum, Anakin is just starting Uni, etc...)

They're the guardians of their quaint little planet, and it's their sole duty to defend it from villainous intentions. Something that doesn't really appeal to recently appoint Mayor Palpatine, who has a world domination agenda he'd very much like to get on with.

He needs to get rid of the Jedi but he doesn't really have powers of his own. Just a lot of money, connections and political favour. He does, however, also have something else: Access to an otherworldly being that possesses a massive amount of power.

In this world Jango Fett is essentially the equivalent of Superman gone bad. He belongs to a now extinct species of humanoids who had extraordinary abilities that allowed for them to adapt to any kind of environment (making them into great terraformers and warriors, which inevitably got them into a lot of conflict with other alien species and caused a terrible war that destroyed their planet), and who was sent out in a pod as a baby to escape the end of days in his homeworld.

He was found and raised by Jaster Mereel, living a pretty calm existence for the first 12 years of his life. But, as he began to slowly develop his powers, it became apparent that being raised outside of his native planet lead to these abilities never really stabilizing, essentially turning Jango into a conglomerate of all kinds of insane powers that many of Jaster's less morally sound acquaintances wanted to exploit for their own gain.

Things quickly went sour after that. Despite his best attempts to protect his son, Jaster was brutally murdered in front of Jango, and the young boy ended up imprisoned and brutally tortured for several years to "break his spirit" so that his captors could then control him. Unfortunately for them, Jango being subjected to the worst possible treatment and then forced to witness all kinds of corrupt and morally bankrupt behaviors had the opposite effect of what they wanted.

Disgusted with how vile humanity could be, an enraged Jango Fett annihilated his captors and vowed to destroy both those who'd wronged him, as well as wipe out the entire planet (and himself by proxy). And he nearly succeeded, had it not been for the Jedi managing to subdue and trapped him in stasis in collaboration with several nations.

For years Jango Fett has been kept in stasis. Mostly because the Jedi do not agree on killing him, and the military hasn't figured out a way to do it (aside from being nearly indestructible his healing factor is far too strong) that wouldn't also risk causing a ecological catastrophe. And now that Palpatine is in power and has the military in his pockets, he has access to Jango. He isn't foolish enough to wake him up of course, but he does still very much want all of Jango's powers under his control.

So begins a military project that is designed specifically to harness and control abilities that could rival even the Jedi's own connection to the Force. Perhaps even be used to destroy them.

The first iteration of the project (which has Lama Su as the head chief) does indeed involve cloning. But rather than the refined Kaminoan level of cloning that exists in the SW universe, what happens in this world is a little different.

Boba and Omega are the only clones that end up being created, but they age at a normal pace and their powers come well after puberty. They are thus deemed as a failure and a waste of time, and relegated for testing and studying as they slowly grow up in a lab.

The second iteration of the project (with Hemlock in command of it) is much more successful. It involves extracting Jango's DNA, distilling it, and basically creating a concoction of sorts contained within a spherical glowing capsule, that can give people powers if they were to consume it.

The initial tests were conducted on animals and were seemingly successful. Common household pets and pests such as dogs, cats, rats, insects, etc, having become highly dangerous and unusually intelligent beasts (these creatures were subsequently stored for later military use).

It was after the initial testing was conducted that Hemlock's assistant (Emerie) decided she didn't feel comfortable bestowing Palpatine with powers he clearly shouldn't be trusted with, and tried to pull the plug on the project... With disastrous effect. Several crates full of the capsules ended up falling into the river adjacent to the military research facility, and they were carried out towards the unsuspecting city.

And this is where things get interesting...

In this world, the clones are not clones (aside from Boba and Omega as stated previously). They aren't even related to Jango Fett. They're regular men, women (and even children) who were just living their own lives before coming across "strange glowing orbs" that exploded on contact after being poked or messed with.

Rex Lawquane only just moved to the big city from his home in the country side, after getting a sports scholarship. He's striving out on his own for the first time after practically living his whole life with his mom (Suu), dad (Cut) and two younger siblings (Shaeeah and Jek).

He's also only just figured out he's trans, and is both coming to terms with reinventing himself, and trying to figure out how to earn enough money to transition (as well as how to break it to his parents, when he's so far away and sending a letter saying 'Hey ma and pa guess what? I'm actually a guy!' doesn't really feel that great to him). Luckily he has his uncle Nicodemus (99) and his little cousins the 16 year old quintuplets Henry (Hevy), Christopher (Cutup), Felix (Fives), Ezequiel (Echo) and Donald (Droidbait) to rely on when he's feeling a little down.

Cody and his father Alphonse (Alpha-17) live in a little cul-de-sac in the outskirts of the city where everyone treats each other like family (to the point where Cody, Bly, Wolffe, Ponds and Fox who all live within the same community call each other 'brothers'), and run a small shop in the city that's barely making rent.

They live fairly simple lives, but overall don't want for more. Even if sometimes Cody and his childhood friends wished their lives were a little more exciting than the stagnant routine they have been stuck with since graduation.

Jesse is a Uni dropout who has taken up several jobs to provide for himself and his two brothers, Kix and Casey (Hardcase), the former having just started medical school and the latter having been struggling in school.

They're not in a great financial situation, and sometimes get into spats over the littlest of things, but they make do with what they have and would move mountains for each other if they could.

Tucker (Tup) and Matthew (Dogma) are 12 year old twins with a very difficult home life. Their older brother (Slick) ran away from home a while back to get away from their abusive father (Krell), and both they and their mother have been in witness protection for a couple of weeks due to Krell's involvement with the mafia and threats of violence against his wife and children.

Things aren't great and the twins don't have many friends, but they do their best to help their mom run her bakery when they're not in school. Both wish they were strong enough to protect her from their monster of a dad.

Hunter, Tech, Wrecker and Crosshair (yep their names haven't changed in this because they named themselves) have just grown out of the foster care system, and are trying to make better lives for themselves after being put through the grinder several times before.

Living in a crappy apartment in a shady part of town run by a rather strict and opportunistic landlady (Cid), the four 'brothers' earn what little they can through acts of petty crime like burglaries and pick pocketing. Deep down all four of them have dreams of better more honest lives, however...

As you can see, very few of them have any connection to each other. Rex is related to 99 and Domino Squad, and is the son of Cut and Suu, but doesn't personally know Cody or the other Commanders like in the regular SW universe. CF99 are fending for themselves and have no connection whatsoever to any of the other characters. Not even Cody. If anything a lot of them have only ever seen each other on the bus, or at the park, in a shop, or at the mall once or twice.

The range of ages between them also varies greatly, with Tup and Dogma being the youngest at 12, Domino Squad and Hardcase being 16, Rex, Jesse and Kix being 19, etc...

Which leads us to the orbs and their effect.

Because, even if the clones aren't clones in this world, their lives aren't just about to take a turn because they suddenly have powers. No. To better assimilate these abilities and not risking a rejection event, their DNA is also altered to the point where their appearance changes to be near identical to Jango Fett's (or as close as possible, with some of them retaining eye color, hair color, birthmarks, ailments, etc).

How each of them finds one of the orbs varies just as much as their life's circumstances. But the results are all the same. The orbs explode (splashing them with the concoction) and over the next couple of days everyone who was afflicted begins to show strange symptoms of some "unknown illness".

It starts with aches and sores which escalate into extreme fevers. Then their appearance begins to change. The afflicted are taken to doctors all around the city, but no one knows what's going on. And then one night everything takes a turn for the worst...

The orbs weren't perfect at replicating all of Jango's powers at once. They could only bestow one or two powers to whomever took the concoction, and even then there was no way to predict what power someone might get. So, all at once, the afflicted suddenly found themselves with powers they could not control at all. Some more catastrophic in nature than others...

Here are several examples of just how bad that night went:

Rex ends up destroying the apartment building he lives in when his new size-shifting abilities cause him to grow gigantic.

Cody bursts into flames in the middle of his and his dad's shop, not only consuming the entire building but also catching fire to several more as he runs down the street in a terrified panic.

Jesse's strength quadruples and he begins to break things without meaning to. Terrified he might hurt his brothers, he smashes through several walls in an attempt to run away from them.

Hardcase literally explodes, taking out an entire block in the process. He ends up unconscious in a crater of his own creation afterwards.

Kix begins to absorb electricity and causes a blackout, further throwing the city into chaos.

Dogma transforms into a kaiju and runs rampant out of sheer terror.

The entire city is plunged into chaos in such a rapid sequence of events, that the Jedi don't have time to react. The military however had been monitoring where the orbs ended up, and had been observing the afflicted after they'd accidentally activated them. They'd merely been bidding their time so they could swoop in and capture everyone who had come into contact with one of the orbs.

Several lives are upturned, with several innocent people left grappling with their new circumstances.

An identity crisis and sudden fear of their newfound capabilities, is something that Palpatine very easily exploits to keep his new army in line. Because all of these unfortunate men and women surely have families and friends that they care for, right? They wouldn't want them to suffer if they stepped out of line, right?

His superhuman troopers might not want to destroy the Jedi, but they don't really have much of a choice. Palpatine isn't giving them one. That said, to take out the Jedi there's still a lot of preparations to be made. Such as making this new group of heroes more appealing and trustworthy to the general masses. And not all of their powers are great for PR (a kaiju and someone who explodes sure don't inspire trust).

But hey, Palpatine worked in theater before becoming a politician. He can work with what he's got. If some of them can't play the part of hero, they can certainly play the villain.

I have had a lot of time to think about this AU and once again it's another 'Palpatine plays 4D chess with everyone and the clones are well aware he's a villain but don't have much of a choice in the matter and regretfully go along with his plans because they're trapped' scenario. But it's a fun one that involves them still trying to make names for themselves and figure out their own identities, with a healthy dose of 'oh god what's happened to me' thrown into the mix.

The blorbos must be put through the horrors to later surpass them and come out of the ordeal stronger and more confident!

Or maybe I'm just insane.

[callioope]

I just want to acknowledge that Essek’s actions did affect Veth personally. 

(1) Yeza was helping study one of the beacons that Essek stole. In other words, he was participating in the research that Ludinus was supposed to be sharing with Essek as part of their deal.

(2) Yeza’s involvement in studying the beacons caused the Dynasty’s attack on Felderwin, endangering the life of Veth’s son and resulting in Yeza’s capture.

(2a) We can’t say for certain how much Essek knew about this attack. However, it is possible that he could have helped plan it. He may have even tipped Ludinus off to move the beacon; if that is the case, he may have even known that the beacon would not be there but allowed the attack to happen anyway. But all of this is speculation. Even if Essek knew nothing of the attack, it wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t stolen the beacons in the first place.

(3) Yeza was kidnapped because of his involvement with the beacons. And this was how he was treated:

They dragged me through all these terrible places, chained to like a giant nightmare, this worm thing

And this isn’t even the worst part.

(4) Yeza is imprisoned and likely tortured in the Dungeon of Penance

This is how the Mighty Nein find Yeza: 

MATT: The cell is about 20 feet deep, ten feet wide. Aside from the bars towards the very front, the chamber is solid iron. The floor is stone, very hardy stone, and elements of the floor have scattered bits of soft-dried grasses. There appears to be a bedroll that is tossed in the corner and a pot. You see, off in the corner, knees to the chest, looking forward, spooked, a halfling man, curly, matted brown hair, gaunt, pale, bags under his eyes. Wearing a basic cloth tunic that looks somewhat torn in one sleeve. Remnants of a vest. Actually looks partially eaten. Slacks that appear to be scraped and torn in places, but he's just knees clutched to the chest.

[...]

TRAVIS: Are you fucking serious?! He's been eating his shirt!

LIAM: This is fucking Alcatraz!

Later, Yeza describes what happened to him:

they brought me here and they just watched me from the shadows, asking me questions about experiments and starving me. But I didn't say anything, I didn't say anything because I knew you were coming and I didn't want anything to happen to Luc and I didn't tell them anything. That's it.

And Esesk acknowledges:

Very well. It seems that not all forms of interrogation are effective, but alternate means can be. The prisoner is free to go. He is your charge now.

While we can’t say for certain how directly involved Essek was with Yeza’s capture, imprisonment, and torture, Essek is aware of Yeza’s presence and the progress of his interrogation (or rather lack thereof). He lets Yeza go because he admits everything to Veth, which Essek overhears. 

What intel would the Dynasty hope to gain out of Yeza? Probably ‘how did you get the beacon’ and ‘where is it now’, questions that Essek already knows the answer to and yet here he is, imprisoning Yeza, starving him, knowing the whole time how unnecessary this is. 

Of course, Essek will want different intel from Yeza: the results of his experimentation, either to supplement or corroborate what meager information Ludinus has provided. 

Best case scenario, Essek had no direct oversight of the attack on Felderwin and supervised the Dungeon of Penance jailers responsible for Yeza’s interrogation. Worst case scenario, Essek knew the beacon had been in Felderwin but no longer was, allowed or even supervised the attack on Felderwin, knew who Yeza was and provided the intel for Kryn soldiers to locate and kidnap him, and interrogated him personally. I think it’s most likely somewhere in between those options, but the point is, Essek is very directly responsible for the treatment of Veth’s husband and the endangerment of Veth’s son. 

Quotes are from Critical Role Campaign 2, Episode 57: In Love and War. 

[phthalology]

Destiny 2: At the Edge of the Deep

Gift fic for @synnthamonsugar! Eris recruits Oryx, newly awakened after his imprisonment in Touch of Malice, to help map Savathûn's throne world. Without her, they'll never secure enough of a front to drop patrols. But the Hive king has his own opinions about his sister. Eris/Toland and Eris & Oryx.

The essence of Oryx crackled.

Eris Morn held it in one hand while she pushed aside jungle plants with the other, and tried not to listen to the whispers. She had disinterred Oryx from within Touch of Malice, but in no way let him lead the excursion into the High Coven to find a place for the Guardian to create a landing zone.

He spoke, though. He had conjured a voice out of Touch of Malice’s victories, and spoke like gunfire and the hiss of hot oil. “Where have you brought me? Are we under the Deep or under the Sky?”

Eris ignored his question. It would not help to give him too much information. “We are doing the grim work. Orient yourself to the emptiest place here. Tell me where we might find a safe hovel we can turn into a palace.”

“A reasonable goal for any army. Yet, I believe you are not being honest with me about its nature. You refuse to finish your transformation, Eris Morn. I have survived mine, and mine again, and this one you yourself inflict on me. You’re weaker for resisting yours.”

Surely he meant the way Eris had become partially Hive, and had now taken from the Lucent Brood their own unique ability to wield the Light when Savathûn had offered it. What trap still lay before her with that as bait? Still, she had wanted the Light back for so long. To have it was a rare satisfaction.

“My time among your torturers was transformation enough for multiple lifetimes,” Eris said.

“You do not understand. The worms made me stronger, as even the way you lashed me to metal and cursed fluid physics did not.”

Now it was Eris’ turn to ignore him. “You merely protest against the inevitable. Guide me.”

The orb could not look around the green-yellow jungle, but it gave a good impression. Somewhere in the distance, artificial sun flashed off stagnant water like the gleam of an animal’s eye. Eris knew there were Hive Lightbearers lurking, but did not sense any nearby.

“This is the Deep, I think … “ Oryx said. “No, this is some realm colonized by the Sky. I feel … its influence.”

“Ignore it! Which way? And do not tell me north.”

Oryx laughed. Eris had not missed that sound. It reminded her of teaching Guardians to breach Oryx’s throne world, of the smells of salt and decay in the Dreadnaught’s most royal courts. “Or what?”

She had thought of goading him like an ill-treated animal. The Ahamkara shard might be able to wish a burn upon him, or a Ghost peel away his constituent molecules until it approximated something like pain. But that was a depth to which she was not willing to fall for this particular mission. It would be too cruel, would cost her own soul too much. “Or else you’ll be simply a gun again, put away in some forgotten vault. The Vanguard has not yet approved use of you in today’s wars. You will be … bored.”

Oryx’s containment field seethed with molten silver and Taken-black. “If I were here alone, I would walk thus.”

And he lead.

Walking for hours, she did trust him. Long leaves crunched under her feet. Bugs flitted in clouds, smaller versions of the Hive’s pale cave moths. The air held enough heat to make Eris sweat, but not, she imagined, as much as a tropical jungle on Earth might — the fecund environment here was convergent, not a replica.

Rock outcroppings and smaller-leafed trees marked a change in microclimates. They were approaching the large lake, if she had any sense of the place at all.

“This is not the right way,” she said, but did not stop pushing through the underbrush.

“This is the way that calls to me.”

“They are not the same. And this is why.” Realization moved at the same speed as the words. Eris crouched down to hide herself from what eyes might be looking from Savathûn’s castle. She held the essence of Oryx in line with it before letting the fronds of giant ferns and the feathery lower branches of alien pines obscure them both. “I told you not to go north."

“My sister,” said the essence of Oryx, crackling like a forest fire.

Eris let him sit there for a bit, just looking.

“We have remade each other so many times. And we thought the killing was the end of it. Thought that we could change each other without feeling the consequences of that change. Do you know what that’s like? To win only to lose, over and over?”

Eris did not dignify this with a reply.

The wind kicked up whitecaps on the green lake’s surface. Beyond it, the island that was the center of the queen’s court hung bone-white, here a skeletal blade, here a gentle cove.

Oryx said, “She found the worm, but I steered the ship. I turned the mast. Deal-maker and navigator, we were. I loved her like the sail loves the wind. When you release me to die for the last time, I will at last go someplace new.”

Eris made a conscious effort to stop her teeth from grinding. Oh, weren’t there always words like this? Things from the deep singing sweet songs. What melodies would come out of the spiny mouths of angler fish if they could only speak. But instead of light Oryx had the love of his sisters, and the trouble was even the deep sea prey needed light. Even they came to it for a reason.

Until the con artist, the predator, bit down.

Eris said, “I suspected you might come here.”

“And did not stop me?”

“Some bonds can’t be broken. Some roads cannot be forgotten. You needed to walk this one. Like calibrating an instrument. You will direct me true, the next time.”

This would prove true, later. For a while, she let what remained of Oryx watch and remember. He never asked to see his sister in the flesh. Whether this would prove to be premonition or plot or a sign of healing, she would not soon know.

Eris Morn swam, suspended above the world built by her enemy.

The High Coven: a place of fey strangeness. Plants never seen on Earth or in some dripping corner of the Dreadnaught unfolded in lacy spirals up from the silty bottom of a warm pool in the labyrinthine swamp. Guardians had hacked out patrol points here with the efficiency they were known for, and, perhaps, Savathûn let them. A double-cross was still coming, Eris suspected sometimes. Still, the warm, deep water relaxed her muscles, soothed her skin. She surfaced loose and calm, at home in a way she rarely felt. Rarely felt the need for it either, but now and then …

The green jungle, dotted with red flowers, offered humid air and the rustling of insects. Toland the Shattered sat with his legs in the water and his hands trailing ripples. The closeness of Hive power made his ghostly body more solid than usual, his appearance more detailed and more like to what he had been in life. With hair wet and shoulders hunched he could have emerged from the swamp, another one of Savathûn’s creations.

Eris floated toward him with lazy strokes, enjoying the green shimmer of the water and the plump shape of her own body. She was safe — she would not starve today. She rested her chin on her arms beside him, water dripping from her horns and hair.

Toland leaned down to look at her. “So, your mission is done.” She appreciated how he could make even stilted words sound melodic. He sounded old, his throat cracked — but let some of the perfect pitch suggest itself, too.

The essence of Oryx returned to its containment, back within the shell that had held it in Touch of Malice, but warded on Eris’ workbench. It was safer there than in the Tower, thought Eris, and it still had something to look at …

“Do you want praise for your bravery today, or bravery for the soft parts that remain in your soul?”

She rested her cheek on her arms, thought about it. The black ichor that flowed across her skin diluted into spilled ink in the green water. “Fortitude for the coming darkness.”

“Ah, yes. After all, the message you carry itself carries messages.” He trailed a finger along the ridge of her cheek, parting ichor. “At journey’s end there will be rest again. Look upon what you have made. Or, perhaps, what you have not … the idle fancies, the ease within the churn, the time slowed. You have fought enough, Eris Morn.” She shut her eyes as he stroked her face to her mouth, ran his finger across the full curve of her lower lip. “Craft such a clever way to give in.”

She pressed her lips against his palm. Toland slipped into the water, and for a while Eris did not think of her mission at all.

[sky-scribbles]

Party banter with Inquisitor Essek

(Because this ridiculous crossover has taken over my life. A brief explanation, as much as explanation is possible: a mis-cast spell has yote a post-campaign Essek through a planar rift and into Thedas, and he happened to land in the Temple of Sacred Ashes. These banters go up to the destruction of Haven, which is why Cole isn’t here - but he will be in later instalments!)

Cassandra: Leliana has found no information about you. Not a thing. Essek: Considering that most mages are met with disgust and imprisonment, it would be... imprudent of me to advertise my presence. Cassandra: Living in secrecy is one thing. Leaving no mark on the world at all is another. Essek: And you would prefer, I think, for all my secrets to be at your disposal.  Cassandra: Are you surprised that I suspect you have something to hide? Essek: Is hostile intent the only possible reason for secrecy, Seeker?

Solas: It would appear that your mark is affecting you physically, Herald. Essek: My hand was not green before, no. Solas: Aside from the obvious. While I tended to you after the conclave, you did not always seem to be asleep. At times, you lapsed into true unconsciousness. At other times, you seemed to trance, half-sleeping. Essek: Ah. Yes. I suppose... the connection to the Fade has altered the way I sleep. I find I can enter these trances at will, as a substitute for sleep. Solas: That is fascinating. The ancient elves could enter an endless dream called uthenera. Perhaps this is a related phenomenon. Essek: So one would assume.

Essek: So, Sera. I was going through  my research notes - Sera: [Sniggering] Essek: And I found that they had been expertly illustrated. Sera: That's what your weird rifty timey magic shite needs. All the butts. Essek: They certainly add interest. Although... that drawing of me closing a rift full of demon butts? You should have shaped my cloak so that it looked like a dick. Sera: [laughs] Like a dick! You're all right, Herald Weirdyhand. Essek: And you are quite the jester.

Varric: How is it you can just walk around pitch-black caves without a problem? Don’t tell me you're part-dwarf and it's stone-sense. Essek: Ah, no. I would assume it is yet another change from the mark. Varric: So this thing lets you fix the sky, and it's a free torch? Who knew that being Andraste's chosen came with a multi-purpose toolkit? Essek: There is no evidence for my being chosen by anything other than political convenience.  Varric: You’re not crazy about the whole Herald business, are you? Essek: About people deciding that I am the mouthpiece of an unproven god who does not speak to anyone, and yet whose name and teachings people use as an excuse for war and conquest, without investigating the truth behind those teachings? No. I am not.

Blackwall: So what does an apostate do, if he's on his own for... I don't know, how many years? Essek: Arcane research, mostly. Why, what does a Grey Warden do when he's on his own for however many years? Blackwall: Kill darkspawn. Recruit for the Wardens. Kill more darkspawn. Essek: And your fellow Wardens do not accompany you? Blackwall: You don't need more than one person to say 'how do you feel about fighting darkspawn for the rest of your life?' Essek: Did you... ever find yourself becoming lonely, in your solitude? Blackwall: I... sometimes, I suppose. Never gave much thought to it. Easier that way. Essek: Mm. I know the feeling.

Dorian: So you think Alexius’s perception of time was fundamentally flawed? Essek: I do. Time is not a straight line, through which one can jump ahead, skip back and rub bits out. Dorian: How would you have done it differently? Aside from the whole ‘conjure a world infested with red lyrium and catastrophe’ part. Essek: Imagine time as a branching thing. Every choice we make causes potential timelines to fade into non-existence. Essek: But their potential remains, waiting to be tapped. Alexius should have attempted to manifest a timeline in which I was never here, rather than removing me from this one. Dorian: Well, don’t tell everybody how to make it work. Wouldn’t want them to get ideas. Though perhaps you’d like to compare notes, later? Essek: I... would like that. 

Vivienne: You carry yourself remarkably well, Herald. Almost like nobility. Essek: Only 'almost'? I shall have to try harder. Vivienne: And despite your youth, you deflect personal inquiries with the deftness of a seasoned player of the Game. Quite remarkable, from a hedge mage. Essek: I'm mildly curious: 'hedge mage'? Vivienne: A self-taught mage, dear. One who has gone without the instruction of a Circle, or even a Dalish clan. If you ever require tuition, I am at your disposal. Essek: I’m sure you are. But I am not especially interested in whatever you think you have to teach.

Sera: You’re proper weird, you are. You go all swanny around the noble piss-bags, all smiles and pretty words like Lady Josie, but you put teeth in it, like Vivvy. Essek: Like Vivienne? I should hope not. Sera: And then you screw the nobs over like Josie does, ‘cept she makes them love her for it and you make them scared. Leliana kind of scared. Essek: When people don’t know you, or what to make of you, they fear you. It makes them... malleable. It’s something I’ve learned to use. As has Leliana, it would seem.

Varric: You doing all right, Smiles? Essek: 'Smiles'? An intriguing choice. Varric: Same reasoning as Iron Lady and Sparkler. Meet as many messes as I have, and you get good at spotting masks. Essek: Indeed? Varric: You fell out of the sky, got attacked by a shit ton of demons and put in charge of an army, and never once stopped smiling. Kind of impressive, actually. Essek: Thank you. Varric: Also, creepy as shit. 

Solas: I'm curious about your name, Herald. Essek: My name? It's Essek. Sera: [laughs] Solas: I meant that it isn't elven, though your family name sounds very like it. Solas: ‘Thelyss’. I wonder if it is is a result of syllables from the name 'Lethallas' being lost and altered over the years. It means, 'a gift to one's kin.' Essek: Ha. Solas: You don't find that likely? Essek: Me being a gift to my kin? Highly unlikely.

Iron Bull: So, boss, what do you make of my guys? Essek: They clearly have an array of talents. Iron Bull: Oh, come on. I didn't ask for what the Herald thought of his new recruits, I asked what you make of my guys. Essek: Very well. They are... unusual. Enthusiastic. I think that some would underestimate them, some would be thrown off-balance by them, and many would do both. Iron Bull: Ha. Yeah, we like to keep people guessing.  Essek: I like them. They are... lively.

Sera: I don’t get it. You can screw over noble shite-faces without being scary. And you’re not scary! I know you and you’re not scary, so why be scary? Essek: Well, I don’t find you scary either, Sera. But I’m sure our enemies do, when they’re on the wrong end of your arrows. Sera: That’s different things, though. I learned arrows because arrows mean nobs are dead and I’m not. Essek: Exactly. Like you, I have had to fight for survival in my own ways. And unlike you, for a long time, I was without friends. Sera: So... you learned how to do scary because you’re scared? Essek: I would say more... aware of potential dangers. Sera: So, scared.

Solas: As for your first name, the final syllable is not even a sound that occurs in elven. Is it Qunlat? One of your parents is Qunari, I assume? Essek: Ah. Yes, of course. Solas: So it is Qunlat? Iron Bull: Nah, that’s not Qunlat, whatever it is. Almost sounds like it, though. Kinda like ‘isskari’. Name for Ben-Hassrath who get hold of weird magic crap. Essek: Oddly appropriate. But since I'm not in contact with my family, the truth shall have to remain a mystery.

Blackwall: Are you all right, Herald? Essek: Fine, thank you. I simply have somewhat sensitive eyes and skin, and it is a very bright day. Blackwall: If you need to stop, I could... I don’t know. Hold a shield over your head? Essek: I appreciate it, but no, thank you. It is tolerable. Blackwall: Didn’t meant to offend. Essek: It is all right. I - [sighs] I apologise. That would help, if you could. Years of solitude have made me... reliant on my own self-reliance, I suppose.  Blackwall: I know what you mean. Shield parasol it is, then.

Sera: Don’t need to be scared, right? Anyone gives you shit, I give ‘em arrows. Or just pies. Or worms in their shoes. Essek: [chuckles] Thank you, Sera. Please do. Sera: Did think you were scary at first, you know.  Essek: What changed your mind? Sera: Scary wouldn’t grin when I drew butts on things.  Essek: ... Are you at all fond of cupcakes, Sera?

[mrpenguinpants]

hellooo this is not a request but what do u think of the new upcoming character (he'll probably get release like... at least after 2 years ig TAT) Dainsleif?

Major spoilers for Kaeya’s Character Story and Khaenri'ah Lore. 

TLDR: I like the potential Dainsleif has plus his design is really nice. He might be a catalyst or sword user with empowered auto's or he might be similar to Zhongli that uses field effects and has a delete button for his elemental burst. 

I have many theories on who Dainsleif is and that he is either some type of traveler/god/homunculus and he has the element of ash or quintessence. The opposite of dendro and nature. I'd like to believe that the lore of Khaenri'ah relates to his story and his attitude (since he's from there originally) and it's a desolate place with no archon blessings so the people themselves had to develop their own methods to survive, hence the art of alchemy Khemia. When Dainsleif get's introduced, mostly likely towards the very end, we might find out why Scaramouche said the sky and the stars was a gigantic hoax and the truth behind Kaeya. 

---

ANON. YOU. YOU GET A COOKIE. I LOVE TALKING ABOUT STORY AND CHARACTER LORE SO MUCH.

Please, if any of you wanna talk about this I’m totally on board. I love Dainsleif and I’m so upset he’ll probably be released towards end game so yeah two years at least;; 

Okay, so level with me. I’m about to bring out the whiteboard for this. I tried to format it so it was easier to digest but this is pure word vomit and I went overboard again. 

What do u think of the new upcoming character Dainsleif?

I’m very excited. I think his design is beautiful and I want those lore bomb drops. 

Firstly, I can’t wait for him to drop. I’m always a sucker for lore and he’s been dropping hints from the start since he narrates all the character’s collected miscellany. He does remind of me Dimitri from FE3H but I’m excited for more Khaenri’ah lore. 

I have some theories about where the story will go with him and  Khaenri’ah but those are some major spoilers so I left a read more tag if you’re interested. 

Tumblr won’t let me upload his splash art but just google it lol.

Which weapon will he use? 

Catalyst or Sword. He might have empowered autos like Diluc and Razor or he might apply a mark like Childe. 

I can see him being a castor since his right arm is glowing. But he might also be a sword user that uses empowered auto’s like Diluc and Razor. Since the name Dainsleif was King Högni's sword during the battle of Hjaðningavíg. According to the reliable source of wiki, whatever wound the Dainsleif sword cause could not be healed. 

I think it would be cool if his auto’s apply a stack/mark (similar to Childe’s riptide mark), and after 3 auto’s the mark is consumed and the enemy gets dealt heavy damage. Or maybe you can apply debuffs like “defense down” or maybe even a blind, based on the number to stacks you have on the mark. 

What vision will he have?

A hydro vision or a custom one (similar to a delusion). Or he doesn’t have a vision at all and uses alchemy or is secretly a “god”.

As for vision, he might be a hydro character since his splash art appears like he’s coming out of a ball of water. I’ve heard people say he might be cyro also, which wouldn’t be extremely off if visions actually correspond with their user. 

Or he might be introduced with an entirely new element (perhaps a new type of alchemy?). His star is a dark blue too so he might have the element of black mist/dust or ash/shadows as a potential power. 

In the Albedo trailer he mentions:

"But I know it well. It hails from Khaenri'ah: The Art of Khemia. Soil and chalk, the universe and earth, pure dust and the birth of life.”

Perhaps this is the vision/power that Dainsleif has? Maybe even the creator or maybe he even taught Albedo’s Master how to do Khemia. I don’t think he really encompasses the Geo vision (I will seriously write an 11 page essay on how vision’s correspond with their holder). We don’t know a lot about Dendro but I think he might be related to it. But just like Khaenri’ah, he’s reflects the opposite. Instead of “birth of life” and tree’s, he’s the “death of life” and ash. (wow doesn’t that sound deep lolol sorry I don’t really know how to explain it). The way he talks in trailers, he says “mortals” a lot but does vouch for them so it makes me wonder if he might actually be a god. 

Also his title is the “Bough Keeper”. A bough means: a main branch of a tree. This makes me believe that he can either do something similar to what Albedo showed us and can create life or he does the opposite and creates ash. Honestly, a part of me believes he might just have generic moveset’s like everyone else but let me dream lol. 

Or he might not even be a vision holder since we don’t see him holding one, but we only have this angle and art to go off on. He might even use stars haha. If anyone remembers, during the falling star event, Scaramouche says the sky and stars were a gigantic hoax. I would not be surprised if the world is actually upside down or the “sky” isn’t even a sky at all. More like a sheet over Teyvat or some kind of illusion. 

Or another theory, perhaps Dainsleif is the god of time since he says in Travail during the Traveler chapter:

“Defeat me, command me to step aside, show me that you are worthier than I to rescue her. Then, the threads of all fate will be yours to re-weave“

It would explain how he knows so much about the other characters and what happened in the past since he brings up “the war” a lot. I’m assuming it’s either the Archon War or something before that. 

Or mihoyo could shred my thesis paper and Dainsleif has nothing to do with this and he’s some random guy from Khaenri’ah with plot convivence. 

---

I just want to mention at the bottom of this, but the classical elements are water, earth, fire, air and (later) aether. I find it funny that the male MC shares the name. 

“Aether, also called quintessence, is the fifth and highest classical element. It’s a material that fills the region of the universe above the terrestrial sphere.” 

“It permeates all nature and is the substance composing the celestial bodies. The essence of a thing in its purest and most concentrated form,”

Or this is just a hint to the traveler’s power since the traveler is the only one that can use all the elements. 

Possible moveset?

He might use stars or air/anemo in his moveset. He could be a very good dps with a lot of trapping potential. Or he might be a field effect support like Albedo, but can still do a lot of damage. 

Imagine Dainsleif uses stars haha, throwing them to do damage like Ningguang’s rocks. The splash art of him shows two stars in the top left. He might have a teleport (similar to Keqing + Mona dash), or maybe he could even have some sort of telekinesis with his right arm. I’m just getting Xayah from league of legends vibes where he can throw the star, it places itself at max range, then he can recall them and the star does damage on the way back. Similar to how Keqing’s elemental skill works but instead of teleporting to the stiletto, the stiletto comes back to you when you press e again. (Sorry I play on keyboard). 

The opposite of nature is void or cosmos so that could be relating to his power as well since the only animation we get of him is in Teyvat Chapter Storyline Preview: Travail (I’m just gonna say Travail) and this black mist comes from his hand and he says: 

“"We will defy this world with a power from beyond.”

Could be interesting hehe. He might even be a field effect character like Albedo. He doesn’t really strike me as the guy that likes fighting but in the Albedo trailer he says: 

“I am content to watch most crises play out from the sidelines. But if Albedo were ever to make a single wrong move...I could not let myself ignore it.”.

Seems to be that Dainsleif is pretty powerful or at least has some type of influence. It could be interesting if he’s similar to Zhongli and has a giant delete button for his elemental burst haha. Or he has some type of imprisonment power like Mona’s burst. Or as I mentioned earlier, it would be fun having telekinesis but this is just me taking liberties haha. 

(and yes I totally understand that I’m forcing the story to support my theory BUT IGNORE IT OK.)

Black Mist/Dust and Ash/Shadows?

Uh I gave up on these summaries lol 

I touched on it briefly but I say black mist or shadows since I believe that Khaenri’ah is probably not a good place to live originally. Similar to how Mondstadt was in the past, it is probably surrounded by some type of barrier (hence the mist or even the sky) that both traps and makes sure no one get’s in or out. Khaenri’ah is quite the opposite of most regions besides the whole “no archon” business but in “Travai”, when Dainsleif brings up Khaenri’ah this shows up:

It seems like a star to me in some hidden pocket in the sky and what not. This is what I would assume Scaramouche saw (possibly, we have no idea) and therefore there are people and an entire region that’s in the sky. But why would  Khaenri’ah be above Celestia? Since you can see Celestia in Teyvat. I would like to think that Teyvat is either upside down and Khaenri’ah is actually below everything or this pocket in the sky isn’t even in Teyvat and is similar to how you reach spiral abyss. You have to go through this circle in Cape Oath and you get sucked into this worm hole thing and you make it to Musk Reef. Where we saw Scarachmouche and he tells us the sky is a hoax. 

This idea kinda supports my idea that Teyvat is either upside down or the sky isn’t real since how could Dainsleif know who all these people are (since he narrates all the 5 star character’s trailers). Either the man is just really smart and travel’s around a lot but he’s aware of who Zhongli is, an archon from 6000 years ago. This makes me believe he is either a god himself or if he is also a homunculus. Or he’s in the third category and perhaps he’s also a traveler like the main character’s.

I don’t believe he’s an archon but it would be interesting if he was a potential candidate for becoming the Khaenri’ah archon. Since I believe vision holders (human) can become archons and rise to Celestia but Dainsleif refused or he was capable of becoming an Archon

“A human with a Vision is an allogene — one with the potential to reach godhood; however, it isn't clear if having a Vision is a requirement, or simply makes a person more likely to meet the qualifications to reach Celestia.”

But going back to the state of Khaenri’ah, I’d like to think that since the art of Khemia is from Khaenri’ah that would mean that they had to learn how to make their own food and life since they didn’t have an archon to bless their lands. Barbatos had swept the snow and land away in the region of Mondstadt but Khaenri’ah doesn’t have that luxury. Naturally, I would imagine that there are some downsides of Khemia when it was first being practiced, hence the ash. But ash isn’t a bad thing, in fact you can use ash to amend soil and boost your lawn. 

But obviously having a vision would be a whole lot more useful since it’s literally god given talent/blessing so if you have a vision, you might be able to break out and go to the “above” world of Teyvat. If you have a vision you’re seen as being blessed by the gods and you might be able to ascend to Celestia itself. I believe that Khaenri’ah is secretly the abyss and doesn’t see the sun so it’s always dark and it’s hard to grow anything so the people of Khaenri’ah had to find ways to make their own food, hence alchemy. This could be why Dainsleif is so adamant about humanity and questioning the Archons and visions. 

If we are going on the theory that Dainsleif is actually a normal human, then I’d like to imagine he was one of the people that prayed for a vision or some type of blessing and finally got it. But an incident happened and he lost his faith or resolve in the Archons. He mentions it a tiny bit in the Diluc trailer but this is just me spit balling. 

Also, Kaeya’s talents also mention about an abyss and void before the change. I don’t think abyss was made to relate to the abyss order and more the actual definition of abyss but it’s still interesting. 

What is Khemia?

Well I don’t know and I don’t know how accurate google is but let’s try and go through it together. I have no idea if what I’m about to type is offensive since I do not have a history degree and I’m pretty much paraphrasing what google tells me.

---

So Khemia, is an Egyptian sacred science. When Egypt was occupied by the Arabs they added “al-” to the world “Khemia” and “al-Khemia”. Al-Khemia means “The Black Land” and is now seen as a possibly origin of the world alchemy. 

Not gonna lie, I did not know al-khemia meant the black land so idk if my hindsight is 2020 or it was just super obvious for my monkey brain. 

As for the world “Chemeia”, it was used to designate the art of metal-working, specifically changing base metals into gold and silver. The Arabs later prefixed it with “al” and the world “alchemy”. Alchemy came to signify the art of chemistry in general. However the word "Chemeia” was probably derived from the Greek word “chemi” which means “black”. This could be because: 

In the sense of "dark" or "hidden", since the Dark, Hidden or Divine Art was the only name by which this science was known to the ancients.

However, the word chemistry might have had a Chinese origin.  It may have been derived from the Hakka term KIM-MI or the Cantonese term KEM-MAI, which signifies "gone astray in search of gold" or "secret of gold". 

Assuming it’s from Egyptian origin, the ancient Egyptian word khēmia means the transmutation of earth, thereby the science of matter at the atomic to molecular scale. According to some etymologists, khēmia or “preparation of black powder” ultimately derived the name from Khem or Kēme, Egypt, the land of black earth. 

---

So if we are going with the Chinese origin, I’d like to think that this is a hint towards the story and people trying to find the “gold” or perhaps a vision. This could explain why Kaeya was sent to Mondstadt to hopefully require a vision and come back. 

What is the lore behind Khaenri’ah then?

So, why do I think the people of Khaenri’ah are looking to be saved or want a vision so badly? Well, time to go through the entire Khaenri’ah lore with you lads. 

The Khaenri’ah lore goes as this:

At least 200 years ago, the Eclipse Dynasty threw the kingdom into chaos (meaning it was the last Dynasty).

The people were cursed and transformed into monsters.

Mondstadt’s Knights and Grand Master Arundolyn went on an expedition to Khaenri’ah to fight off the monsters.

In the present,  Khaenri’ah is still struggling against the effects of the curse. Kaeya was sent to Mondstadt as their last hope and for the sake of the “ancient plot”.

1. For those not aware, China’s time periods were separated into Dynasty’s (sort of). The Chinese characters of “Eclipse Dynasty” are [古国黑日落] or "The Ancient Civilization of the Black Sunset". There is probably some type of history or connection to this since Zhongli’s voicelines are full of them but this post is long enough and I don’t know if people want to or care about hearing Chinese history but um let me know? Cause I’m really into that and I will gladly write about it.

2. We’re not completely aware if the people transformed into Hilichurls or were apart of the Abyss Order. But since the last dynasty was literally called Eclipse I would like to believe this supports my idea that Khaenri’ah isn’t someplace you can easily reach and you have to entire a fucking worm hole to get to. I’m in love with the idea that Khaenri’ah is the spiral abyss or at least part of it, that Childe fell into when he was a younger. Perhaps even the spiral abyss is where he landed since time technically doesn’t pass in spiral and it’s just a wave of enemies. I would 100% not be shocked if we have to enter the that wormhole to get to Khaenri’ah or something similar. 

3. Arundolyn was a previous Grand Master and while he did not possess a Vision, he was naturally gifted through intense training. He was formerly one of the Four Winds and had the title of “Lion of Light”. So Khaenri’ah is possible to get to and someone from Mondstadt has done it, but without a vision. The Traveler also doesn’t carry a vision so it might be interesting to see. Kaeya didn’t get his vision until he was 18? 17? When he had a falling out with Diluc. 

I would like to think that perhaps the Archon’s betrayed Khaenri’ah or someone fucked up in their pursuit to develop Khemia to it’s fullest potential or wanted to make their own vision, hence the delusion and how it transforms Childe into a foul legacy form. The Dragonspine lore could point to how Celestia has the power to seal away Khaenri’ah. This also might have been where Dainsleif lost his resolve (assuming he’s a human and just happened to get some sort of power or is really good at Khemia he saw the past or fate or whatever lol)

“Murals, Record of Serial No., and other lore bits in Dragonspine indicate that those who dwelled there attempted to fight against Celestia but lost. As punishment, the Skyfrost Nail was dropped, and the area was turned into a frozen wasteland.

Therefore, people with visions cannot enter Khaenri’ah because of the Archon’s and people that receive visions (which I still think is highly unlikely if you’re in Khaenri’ah) might be able to break out. Think of spiral abyss as some sort of “purgatory” except to enter Khaenri’ah you go down. To get out, you start AT FLOOR 12 and make your way up. Similar to Kid Icarus and how the hardest level was at the beginning and as you went up, it slowly became easier. 

4. I like the idea that Khaenri’ah is a land that either doesn’t have vision holders or the people that do have visions aren’t seen the same way as other regions. People are are actually cursed by the Gods or people that require visions leave Khaenri’ah because they now have the power to. In Travail Dainsleif says this:

"Some say a few are chosen and the rest are dregs, but I say we humans have our humanity. We will defy this world from a power from beyond”

Naturally these are his ideals and I’d like to believe that Khaenri’ah is actually split on this. Some believe in Dainsleif ideals while the other half doesn’t. If we’re going on the theory that Khaenri’ah is actually the abyss then the abyss order makes a bit more sense. 

Plus the idea that Lumine/Aether (I think the story is just going to stick with Lumine being the “villain ”) working for the abyss, it could be because their twin was separated by an unknown god. Aether was asleep and plagued by nightmares with his sister saying “it was too late”, perhaps he lost his memory since he doesn’t know what he was late for? Maybe this is what she meant since I’d assume the story has you going from place to place and the Archon’s stepping down like in Liyue and the Tsaritsa collecting all the gnosis. 

Why is the Tsaritsa collecting all the gnosis?

“She is a god with no love left for her people, nor do they have any left for her. Her followers only hope to be on her side when the day of her rebellion against the divine comes at last."

I can imagine that Tsarista or the Cyro archon is collecting all the gnosis because she believes in the Khaenri’ah attitude and is apart of the ancient plot or is trying to protect them somehow since she isn’t an evil person based on Childe’s voicelines:

“Her Royal Highness the Tsaritsa is actually a gentle soul. Too gentle, in fact, and that's why she had to harden herself. Likewise, she declared war against the whole world only because she dreams of peace. And because she made an enemy of the world, I had the chance to become acquainted with you.”

Or maybe even more interesting, she was actually a citizen of Khaenri’ah since the Tsaritsa wasn’t apart of the original seven but this is a huge stretch. Maybe she’s collecting all the gnosis to finally break the seal on Khaenri’ah? Plus the people of Sneznaya strike me as “I don’t care if you’re blessed by the gods or have a vision, if you can fight then you’re good in our books”. Plus the people of Khaenri’ah are probably pretty mad at the Archons so when the rebellion does come I’d assume the Tsaritsa wants them on her side. 

What happened to Kaeya?

Now Kaeya’s character story goes into how he met Diluc and Crepus. It’s hinted that it was on purpose since Kaeya’s father left him there specifically. 

"One afternoon near the end of summer a decade ago, my father and I passed by the Dawn Winery."

This matter-of-fact description hides a carefully constructed lie. Kaeya has never once spoken the truth about what happened that afternoon:

"This is your chance. You are our last hope."

Kaeya would never forget the look of both hope and hatred in his father's eyes as he uttered those words.

Now you can interpret this as many things, either collecting all the gnosis and obtaining a vision to hopefully come back to save Khaenri’ah could be what he meant or he want’s Kaeya to stop the Abyss Order from literally setting Teyvat on fire. You can probably sympathize with the Abyss Order if we are following the theory that they are actually the mutated monsters of Khaenri’ah citizen’s during the Eclipse dynasty but it’s also like, how about we not set the world on fire ya know?

But interestingly, the reason why Kaeya’s father left him with Diluc’s family is because they have a long history of participating in the rebellion against Decarabian 2,600 years ago and Vennessa’s rebellion against the Aristocracy. 

What will happen when Dainsleif get’s introduced?

So, I’m fully on board with the “Kaeya being the secret prince of Khaenri’ah” theory. I like the idea that Dainsleif is Kaeya’s servant or trusted advisor but I think that’s mainly rooted in the ship. Dainsleif strikes me more as someone who observes and only steps in if he has to because it might affect fate or whatever.

“I am content to watch most crises play out from the sidelines. But if Albedo were ever to make a single wrong move...I could not let myself ignore it.” 

I don’t think Dainsleif is the King of Khaenri’ah that Jean mentions in her hobbies voiceline but perhaps he was related to them somehow. Maybe the first King or the King that Jean mentions was real and Dainsleif was his friend or the God that helped him become King, then the Eclipse Dynasty happened and everything went downhill. Since I believe in Kaeya being a secret prince from  Khaenri’ah, Dainsleif would still be somewhat loyal to the Kingdom or perhaps he had lost faith after what happened and how so many people got corrupted and turned into monsters. 

I was talking about this with my friend but what if genshin pulls an fgo and “kills” Kaeya? Similar to FGO where Leonardo “died” in a car accident and when we visited a shop, there was just a hologram. What if genshin’s story kills Kaeya in a cutscene, and we can no longer use him since Kaeya was a free character, only to return as - THE 5 STAR WE WERE ALL WAITING FOR - the prince of Khaenri’ah.

When will we see Dainsleif?

According to the “Travail” the order of appearances is this: 

I believe part 1 is finished with Zhongli and dragonspine was just an add on for Albedo. But this makes me believe that Dainsleif and Khaenri’ah will be after we go to Snezhnaya. Also side note, the music for Natlan slaps hard. 

---

But yeah, I kinda went a bit off track and started talking about the story haha. I really love lore so if anyone has any questions about other characters or want’s to discuss the genshin story I am all ears^^. Also, if any of this becomes true in two years time I WILL BE BACK TO SAY I TOLD YOU SO. 

Or genshin prepares to rip this post apart and none of it is true. If you actually read my word vomit I appreciate you and you get a free cookie. If you’re wondering where I’ve been, it was writing this haha. 

[revenge-of-the-shit]

What if Maul took Ahsoka to Mustafar?

I.

When he’s in the prison, he dreams.

The Mandalorian-made thing is made of a strange material, cutting him off from the Force outside of the prison. He cannot influence the world around him - he cannot close his fist and kill the clones surrounding him, he cannot mind-trick the guards. He can do nothing but stand, immobilized, and dream.

He dreams first of Mother, of how she had given her life so that he would escape. He dreams then of Savage, and how he had also died by the hands of Sidious.

Sidious.

Hatred swells in Maul, and had he not been imprisoned, the walls would have shaken with his anger. Regardless, he is trapped, and the guards notice nothing.

And he dreams, and he dreams, and he dreams.

One word - one planet - rises to his thoughts.

Mustafar.

--

II.

She runs into his cell after incapacitating the clones, guilt warring with confusion and betrayal. She’s reminded of the time she was attacked by clones under the control of the Geonosian brain worm, trapped on a ship with friendlies turned into hostiles with nowhere to go for safety.

How ironic, to be forced to turn to a Sith Lord of all people for help.

“Don’t make me regret this,” she hisses at him, and she allows the edge of her saber to move close enough for him to feel the heat on the skin of his neck. He doesn’t shudder, but a sliver of respect makes its way into the Force, and she takes it as a sign. She releases him.

He falls to the ground, limbs sore after being forced to stay upright in one position for hours on end. “You-” he coughs, and tries again. “You survived.”

“Was this your doing?” She demands, and she holds the saber to his neck. The Force around him is swirling with awe but not triumph, an indication that the betrayal of the clones is not his doing, but she needs to be sure. “Choose your words carefully.”

“No,” he snarls, “no, it was not my doing. I do not know what has occurred, but surely - you have felt it. The voices crying out, the death.”

She has. She still feels it. It is like a never-ending wave of pain, battering into her consciousness relentlessly. She steps back, and in a moment of weakness, she does what she never thought she’d do - she bares her doubts and her vulnerability to a Sith Lord. “The clones turned against me.” Her voice catches, and she grasps her emotions with a vigor, shoving them into the Force. ”Even Rex. I don’t know why - they just suddenly… weren’t themselves.”

Maul’s brows draw together for a second, and then he’s laughing, a low, dark chuckle that makes Ahsoka’s skin crawl. “Brilliant, brilliant!” He says with mirth, but there’s something else in his voice. Respect, and fear. “I was not privy to my master’s plan, but now I see it. He turned the Jedi’s own army against them.”

It takes everything she has not to scream in horror, and even then, she’s sure that it’s showing on her face.

Maul looks at her carefully, then, golden eyes boring into her blue, and he seems to contemplate something before speaking. “The Sith are on Mustafar.”

Her eyes narrow. “Why should I believe you?”

There’s something he’s not telling her. He’s not lying, but he’s not telling the whole truth, either.

“It came to me in a vision,” he tells her. “I swear on the soul of my deceased brother, Savage Opress, that what I am telling you is the truth.”

It rings true in the Force, but even then, she’s suspicious. “And what about the Sith Master? Sidious?”

She’d felt his reaction before, on Mandalore. At the very mention of Sidious’ name, Maul had shuddered, and fear too deep to be faked had lept from his presence. The same reaction appears before her now before being replaced by a visceral hatred, and he snarls. “He tore me from my mother’s arms.” His voice low, shaking with rage years in the making. “He used me and cast me aside, then killed my brother as I watched. I want nothing more than revenge.”

She watches Maul carefully, and finally acquiesces with a nod.

“Then we have something in common,” she tells him, and they begin to plan.

--

III.

She manages to save Rex while Maul is working on an attack on the bridge.

“You let him out? ” Rex asks her, and she feels a twinge of guilt.

There are no good choices in war. Only bad ones, and really bad ones.

“I did,” she tells him. Her voice carries no trace of the regret she may be feeling. “The Sith are on Mustafar. If we act quickly, we might be able to stop them before it really is too late to do anything.”

Under his helmet, Rex grimaces, but he doesn’t say anything.

--

IV.

The entire ship is littered with bodies.

Maul had found his lightsaber, and he uses it now, whirling through the bridge in a dangerous dance.

Then it’s just him, alone, and he changes the hyperspace coordinates to Mustafar.

--

More on AO3

[jordanstrophe]

This One is Mine, Part 1

Hi, this is part one of hopefully a very enjoyable series MOSTLY filled with fluff.  I prioritizes the comfort in the hurt/comfort, but there’s still going to be some hurt <3 katastrophe may strike

  Next

CW: Pet whump, Blood, abuse, minor wounds, threatening, implied beating

“Why this of all the places...” Charles sighed.

“Short run, It’ll be as quick as all the others, sir.” Miles said.

“This place gives me the chills more than all the other businesses I’ve toured. That says something in our line of work.” He crossed his arms

Charles was at the top of the top when it comes to power. One of the 7 so called “rulers” of the business that ran things like the black-market, assassinations, high-end blackmail, anything illegal, ran like a business away from prying eyes. Unfortunately, some of those prying eyes are in the wrong place at the wrong time. Anyone who stumbles upon the operations from FBI to a random pedestrian, is immediately caught and hauled off to Malcolm Morfran, a powerful man who uses them as slaves, or “Pets” and sells them to other people in the business. Charles Mendrix ran the blackmail business, clawed his way to the top with a large loyal family that could get dirt on anything.

“Lets get this over with.” Charles sighed, pulling down a pair of sunglasses as Miles shut the car door for him behind him.  

The building looked like a factory, tall, dim, muted grey and white colors. They entered and was immediately greeted by a way too happy well dressed older man.

“Sir Mendrix! We’ve been anxiously expecting you! We’re ever so honored to have you here, please allow me to make you comfortable.” The man was practically bowing as he slipped behind Charles and slid his long coat off his shoulders. The air in the building had a twisted chilled feeling to it. It was clear this man was trying a bit too hard.

“I’m only here for the tour, no need to be all formal.. Please.” Charles sighed, as the man held his coat in his arms with precious delicacy, as if it were a fragile object.

“No no sir, I insist! It’s not often the Founders all tour each other's sections, we strive to impress in hopes you find favor in our little business. In fact, our Founder is in the house today! You can meet him face to face.”

“Oh marvelous...” Charles mutters under his breath.

“Now, as courtesy of our business, we would like to offer you one free product of your choice, no question asked, anyone that catches your eye, no matter the qualit-”Charles hand shot up to silence the man.

“I’m not interested in slaves. I’m just here for the mandatory tour. I hardly care about your business as much as you do mine. Just take me to Malcolm” Charles huffed. The man shut his mouth and took a moment too long to put his thoughts together.

“Err.. Mister Morfran is in his office... Sir. Please allow me to accompany you to him.” He muttered with a toned voice, opening a door for him.

They entered a long dim hallway, the man shuffled his feet as he slowly made his way down the hall while Charles and Miles trailing behind. There were dozens of metal bars of cages filling the walls down the hallway, inside some was muffled scratching or crying.

“Sure you’re not interested? Any one of these pretties for free.” He hummed in a musical tone, his head back to him with a creepy smile.

“No, I’m quite sane, thank you.” Charles sighed. He turned his head towards the cages, and was horrified. Uncountable numbers of people locked in the cages, huddled in the deepest furthest corner, practically cowering.  

“Sir, are you sure we shouldn’t have brought more security? I really don’t trust Sir Morfran after last time..” Miles muttered.  “More security will rub him the wrong way, I have to still stay in the good graces with the other Founders, besides, I have you, don’t I?” He smirked, playfully nudging Miles shoulder, who couldn’t help but let out a smirk himself.

The man held open a door for them, as they entered a well lit, beautifully decorated office. All the furniture was golden trimmed, with red material with buttons, marble floors, and massive glass chandeliers. Red curtains draped from the ceiling to the floor framing the tall slim windows down the room. At the end was a large wooden desk, sat at it was a heavy set man dressed in a purple suit and greased back hair.

“Charles!’ Malcolm praised, raising arms in the air. His chair was almost fully reclined, as he struggled to worm his way out of it, before dashing over to him. Miles pushed his shoulder forward so he was in front of him in a protective stance, only backing down when Charles placed a hand on his shoulder beckoning him back.

“Gah! There you are, it’s been too long, friend! Really, we should set up a dinner, I don’t get to talk to you much.” He smiled with a chipped toothy grin, then quickly turned to admire his own reflection in a giant mirror on the wall.

“Business aside, I don’t have all the time in the world, unlike you do, it seems.” Charles laughed, motioning towards a huge table with scattered puzzle pieces half way done.

“Pssshh! Nonsense! I work just as hard as all you lugs do, I just enjoy a good long project. Speaking of which, did you get the tour done? See anything you like? Eh? Eehh?” He playfully nudged him with his elbow. Charles face went stern.

“As interesting as your “gift” was, I’m not interesting.” Charles said

“Really? Still have that mood? Come ooon buddy, they are so nice to have! You have something pretty to show off, they can do things, they make noises when you beat them, they can even smart sometimes!” Malcolm laughed. “Take this baby for instance.” He joyfully frolicked back to his desk and bent over, trying to grab something. Charles sighed and dragged a hand down his face.

“Listen, I’m here to drop off some papers I need you to sign, just the usual signature saying we’re not at war and al-”

He was cut off by a high pitch yelp. Malcolm dragged a young man out from under the desk by his hair, and threw him to the ground. He had his arms tied behind him with heavy restraints, a blindfold on his face and bruises down his arm. He was thin, and wore a pair of ripped bloodied jeans and huddled low on the floor on his knees, Charles could just make out the slashes covering the man's back as he was bent on the floor.

“Caught this beauty a while ago, he was hiding in the back of his cell for far too long before I noticed him. Dragged him out and now he’s my favorite.” Malcolm said, ripping the blindfold off and forcibly holding his face up to show him off. He had dark hair, and bright ice cold eyes that stared at him fearfully. He whimpered as he glanced up at the bright chandelier stinging his eyes. Malcom held his head up and gently stroked a hand down his face, then rested his fingers firmly in his hair.

“Malcolm, this is messed up! Just look at him! That kid looks mangled!” He hissed.

“Messed up, hmm? Says the blackmail owner. I heard you sold information to sabotage a court and got an innocent man imprisoned this weekend.” Malcolm smirked.

He wrenched the man’s face higher, forcing him to look at him.

“He says this is messed up, when he’s running around bending everything to his will, and selling dirt like hotcakes!” He laughed, the man only whimpered in response. Charles ripped a file out from a bag Miles was carrying.

“Just sign the papers so I can leave. I can hardly look at this.” He growled.

“Naha! No so fast mister! You haven’t done a formal tour yet.” He said, letting the man go, and gleefully clapping his hands together. The man at his feet jumped at the sudden noise. Malcolm waved the papers away that were being outstretched to him. The door slammed open, and the old man staggered in.

“There’s a-an outbreak! R-Rebellion!” He gurgled, throwing his hands in the air.

“The new ones that came in yesterday! They teamed up and broke the latch on the cell!” He yelled, trying to catch his breath, his hair dripping with sweat.

“Those rodents!” He hissed, fastening the blindfold back on his Pet before running down the hallway calling out for security, and something about a rod.

Charles couldn’t decide if he should be concerned or amused at the situation. He looked behind him at the young man shackled at his feet, breathing heavy with his head down with a messy blindfold.

“Hey.” He said, gently.

The man jolted, and scampered back, hitting his head on the desk. He fell still, holding his breath, all the could do was endure whatever happened. Hopeless. Charles knelt down in front of him as the man cringed lower to the ground, feeling his presence looming. 

“Hey, It’s okay.” He soothed. Gently with his fingertips, he touched the young man’s face below the blindfold. He felt a sting of relief when the man huffed and started breathing again, even if it was heavy. He slid his fingers underneath the blindfold and off his face. Large fearful blue eyes squinted up at him.

“Who are you, little one?” Charles whispered, not entirely expecting an answer.

“..... P.. le-” He stuttered. Before any other noise could escape, the door slammed open, then entered the fuming Malcolm.

“Those rats! After all I’ve done for them!” He hissed, furiously throwing a bodied metal rod to the side.

“YOU!” He shrieked, charging through and grabbing the young man by his hair.

“Did you speak to him!? I swear if you spoke a single word!” He screamed at the man, who cowered and cringed while being pulled up off his knees.

“He didn’t say anything, calm down Malcolm!” Charles raised his voice angerly.

Malcolm fell deadly silent, not even his breathing could be heard. He slowly turned around towards him, face as red as blood, expressions twisted into rage that could make anyone's blood run cold.

“I.  did not.  ask you.” He growled, quietly. He turned his attention back to the young man, who had a single tear streaking down his face, huffing for air. He let go of his hair, as he collapsed back onto the ground with a thud. He scampered as he tried to get his knees back under him.

Malcolm walked over to his desk, and pulled out a long whip from his drawer. The man let out a panicked cry as he pressed his chest to the floor.

“Come on Malcolm! I said he didn’t speak!” Charles yelled. “Sir I think this is going too far!” Miles chipped in.

“You know Charles, there’s a good reason all the furniture in this house is red. This is MY house, and this here, is MY favorite. He has strict rules regarding what he does, that includes not speaking to ANYONE but me.” He said. Walking over to the man. He was sobbing on the floor, muttering “please... please... please.. not again” over and over again.

“When I’m done with you, you won’t even think to look at another soul who isn’t me, you hear?! I own you! You have an obligation to have eyes only for me!” He hollered, grabbing he man's thin arm, and half dragging him over to a chair. He threw him over the chair face first, so his back was too him. Charles could make out just how badly conditioned the man was from there. Malcolm ripped the shackles off his wrists as he cried out.

“Don’t you move an inch. This will put you in your place!” He hissed, pressing the man's head by the back of his neck into the chair. The man remained as obedient as he could, as Malcolm drew back the whip as far as his arm could go. Just before his arm picked up speed, someone snatched his wrist in mid air.

It was Miles.

“I’ll take him!” Charles exclaimed.

“W.. W-what!?” He yelled. “Shut up! And tell your stupid body guard to get his hands off me! I could have him killed for that!!” He shrieked, wrenching his arm out of miles grasp.

“I said, I’ll take him.” He repeated, keeping a cold stare fixated on him.

“I.. How.. Y-You! Who do you think you are? He’s mine! MINE!” Malcolm stomped.

“I have a free pass to any “product” I like of my choosing, no questions asked, correct?” He asked  

“Well.. Y-yes. Bu-”  “Then I’ll take that one.” Charles pointed at the man, sobbing hysterically, half clinging to the red chair like his life depended on it, hardly even listening to what was happening.

“You can’t have him! He’s my personal property! He’s my favorite!” He stuttered.

“So that means you have paperwork with your name?”

The color drained from Malcolm's face when he came to the realization. Since he runs a factory filled with Pets, he didn’t assume if he picked one for himself, he would still have to file proper paperwork. The paperwork he himself put in as a law to anyone owning one.

“I’ll take that as a no, old friend.” Charles smiled, Miles however, wasn’t even hiding the evil look on his face.  “Are you sure you want to do this?” Miles whispered. “Nope.” He whispered back.

He grabbed the file, and slapped it on his desk. “Can’t go back on your own word now, can you?” He asked, walking past Malcolm. He placed a hand on the young man’s shoulder, who gripped the chair tighter and cried out as if he had already been struck.

”Because this one is mine.” Charles whispered. The young man jerked up and looked at him. If anything, the first spark of life in his eyes was at least noticeable. As carefully as he could, he coaxed the man off the chair into his feet. He gently put his arm around the young man’s shoulders, with another hand gripping his upper arm, and steered him out of the room, keeping himself in between him and Malcolm who held out both hands towards the young man’s neck in a longing fashion. Either to strangle him, or hug him. Who knows?

“But... He was my favorite.”

[my-brothers-corrupted]

Book Four - Part 10

Anti brings the others to help him get Dapper back from Dark, leading to an all-out battle with a half-dozen different sides.

Tws for imprisonment, physical fighting, and fire.

Part 10 - the Houses in the Woods

Anonymous asked: Trick? Dok? You going down too?

“Come on,” says Trick, taking his hand.

“Can’t they handle it?” asks Dok nervously.

“Bud, come on, I’m not going to let him hurt anybody.”

Dok looks at him as they head down the stairs together. He doesn’t know when Trick made it his responsibility to stop Anti from hurting them, but, proud as he is that Trick is stepping up, he doesn’t think he likes it.

Anonymous asked: Dok, we need your necklaces Trick we need you to be behind your true family. We're nearing the climax, and the heroes will either win or lose against the beast among them.

Trick and Dok exchange glances as they reach the door. Trick’s eyes flicker to the necklaces on Dok’s throat. Dok squeezes his hand, frowning. After all they’ve been through together, Trick can feel the rift in the air between them like a physical force.

We’re not on the same side, he realizes a little numbly.

Dok pulls away from him to check on Red, crouching down beneath Anti timidly and taking Red’s head into his hands, examining the goose bump forming on the back of his skull. Trick goes to Anti, clutching his hands and pulling him back from Red.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he says. “Can’t be hitting him.”

Anti’s eyes seem to burn, and not just from Blue’s stolen fire. He clutches Trick to his chest and glares around at his siblings, bitter and violent.

“You’ve got fifteen minutes to get ready to go,” he spits at Blue and Red. “We’ll go get Dapper back. If you fail me, maybe I don’t have any use for the two of you little traitors anymore.”

“What am I going to do?” asks Blue, bewildered. “I can barely walk most of the time.”

“Dark’s whole territory is hidden in a mirror dimension, just like that stupid convent where the magicians kept Dok. You have to open the mirror so we can get in.”

“But - I don’t know how,” protests Blue, blinking.

“Well, you better find a way to jog your fucking memory, hadn’t you?” snaps Anti. “Otherwise maybe I’ll have to worm into that head of yours and dig the recollection out.”

Blue and Red exchange looks, alarmed. Anti stalks past them, pulling Trick with him as he goes.

“Whoa, Anti, hold on, I want to talk to - ”

“Dok can have you back when he has those necklaces off his goddamn throat,” spits Anti, yanking him down the hallway.

“But that’s my - ”

“You want to start causing me problems too, Trick?” shouts Anti, whirling on him.

Trick’s lip trembles. He lets Anti lead him back towards their room.

Anonymous asked: You can have your true name soon, Ro. It'll all be okay soon. Hold on for us, Jackie. Losing a small battle doesn't mean you're losing this war.

Red pulls Blue to his feet and they stand together, turning to see Dok padding listlessly after his twin. Blue moves to go after him, but Red pulls him back.

“Do you remember anything about mirror dimensions?” asks Red.

“No,” answers Blue. “No, it’s totally random, out of nowhere. How would I know anything about that?”

“He seems to think you would.”

“Well, if I did, he took the memories from me.”

Red sighs. “Maybe it’s a muscle memory thing? Those are different than memories of actual events or memories of everyday facts. Maybe once we get to the mirror it’ll be an everyday fact thing.”

Blue shakes his head, biting down hard on the nail of his thumb. “He’s going to possess me again if I don’t remember,” he whispers.

“You’ll remember,” Red insists, but even as he says it it doesn’t feel true. If Anti doesn’t know and Blue doesn’t remember, who would?

Anonymous asked: Do you remember the early days Trick? Where you and Dok desperately tried to save the Henrik and Chase within you, having to watch Anti tear the two of you apart day after day. The snake in the rabbit's den. Don't let him steal your heart from your family. Trick, you need to find the Chase within you that you and your twin fought so hard to save in the early days. You need to be their guard, their hero, before Anti kills them or worse.

Trick’s face scrunches up with distress. He pulls on Anti’s hand, looking back at Dok, staring miserably after him from the back of the hallway.

“Let me go with you and the others,” pleads Trick.

“What? No. You could get hurt.”

“So could they!”

“I don’t care about that,” spits Anti, pulling him to his chest. “You’ll stay in your room.”

“I want to be there if something happens to you,” Trick insists, gripping his hands. “I’ll stay back and I’ll cover you with my gun. Anti, you’re upset, you’re getting into a fight, you don’t even trust the others right now. Let me go with you. As a guard. That’s all.”

Anti softens a little, gazing at him. He pushes Trick gently towards the stairs. “I’ll… think about it. Go get dressed. We’ll see.”

Trick obeys, moving to get his gun and some better clothes.

Things are complicated in his head right now, but you’re right about one thing: he needs to be their guard.

scunneredzombie asked: Red, do you remember at all the password that Henrik used when you were sent back in time last time? Or Dok, do you remember anything you were told by the magicians?

Dok frowns, turning back to the others. “I remember… Nina would speak to the mirror? And it would let her step through it. I remember that when you’re in the mirror, it’s like a loop no matter how far you walk.”

Red nods slowly, glancing between the pair of them. “Right. When Dapper and I went back to the - I mean, I remember something. I think we lived in a mirror like that too, one Blue made for us to be safe in. I remember we had to speak to it too to get out. Like a password. ‘Amo, vale.’“

Blue laughs weakly. “That means ‘I love you, goodbye.’ Or almost, anyway.”

“But when Nina left the mirror, she said something in Spanish,” says Dok. “Not ‘te amo’ or anything like that, I don’t think. If it is like a password, I bet it’s unique to every mirror.”

“So how do we figure out the password?”

Anonymous asked: Hey Shep, no idea if you have a camera right now, but you know anything about mirror dimesons by any chance? Just random curiosity!

“Well, I don’t know anything about them, exactly, except that Dark and Wil made one for the houses,” answers Shep.

He’s walking around the forest, still looking for Noodle. Determined.

“It’s cool, I guess. Kind of weird. You can really get stuck in a place like that. And we’re supposed to be really careful with it, because if we break the mirror, you can sever the connection to the real world and lose whatever’s inside.”

Anonymous asked: Is there anything funny Wilford says every time he goes into the mirror? He's always really funny, I'd love to hear more of him! Or something Dark says? I'm really curious about you guys.

“Come on, guys,” laughs Shep. “I know you have to say something to get in there. It’s my home too. I’ll give you a hint… Dark’s told you their password before. Did you think that the only thing it would give you access to was a website? They always wanted you to come and find them. Find the truth, they said.”

Shep steps up onto a log, balancing on one foot. “Oh, yeah. And it’s also a son of a bitch to have to read that out every time I want to go home!”

Anonymous asked: Geez, I'm getting whiplash from your overwhelming favoritism, Anti. Don't want your favorite boy to get hurt? So you'll probably lock him in the room again, all alone and miserable? What will happen to him if you don't come back from Dark's place, uh? If you lose, you're just going to let him pathetically wither away, is that it?

Anti shrugs, glancing at Trick as he walks away. “If I can’t have him, he may as well die.”

Anonymous asked: Lmao sorry Shep, not trying to treat you like you're dumb, we're just used to dealing with a very manipulative demon. I am genuinely curious about you all, and thanks so much for hunting for Noodle, you epic hero man. Big hearts your way!

“I didn’t take any offense, no worries,” answers Shep mildly. “And yeah! Ask me anything anytime. I like talking to you… for a long time I figured nobody was interested and maybe that’s why I got thrown aside. Yes, I’ll look for the cat, and then you’ll have something to remember me by this time!”

Anonymous asked: Jackie, Marvin, this might be a long shot, but when you get to the mirror, try reading out this: Lh3EeEeR9z59YWcUB2b7ViHJ8ALQ637

“What sort of a fucking password?” Blue demands.

“Dok, will you memorize this for us?” asks Red.

Dok turns and reads it over. “Okay, got it.”

“That Dark thing really is cruel if it’s making everybody read that out to get in there,” grins Blue.

Anonymous asked: Oh my god, the heist code is the mirror code? It's so convoluted though! How are you guys not getting locked out with that?

“Wilford never remembers a letter of it,” laughs Shep. “But he can transport in and out anyway. And the twins, they usually come in and out with someone there to help anyway, because they’re developmentally delayed. All the rest of us, we write it in our phones or memorize it. It’s actually only the first eight letters that are the code, so it’s not so bad.

It’s just how Dark does things. They’re obsessive over all of Mark’s projects… they hate him, but they fixate on his videos and stories. When Mark found out they actually gave out the password to our home, he only laughed, though. Dark just wants direct contact with the audience, and Mark will never give it to them, but they try at every turn.”

Shep pauses, glancing at you, the camera tucked into his pocket as he searches for Noodle.

“I don’t care that you know, but just don’t tell Dark you heard anything from me.”

Anonymous asked: Remember guys, it's a tool of gaslighting when your abuser tries to convince you that you're a "traitor" the second you stand up to the abuse. Don't let his manipulation sway your thoughts. You are not traitors. You are escaping an abuser who has pummeled you into dirt for years, years of pain and torture. It is not traitorous to stand up for yourself.

“And he can’t mock me for being autistic like that,” grumbles Red, pushing at his hair. “I struggle with myself enough already.”

“He can’t just take Trick away from me,” agrees Dok, his eyebrows drawn unhappily together. “He’s just being a control freak, punishing me for trying to stay away after he said he would kill me!”

“The only reason Dapper is gone in the first place is because Anti was bargaining with our lives for his and Dark’s entertainment,” adds Blue. “We can’t let this keep happening. He doesn’t really care about anyone but himself. Even his favorites are getting hurt and now Trick is being locked up like Dap. We have to find a way to get all of us away and finish Anti the fuck off.”

Red flinches, still not comfortable with the idea of killing Anti, but Blue and Dok just meet each other’s gazes, steadfast.

Anonymous asked: Jackie, why are you uncomfortable with it, if I can ask? He just confirmed he never loved you, he's threatening to kill all of you, saying Trick is better dead than free, he let Dapper get stolen and taken away from safety and his medicine. He's going to be the death of all of you unless you get to him first. It's looking like it's the only way to save them. Be their warrior, protect them now when they need it most.

Ro turns away from you, a flash of anger in his face. He doesn’t answer.

“Roser,” says Blue.

Red waves him off, stepping out of the room and walking back down the hallway.

Anonymous asked: Also, guys, be very very careful, you can't break the mirror while JJ is in there, or apparently you risk losing everything and everyone inside.

“Oh, fuck, okay,” says Blue, nodding his head. “Yeah, we’ll be real careful. Thanks, guys… I don’t know how this would have worked out without you. I think we’ll go pretty soon. Are we… ready for that? Last words before a big fight?”

He looks at Dok, who looks back, not able to give him a smile. He touches Dok’s head and pulls him to his shoulder, knocking their heads together.

“Nothing’s going to happen to you,” he says.

“You don’t know,” answers Dok frailly.

“I’m going to find a way to get you away from him.”

“We’re still not all on the same page,” murmurs Dok, closing his eyes. “That’s what the magicians told me, again and again. That we have to all be fighting him. And we’re just not, Blue. Trick still loves him. Dapper doesn’t even seem to remember what it’s like to hope for something better. Are the three of us enough to do this?”

Blue sighs, rubbing his shoulder. “We’re just going to see how this turns out, honey.”

Anonymous asked: Trick, sometimes when life is scary, you’ll want to go back to where you understood it. But you can’t go back, whether you want to or not. Understanding will come, but you have to fight tooth and nail for it. Fight through the haze and claim your mind for yourself again.

Trick sits on his bed, staring at Anti as he moves around their room.

Anti plays with his appearance in the mirror for a few minutes, looking pensive, but then you see frustration and pain on his face, and he just transforms back to his usual self - green hair, black tee, ripped jeans. He glitches again and again as he moves, out of control and looking tired and pale, rummaging through the drawers in case there are any weapons he wants to hand out before they go.

“Anti,” says Trick quietly.

“What?” asks Anti.

“You would never really kill one of the others, would you? That’s just your temper.”

Anti plays with a whip, turned away from him. “Sure,” he says flatly.

Trick sighs, rubbing at his head. He gets to his feet and moves to Anti’s side, trying to get his attention. Anti dives back into the drawers. Trick grabs his arm and pulls him back.

“Hey,” he says. “Talk to me. What is going on with you lately?”

Anti sulks, shaking his head, but he doesn’t yank away from Trick’s grip. He plays quietly with the holster on Trick’s waist, tapping at the gun.

“Just angry,” he grumbles.

“Yeah, I’d be angry too if someone I was into started acting like they don’t know who I am, but that doesn’t mean you get to take it out on us.”

“Well, they ran away!” shouts Anti.

Trick grabs his face between his hands and kneels down beside him, drawing his gaze.

“I love you,” he says. “But the reason they ran away is because the way you’re treating them isn’t right.”

Anti wilts a little, glaring at the floor.

“We’ll figure it out afterwards,” he growls, getting to his feet.

Trick sighs. “Go easy on them for my sake if nothing else.”

“Yeah, sure,” mutters Anti. “Whatever.“

Trick squeezes his eyes shut. He doesn’t want to feel like this - like you’re understanding Anti better than he himself is these days. He doesn’t want you to be more true than his brother.

But he also doesn’t want to believe that he’s not thinking for himself anymore. This is what he really feels, isn’t it? This is worth putting up with? This is family?

“Are you sure about this?” he asks.

“About what?”

“Going after Dark? Shouldn’t we maybe, like, talk to them before starting an actual fight?”

“They made the choice they made,” says Anti quietly. “And they took Dap. No more talking unless they’re groveling beneath my heel.”

Anonymous asked: You might not all be on the same page, and hell, maybe a couple of you are in different chapters entirely, but you're all in the same story. The others will have to go at their own pace as best they can to reach a good ending for all of you, okay? It won't be easy and it won't be perfect but the most we can do is try.

“And that’s what we’ve wanted all along, right?” murmurs Blue, touching Dok’s hair. “A chance to try. To get away. To protect each other.”

Dok nods, trying to smile.

“Today,” says Blue softly, reaching down to touch a necklace on Dok’s throat. “I think we might get a chance to use some of these.”

“Okay,” says Dok, nodding again. “Okay. It’s going to be okay.”

He’s scared to be tortured again. He doesn’t know if he could survive that. But Blue is here, gripping his hand, and he knows that at the very least the two of them have each other.

It’s going to have to be enough for now.

Anonymous asked: Anti can and would kill them. He /has/ killed them. He used to kill Red and force Dapper to turn back as punishment. He stabbed Dok in the lungs for trying to protect Dapper. As long as he has time travel, he'll kill them without a second thought just to punish the others.

Trick sits back on the bed and shudders.

“We can’t keep living like this,” you hear him whisper, as Anti busies himself around the room.

Anti steps back towards him. “Ready to go?”

Trick sits up, looking pale.

“Yes, Anti,” he says.

Anonymous asked: Trick, sad to say you'll be living like this for as long as you belong to Anti. Anti will never change, and he will never stop hurting you to make himself feel stronger, locking you in rooms to feel like he owns you, killing and torturing your brothers as punishment. He cannot, and will not ever control his temper. You're going to be stuck here until he's gone. You will not escape abuse unless you leave the abuser.

Anti steps close to Trick on the bed and takes the camera from him, turning with a sudden force to throw it against the wall, smashing it into pieces. Trick flinches and Anti laughs, touching his cheek and leaning down to kiss the side of his face and knock their foreheads together.

“Come on, then,” he says, stroking his hand down green hair as you watch from the camera in the corner of the ceiling. “Let’s go. I need to know I have at least you on my side.”

Trick looks up at him, eyes wide. For a moment, his eyes flicker over to you.

He takes Anti’s hand and they move down the stairs.

.

The farther they wander, the darker the trees.

“Is this Dark’s doing?” whispers Red. “Or did they just pick the blackest, deadest part of the forest they could find?”

“It’s Dark’s doing,” hisses Anti. “Now shush.”

The trees stare down at them, sunless monoliths looming like gods over their heads. Birds flitter about like rodents through gutters, but not one of them sings, and the buzzing of insects appears only for a moment before a bigger creature comes to snap grasshoppers and flies up like deviled eggs eaten in one mouthful.

“Are we close?” asks Dok, stepping over the ashy graveyard of what was once a great redwood. “Blue is tired.”

“Why are you here again?” snaps Anti.

“Dapper’s sick, Anti,” Trick reminds him. “Dok needs to look after him.”

“I’m sick of the lot of you,” answers Anti, which makes Red snort despite himself, trying not to laugh. Anti raises an amused eyebrow at him.

“Come on,” he sighs. “Here’s the shed.”

Inside a shed in the forest - which Anti has mostly smashed open in the hopes of ticking off Dark - there is a mirror taller than they are standing against the back corner. Anti pushes his way inside and spiders scutter away from the dim light. Dok leaps back, nearly running back the way they came, and stands back from the shed, watching his feet.

“It’s okay, man,” calls Trick, helpfully squashing spiders beneath his heel. “I got it.”

“Go on then,” says Anti, shoving Blue’s shoulder. “Top magician. Jack’s special boy. Didn’t do you much good in the end.”

“Step off, Anti,” Blue spits back, stalking towards the mirror. “You’re just lucky the cameras helped us with this.”

Anti leans against the wall, picking at spiders while Blue and Dok and Red try Dark’s password. After the first eight letters, the mirror changes. There is no longer a reflection of Blue, tired and pale, in the glass - instead, it looks out like a window onto a trio of houses in a grassy field.

Red and Blue exchange glances. Anti and Red exchange glances. Dok sees a spider by his foot and yelps.

Red puts his hand to the mirror, curious. Slowly, his fingers pass through the glass like water. He draws back again, eyebrows raised, and turns to look at Blue.

Blue is gone.

Anti straightens up in his skin, cracking his neck. “Ready?” he asks.

Red gapes, shaking his head.

Anti punches his shoulder and grabs his sleeve. “Come on, so,” he says.

“Go in there? Get Dapper?”

“I should never have reset you. You and I used to go sneak into shit and take what we wanted together. I hate that the violence is gone from you. You were more fun before I gave you Blue. Don’t know when I managed to ruin you so badly.”

Something about his tone makes Red flush, his heart aching. He looks away, mouth taut, and sucks in a breath. Looking up again, he finds Anti looking back at him through his twin’s captive eyes.

“Fine, then,” says Red, straightening. He turns his body towards the mirror and grips his hands into fists. “I will get him, then.”

Anti passes him a fighting staff. Red blinks and takes it into his hand, remembering the weight and feel of it from a time he no longer recalls.

“After you,” says Anti, pulling a knife from Blue’s jacket.

Red moves through the mirror and into Dark’s home.

“Be good,” calls Anti, clucking Trick’s chin once before following after their older brother. “I’ll be back very soon.”

And then Trick and Dok are alone in the twilight forest.

Anonymous asked: Don't let your loyalty become slavery, Trickshot. Know when to let go, know when you're being held back instead of driven forward, know when their desires drown out your own. Never compromise on self-respect.

“All these messages are for you,” mumbles Henrik, sitting down on a rock in the earth and looking the camera over in his hands.

“They’ve been talking to me a lot lately,” Trick answers just as quietly, but he won’t look back at his twin. He waits at the door of the shed. In his hands, Dok’s gun.

“But you don’t listen,” Dok guesses.

Trick doesn’t answer.

“You’re letting Anti treat you like his toy,” says Henrik, turning away from him. “Won’t see the truths they tell you.”

“Dok, let’s not start, not now, c’mon. Been days since I seen you. I thought… maybe Dark had you.”

Anonymous asked: If you don't confront it and talk through it with us now, then when will you, Trick?

“Mhh,” groans Trick, looking away. “We’re busy…”

“You don’t want to ever face it,” says Henrik. “But one day, it will be in front of you, and you will already be too late to act.”

“I won’t fail to protect you again, Dok.”

“You cannot see the things that hurt me. You are blind to them. They will hurt me again. You will watch.”

“I mean it,” says Trick, loud. “I don’t want to talk about this right now. For real.”

Anonymous asked: Be strong Trick, and more importantly be /you/. Be the man who would do anything for his family, the person who lets his twin massage him when he's been guarding for hours on end, the person who whispered secret names across the room to your brother. You need to protect your family, your real family. You have a choice coming up, man. Your brothers, or your abuser.

Henrik watches his brother for a long time. Eventually, Trick glances back at him, eyes uncertain.

Henrik smiles.

Trick relaxes a little and comes to his side, sitting down with him. After a moment, he puts his head on Dok’s shoulder and fixes his eyes on the shed.

Watching. Waiting. Guard dog.

Dok massages his back so he won’t get stiff. Trick smiles. They sit in the wind of the trees together.

“We are making decisions these days, aren’t we, mein zwilling?”

“Not between you and Anti, though,” murmurs Trick. “Not making decisions like that.”

Henrik sighs, his hand around his arm. The distance between them has never gaped quite like this.

“It’s sunset,” says Trick. “Are you going to say the Shema?”

Henrik blinks. “I haven’t said my blessings in a long time.”

“Oh. I thought maybe you still said them in your head. After you stopped saying them with me.”

Henrik shrugs.

“You don’t anymore?”

“I feel far away from the Lord,” he says, very softly, staring down at the earth beneath his feet. “And lately I am not the sort of man who is strong enough to keep my eyes on Him while the valley of the shadow of death is around me. I am dry bones in the desert. The blessings begin to feel pointless. I can’t even keep track of my own holidays. Candles on Hanukah… it’s nothing. Or very little. I can barely remember the inside of a synagogue. I feel far away from my community. I feel far away from everything.”

Trick shuffles, frowning at him. “You didn’t tell me you were feeling like that.”

“No. I guess not.”

“You usually talk to me.”

“You’re not a Jew, my friend.”

“But you tell me things like that. You used to. We would say the blessings together.”

“I feel far away from you too,” whispers Henrik.

Anonymous asked: In abuse there's always a 'honeymoon phase' where the abuser apologizes and makes promises to change. But the tension builds, some false law is disobeyed, and another abusive incident happens. Fish and chips, a warm kitten, treats and gifts and Hanukkah candles are all false apologies for behavior that will never change. One reason it's so hard to leave is because you always want to believe they can change. But all the self-improvement in the world won't fix the way they hurt you in the past.

Trick bites down on his lip, his hands soothing along his gun. He looks between you and Dok. “It’s not a honeymoon phase… Dok-Dok, I’ll talk to Anti about you going to services - ”

“Don’t,” says Henrik dryly. “Don’t, I don’t want you to. They’re right. He doesn’t care.”

Trick shakes his head, putting his chin in his hand as he looks up at his brother on the stone beside him. He doesn’t know if he should say he’s sorry or get angry at him or reassure him or what. He never seems to know lately. Feels cold in the air between them. He hates that. All he’s thought about for days is the things that Dok would do to cheer him up if they were stuck in that bedroom together, and now he can’t even comfort him.

He closes his eyes. For long minutes, they wait.

“I’ll say it for you, then,” says Trick.

Dok looks up. “What?”

“The blessing,” Trick says, mouth set. “If you don’t feel like you can have faith right now, I will.”

Dok’s lips twitch. He shakes his head at Trick, trying not to grin. “You don’t know it without me.”

“I do!”

“No way.”

“Shema, Yisrael,” begins Trick. “Uh.”

Dok laughs. Trick laughs too, but he’s determined. He keeps going.

“We’ve said it together often enough. Shema, Yisrael, Adonai Eloheinu. Adonai echad…. wa-hafta… w… v'ahav'ta eit Adonai Elohekha m'odekha…”

Dok looks at him, beginning to smile.

He doesn’t pronounce all of it right. He might skip a word or two, and, as always, he stammers. But he fumbles through the Hebrew with his mouth full of love for him.

And as he goes he begins to hear Henrik whispering the English alongside him.

“And you shall bind them as a sign on your hands… and between your eyes… and you shall write them on the doorposts of your home and on your gates.”

They are looking at each other. Trick grins. There is sunset light in his eyes.

Henrik puts his arm around him again and they sit side-by-side.

Anonymous asked: I know you can feel the divide between you and Henrik, even as anti-blinded as you are, Trick. You know you'll have to make the choice between them eventually. It isn't a betrayal to escape your abuser. It isn't traitorous to hate the person who's hurt you. The choice will ultimately be yours, but you have to realize and wake up to the distance between you before you can even come to that. Anti won't change, Trick. How many times has he promised to be better, only to hit you the very next day?

“He has hurt you,” says Trick, his voice very low. “Hasn’t he?”

Henrik presses his head against his shoulder, hiding just a little. “And you too.”

“No… not on purpose.”

“If you have to start by believing that he hurts me, then yes,” says Henrik. “Yes, he has, and he will not stop.”

Trick sighs. “Well. Then… I think you should go.”

Henrik sits up straight, staring at him. “What?”

“I think you should go. Like you want to. You’re an adult, Dok. We all are. We should get to choose. Right?”

Henrik touches his hair. Henrik beams.

“Yeah… yes, of course. But not without - ”

“No,” Trick cuts him off. “Not now, bud. Okay? Let’s just… chill for a bit. It’s going to be okay. And if Anti hurts you again, I’ll stop him.”

“That’s not your job,” says Henrik, as though wounded.

Trick squeezes his hand. “Are the others okay?” he asks you.

Anonymous asked: Red, how goes it? Find anything yet? Dapper is in a clinic room with barred windows last time we saw him

“Stay back here,” Red warns Anti, pushing him back into the trees. “You might use him like he’s at a hundred percent, but Blue’s sick. Be gentle with his body.”

“Get the boy back for me and I won’t have to use him rough,” says Anti, stepping back into the shadows.

“Okay,” sighs Red. “Anything I should be worried about?”

“Everyone in there is either an imbecile, a powerhouse, or both,” answers Anti. “Have fun.”

Red turns towards the house, clutching his fists together. Okay. He’s got this.

Red stalks around the house, swift and quiet, darting through the grass and staying out of the sight of windows. There are three houses. On one of them, he can see Dark and Wilford on the porch, talking and playing with an enormous dog. There’s a movie playing in another, and Red can see a man inside driving a toy car around the carpet. The third house is still until a little brown cat slips out of it and darts away. Red will check out all three in turn if he has to.

Anonymous asked: Hey Shep! You should tell us about you guys' houses. Where is everything, and why does everyone live in separate places?

“That’s it, I’m coming home,” laughs Shep, turning back towards the houses. To be fair to him, he’s been out in the heat for hours and he’s a sweaty mess. “Uh, well, Dark lives in their house ‘alone’… we all know Wil sneaks in there half the time and Google spends most of his days guarding the place like a loyal little puppy. He takes so much pride in being Dark’s weapon, he’s nuts. Won’t listen to anyone else, though.

“We come and go with the other houses. They’re damn empty these days. But Host and Google and Wil and I have our house, and sometimes Ippy comes back to stay for a while. Eric and the twins are all that’s left in the other house. Sometimes Illinois, but he’s in Mexico right now. I miss Bing, shit. I miss a lot of them.”

Anonymous asked: Dapper, you awake? Back in the early days of us talking to you, you said you would only be free if all of your brothers were as well. Well, Dapper, we're doing our best for you, because we care for all of you so much. Jackie, Henrik, and Marvin are on the side of freedom so far. We will keep you safe, and we will protect you any way we can. Wish us luck, Jameson.

Dapper is drawing on the walls.

It’s been his favorite pastime for a long time, ever since he realized Anti wouldn’t punish him for making the house his canvas. His biggest piece was in a defunct pen manufacturer in Sweden, where they stayed for about two weeks, during which time he covered an entire industrial wall in an image of the very ugly aliens from A Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.

Today he draws Anti in cheap pencil lead along the wall of Ippy’s clinic, coursing the point along the curve of Anti’s curving smile. He looks happy in the picture. His hands are empty and open.

Dapper turns at the sound of the beeping and smiles at you, though you see a glassy film over his fevered eyes and a tremble in his artist’s fingers. His face softens as he reads.

“I care for you too,” he tells you heartfully, touching his chest. “All of you, thank you - for being here, for keeping me company, for all of it. And you know I’d always wish you luck, my dears.”

Anonymous asked: Hey uh, dapper? Are you feeling alright? You look a little bit... off

“I am not really recovering from this whole sickness thing that is happening,” he answers unhappily, rubbing at his eyes. “I’m tired and hot and my head aches. I can’t keep any food down, including most of my medicine. And Dark was right… Anti helps with my psychosis.”

Anonymous asked: Jackie, methinks you should avoid the house with Dark on the porch unless you can't find Dapper in the other two. Google is guarding, and Silver Shepheard is on his way back. Try to avoid a fight and be sneaky if you can.

“Kinda want to poke the bear, though,” admits Red, narrowing his eyes at Dark. “They have to pay for this, the fucking cock-jockey.”

His own insult gives him a burst of confidence as he slides past Dark’s house. A black and brown cat watch him disdainfully, waving their tails at him.

“I’ll check the other two first. Thanks, guys. I just need to find a way to get in and get him out… or get him out from outside.”

Anonymous asked: Anti helps superficially, but you know what would help more, JJ? Seeing a psychiatrist to get a mood stabilizer to assist your Haldol, seeing a behavioral therapist to help deal with symptoms, and being free from a constantly traumatizing environment. You need stability and the help of doctors. Things are probably extra bad right now due to being a hostage in a strange environment. You're not hopeless without Anti, millions of people like you & I cope and live good lives w/o mind demon's 'help'.

Dapper shrinks in on himself a little, playing with his hands. He stares at Anti’s eyes on the wall.

“I remember… getting better while we were all at home, without him,” he signs quietly. “Even the paranoia - and the paranoia is always the worst - even that was better. And whenever I started talking to my hallucinations, the others would have me go stand in the laundry room, and then after a while I could take ten minutes in the laundry room and come out and the hallucinations would be so much easier to deal with. Just from having that organization in my life. And I took a couple medications and nobody got mad at me if I was delusional or disorganized or acting really weird. And I had a therapist who signed. And I went to church and the priest would give me confession and I didn’t feel like I was going to hell. And nothing ever hurt me.”

He looks down at his hands.

“It was easier.”

The admission seems to have taken a lot out of him. He slips back down onto the bed, sighing.

scunneredzombie asked: Dapper, is there a window or door near you? Red is here to get you, but he needs a way to get you out!

“Yes, there’s a door, but it’s locked, and a big window, but it’s barred.” He frowns at you and makes prayer hands. “Tell him come bust me out. I sure can’t fit through those bars unless someone wants to shrink me and put me in their pocket. Like a little hedgehog…”

He begins sketching a hedgehog by Anti’s foot.

scunneredzombie asked: Rojo, be on the lookout for large, barred windows, probably the second of the houses?

Ro creeps around the first house, narrowing his gaze at Dark, his hands still aching for a fight. For now, though, he’ll have to focus on getting Dap to safety.

He moves around the second house, slipping down beside a cracked window to listen inside. There’s a television playing a loud cartoon. Lifting his head a little, he can see the man with the toy car driving it around the carpet and talking to himself. There is a whole crate of toy cars. On the couch, a second man sorts patiently through them, occasionally holding a little figurine up to the light or racing it along the arm of the couch, making vrooming and beeping noises. Red sits back a little, rubbing his palms together as he thinks. He wants to wreck some havoc, but not in front of a pair of twins who aren’t causing any harm and don’t look like they’d be able to comprehend someone trying to hurt them. They’re all clean and content-looking, playing with their cars. Red sighs. Having innocents around makes things harder.

It always does, he thinks to himself, and he feels more than recalls a memory from two weeks ago - Anti taking him and Dapper to kill the man who owns the house they’re staying in now. His stomach churns and he digs his nails into his palms. He still remembers the blood-craze in Dapper’s eyes as Anti helped him bury a knife in the man’s chest - and then, moments later, the hopelessness.

“Come on, Red, come on,” he mutters to himself, creeping around the back of the house.

He doesn’t see any barred windows. He glances into the clearing between the three houses as he waits for his chance to dart over to the third house.

Dark is on the porch of the first house with another one of his soldiers, someone with a voice so loud and booming Ro can hear it from here. His hand is on Dark’s waist as he chatters at them. Ro remembers the weight of Max’s hand on his waist… the smell of him…

“Goddamn,” he hisses, slapping himself. Lately he can’t focus on anything. He’s just… sad. He pinches his arms until he gets some clarity back, gnawing on his lips.

“Dapper Dapper Dapper,” he chants to himself, and it’s this thought that carries him over to the third house, where, at last, he spots a little barred window in a window well to the basement.

Anonymous asked: Jackie, we believe in you! Hero of the day, the hero of all time!

Ro gives a shaky little laugh, but you’ve put a grin on his mouth. He darts over to the window, feeling sneaky and maybe even a little bit competent, which is nice. Maybe he’s even acting a little like Jackie would act. The thought gives him a strange, nervous satisfaction.

“Dap,” he whispers, tapping his knuckle cautiously against the window. He can get his hands through the bars, but not much further.

Something shifts in the room. He squints his eyes through the dim light of the basement room and sees a nervous pair of big blue eyes looking back at him.

“It’s me, dude,” he whisper-hisses, glancing around.

Dapper’s eyes water with relief. He pushes the window open, leaving only the bars between them. At this angle, Red can only just brush his hand against his shoulder, reaching down into the window well, and he can hardly see his hands.

“Are you okay? Shit, I was worried, Carve. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here.”

Dapper grips his hand and squeezes in forgiveness.

“How do I get you out?”

There’s those big puppy dog eyes. They’re familiar, sure, reassuring and maybe even cute, but not problem-solving. Red squeezes his hand back and tries to think.

“I’ll have to come inside… or get the bars off. Unless you can shrink? Have any Borrower friends in there that could help? Maybe some mice and birds, Cinderella-style?”

Dapper pinches Ro’s hand and he laughs despite his rising heart rate, more and more anxious the longer he crouches here.

Anonymous asked: Dapper was right Anti, you're such a fucking creep. Dying his hair green and roleplaying like he's Jack but still forcing him to love you unconditionally. Touching him like you love him when he's just an object to you. You don't deserve any of the love any of them have given you. You're disgusting.

“He belongs to me,” answers Anti coldly, leaning back against a tree as he keeps an eye on the houses, waiting to see if Red will fuck up or bring Dapper back to him quietly. “I can do what I want with him. Jack never gave me anything but lemons - fine, I’ll make lemonade. Besides, let’s not pretend Chase would be anything at all without me. He’d just be childless and drinking himself to death in the backroom of their house like he was before I kidnapped him. This whole crusade the lot of you have, trying to set them free… pointless. You won’t make them any happier. He’d be miserable with a taste of freedom. You know, if Jack wanted his little protagonist to actually be able to save the day, maybe he shouldn’t have made him so helpless. Huh, like fucking Chase Brody could have ever done anything about me… well, he’s mine now, so there’s your story, Jack. There’s your fucking story.”

Anonymous asked: Hey Anti, this is important. Dapper /needs/ to see a proper psychiatrist, just once or twice, so that he can get a mood stabilizer and other medicines to assist his antipsychotic. You can't neglect him like this, he's schizophrenic/psychotic, treatment and constant medication updates are the only way to truly help him be better. Constant mind manipulation only makes things worse for him if he's away from you even for a short time.

Anti’s eyes flicker over to you and then away again. He’s playing with fire on the ends of Blue��s fingers, eyes flickering from the white light of it.

“Mh,” he shrugs, uncertain. “I don’t think I want him talking to anybody outside of the house. If he needs a mood stabilizer, talk to Dok and have him talk to me. It’s like American health care! You gotta get a referral. Besides, if being away from me makes things worse, then I’ll just have to be better about making sure he isn’t away from me again. Not even for a short amount of time.”

He drops a flame to the earth and then stomps it out with his foot, his gaze watching as though infatuated as even a moment of fire singes a whole patch of earth and sets leaves to blazing. He bets he could burn down this whole forest if he wanted to… maybe set all of California ablaze. Again.

“Letting Dark take Dapper was my fault,” he tells you quietly. “I overestimated how much they cared about me. Let them fool me. It was stupid. It won’t happen again. Not with anyone. Dapper and Trick… they’re reliable. No one else. Almost makes you wonder… if anyone else is even worth trucking with… mh.”

Anonymous asked: Without Blue, you'll have no one to possess: Dapper might snap and Trick can't handle it. Killing Dok would be the worst possible thing you could do if you still want Trick on your side. And like it or not, Red is your watchdog and the others protector. If you kill any of them, the others will turn.

Anti glances at you, his stance softening a little. He shrugs.

“I guess you’re right,” he says. “Just lately feels like more trouble than they’re worth. I think Jack made five to make sure it was too much for me. Maybe it’s just time I started admitting that. Trick and Dap would be cute twins. I could make Trick forget, and I think Dapper would only be sad for a while, cause it’s not like it changes much for him.”

He pauses, digging his heel into the ash of the forest floor.

“No… you’re right, though. I think. Yeah, I can still use them. They all take care of each other - yucky, but necessary.”

Anonymous asked: Anti what will you do if Dapper breaks? And I don't mean just emotionally or mentally because obviously you only see that as minor maintenance. What happens if he can't use his time travel again? Will his loyalty still matter or is it just his power that you use him for? Is he only worth as much as his usefulness to you?

Anti plays with the bark of a tree, picking at it until new growth sprouts from the side of the trunk. He peels it off again and grumbles to himself for a moment.

“I’d still want him around,” says Anti. “I guess. I mean, he’s - like… he’s the only one who… I don’t know. He’s comforting. Fine. But I don’t know if that’s because of the power or because he’s always been mine. I’ve hated not having him with me these last few days. It’s like the whole world is wrong. And when he was in Columbia, I felt like I was going to implode. Like I was going to die. And I was sick at the time, with Blue’s power eating me up. I wondered if maybe I would die before I could ever find him, and not even know if he was okay.”

He plucks apart a leaf from the offshoot he created, tearing it into pieces, which drift towards the forest floor.

“I wasn’t sure if he’d grieve,” he adds. “If he’d grieve if I died.”

Anonymous asked: They don't belong to you, Anti. You don't own them, they're adults that are fully capable of making their own decisions. They have the right to leave you whenever they want, because you abuse them and refuse to learn to control your temper. You're immature and treat them like toys, but they are autonomous human beings that deserve to make their own decisions. Why don't you test it, if you think they love you so much. Just let them go and see if they crawl back like you say they wil. I doubt it.

Anti grits his teeth. The truth is that Red was willing to leave him the moment someone else showed him that he could have a life outside of Anti, and the thought devours him. Blue was only ever here for his siblings.

“Look, I don’t pretend to not be a monster,” he snarls. “Fine, some of them don’t love me. No matter how much I use the hypnosis… it’s not real. But guess what? I don’t care. They still have to belong to me. They’re not getting away from me. Not with air in their lungs.”

Anonymous asked: Dok isn't a psychiatrist, Anti. It's two completely different fields of medicine. JJ needs to see specifically a psychiatrist. Hell, I don't care if you go to the appointment with him, but you need to let him see someone to get his medicine adjusted. Think about it this way, how much use is he to you if you're constantly having to mess with his brain and ward back his psychosis, when you can easily get the same effect with just a few trips to a psychiatrist and a less stressful environment?

“Dok’s supposed to be Jack’s genius. If he can’t handle Dapper’s issues, nobody can. Dapper has always done fine, with only a couple exceptions. Actually, I think the paranoia sometimes makes him sharper, more alert, and the hallucinations keep him scared and confused. He won’t leave me when I make him feel both sane and terrified, when he thinks he’s too much for anyone else to handle. As long as he doesn’t snap completely, his illness is a benefit to me.”

Anonymous asked: Anti, I think you're so insistent that they would never be happy with freedom because you can't stand the thought, the truth, that every single one of them would be better off without you.

“How about you all stop trying to piss me off before I decide maybe you aren’t all worth dealing with either?” snaps Anti, pointing at you in accusation. “Fuckers. All you do is plot against me lately. It’s barely even fun. Maybe I’ll torture the lot of them just to see you whining and begging again.”

.

Red squeezes Dapper’s hand one more time before sneaking around the back of the house, where a glass-paned door looks into the kitchen.

He could try and get in here. He could try and get the bars off Dapper’s window somehow. Or he could ask for help.

It’s as he’s thinking that he notices movement -a figure entering through the front door, their gait thudding and their shoulders set like a statue’s. Red catches a gleam of light through their glasses. Gigi moves like a bear, his every footstep heavy and determined. Ro narrows his eyes.

“Well, then,” he mumbles, tucking you deeper into his pocket. “Do I tangle with that or try something else?”

Anonymous asked: I would try something else instead of trying to tango with Gigi. He's a robot, so he wouldn't go down like a regular human, and the commotion caused by that fight would draw too much attention.

“Oh, boy,” says Ro, drawing back from the door. “A robot, okay. Well…”

He could maybe climb the house. He sees an open window. If he listens, he can even hear a deep, sonorous voice speaking from inside it, as though narrating.

“Mh,” he says. “Could maybe get up there. I can see places to put my feet already. Or maybe… Dok’s necklace? For Dapper?”

Anonymous asked: The voice from the window is a blind man who sees All. Probably not a good idea to try sneaking by him. And... as for the necklaces, if you use it for Dapper, then you won't have it for Anti. Make sure you've exhausted all other options before that, Jackie.

“Okay,” murmurs Jackie. “Well, I think we’re looking at either man-who-sees-all or robo boy. If I have to fuck with one of them, who do I go for?”

Anonymous asked: Dapper's mental health got better when he had both mood stabilizer and other medicines to help with his other symptoms. You need him /healthy/, him being paranoid and hallucinating isn't good for him. You switch so fast between caring about him and tossing aside his issues. Anti, it would take a very simple set of changes in yourself & your personality for them to stop running and conspiring. You can change. You're not incapable of it. Start small, let him see a psychiatrist. Small things first.

“I’ll think about it, alright?” Anti says, turning his head away. “I got bigger fish to fry right now.”

Anonymous asked: Hey, Trick & Dok? Do you think it would ever be possible to get Anti to let Dapper see a psychiatrist and get medicated properly? I know you don't remember, but before Anti took you all away from your home, Dapper was getting better. He wasn't stuck being constantly psychotic and afraid, he was healing. He needs therapy and proper medications. I don't think Anti would ever give him that, he has too much fun abusing him, but... could you try?

“I’ll help convince him,” promises Trick right away, nodding. “If he needs that, then he should have it. You can get his medication fixed, right, Dok?”

“No,” says Dok, exasperated. “I’ve never really known what the hell to do with him.”

“Oh. Well - ”

Something snaps in the forest. Trick is on his feet, gun pointed.

Silence. A flicker of movement. Dok and Trick are taut as the bow of a violin.

Anonymous asked: Shep? Is that you?

You can see Shep on the other side of the trees, frozen as stiff as the twins. His gaze flickers nervously over to you and then back to the twins, his fists clutched. He doesn’t even have his knuckles with him. He didn’t actually think someone would be here. No one’s ever come to their house before. He pulls out his phone, backing away from the trees.

“Who’s there?” shouts a voice. He stills, staring at Trick through the trees.

.

Red should sneak into Host’s room.

Dec. 12 2020

3 notes

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Red should go in through the backdoor with Gigi.

Dec. 12 2020

1 note

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Red should try something else.

Dec. 12 2020

2 notes

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Anonymous asked: Trick don't shoot. It's someone who lives in Dark's house, but he's unarmed. Just be careful and try to come up with an explanation for why you're there?

Trick lets his gun falter, glancing over at Dok.

“He already knows who you are, right?” signs Dok. “Will he try to kidnap you again? Kidnap us?”

Trick grits his teeth and steps closer to Dok, blocking him from Shep’s view.

“You leave us alone!” he shouts. “You come any closer and I’ll shoot!”

Shep backs away again, nervous. He opens Gigi’s name in his contacts.

Anonymous asked: I dont know if there's anything else you could try, Red. But if there is, def look at it. Otherwise, between Gigi and Host, I think at least Host could possibly be reasoned to/ spoken with? Gigi is a no-go. Hes 100% loyal to Dark, and an android, so he'd be HELLA hard to fight. And also he'd alert Dark. Host, im not quite sure exactly where his loyalties lay, but im sure he's hella powerful. So use your words before you try and fight him.

Ro presses himself against the side of the door and hoists his body up. This isn’t like the house where he and the others are staying, lined in decorative brick to give him footholds. Instead, windows make his only path up. While his hands find a grip on the tops of the windows, he suspends the rest of his body with his side against one jutting windowframe and his feet pressing against another, and slowly leaps and drags himself up the side of the house, his worn sneakers threatening more than once to make his foot slip and his body fall. The black and brown cats are watching him from the ground, blinking up at him as he goes.

But he won’t. Today, he’s Jackie, and he doesn’t think Jackie would fall, so neither will he.

“On another day,” comes that chasm-deep voice from the open window on the second floor, “he might have been fine. The Host is not always looking. Today, he is.”

Ro pauses, hiding against the side of Host’s window, one foot on the side of its sill.

“Is he going to turn back?” asks Host in a murmur. Craning his neck, Ro can see the man bent over braille paper and a recorder “Or will he still try to sneak past him? In a trance this deep, it’s possible Host won’t be able to do anything about it anyway. He does not like to interfere with other people’s stories.”

Anonymous asked: Shep, wait, please don't call anyone who would hurt them. Theyre only here because they're following orders.

“What do you want?” calls Shep, a faint shake in his voice.

“How about the little brother you stole?” spits back Trick. “No, stay back! Stay back there, I swear to God.”

“You need to get out of here before I call Gigi,” says Shep. “Or worse, Dark.”

“No, don’t,” protests Trick. “Please, we just want Dapper. Nobody has to get hurt. We’ve had enough, okay?”

Anonymous asked: Just let Jackieboy Man's story play out, please, Host-we-love-the-most. He deserves to be the hero again after all he's been through.

Directly addressed, Host comes out of his narration a little, brushing scattered hairs out of his face. He runs his fingers over his papers, jerking back a little.

“Fuck, what a mess,” he mumbles. “Too many players in this game. How long have I been writing?”

Ro’s foot slips for a second and he catches himself quickly, thudding against the side of the house. He winces hard, closing his eyes in panic.

Host chuckles inside the house.

“Come in, then,” he says. “I’m not meant to interfere, you know…”

“Who are you?” cries Ro, heart pounding.

“Ignore me,” answers Host. “I’m just the storyteller. You are the action-taker.”

Ro rolls his eyes, biting down hard on his lip. “You’re really not going to snitch if I come in your room right now?”

“No.”

Ro pauses. Scratches at his beard. Glances at the trees, where a pair of squirrels are judging him from a few feet away.

He slips into Host’s room.

Anonymous asked: Trick, should you just take Dok back to the house? Shep can and will call help if you don't leave. I don't want you guys to have to get in unnecessary fights. I'm pretty sure Jackie and Anti can handle it from here, yeah?

“If we go back we’ll be in so much trouble,” breathes Trick, frightened just at the thought of it. “He told me to guard the way, so I can’t let anyone in or out.”

“Why do you have to do what he tells you?” asks Shep.

“Why do you have to do what they tell you?” answers Dok bitterly, standing up beside his brother. “At least Trick doesn’t notice when he’s being used as a pawn. You know you’re that monster’s little soldier and you still do horrible things just because they tell you to. Pathetic. You stole our sick, speechless little brother just because Dark and Anti decided our lives were board game pieces to be played with. You just let yourself be used, no mind control needed.”

“Hey!” snaps Shep. “You better watch your tongue, little man! I make my own goddamn choices. Your brother is the one who would have killed Gigi if he were human just because Dark wouldn’t kiss him.”

“Dark and Anti are not creatures to be trucked with,” says Dok quietly. “But we have yet to find a way to escape our monster. Turn back. We’re smaller than you, but we are far from helpless with or without a firearm.”

“Look,” answers Shep, biting down harsher words. “Nobody wants a big fight here, right? Seems like Dark and, uh. Anti? Seems like they had a misunderstanding themselves. Maybe we can work this out.”

Dok and Trick exchange glances.

Anonymous asked: Trick, if Shep were to promise to not snitch on you being out here to Dark, then would you let him through? And Shep, would you uphold that promise? Both of you have lost things, you're even in bad deeds. Gigi was destroyed and Dark's back was injured, and Dapper was stolen. No one else needs to get hurt if you try compromising with each other, right?

“I won’t tell Dark for now,” says Shep evenly, hands raised in surrender. “But I don’t think you understand. Dark is an essence and those houses belong to them. They’re always creeping around. If your other brothers are in there, the chances that Dark hasn’t spotted them yet - slim to none.”

Trick and Dok frown at each other, worried. Dok shuffles a foot closer to him.

“I’ll let you through the mirror,” says Trick. “If you let us come with you. I have a bad feeling about what comes next… I think maybe it’s better if we can try to work together. You’re right. No one else needs to get hurt today.”

Anonymous asked: Hey Henrik, answer when the time is appropriate, but advice about Dapper from a training pharmacist, I would try prescribing him Depakote or a common antidepressant to work alongside his Haldol if Anti will let you! I know it must be very hard to have to be a psychiatrist when it wasn't your field of study :(

“Oh, thank you, yes,” answers Dok, his shoulders loosening a little. “Yes, well. He wasn’t on anything when I first… remember. And he didn’t do very well. He would smoke to ease his paranoia, but then he would be paranoid about getting cancer every time he’d cough, so it did him little good. He’d stopped trying to fight his own delusions. Anti was most of his treatment plan, but he acts so dreamy and lost when he’s in his head. Honestly I just kept trying medications til they worked, which probably wasn’t very good for him either. But at least I was allowed to see him and Trick then, coming upstairs to check on him everyday. We were in Sweden at the time, I think. Or Denmark? Before Norway. I was not even sure if we were brothers. He doesn’t speak so much when he’s really ill. He was just my little patient in the attic. He was the one who called me Doktor first.”

He rubs his hands together, glancing up. Shep and Trick talk quietly by the mirror, faces tense and hands always waiting for the other to throw the first blow. Dok sighs, though a faint laugh falls from his mouth with it.

“Oh. I would like to see all of them well for once in my life.”

.

Red steps uncertainly towards the Host.

“Shy?” asks the deep voice, and it seems to echo through his head. It reminds him too much of Anti and Dark. He slinks back against the wall, cowed despite himself.

“Hmm,” hums Host. “You’re not who I thought you were.”

“Who did you think I was?” asks Red quietly.

“I write a lot of stories,” says Host, brushing his fingers across pages and pages of snow-white braille. “I see a lot of stories. It takes only a side glance. A moment of contact. Stories for everyone I meet. Stories for the people who meet the people I meet. Not all true. Not all real. But possible… possible. Alternatives to the reality we survive in now. I saw, once, a story from a young man Mark shares business with. I thought, for a moment, that you were the protector in that story. The strong man… the hero. Not the protagonist, true. But almost as important. The courage to his tired hands. Defender.”

Ro plays with his hands, his eyes flickering around for a way to slip past Host without coming close to him.

“But you are alternate too,” says Host. “You’re not Jackie. Not quite.”

It makes his blood hot, but only for a moment. For the most part, he feels shame. His head drops. He turns away from an unseeing gaze.

“Guess not,” he answers. “But I still have to try to be… that.”

“Jackie?”

“Yes. Jackie.”

“Well, stop,” answers Host dryly, turning away. “Stupid boy.”

“Hey! What is your problem?”

“Stop living in a story you don’t even fucking remember,” spits Host, already striking his typewriter hard enough to fill the room with click-clacking once again. “Pathetic. You’re wasting a perfectly good character arc on trying to be someone you’re not. You have your own part to play. Jackie couldn’t save his family, Ro. Not for lack of trying, but he did fail, in the end, and that’s why he’s dead and you’re not. If you want to give him life again, it’s time to stop wallowing in your doubt and your fear and your shame in yourself and start being Ro like a real hero would. You better start acting like a hero – today, Roser. Too long the five of you have been stuck in the same painful narrative. Take up arms. Stop trying to remember and be.”

Host turns to him again, and Ro has never seen so much expression in a blindfolded face.

“Or lose more than even Jackie did.”

A cat slips in through the door, mewling, and comes weaving her way through Host’s legs, pinning Ro with a yellow gaze. He steps back nervously, staring at the cracked door. His throat bobs in a swallow. He grips his fists, straightening up at Host.

“What if he’s not enough?” he asks quietly.

“Who?” says Host.

“Me,” he answers.

“Of course he’s not enough,” spits Host, shaking his head. “How dull would it be for a character to be enough all on his own.”

Ro opens his mouth to reply, but Host beats it to him.

“Google!” he calls, turning towards the door.

“Fucking snitch!” cries Ro, terrified.

“There’s a closet across the hall. Run inside. You can sneak past him when he comes in to check on me. This is the only help I will give you. Go.”

He’s too frantic to argue. In a flash, he’s leaping out of the door of Host’s room and shoving himself into a closet full of cleaning supplies on the other side of the hall.

“Host?”

Those thudding footsteps move up the stairs. A fist pounds a knock against Host’s door. “Are you stuck in a vision? If you haven’t left your room since I checked on you this morning, you’ve been static for four hours and twenty-three minutes, including our usual breakfast hours and…”

Ro darts out of the closet on near-silent feet, racing down the stairs with his heart pounding. He throws himself against the wall for a second, thinking someone’s coming in the front door, but it’s just the second cat he saw, a big black cat like a shadow against the wall, letting out a hiss at the sight of him. He races down the second set of stairs and through the little hallway that frames Dapper’s door.

“Dapper!” he calls. “It’s me, I’m here.”

Faint whistling from the other side of the door. Red shoves his shoulder against it, tearing at the handle. It will not open.

“Fuck this,” he mumbles, and a moment later he finds himself ducking into a bathroom nearby, tearing the lid off the toilet tank, and slamming the porcelain into the handle of the door until both shatter and give. The door slides open.

“Dapper…”

There’s his little brother, curled up all lonely on the bed. In the light, Ro can see him clearly at last, and the relief of finding him comes charged with a painful nausea for how ill he looks. It’s worse than a hollowness, because Jamie has always been skinny. It’s worse than fatigue, because Dapper has always been tired. It’s worse than shadow, because his youngest brother has long felt alone. Now, he looks chewed up and spat out, cut open and removed from himself, faint and white and exhausted. He does not rise to hold Red. He can barely raise a hand to greet him.

“Bud, no,” says Ro, because his first thought, in that moment, is that Jameson is going to die.

He moves forward to scoop him up for a moment, pressing him to his chest. He can feel the heat on him before he’s even touched him. Sweat beads against Red’s fingers where he cards his hand through Dapper’s mussed brown hair, gone limp and tired, no longer curling at the fringe.

“Can you walk?” asks Ro, drawing back to hold his shoulders in his hands.

“Not sure,” answers Dapper, touching his wrist. “I feel really quite unwell, Red.”

“They haven’t taken care of you.”

“No, they tried,” protests Dapper. “They’ve given me medicine for my fever and things like that. Kept my wrist clean. I’m much better off than I was a few days ago.”

“Fuck… you could have died if that’s true.”

“I think maybe I would have if I stayed with Anti,” says Dapper, lying his head down on his brother’s shoulder and letting his eyes slip shut.

Red hugs him, grateful for the thudding of his heartbeat. As much as he knows they need to go, he needs even more to feel his chest moving with air, if only for a moment.

“You really are just not having a fun life, are you, Dippin’ Dots?” he says, the weight of it sitting on his chest.

“There are parts of it that are nice,” replies his brother, his hand resting on Ro’s shoulder.

“I’m going to get you out of here,” says Ro. “Like I promised.”

“Okay, Reddy. I’m really quite tired.”

“Okay. Okay. Here we go.”

He raises him into his arms, pressing him close against his body. He’s always tried to stay strong no matter how little he had to eat – not always successfully or healthily – but as the months have gone on he’s been finding his old strength. After wasting away in Norway, he built up corded muscle in Peru with long, difficult hikes up the mountain every day, bringing water and medicine and Christmas presents to his family, and in the past few weeks, with both Max and Anti, he has had good food and plenty of time for the exercise his body has craved. Host was right: now is the time to be strong.

He’s stepping out of the clinic room when he sees the big black cat again, darting away from him now, its fluffy back turned to him.

“Hey,” he laughs. “Did you follow me down here?”

And then, at the top of the stairs – black shoes and dress pants. The thud of a cane against the wood of the floor.

Ro back away, mouth taut, and he watches as that black cat, so dark that the light does not shine gold on its fur, dissolves away into the crowd of shadows that swarm like a cloak around Dark’s dead, rotting body.

“Spy cat,” Ro says. “Pretty sure that’s cheating.”

“I could see you the moment you stepped foot into my territory,” answers Dark, in a voice like a wind through cold water. “Your soul is so frantic it burns just to look at it. Even the ocean of silver power from the little one does not wash your color away.”

“Oh, what color?” asks Ro, curious.

“Not red,” comes the dry reply.

Dark takes a step down the stairs. Their body seems to jolt for a second, and then they must sit down, pain tightening their features.

“Heard my other little brother fucked you up pretty good,” says Ro, taking another step back towards the clinic. “Still not fully recovered, huh? I think I’d be a douchebag if I made fun of you for having a broken spine, but I’d like to offer a generalized ‘fuck you’ if that’s alright. You can’t even get down these stairs to get me, can you?”

Dark vanishes back into smoke and bursts into being at the bottom of the stairs, bone shifting in their broken face. Red yelps and puts Dapper on his feet, turning to wrap his body around him.

“Your little monster will pay for his over-powered tantrum,” says Dark.

“You stay the hell away from us!”

“I’ve never seen anyone as simultaneously intriguing and annoying as he is. But no matter. Soon, I’ll snuff his bright lights out and tear up both the natural and the stolen powers inside his chest, and then he will stop haunting me.”

“You take one more step towards me and I’ll call for him!” shouts Red, extending his fighting staff and whirling on Dark. “And this time he’ll fuck up more than just your back!”

“Call for him, then,” sneer a dozen echoing voices at once, and as Dark’s power begins to fill Red with terror and revulsion and confusion and grief, he puts his hands over his ears, opens his mouth, and screams for Anti.

And in the woods, Anti hears.

Anonymous asked: Anti, don't be brash and let your temper control you. Fight with the wit even Jack knew you had.

Wit – wit, yes, well, this at least keeps his gait steady as he moves Blue’s body through the trees, eyes fixed on the house where he can see his oldest gripping his camera. What you say is true, as he was always Jack’s little killer, clever and powerful, manipulative and built with an instinct for fighting more commonly found in a marten who plans to make a porcupine twice its size into dinner. He was patient, in the beginning, and sensational when the time came for him to cut that porcupine open, and it was his wit, yes, that lead him to capture all five of the brothers Jack created, one after the other, remorselessly.

And yes, even Jack knew he had it.

He remembers the sound of his voice the first time he made his eyes bleed. He wiped the sleeve of a black hood across his stained cheek and met his own gaze in the mirror, and he saw Anti more clearly than he ever had before.

“This one’s wild. Already smart enough to try and get through to the audience. Like it knows…”

His fingers touched his reflection in the glass.

“Hey. I see you. I’m here.”

His fond mouth smiled.

“Don’t be scared.”

Anti remembers.

Does Dark not?

Does Jack not?

It hurts to bear the thought of it, the thought that they really and truly forgot him. He hates it. He hates that you mentioned it. That Dapper keeps saying it. That he doesn’t know what’s happening anymore and he feels alone.

That he sometimes wishes he were still just a notion curled, warm, in the back of Jack’s head, listening to him chatter and breathe.

No. No use for nostalgia now. What he wants are the people he can still have – his Trick, his Dapper, his brothers.

He’s done a lot of bad things to them. Cruel, unbearable things, without reason. But if you give him credit for one thing, let it be this –

Oh, Anti taught his boys to be fang-toothed.

“Where’s my little soldiers at, so?” he sings to himself. “Dok, Trick.”

You see the twins perk up and look over as Anti sends his own message through the cameras now.

“Go find your big brother, Trickshot, and start fucking laying waste. And you, Deutsch – get my little Carver, now. And if anyone tries to put their hands on him – teach them why I use you for torture.”

Steel makes their fond mouths harden. They glance at Shep, and then away.

“If that is what it takes,” says Dok.

“Then consider it done,” Trick finishes.

And he touches his reflection in the clear glass of the mirror, and moves.

Anonymous asked: Alright so we're just going in guns blazing. Dok, Trick, you have any idea of where to go?

“Well, I am guessing it is this house which is all shadowy and dramatic,” says Dok, lifting his chin at the third house, where Dark’s power has cast everything in late-night lighting.

“Hey, you’ll regret it if you go rushing in there at Dark,” warns Shep, shoving himself forward. Trick steps up to him before he can reach Dok, raising his head in warning.

“I have left my little brother to rot too many times in his life,” shouts Dok, moving towards the house even as Wilford steps out of Dark’s house to see what’s going on, smoking languidly as darkness curls around his feet. “He asked me to fight for him! So I will.”

“If you’re coming, then come,” says Trick. “But don’t try and stop us getting Dapper.”

“Fine! Just try not to piss Dark off anymore, for all our sakes!”

Anonymous asked: Hey Silver, I think you should probably go with Trick and Doc. If things get crazy (and they probably will, lbr), it'd be good to have someone reasonable around. I know you can't go against Dark, but I also don't think you want to see anyone get hurt. This is admittedly a big step up from asking you to look for a lost cat, but can you do it for us?

Shep stares at the wash of shadow growing over the corners of his home. He runs after Dok and Trick, expression torn, and when Anti glitches into existence in the doorway of his house, you see him fall back in alarm, eyes wide.

“What’s going on?” he hears Gigi shout from somewhere inside. A sudden thrill of fear pours adrenaline into Shep’s blood, remembering all too clearly the way Anti shattered the android last time they met.

But Anti glitches away before Gigi can reach him. Google snarls, slamming his fist against the door and stepping out to look around. Trick and Dok have already hidden, tucked against the side of one of the other houses. They’ll sneak around the back and get in through the door there, hoping to find Dapper. Shep stares around in a mild panic - but eventually, you see him set his mouth and glance at you. He follows after Dok and Trick.

Host trails out onto the porch after Google, lighting a cigarette with a cold grin.

“This,” he says, “is going to be good.”

ari-trash asked: So you're just going to watch the chaos unfold, Host? You're just going to stand back and let it all happen? Well... at the very least I hope it'll be entertaining enough for you

“Been boring as shit lately,” mutters Host, smoke wafting from his mouth as he breathes out. “I been waiting for Dark to bring me home some fucking chaos. Whole reason I stick around. Nobody gets in to as much bullshit as this family. Google, do you remember when Bim hired an assassin to kill you?”

“Host!” shouts Gigi. “Who’s in the house!”

“I’m blind, Inspector Gadget, figure it out for yourself.”

“Dammit, Host!”

Anonymous asked: Ro, you're gonna be okay. Just keep with Dapper okay? Help is coming

“We’re okay, we’re okay, we’re okay,” chants Red like the words are stuck in his mouth, over and over again. He backs away, wrapped around Dapper, hiding his face in his chest. Dark steps towards them with the thud, thud of their cane, eyes white as spoiled milk. “Help is coming, help is coming, help is - ”

“Hey!” shouts Anti.

Dark stops.

Anti stands at the top of the stairs, haloed in his own venomous, glitching light in the midst of Dark’s shadow. Green and red and cold blue light. He is beautiful and hollow. He is a grave waiting to be filled.

“Stop,” he says quietly. “Back off.”

Ro sees Dark’s mouth curve like a planet.

“Hi, handsome,” they taunt softly, inclining their head, gaze still boring into Ro.

Anti does not taunt back. His shoulders are drawn back, his head low. Blue’s eyes are like the broken edges of a piece of shattered glass.

“Done playing,” says Anti. “Get away from them.”

“I just want to talk,” they answer, extending grey hands like a crucifixion.

“Liar,” says Anti.

Dark turns to him.

“What do you want?” asks Anti, revealing just a moment of weakness.

Dark meets his gaze like a predator circling.

“I don’t know anymore,” they tell him. “For you to stop bothering me?”

“Liar,” replies Anti, very quietly. “Liar.”

Dark grits their teeth.

“I would like you to stop being the ghost that follows me everywhere I go.”

Dapper shivers in Red’s grip, his legs giving out slightly. Dark and Anti glance at him as he crumples and Anti reaches for him for a moment, gaze breaking.

“Back off,” says Anti, stepping down the stairs. “That’s mine. Enough. Enough games. Done playing. Why don’t you come pick on someone a little less mortal, you fucking slug?”

Dark extinguishes all light in the room. Red shouts, scooping Dapper right off the ground. In the shadow, only Anti is visible, Blue’s face lit with his myriad of spasming colors.

“Fine then,” comes Dark’s voice, and you hear their echo give a hissing laugh. “As you wish.”

“Red,” says Anti. “Get him out of here.”

And then he is under attack.

Anonymous asked: Trick, Dok, how bad is it looking out there? I think you guys have a chance but you'll have to hurry, maybe ask Shep which house had Dapper. He's still following behind, yeah?

Shep sighs, reaching out to take Trick’s sleeve, pulling him towards his home. “Come on,” he says, hissing to keep his voice low. “We’ll go round through the back door and get your brother. You can take him while Dark and Anti keep each other busy.”

“Into the darkness?” asks Dok.

“Dude, it’s pitch in there,” agrees Trick, eyes wide. “We won’t be able to see.”

“Can’t you call for each other?”

Dok and Trick cross their arms over their chest, glaring.

“Oh, that’s right… uh, well, he can whistle or something, right?”

“We don’t have much other choice,” sighs Dok, letting his arms fall. “He’s probably scared in there. Maybe even having an episode. He could snap.”

“I bet Red’s found him and they’re keeping each other safe. But we need to get them both out - Dark has a pretty strong effect on the both of them.”

Dok bites down on his lip, reaching tentatively for the handle of the back door to Shep’s house, behind which, nothing but darkness awaits. He hears a slam and the telltale buzz of Anti’s power, so loud it almost feels like it’s making his whole head vibrate. Dark shouts and Anti snarls back at him, indecipherable from the other side of the house.

“Okay,” he says. “Let’s go.”

You plunge into shadow together.

Anonymous asked: Duck and run Red, get yourself and Dap out of there

“Come on, bud, let’s go.”

In the darkness, Dapper is almost completely unable to communicate with him. He feels him trying to sign, but they don’t have time to stumble through it, much as he hates to ignore him. He throws Dapper’s arm over his shoulder and moves towards the back door. Black as it is, Ro does not stumble for a moment. He saw the hallway once and that’s all he needs, same way he can take one look at a building before leaping up the side of it like a pine marten or a slightly over-sized squirrel.

There’s only a second where he pauses.

Dapper’s fever-heat warms his shoulder. He can hear his little brother panting in the darkness. Behind them, Anti shouts and snarls, locked in battle, and Red - oh, he can’t place it, much as he wants to, but a part of him knows he’s been here before. Not here, in this house, but… here.

“We were… trying to get away?” he hears himself mutter. “And you were sick… I needed to get you… home. To England.”

Dapper turns his head towards him in the shadows, mouth parted.

“But I couldn’t get away from Anti. Jackie couldn’t get you away from Anti. And then… Red stopped trying.”

And in the darkness, in the pitch black, Ro feels his little brother move his hands against his chest.

“He did not stop trying,” JJ tells him. “He just… needed to forget for a little while. Because he was in pain. He never stopped trying.”

Ro feels something sharp and tight in his chest.

“Here now,” signs Jameson, touching his heart. “You. Here now. Don’t be sorry. No more being sorry.”

No more being sorry.

“Come on,” murmurs Red, pulling him through the darkness again. “I gotta get you out of here.”

No more being sorry. It’s a waste of time. He needed to forget for a little while, but not anymore. Time to be what they need him to be. Doesn’t matter if that’s Jackie or Ro or Red or a little bit of all of them.

He won’t fail again.

Anonymous asked: Red, take Dapper towards the back door, if you remember where it is. Trick and Dok are trying to find you. Escape while Dark is distracted.

Red crashes into Shep headfirst and you hear them both yelp, drawing back from each other, but then Trick is hissing Ro’s name and reaching out blindly for his brother. Ro recoils when his fingers find his face and Trick knows it’s him, letting out a weak laugh. Ro grins at the sound of it, relaxing, and moves towards him.

“I’ve never been so glad to see you,” whispers Trick. Ro grabs his wrist with a grateful squeeze and feels how good it is to be on Trick’s side like they were always meant to be.

“We gotta go,” he says. “Come on, back towards the door.”

“Dark and Anti are going to hurt each other,” protests Shep. “Are we just… not doing anything about that?”

“Let’s just get out of here first,” hisses Dok, pulling them all back towards the door, and moments later, they stumble out into the light with sighs of relief.

aether-mae asked: Maybe you boys should stay out of anti and darks squabble. Let them brawl it out in the dark like the heartbroken lovesick monsters they are

“I think they’re right,” agrees Dok, already taking Dapper’s face in his hands to look him over. “Oh, my poor buddy.”

Dapper smiles wearily at him.

“Let’s get you home, yes?”

“We are far away from home,” signs Dapper, slumping against his shoulder. “But I would like to go back to bed.”

“I’m getting him out of here. Come, we should all go. Better to be far from this.”

Ro glances at Trick, and then at Shep, eyes narrowed. He can’t read Shep’s face at all - it’s never been a talent of his - but Dok and Trick must have let him come along for a reason.

“I just want everyone to be okay,” grumbles Shep, looking away from Red’s intense gaze. “Anti and Dark fighting like this - it’s stupid. And other people are going to get hurt if this keeps up.”

“Then we should run,” insists Ro. “Right?”

“You might be able to get your family clear, but I have friends in all of these houses,” says Shep quietly.

Ro nods, biting down on his lip. He pauses for a moment to meet Trick’s gaze, and if Shep’s expression is a mystery to him, Ro thinks he recognizes the determination in his brother’s face.

“We’ll stay to make sure Dark and Anti don’t hurt anyone,” he says. “They’re both out of control and we’ve let them play games with us for too long.”

“I’ll stay too,” agrees Trick. “Anti asked me to help Ro. But, Dok - here.”

Trick holds out the handgun. Dok blinks, shaking his head. “It’s yours. You might need it.”

Trick shakes his head back at him. “You have to protect Dap. If someone comes after you, he’s too sick to fight back. Take it and keep him safe.”

Dok takes the gun from him, mouth tight with worry. Trick touches his shoulder and then draws back from him, moving to Ro’s side.

“I need to get the twins before they get scared,” says Shep, glancing back at the second house, where a pair of matching faces are staring out at the growing shadow. “I’ll meet up with you back here and we can figure out what to do once they’re safe, okay?”

Red and Trick nod, stood side-by-side.

“Wait,” says Dok. “If I’m taking the gun, then - ”

He unhooks one of his necklaces and wraps it around Red’s neck. His brother startles, eyes wide.

“Dok, this is your - ”

“Break it and re-tie it if you need it,” says Dok quietly. “It will light up the darkness. It’s a weapon too. If you don’t need it, you can give it back to me. Just… take it, okay? I’ll feel better.”

“Why me?” asks Ro. “Use it to keep Dap safe. Or give it to Trick since I’m the stronger fighter.”

But Dok shakes his head.

“It was always for you,” he says. “Take it.”

The raven rests against Ro’s heart.

Anonymous asked: Keep your peepers people-d, lads.

“Bye,” says Trick quietly, meeting Dok’s gaze.

“I love you,” answers Dok.

“I love you too.”

And for a second, Trick just hates it - the memory it evokes in him, the memory of parting with Dok on the shores of a river in South America, the memory of losing him to the magicians and not knowing if he was dead or alive.

“Hey,” laughs Dok warmly, touching his cheek. “I’ll see you in an hour, yes?”

“Yes,” agrees Trick weakly. “Okay. I love you.”

“We already did that.”

“Well, it’s true.”

“I love you too.”

Dok and Dapper move back towards the shed, hand-in-hand, leaving Ro and Trick alone behind the house.

But only for a moment.

“How touching,” sneers a deep, dangerously steady voice. “That you really believe you can leave this place alive after daring to enter.”

Ro turns slowly, standing in front of Trick.

Gigi glares back at him, hands clenched into fists at his side. A terrible glow rises in his deep brown eyes.

“Is that what we were keeping our eyes open for?” asks Trick.

Red extends his fighting staff.

“That would be it, Trickster.”

.

Inside the house, Anti refuses to tolerate being blinded.

Fire lights up around him in a circle. He burns in the center of it, eyes glowing dangerously with the light of Blue’s flame.

“You can barely even fucking control that,” says Dark quietly. “It isn’t yours. What a fucking parasite you are.”

Anti leaps forward like a snake and strikes at Dark hard, only for his enemy to vanish into smoke. He makes no witty rejoinder and does not taunt Dark anymore. Dark tries to appear from the darkness to grab him, but Anti is lining the floor of the house in flame, illuminating the shadow. Dark flicks his hand and the fire douses. Anti shouts and redoubles his efforts: his fury overcomes Dark’s power and fire grows in the room once more.

“These floors were nice before you got here.”

“I’ll do the same thing to your rotting flesh!” shouts Anti, lashing out again.

Dark blocks his blade with the stern line of a wooden cane, letting Anti score a gash into the side of it and kicking at Anti’s legs, but Anti is swift and vicious and he leaps back with a snarl on his mouth. The speed with which they fight is alarming, so fast that at some points you can’t tell whose strike is slashing forward. Dark vanishes and reappears constantly, and Anti, though solid in Blue’s form, is so coated in glitching and so quick-paced he almost looks to be transporting himself. Dark is stronger, but their back hurts them, and any blow to their spine or chest could down them. Anti is the more savage of the two, but he is bound to Blue’s skin right now, choosing the comfort of incarnation over the freedom of his natural form.

“You look like a demon coated in fire like that,” hisses Dark, circling him for a moment.

Yes, Anti looks like a demon today.

“But you smell like a fairy. And you fight like a human.”

“I’m worse than all three,” whispers back Anti.

“What, then?”

“Nothing,” says Anti. “But that was always what intrigued you, wasn’t it?”

“Stop acting like you’re something irresistible,” snarls Dark.

“You used to tell me I was,” answers Anti, and for a second, you hear something like melancholy through the anger in his voice. A moment later, it’s gone. He lunges forward again and Dark blocks his knife with the cane before striking him hard in the face, sending blood pouring from Blue’s nose. Flowers burst up between the floorboards where the red blood falls.

“Control your fucking power before you tear the house down!” shouts Dark.

“No,” says Anti. “If you want me to stop, kill me.”

“Little monster, it will be my pleasure.”

But it is now that Dark hears Gigi shouting outside, and not just at Trick and Ro. A glance to the window shows them flame growing around the house as well as inside. The fire begins to lick at the trees. Gigi and Trick are hollering at each other, both blaming the other’s master for the damage.

“I’ll burn this whole fucking forest down,” howls Anti. “You think you can act like you forget me?”

Dark vanishes and reappears behind him, shoving him towards the door, and as Anti staggers they gift him a second blow to the face, sending him crashing to the floor. Dark reaches down and puts their hands around Anti’s waist, gripping him too tight as they haul him bodily out the door and over the porch, sending him crashing down onto the stairs that lead up to the porch. Anti lets out a short gasp, touching the back of Blue’s skull, where blood buds up to stain his fingers like ink. He blows out a breath and leaps back to his feet, trying to buy himself time by duplicating – creating false doubles of himself that look real, until Dark is surrounded by a circling trio of Marvins with hatred burning like stars in their eyes.

But Dark doesn’t press their advantage. Their face is flickering again, revealing short glimpses of that same emotion that Anti couldn’t accept when they were in the woods together: confusion, raw and genuine. Their hands are still held out in front of them, remembering Anti’s waist between their palms.

“Get out of my head,” they warn.

“You get out of my heart!” shrieks Anti.

“I’m not manipulating you,” growls Dark, raising their hands slightly – perhaps the beginning of a gesture asking for a pause.

“Well, neither am I. I got enough going on possessing this body for me to be messing around in anybody else’s head,” answers Anti bitingly, setting his three pairs of identical feet.

“Come on,” sighs Dark. “Do you really expect a soul-sight like me to be tricked by your glitches?”

“Which one’s me then?” shouts Anti, stepping forward, all three pairs of himself moving close, into Dark’s space. “And you know I’m not lying if you’ve still got any sight at all! You know that and you’re still – fucking – acting like this!”

A tree behind the house bursts into flame and you hear shouts and the scattering of squirrels.

But Dark doesn’t flinch.

Anti pants in front of them. After a second, his right hand, duplicated three times, reaches out and grabs Dark’s shirt – the shoulder, the back, and the lapel of their fine black suit.

Dark sets their hands on Anti’s waist.

Squeezes.

Hard.

Feels his solidity beneath their fingers.

Anti closes his eyes, a flicker of pain in his face, but, if only for a moment, you see some of the panic drain away from his white face. The double and triple flicker out of existence.

Anti breathes.

He looks up at Dark and he pulls in air, Blue’s heart racing. Ash in his mouth and hands on his waist.

“Asshole,” he chokes, striking Dark’s chest with a faltering fist. “You liar. You do remember me.”

Dark’s gaze breaks, eyes sliding closed. They squeeze his waist again. Loosen. Squeeze. Loosen. Breathe.

“I think… I do.”

“Why’d you pretend?” cries Anti. “Is it true what you said – my soul doesn’t look the same anymore? Can you see Blue’s power instead of mine?”

“I didn’t remember you,” mumbles Dark. “I still… it’s like if I had been a character in a play, and so were you, and then suddenly here you are, telling me to remember the lines we read. But the part of you I remember – you don’t look like yourself at all. You’re not the character. You’re someone else. Someone I know even less.”

Anti grips their wrist, shaking his head. “Don’t say that.”

“You can’t admit it to yourself,” Dark murmurs, withdrawing slightly. Around them, the heat and smoke is only rising. “That I don’t remember all of it. I can see the fear it puts in you.”

“What am I supposed to believe? Who could have done something like this? Not my Dapper. That’s a lie. Not him. The others have already – have already done what they’ve done. But not him and not Trick. Those are mine. You – you were mine, Dark, fuck you!”

He shoves Dark back and grabs their jacket, pulling them close.

“Tell me you remember me! And you were pretending! And you know me and now you’ll start acting like yourself again! Tell me that, now!”

But Dark is pulling away from him, shaking their head.

“Dark! Tell me that and mean it, goddammit!”

“You are a piece of something now far away from me,” says Dark. “But right now, all you are is a threat, and I will play games no longer.”

“Pangur Dubh!” screams Anti, voice breaking. “It’s me!”

“Wilford,” says Dark.

Anti hears the cock of a gun.

He throws Blue’s body back, falling back onto the porch again just in time for the bullet to miss him. Dark vanishes back into shadow and Anti turns his eyes to Wilford, who isn’t even reloading – just looking at him with a sort of strange pity in his eyes.

Anti –

Oh, fuck.

Shit, he –

He’s had enough.

He’s had enough. He’s had it. Humiliation washes over him so hot and loud it almost makes him dizzy, and Blue’s fragile little body aches against his trapped form even as it protects him from the side effects of stealing Marvin’s power, and he’s tired, and he’s scared, and he wants to go home.

But only for a moment.

Because, for a long, long, long time, he has learned one very dangerous skill:

Turn all of that into rage, and let it swallow you whole.

“Anti, you’re going to burn the whole fucking forest down! Dapper can’t reverse right now!”

“There are still people nearby! Dapper and Dok and others who haven’t hurt us!”

“Make him stop, please, please! Dark, do something, Wil, shoot him, make him stop!”

“Dark, you have to stop this. Where did you go?”

Trick and Red and Shep and Gigi’s voices are lost in the pounding of the blood in Anti’s head. Even Host is retreating now, stepping away from the porch and out onto the grass as the fire spreads, the amusement disappearing from his mouth. Anti chokes on his anger, eyes watering with the force of it, and blood gushes from his throat so fast he’s faint. At this point, he doesn’t think he could control the fire if he wanted to. He remembers Blue’s burst of power at the top of the mountain, sending plant life exploding through the rocks and sand.

Now I’m the one who’s out of control, he realizes faintly.

And a voice in his head answers, pleads, begs:

Anti. Give it back to me and I will make it stop.

Marvin, he answers. I wasn’t lying. I don’t know how.

All six of us and all of these people here are going to DIE, Anti.

Anti feels heat on his face. Ash on his white hands. Smoke in the air. Smoke like flame in the air. And he breathes. He breathes.

So be it.

[scribeofmorpheus]

Himmeløyne [21/?]

Pairing: Loki Odinson x Reader

Catch Up Here | Masterlist

Warnings: None

A/N: Nothin’ to report Cap’n

Taglist is open! Reblog, comment or leave a like please ☺

~Odin

The Allfather conjured old memory and returned himself to it; the last moment he ever conversed with his old counsel, Mímir.

“The boy must know of his lineage. He is the only one who can end this war. Bridge the sides. This rift was formed by lies, and lies will only pry it further.”

“Silence!” the younger Odin shouted, his stave burrowing into the floor from his surge of emotion. He was always quicker to temper before. Thor and Loki were still babies, Odin had yet to taste what truly came with fatherhood. Fatherhood would give him the burden of a different kind of love, of temperance, but in this moment, he was still ignorant to it.

"I know why you do this. You think by keeping this a secret, by refusing him his past, you will stop the inevitable, but not even you, old friend, can stop the Fate of the Gods.”

“I said silence!” Odin’s shout shattered the glass in the throne room. Mímir’s detached head simply blinked his outburst away. "You think yourself clever because you can see fate's web? Tell me, Mímir, can you see with only on eye?"

Odin loathed that condescending stare. It made him feel obsolete, limited. Without thought, rage bubbled to the surface, filling his vision with red. Then there was blood on his thumb, and  Mímir screamed. The fluid of an eye coating his thumb.

“You truly are your father’s son,” Mímir spat.

“Twilight will never be!”

“I know what you will do. I have seen it. This will be my final gift to you: the truth will crumble at the price of your father’s belt.”

Odin returned to his older form, now realising that the last words Mímir spoke had been misconstrued. He had sworn never to wear it, never to use his father’s belt even if he was to face a formidable foe. But Mímir had tricked him, manipulated him into locking it away. Locking it in the one place is was meant to be taken from, ironically.

A knock interrupted his thought.

“Who is it?”

“You sent for me, My Liege. It’s the Captain of the Guard.”

He sighed. As much as he yearned to see his son conscious again, to find where he’d hidden Frigga, he dreaded the outcome of such a success even more. No matter what, he had to get his father’s belt back, and stop Y/N at all costs. “Enter.”

  ~Heimdall

He watched Y/N get drawn into the light. The mirror screamed, but Y/N did not react to its piercing shriek.

Sif folded hunkered low from the pain, hands pressed to her ears. A mangled scream poured into the room, but her mouth never opened. The sounds, the shrieks, they were a thousand disembodied voices, all coming from inside the mirror. He felt unease, a desire to pull Y/N away from the harrowing sounds in the light. Then she was gone, and everything turned as silent as a graveyard, the mirror shattering into dust.

“We should have stopped her,” Sif wiped the blood from her ears onto her trousers. “That was Jotun magic. Forbidden magic!”

“I know,” he stood upright.

“Fascinating,” The Collector clapped his hands as if he’d seen the most impressive performance yet. “I’ve never seen anyone survive entering the Mirror of Fate.”

“You’ve never what?” Heimdall’s actions were quick, his large hand finding the uncollared space of The Collector’s neck.

The Collector laughed, a streak of lunacy to the twitch of his lips, bearing his teeth as though it’d been aeons since he had found something amusing. “I’ll be honest, it was never the belt that I was interested in.” He turned to look at Y/N’s eye in the crystal skull.

Heimdall lifted The Collector off his feet, “Explain yourself!”

“Have you ever seen an empire built on the bones of lies crumble?”

“I will not ask you again!” Heimdall struck The Collector into a wall.

Sif grabbed his arm to try and calm him, “You won’t get anything from him if he’s unconscious.”

“Someone’s coming,” Hogun whispered before disappearing behind a column.

A shadow grew larger by the entrance. Sif followed after Hogun to try and counter manoeuvre whoever was closing in. Heimdall didn’t care, he wanted answers, his grip on The Collector’s neck growing stronger.

“Why is it, as of late, we’re always getting tangled in one misadventure or another?” Fandral asked, arms on his hips, a devilish smirk pulling his hideous moustache closer to his nose.

“Fandral,” Sif let out a sigh of relief, closing in for a hug. “Am I glad to see you.”

“Don’t be too happy just yet,” he straightened out, his tone turning for the graver. “Odin said you stole something from his vault?”

“It’s a long story,” Sif said.

“As I’m sure. You’re lucky I managed to convince him to let Volstagg and I get the lead, but we don’t have time. His guard will not be far behind. We must leave, get you back to Asgard before you are apprehended as prisoners, so you can plead your case to the Allfather.”

Hogun side-eyed Heimdall, “It’s not that simple.”

 “Speak,” Heimdall demanded, ignoring the commotion around him.

“All I did was keep a promise to an old friend,” The Collector revealed.

“Who?”

“The one who placed that amulet in my care,” he wormed around Heimdall’s grip. “She told me someone would come for it, and when they did, I’d finally get to see the fruits of her labours.”

Suddenly, the skull began to glow. Runes appearing all over. Heimdall recognised some. Y/N’s eye acted as refraction material, displaying a doorway built into a mountain into the space of the emporium. The ground was the sky and the mountain had no base. The peak glistened with ice, a beautiful sunset presenting itself in the orientation of a sunrise.

“How do I get her back?” he slammed The Collector into the wall a second time.

“Gahhh! Never took you for a man able to relinquish control, anger suits you.”

“I won’t lose her,” he could feel his heart racing, thrumming in his ears. “Tell me!”

The Collector glanced at the skull, “To enter Verdenspeil, a spell is required. A two-part spell. The first half is the sacrifice of sight. The second was to recite the words of the Giants. The entry is one way. Every other person that’s ever sought out the mirror has never managed to recite the words. Until now.”

A torrent of light, heavy with every streak of colour, poured in the streets outside. Heimdall could feel the magic of the bridge, someone had opened the Bi-frost.

“That’s not good,” Fandral stated.

Sif and the others moved into position as several of the Allfather’s guard came wielding weapons with shields drawn.

“Heimdall!” Sif warned. “We’re running out of time.”

“Then buy me what little you can,” An agitated growl left Heimdall, “How do I get her back?”

“There—” Hogun shouted, “—pull that lever!”

A loud thud echoed into the room. A large, golden gate descended as a barricade. A red dot grew larger around the barricade, melting the metal.

“Did Odin send The Destroyer too?” Fandral’s jaw dropped. “What in all the Nine did you steal?”

“What madness have you gotten us into?” Volstagg demanded.  

Heimdall was close enough to The Collector’s face to see that there was no fear in his eyes, only the dilation from oxygen starvation.

“If she makes it passed the maze, the doorway will open, there,” The Collector pointed to the apparition coming from Y/N’s eye in the skull.

“I’ve seen this peak before,” Hogun closed in on the apparition. “Recently.”

“The runes,” Sif pointed out, “They’re the same as the ones that were drawn on Y/N. Wait… Heimdall, that’s Gjallarhorn!”

“Gjallarhorn?” Fandral backed away, terror in his eyes. “Then… that means… this is connected to the Twilight of the Gods.”

Heimdall set The Collector down, the eccentric man laughed between coughs. He ignored him and walked closer to the doorway that Sif, Hogun and Fandral stared at. One rune, in particular, made Heimdall’s veins turn to ice.

“Jotunheim,” he said. “That doorway is in Jotunheim.”

“But there's no snow, the sky isn't darkened. It doesn't resemble Jotunheim in the least."

"Jotunheim wasn't always the desolate place you know today. The Great War took more than just lives."

"How can you be sure?” Sif asked.

“Because, only one other has ever possessed Gjallarhorn, and Odin tasked me with his imprisonment. That is where I hid Mímir’s head.”

Sif pieced everything together, “Mímir? Of course! This all makes sense now. Then the Mirror of Fate—”

“Is his invention, yes.”

The Destroyer had made it through the door, its face covered the hole and a second burst burned a scorch mark across the floor. The Collector rushed to a display case and pushed it aside, there was a hidden lever there. He pulled it revealing a false wall.

“In here, there’s a dais in the level below. Take the skull, it is the key to opening the portal.” The Collector ushered them closer.

Heimdall frowned, “Why should we trust you?”

“I don’t think you have much of a choice. Whatever that girl is connected to, it has cause to make Odin worry. And, it seems, it was designed to happen exactly as it has. I have fulfilled my promise, now I get to watch chaos unfold. For someone as old as I am, there are few things as joyous as seeing order fall to chaos.”

Sif grabbed the skull and the apparition dissolved into the air like steam.  

Heimdall waited for Sif and the others to head for the lower level first, then he turned to The Collector to ask one final question: “This old friend of yours, was it Mímir’s sister?”

The Collector smiled, warm and affectionately, an odd emotion to see on his face. “It was.”

  ~Y/N

Birth. A child’s first steps on steps of stone. Runes drawn into the snow. Blood on ice. A village on fire. Pieces of a home, blackened by soot and ash. Wings in the light. An arrow whistling through the air. Clear. Sweet. The rush was more than images layered over one another, morphing into one another, it was sensation too. The feel of the cold on the stone steps. The muscle memory from tracing the rune. The drip, drip, drip of blood streaming down a frost sword and splattering on ice. Heat from flames. Smell of ash on the throat. These moments were yours, animated and swishing around in this viridian green atmosphere. You had made it into the Mirror World.

You spun around, searching for a path or a marker of some sort. There was nothing but thick, green fog all around you.

“Hello?” you asked the expanse. It didn’t echo. No one replied. “Oracle?” you called out for the whisper that you conversed with in the emporium.

You shouted out again and again until you heard a reply.

Child of the Sky, welcome to Verdenspeil. 

You spread your fingers over the fog, the memories were torn like seams, visions dissipating and then reappearing. “What is all this?”

The Nexus of Fate. Your fate. Once you step out, you will be subjected to all fates intertwined with yours. 

“How do I know what to look for?”

Desire. Search your mind for desire. It will light the path to the answer you seek. 

 “And my desire will lead me to the answer I seek?”

Yes… and No. Nothing in this realm is as it appears. This world is not meant for the living. It will try to coerce you. Lead you away from the root of its power. 

“Root of its power?” you were distracted by a glimmer, then the memory of you and Loki’s first meeting by the balconies came to life. Then you thought of the kiss on that very same balcony, and suddenly the world reshaped itself to project that memory. You realised then that the world wasn’t just showing you fate, it was feeding off your memories too. A give and take. “This world isn’t real is it?”

Real is a matter of perception. But yes, this world is ancient, a thread within the fabrics of all the universes, tapped deep into Yggdrasil. 

“What is its purpose?”

Cause of effect. This world is a maze. I am the effect, but I cannot see beyond my bindings, see to its cause. I do not know what lies in the centre. All I can do is mark a path. Follow it to the source. Free me, and I will make this world show you what you seek.

You focused on what you desired. Flashes of Loki came to life I the fog, but so did images of your mother.

“We will see each other again,” your mother’s voice spoke through the fog.

The rune on your palm burst with red light. Glowing, iridescent like eels, it lit the path ahead of you. The second rune on your forehead rippled, almost as if it were an appendage. Trembling fingers reached for it and were greeted by the aqueous of an eye—a third eye. You gasped, shocked at how real the runic eye felt. You closed your one human eye and tried to see through the third.

Runic vision was strange, the Mirror World was all reflections and memory, and the expansion and contraction of matter. The rune on your palm acted as a torch in darkness, revealing the world that was previously magically concealed. Branches, stretching endlessly, all intertwined and meandering, were revealed. Each branch glowed with a different colour, some colours you’d never seen before. To your immediate left, a branch absorbed the colour of your hand’s rune. 

“Follow the path,” you reiterated.

With your human eye closed, you walked as if a blind woman, letting the magic guide you, letting it see for you. The walk was long. It felt like the seconds had rushed to hours and hours faded to days, but your muscles didn’t give in, they didn’t even feel like they were moving. Air raised your chest, but your lungs seemed as heavy as rocks.  

Yes, you are close. I can hear it. The beginning of my name. I can hear it! A little further!

Over the edge of the path, to the right, there was a branch that looked to be severed. The only singular branch untouched or intertwined with others. A coldness prickled at your skin.

“What is that place?” you shuddered. 

There was a brief pause, a small voice in your head told you to turn towards the edge and look over it.

I… I do not remember. 

“It’s calling to me…”

Child of the Sky! Do not stray from the path!

But it was too late. That same pull you felt to the light was drawing you towards that severed branch that led to a drop.

“I have to…” you took your first step away from the red of the path. The colour of the world began to leech away, all turning to that viridian green. The fog of the world covered the tree slowly, returning everything as it had been.

“Be careful!” a stranger’s voice shouted, her dialect foreign to you, yet you understood it.

“By the Gods!” you gasped in shock. Except, it wasn’t you. You hadn’t opened your mouth to speak. It was your voice, in the same dialect as the stranger’s, coming from the edge.

“Look at the size of him!” the stranger continued.

Then there was an animalistic cry, creature-like and deep. And the whoosh of rushing water. And a rumble in the earth.

“Stop! Don’t hurt him!”

“Hurt him? He displaced half the ocean!”

“Trust me!”

“I hope you know what you’re doing!”

“So do I…”

Your foot reached the end of the path, a whirlpool sucking up the air where you stood. The voices stopped too.

“That was my voice. What was that?” the real you asked the Oracle.

I suspect, something yet to be, or something never to be. 

A trance came over you. A need to step over the edge. Deep in your bones, you knew that stepping off the path needed to happen, that it was fate leading you to the whirlpool at the bottom of this universe.

“Y/N?” Loki called your name from below, but he did so in a manner a stranger would. "Never heard of you..."

“What happens if I stray from the path?” you peered into the spiralling clouds sparked with thunder and lightning. Watched the whirlpool tear those clouds apart like dandelions in the wind.

I… I do not know. The maze is endless. Getting lost could be a life sentence.

“Then it’s a good thing I’m mortal,” you took a controlled breath and dove off the edge. 

Half mortal.

The whirlpool opened, the crack at its centre allowed darkness to slither through. A tendril touched your skin. Then another. The darkness spread like the drench of rain. Soon, you and the darkness were one.

[signofwolf]

Kingdom of Ash by Sarah J. Maas – book review

Series: Throne of Glass #7 Genre: YA, Fantasy Theme: Fae, magic users, war Warnings: mentions of torture, imprisonment Star rating: 0,5/10

Why did I pick this up?: I wanted to end this horrible series once and for all.

[Heavy spoilers ahead]

To make myself clear, before this book I quite liked this series. It wouldn’t place in my top 100 books, not even close, but it was a pleasant pageturner to listen to in audiobooks when working.

Language

Let’s start slow. I lack the words to express how much I hate the words ‘male’, ‘female’ and ‘mate’ after this series. Not even gonna try to express my trauma. But these 3 gems aside, Sarah J. Maas needs a dictionary. Or compress her work to a manageable size. Everything sang, Everyone melted, Every man roared, Every woman trembled, Everyone was unleashing themselves at least once a chapter (number of chapters: 122) ). And now I know definitely too much about Yrene’s ‘womb’. I know so much…

Dynamism

I thought that was a book about a war with heavy action content. Oh boy, I was wrong. This 984-pages monstrosity has maybe 5 pages of action. If you squint.

Every sequence, where by design action should take place was followed by one of two scripts:

Few sentences of action and then a few pages long internal monologue. Often repeated with the same character after the next few sentences of action, or with the next character and then the next (sometimes the first character made a second appearance and then everything would go all over again). And the word ‘character’ used in these sentences is not because I’m rambling. This book is written that way!

Few sentences of action and then action stops, and we are graced by a few pages long conversation. In the middle of a battle. Or spying. Or in Erawan’s chambers, when his castle is going down, and he is running up the stairs...

Time

Leaving alone the fact that apparently all series took less than a year (till this book I estimated the plot for about 3 years, Wiki told me it was 2, but Maas knows best), because that is a can of worms in itself. Time in this one? I honestly have no idea. There were many ‘few weeks of travel’ parts with two main groups of POVs. Personally my only time indicator was ‘Orynth won’t fall till Aelin gets here’. But nothing just fit. And I saw Lost Song when in the last episode we as the audience realized that our two POVs parallel storylines are in reality millennia apart. Lost Song made sense.

Emotional loading

… there wasn’t any. Really, it was like reading a milk label. Every time the scene was potentially emotionally impactful, Maas went ahead to overexplaining EVERY. GOD. DAMMED. THING. And it was abso-fucking-lutely everything. ‘Emotional dilemma? Let’s current POV explain it! 2 pages should be enough… Damn maybe it wasn’t enough. I know! I’ll switch POVs and explain it through the other character!’ <= My impression of Maas’ thought process. I’m fairly sure that the record was 7 POVs explaining the same thing in the row, but I was blacking out a little, so I cannot be sure.

And if that wasn’t enough, this book had a second way to defuse tension: random-plastic-repetitive-badly_written-smut. Really badly written and really repetitive. How could you not feel the spicy bits, when Manon (cruel, self assured 100+years old witch-queen) reacts the same in bed as Elide (20years old, virgin, ex-slave). And the rest of them were the same, there weren’t ANY distinctions.Just copy-paste.

The next point in current case: Someone died, it was impactful, I really liked the character, so I got sad. But then 2 of our characters came out of the room with a body, and after a paragraph of grieving they started making out, and then I was regaled with 2-pages-long description of melting cores. That was the place then this book stopped being badly written, and started being distasteful.

Characters

Remember when I was writing about switching POVs (which is 15(!!!) In the whole book. Oh and an omniscient narrator in places when our current POV was grieving too much to overthink something, but Maas still wanted to inform us about something)? They were all savagely murdered in the worst way: character mutilation. Somewhere between books our maybe-not-that-original but colorful and interesting characters became carbon copies of each other. I have no idea how many times I didn’t realise there was a POV switch. The only indicator was a change of pronoun, or when Maas was telling us the name of a current narrator. These were the only ways. And if you can't distinguish if you are in Dorian’s head or in Manon’s, that is the sign of a really BAD writing.

Romance

…there wasn't any. In all this book there wasn't any naturally progressing romantic scene. There were Maas’ endgame pairings which were sexing or pinning. As the author Maas loves to write about soulmates. And it’s not a bad thing itself. When I want some fluffy story I often tag ‘soulmates’ in AO3 and voila, +10 to good mood. But God above, it is not cute when every pair you write about are ‘true mates’ just BECAUSE. It is the only way Maas sees a relationship, as a fated pairing, written in the wake of the universe by the God himself. There is no choice, nor the work to put in it. They are the author's OTP and that means that they are perfect and they should have children right now. Point in case:

Guy was treating a girl like a shit on his sole, including throwing her naked out of tent, on a snow, with their friends present, all the while abusing her verbally in a worst way. But it’s okay, because when she almost died he realised his mistakes and apologised. Two scenes later, he was forgiven, because... fated mates?

The pathos

I know that many people don't like this type of scenes, but it's not my case. I’m reading by picturing images and not repeating words. I like sequences that I can imagine to be grand and glorious, even if they are a little corny. That said, the pathos scenes were the most disappointing ones for me. Maas likes to write parts that are more picturesquely exalted than logically possible [point in case: meeting of 5 armies/forces in the random patch of sand in Empire of Storms, and it being painted as ‘an Aelin’s great plan’. I laughed myself silly at that. But not taking logic and all the plot holes into consideration that was a nicely looking scene. In Kingdom of Ash that wasn’t the case. I would say that the author wanted to paint us a renaissance painting every 20 pages or so. In my opinion, every time she failed miserably. Each and every of those scenes was or to farfetched to be even remotely realistic, and evidently written only for a sake of the picture, or just plainly stupid.

Example, and it’s so priceless a scene, that I just need to share it: Battle of Orynth, 25th day or so (time in this book doesn’t exist), the 13. sacrificed themselves (like thousands before them but hush). And then, time stops: grieving Manon is going through the city, they open the gates for her (yes, the siege is still on), she goes to the place where they died, after her come out all of our main heroes, and half the city itself with ‘flowers, rocks and precious possessions’ and they lay it there in a tribute to these brave (evil till 2 months ago) witches. I honestly can’t remember when was the last time I saw such an abstract scene. It’s a material for an essay in itself. No, I could not take it seriously.

Additionally, it's hard to make an impact as every damn sentence is grand and lofty. In the end it became truly pathetic, Aelin vs Maeve was unreadable.

Character deaths:

Let's make a quick count: main characters in a series at the start of KoA: 12 secondary characters in a series at the start of KoA: 20ish minor and total background: a lot more

Death count: main: 0 secondary: 3 minor: 2 (11 if we try very hard)

Resurrections: 1 (possibly 3, but not gonna analyze it)

Did you feel emotions of this impossible war against this all-encompassing, all-powerful, invincible, immortal, cunning Evil with armies from 3 continents and 2 worlds? No? Me neither.

Oh well, but there were a lot of deaths of ordinary soldiers. I’m quite certain that all of Terrasen’s army was at least twice brought back to life for them to die in these numbers.

Logic or lack thereof

Oh, and let’s not forget about the Deus ex machina army of unbeatable, magical elves on wolves, from legends, living for the past thousands of years in the unreachable lands of the north, because they managed to run from the surprise attack 10 years earlier. Did I mention that they came from portals, which the whole book was telling us were impossible to make in this scenario? After the previous saviour army was already fighting there for a day? And that Aelin didn’t know they would come for sure (how did she contact them again?)? Even though they were waiting in the full armours for these portals? Ah, and also: that army didn’t do anything. They just came and fought for maybe 4 minutes. And there were just so many things like that!

And if we’re on the topic of armies I present you: ‘My favourite absurd-list in the series: allied armies’.

(As a comparison, in A Song of Ice and Fire by J.R.R Martin, in 7 kingdoms of Westeros, at the peak of war there were 7 forces present, but not all were even engaged in a war.)

First the ones that made sense:

Armies of Terrasen’s Lords (counted as one, not gonna nitpick)

The Khaganate army (also counted as one)

Galan Ashryver’s armada

Whitethorn fraction

Rebel Ironteeth witches

…should Dorian be counted as an ‘army’?

And there were some that did not:

Ansel of Briarcliff’s army

The Silent Assassins

Mycenians

Wild Men of the Fangs

Army of magical elves on wolves

And the ‘I don’t even know’ category:

Crochan witches

Overpowering and overreaching

Section title tells it all. The stakes were too high. I was honestly waiting for Aelin to become Super Saiyan and start to throw planets at Maeve and Erawan. I won’t spoil if this happened.

In my opinion it could be a really great series, if our list of villains ended with Arobynn and King of Adarlan, and the list of Aelin titles with an assassin and a princess. We could have had two main fight plots: one emotional with Arobynn, when Aelin would have to face a damage he had done to her, and overcome it. And the second one, with freeing Terrasen from Adarlan’s rule. That’s it. There was an asshole, power hungry king, who feared magic and wanted to rule the East part of a continent. A lot of plot, but not so much that we stopped to care, or didn’t have time to cover everything. We could really get to know what Terrasen and his people were like and not JUST GET TOLD that it was ‘the greatest place in the world’ every damn 20 pages.

Plus…should Dorian be counted as an ‘army’? It's a REALLY valid question.

Climaxes

IIf I have to write a list of things that disappointed me in this book, this review would be thrice its current size, but one of the worst grievances I have is the complete lack of acknowledging the plotlines that had been started. This book series has overall 4 372 pages (not counting novellas) and 12 main characters (still not gonna address this). All of them had their storylines and arcs but if they weren't tied up in the previous instalments they wouldn’t be in this one. I get it, Maeve and Erawan got beaten (in an extremely unsatisfactory way) but they were only a background in this series' plots.

Aelin Well, Aelin was one of 3 people (+2 paragraf-long insertion from Nesryn and Chaol) who got their own POV’s after the battle (second was technically Rowan, who was ‘Aelin’s POV outside of Aelin’.The third Dorian, who got almost a full two pages). And from this we got that: she got crowned, Aedion got his bond and that Maas have no idea how the city looks after weeks of siege. In her case what angered me the most was ‘Terrasen is my home’ subplot. Only in this tome we read at least 3 times that Aelin will be okay with dying, if only she gets to see Terrasen one last time, or if she get to die on Terrassen soil. But you know what? Maas forgot to write the scene where Aelin actually ‘comes in’.

Mannon Didn't get her own POV after the battle, but here’s what we’ve got: She is going to the Wastes with Croachans and Ironteeth. Whait. What? Yes, that was the ending of this 500+ years of feud. They fought together and they decided to unite their two species, completely forgetting more than half a millenia of slaughter. I can only hope that there were at least some talks behind the scenes… NO! F*** NO! This isn’t how it works!

Rowan, Dorian, Chaol, Yrene, Lysandra, Aedion, Lorcan, Elide, Nesryn, Sartaq Lived happily ever after

Secondary minor and total background characters Survived (I acknowledge that they would be ignored in most books’ epilogues, but this abomination is almost 1000 pages of nothing!!).

Good Scenes

That saying, this book actually had 4 good scenes:

Crochan witches go to war - gathering-forces-to-fight trope, which is my *love-always trope* so I’m not even sure if it was relatively good, or if I’m just a slut for this trope. It was still only a paragraph long though.

[recurring] The children’s tale Aelin repeated to herself to remember who she is.

‘Lorcan Lochan’ - the only marginally funny scene in the whole book

I actually found Darrel making Evangeline his heir charming. Even if circumstances were far-fetched at least.

But the words crime of this book? It was agonisingly, mind-numbingly boring. If the overexplaining and repetitions were to be taken out I highly doubt that there would be 300 pages left.

For these 33 hours of audiobook I suffered through I give it half a star. Because Abraxos exist.

Please see my garishly accurate cover on my instagram! You can also like it there :D

instagram | goodreads

[gwiiyeoweo]

What Regis believes to be Noctis speaking for his imaginary friend, turns out to not be so imaginary after all.

Pairing: Noctis & Ardyn, Noctis & Regis, Regis & Ardyn Rating: G

"Daddy, can my friend sleep over?" 

Noctis peeks out from under the cover, eyes threatening to resort to his infamous puppy dog look. The boy already has his fingers toying with the top edge of his blanket, like they're little paws instead of hands, and his lower lip is ready for that little soft quiver. Even under the dim glow of his carbuncle-shaped night light, Regis can easily see the wet glassy look of his baby boy’s blue eyes. 

Cor really needs to stop teaching his son these tricks. Horrible influence. 

"Hm," Regis starts, rubbing a hand at his beard. "They can stay as long as they want, so long as they pay the rent. A prince's room does not come cheap, after all."

Immediately Noctis turns that woeful look into a bright pearly smile, his shining eyes no longer threatening tears but radiating genuine joy. He also scoots to the far end of his bed to turn half his body upside down, torso hanging over the edge as he peers into the darkness beneath. 

"Dad says you can stay!" Noctis excitedly whispers to the dust and crumbs under his bed. Or maybe to a stuffed toy. He hefts himself back up and returns to position, wiggling into a comfortable spot smack dab in the middle of bed. 

Regis should make it illegal for any child to be that adorable; it makes him want to clutch his heart and keel over, and Insomnia really can’t afford to have their king die from such unfortunate circumstances at the moment. 

But then Noctis hits him with some fancy wording. "He said he accepts your conditions and will provide proper compensation."

Regis lifts his brows a little at that. Has Noctis secretly been hanging outside his office, or did his governess decide on an accelerated vocabulary curriculum? Regis isn't sure if he should be impressed or concerned. 

Well, kids do tend to say the darndest things anyway. But Noctis doesn’t give him anymore surprises after that, just the usual demand for a goodnight kiss before getting tucked into bed. And Regis can’t quite say no to any of that.

“Hey, dad.”

“Yes?”

“My friend wants to know when he has to pay the rent. For staying in my room.”

Regis was putting away the last of Noctis’ toys into a chest when he looks up to see his boy clearing off the scraps of colored paper and crayons from the floor. With how brazen Niflheim’s become, the war just requires all the more attention and effort from the king; before long, he fears it may soon end up being days before he can even have a little short lunch with his own son. So now, whatever scant time he has, he pours it all upon Noctis, even if that means playing make-believe and acting along to a child’s nonsensical imagination and getting crayon shavings in his beard. 

It’s still adorable though. Especially how Noctis remembers the little “deal” they made with his imaginary friend. 

“Ah, let’s see…” Regis lifts his head up and stares at the ceiling, tapping a finger to his chin as he feigns deep thought trying to remember the week’s schedule. “I do believe I have a nine o’clock opening in my office. Would your friend like to drop off payment then?”

He’s only half serious, curious to see what form of payment Noctis will conjure up, if any. Another drawing to add to Regis’ precious collection, a snack or cookie baked up with the help of their many capable chefs, or maybe a shiny beetle found in their gardens. Hopefully nothing poisonous. Though Regis would accept it with all the same gratitude. 

“Umm, okay, I’ll tell him later,” Noctis answers back, eyes still drawn to his clean-up duty. 

Ah, probably “later” when Regis tucks him into bed. He wonders, briefly, what shape or form this friend comes in — probably Carbuncle-shaped, given his son’s affection for it.

“Noctis!”

“Hi, daddy!” Noctis swivels around, immediately dropping the soccer ball he’s been kicking against a tree and running up to his father. “Did you get the rent?”

Regis has his hands turning Noctis this way and that, searching for any and all signs of damage or wear or blood. His boy just giggles, thinking it’s a game of sorts with the way his father has him spinning around, but Regis is silently screaming inside with panic. 

“Ardyn said he left it on your desk.” Noctis says it with such a chip in his voice, that it’s almost comical.

When Regis had walked into his office this morning with his faithful cup of Joe — in a lumpy ceramic mug crafted by his dear son — it was with the innocent assumption of completing some paperwork and chatting with Clarus over a few pedantic details regarding a couple new bills. 

And not, say, approaching his desk to find a polished platter and cloche waiting for him. Regis had smiled into his mug at that, figuring it was the promised “rent” Noctis — rather, his imaginary friend, of course — mentioned. A little cake, or perhaps breakfast, he had thought.

Not the decapitated head of Iedolas Aldercapt, emperor of Niflheim who’s hellbent on conquering all of Lucis. 

Ex-emperor, now, actually. 

(The head had been surprisingly lacking the mess of blood, he’d later realize.)

But right now, he needs to make sure his son was safe. Granted, there had been no screams of panic or trails of blood, no emergency calls or messengers to rush secrets to him. Even Clarus or Cor, often the first and foremost to report anything awry to him, had been off doing whatever their regular Shield and Marshall duties entailed. Clarus would, of course, naturally gravitate toward Regis’s side once he discovered where his King actually went. And Cor would hunt him down to update him on the list of new Crownsguard recruits and who had actually passed the trials. 

As far as they both know, Regis is supposed to be finishing his cup of coffee in his office but! Strangely clean-cut head of Lucis’ enemy on his desk!

‘On my desk,’ Regis remembers, as he’s done patting down Noctis and the boy looks sick of his prodding now. It clicks, but he’s almost determined not to believe it. He gently places his hands on Noctis' shoulders, trying his best to not appear too grave as he looks into innocent eyes. ‘Where his friend’s rent is supposed to be.’

Well, shit.

“Noctis,” Regis barely manages without choking, “you said your… friend? Left his, ah, rent? On my desk. Do you know what it is?”

Noctis only shakes his head. “No, Ardyn just said it should help with all the fighting outside. He wouldn’t tell me.”

At least that’s something to feel relieved about. Despite knowing his son would have to one day take up the crown and all the world’s burdens surrounding it, he would like to shield his son from it all until he could no longer; a child at Noctis’ age had no business handling, let alone knowing about, a corpse’s head.

Regis sighs and lets his hands go slack, finally releasing Noctis to pinch at the bridge of his nose. There's a hundred and one questions swirling in his head, and each one just adds to the aching pressure in his skull. 

"Ardyn!" 

Regis whips his head up and around, eyes trailing after Noctis sprinting to some particularly shady trees where a tall man emerges. His boy wraps his arms around the stranger's waist, essentially latching onto him like a (freakin' adorable) leech, and the man humors him with a few gentle pats to the head. 

Regis almost mistakes him for a homeless man, mistaking his ornate clothing for rags. His attire is… Unique, to put it in kind terms. Still, odd fashion or not, Regis keeps his guard up, ready to strike at any moment should he feel any threat, magic thrumming just underneath his skin in anticipation. 

"Why, hullo there, Your Majesty." The fellow — Ardyn, according to Noctis — takes his hat off with a flourish and a deep bow at the waist, but the smirk he wears lacks the sincerity and reverence he pretends to hold. "Will my payment be sufficient for the month's rent?" 

Regis has so many questions he doesn't even know where to start. 

So naturally, the first thing that comes out of his mouth isn’t a question at all, though his tone could almost mistake it as one. “You’re not imaginary.”

Ardyn, with his ever-widening (and shit-eating) smile, knows. “I am very much real, Your Majesty.”

Noctis was sent off with hardly a fight, thanks to Ardyn’s bribery. 

“Alright, you little rascal, scamper off to your room now. I’ve left a shiny little present on your bed,” he had said. Noctis didn’t need to be told twice, dashing off and nearly running into a manservant. 

It earned Regis and Ardyn an hour to sit in the office, the silver platter hiding a lifeless head all that separated the two. And it’s a riveting hour: ninety percent of it being Ardyn fluttering his hands and speaking in a fanciful tongue about who he is, what he’s done, and what he will do; ten percent of it being Regis doubting all that he’s believed so far, including what his father and his father’s father has told him and what outlandish claims the Ardyn fellow spieled. 

Ardyn, as in Ardyn Lucis Caelum, by the way. Which only served to throw Regis into another absurd loop.

This great ancestor — the Scourge, Adagium, the Fellstar, whatever — reaches over the desk and helps himself to Regis’ cold mug of coffee, twisting his face into a grimace after a sip. “For a King, one would think he’d care for better beans.”

“One would think the King would not be sharing coffee with someone as you.”

“Ah, touché.” 

“You can’t truly entertain the idea that my trust is to be had so easily.”

“I don’t.” Ardyn shrugs his shoulders, the mug nearly sploshing cold coffee with how carelessly he holds it. “There’s really nothing, aside from myself, stopping you from trying to imprison me back in Angelgard. Or wondering if this is all some scheme of me attempting to worm my way into your good graces, to earn your faith only to trod upon it at the end, delivering darkness everlasting upon this good Star. And I really would prefer you to kindly not try to stick me back into that dusty old crypt.”

Regis only eyes him with suspicion, lips straightened into an unamused line. But despite Ardyn’s terrible personality and ill-timed humor, his gut tells him that Ardyn speaks at least some truth, that this dangerous embodiment of darkness and plague may very well prove to be an invaluable ally. Regis is loathe to admit it, but… he’s already trying to come up with some cover-up story to throw to the council on who Ardyn is and why some strangely-dressed fellow is suddenly leisurely strolling around the Citadel, inevitably with Noctis glued to his heels.

Ugh, that’s a strange image: Noctis clinging to his destined enemy like a curious puppy.  

But Ardyn continues his babbling, setting down Regis’ prized mug back on the desk so he has both hands free to do his dramatic gestures, flitting them in the air and making exaggerated motions. “You see, I’m a stubborn man of sorts. Very stubborn. When a god decrees I abide by his will, to make myself the world’s villain only to let myself die in the end, well — I must say, that sort of thing simply does not sound like a jolly good time. This is me, as the young ones like to say, sticking it to the man.”

Regis glances at the platter, the closed cloche hiding the ashen face of Aldercapt, when he shoots back a dry retort. "Or sticking it to the man's neck." 

"O-ho! So you do have a little humor. Glad to see some of Somnus' drab qualities were bred out." Ardyn claps his hands in joy before reaching his hand out, over the desk and above the platter. "I think we'll get along splendidly, dear nephew. "

Hm. Yeah. Ardyn is definitely not gonna call him nephew around these parts, or the best case scenario is a scandal regarding an ancestor’s infidelity. 

Regis eyes him warily, as if the hand could strike him as does a viper. "Upon your word, you will do no harm to my son or my kingdom. And you would wait upon Noctis' final days, when his hair grows white and his eyes weary, to take your last breath upon this world."

"Oh, must I have everything in writing for you? Shall I sign my name in blood while I'm at it? I'm sure there's some old magicks we can find to swear this oath on, if you're feeling so insistent." Ardyn gives a heavy eye roll. "Yes, Your Majesty, I do so swear. Besides, while I look forward to my day of rest, there is just much to do! Being locked up in a prison for so many centuries then becoming trapped in a perpetual winter steals so much of one's life pleasures. I really would like to visit that famous chocobo ranch Lucis speaks so fondly of. I once had a bird myself, a rare black beauty; and Niflheim, unfortunately, has no such feathery creatures."

Regis extends his hand, albeit just a tad begrudgingly, to shake on their agreement, but he hears a familiar pitter patter outside his door that only grows louder and heavier. 

Noctis bursts through the door, glimmering with a faint blue and smelling of magic; he must have warped his way to Regis' office, running in between each shot to save on stamina. 

The father in him wants to feel pride at how quickly his son has picked up their family tricks, but the other father in him zeroes in on the very large, very sharp thing in Noctis' hands. It's nearly as tall as the boy himself. 

It takes Regis a second too long to realize Noctis holds no ordinary sword. 

It's the Sword of the Mystic. The fucking Mystic. 

"Dad! Dad, look at the sword Ardyn got me!" Noctis nearly topples over trying to lug the thing around, barely avoiding chopping his little leg off. 

Sword who? Ardyn what? 

"How many does that make now?" Ardyn asks, looking as if everything is right as rain. He smiles — something like amusement, something like fondness — when Noctis screws his face up in concentration and a dim shimmer spreads from his hands to the entirety of the sword. 

And poof, the blade disappears in sparks of white and blue. 

"Uhhh. I have a bow, a shield, and a stick." Noctis counts them off on his hand, pulling one finger up for each weapon he lists.

"Scepter, little Noctis."

"Okay."

“Stop right there.” Regis butts in, standing from his seat and circling around the desk to Ardyn. It’s not much, but at least some of his anxiety disappeared when the sword did, the threat of his son slicing off a finger or a hand no longer an immediate threat. But he pauses to look at Noctis, breathing out a weary sigh, and shakes his head. “No, Noctis, not you. Not literally. You may move.”

Noctis unfreezes, who stood ramrod still with his arms in the air when Regis gave the order to ‘stop,’ and lets his hands fall back to his side. He looks ready to vibrate with excitement, no doubt ready to chuck out his newly-acquired sword and start swinging it around. And probably chase Gladiolus down with it, if his past week’s grumblings of “Gladio’s always picking on me!” and “One day I’m gonna beat him up!” are anything to go by. 

‘Oh Six, ’ Regis thinks, ‘how do I begin to explain this. ’

But before he thinks of a cover-up story, Regis has some very choice words to share with Ardyn, none of which are meant for little young ears. So he picks his old, forgotten mug of coffee and hands it off to Noctis, tasking him with a simple enough errand while he picks some bones with Ardyn. “Noctis dear, could you get your father a new warm cup of coffee?”

“Oh! Do bring me one too, little scamp,” Ardyn butts in, despite having complaints of the coffee earlier. 

Noctis totters off, kindly closing the door behind him before gunning it to the kitchens, and Regis hears the tell-tale stomping and the crackling chimes of their family magic.  

Regis hopes the chefs would do him the favor of distracting his son with some freshly baked cookies, because he’s going to crack open the book of scathing tongues and dip Ardyn in boiling words by the time that coffee is brewed.

It occurs to him after he tucks his son into bed, after Noctis asks if Ardyn can stay in his room again. 

“Please tell me that you have, in fact, not been living under my son’s bed this entire time.” Regis asks, though he almost doesn’t want to hear the answer to that. 

“Oh heavens no!” Ardyn looks aghast, splaying his hand across his chest like he’s been affronted. 

Regis wants to believe him, as the idea of a middle-aged man hiding underneath his boy’s bed makes for an uncomfortable image indeed. 

So of course, Ardyn has to ruin it when he opens his mouth again. “Not the entire time. Though your servants could put a little more care into tidying up his room; it is a bit dusty under there.”

[gascon-en-exil]

Joining the Game Late: S3E5 “Kissed by Fire”

Synopsis

The Hound fights the leader of the Brotherhood who’s got a +fire damage enchant on his sword and a bard with a resurrection spell on hand. Tormund and Jon do some heated staring, so Ygritte makes sure she’s still relevant by deflowering Jon. Roose Bolton screws with Jaime, but at least he and Brienne get a bath out of it. Olenna reminds Tyrion of the Tyrells’ generosity. Gendry and Arya have a thing, and then she talks about video game resurrection rules. The Karstarks take their vengeance, then Robb takes his. The Lord of Light takes all the fun out of adultery, but Stannis’s family hasn’t got much fun to begin with. Jaime monologues a flashback to his most infamous moment, followed by some significant cuts screaming “Targaryens are mad conquerors!” at the audience. Grey Worm of the Unsullied proves my point, while Jorah and Barristan swap war stories and political opinions. Robb has a plan, and it is going to go very badly. Surprise gay sex, courtesy of Littlefinger (still no dick though). Tywin is putting both his present children on the marriage market.

Commentary

The most profound moment of this episode to me - and no it’s not the gay sex or the gay UST, but put a pin in those for later - comes not so much from any single scene as a succession of three superficially unrelated scenes in the middle. First Jaime takes a bath with Brienne and shares with her his perspective on the event that saddled him with the title of Kingslayer, then Stannis’s daughter visits Davos in prison and brings him a book, and lastly Daenerys is on the move as Jorah and Barristan have a dialogue about the qualities of the leaders they’ve served. While each of these scenes accomplish their characterization and relationship development aims in isolation, the common thread joining them together is the legacy of Targaryen conquest and madness. We learn from Jaime that Aerys was willing to burn everyone in King’s Landing alive, then there’s a cut to Shireen’s gift of a book on Aegon’s conquest to a man imprisoned in the old Targaryen stronghold of Dragonstone, and finally we cut to the heir of that legacy with her army marching towards a new conquest. Had I not known beforehand how this is all going to end with Daenerys I probably wouldn’t have picked up on that subtle through line, but it’s there and underscoring again that she’s not entirely the heroic liberator she appears to be on the surface. That reading exists somewhat on the surface level too - the Unsullied are indeed not going to adjust easily to life as free men, and Jorah’s absolute vote of confidence in Dany when Barristan asks him is colored by the audience’s knowledge that he wants to sleep with her - but the connection punches hard. That it also incorporates a fantastic monologue by Jaime that replaces what probably would have been a less effective and more expensive flashback scene as well as a sweet moment for Davos that caps off the other unsettling scenes of Stannis’s family are makes it all the more excellent. 

I’m still waiting to see where Arya’s story goes, because for now the most I’ve got is that the Lord of Light (who is worshiped by people in Westeros other than Melisandre’s followers, apparently?) gives you DnD cleric powers. I know where Robb is going, symbolic callbacks to his father and retributive cycles of violence and all, but at the moment it feels a bit stuck in the middle. Putting those aside, let’s get back to that gay sex. The Jon/Tormund moment is emotionally charged but leads instead to the sex scene that we’ve been waiting on ever since Ygritte first appeared, and I’ve not much to say about that except snark that for as sexually adventurous as she claims the wildlings are they’ve seemingly never heard of cunnilingus. The serious M/M moment this episode occurs between Loras and Olyvar, a squire revealed immediately afterward to be one of Littlefinger’s spies and presumably a prostitute. I’ve read that this character is original to the show and that in the books Loras remains faithful to Renly’s memory, and I’m of two minds about that. It’s obviously a hard *snickers* pill to swallow for Loras/Renly shippers, but conversely it’s entirely in the nature of the Tyrells and, speaking from personal experience, the French they loosely represent to pursue other lovers after one has died or been otherwise lost. Besides, I can think of another instance in contemporary fantasy fiction of a gay man (this one an Anglo) who committed himself to a life of celibacy after his one romantic relationship turned sour, and a bunch of the fandom was pissed off at what it said about the author’s stance on homosexuality and how she appeared to be using the reveal mostly for retroactive recognition. Ahem. In any case, I welcome this development especially if it leads to some more gay sex scenes, but I really hope they aren’t as tame as this one. Why the hell is Loras still wearing pants when he looks primed to bottom (again?)!? In the month since I started binging this show I’ve seen more breasts and vaginas than I’ve ever had or wanted to see in my entire life, and this is how you make it up to me, GoT? 

Oh, and totally random, but how creepy is it that Stannis’s wife keeps their stillborn children preserved in jars in her room? That’s worse than this rather loopy religion teacher I had in high school who had named and separately buried his wife’s multiple stillbirths and even listed them alongside his living children when asked how many he had. At least infant mortality rates today are low enough to where one might theoretically develop an emotional attachment to a fetus, but in this universe?

[nadziejastar]

If both Lea and Isa went through mind control programming how did Axel turn out so well adjusted?

Axel Is A Fucked Up Guy

Ansem the Wise: Xehanort. Foolish apprentice of a foolish man. You have surpassed nothing—only proved how little we both know. We may profess to know the heart, but its essence is beyond our reach.

If you’re asking how a person could be subjected to mind control and still be a good person, and not a total psychopath…well…that’s kind of the mystery of the human condition, no? Polish psychologist Kazimierz Dąbrowski was caught in World War II and endured harsh incarceration in German prison system and later, he and his wife were imprisoned again in Stalin-controlled Poland. He said he could find no theory of psychology that could adequately explain both the lowest and most depraved behavior he saw, as well as the most heroic and highest acts he had witnessed in the war. He dedicated his life to the study of personality development.

Axel: We are just Nobodies who have no one to be, yet we still “are.” But now you can be nothing instead of just being a Nobody. You’re off the hook.

Vexen: No… Please don’t! I don’t want to—

Axel: Goodbye.

But I would actually argue that Axel was NOT well-adjusted, even though a lot of people might have interpreted him to be that way. Not at all. To me, KH3 is the only game that tried to make him seem well-adjusted and “normal”. A cool ice cream bro who breaks the fourth wall. Which I hated. And even then, there’s still plenty of signs that he’s not really recovered from his past.

It seems like a lot of people took Roxas and Xion’s understanding of Axel—a happy-go-lucky big brother—at face value. But it was clear that they didn’t know him at all. He had a very tragic life. He used to be a normal, happy kid and became a lonely, cynical, bitter assassin. He absolutely despised the organization. You could tell that he took great pleasure when he eliminated Vexen. It had nothing to do with some phantom girl he wasn’t sure existed. He said he had “no one to be”.It was very personal. 

Sora: None of that matters! Just put Riku back!

Vexen: Just put him back? The Riku you speak of…has but one fate, to sink into the darkness—and you will share that fate, Sora! If you continue to seek the girl, Naminé, the shackles will tighten, you’ll lose your heart…and end up becoming Marluxia’s pawn!

Personally, I think Axel especially enjoyed killing Vexen when Sora began pleading with him to change Riku back. That would hit really close to home, and must have been a HUGE trigger for him. Whether he was planning to already or not, that was when Vexen needed to die. I also think it’s why he took such a liking to Sora. 

It was Sora’s devotion to Riku that stood out the most to Axel in Castle Oblivion. Even more than his connection to Roxas.Right after Sora and Riku had a fight, Axel has a scene with Naminé.

Axel: Heh heh… I know exactly how you feel. Don’t get your hopes up. Nobodies can’t be somebodies. But think, Naminé. I’m sure there’s SOMETHING you could do…

This is Axel’s quote from the original Chain of Memories.

Axel: Does it hurt, Naminé? Watching your two childhood friends fight all because of you? You have my sympathies. From the heart. But don’t waste your time. We Nobodies can never hope to be somebodies.

And this is his quote from Re:Chain of Memories. He’s a LOT colder to her. And I don’t think it was because he had no heart. I think he was so cold to her because he had begun to develop a heart. Naminé’s the wedge that’s driving two close childhood friends apart. It hit WAY too close to home for Axel. And he truly hated her for it. He was dead serious when he said he had absolutely NO sympathy for her.

Riku: Hmph. Too bad, Sora. You can fight me all you want, but I still won’t remember a thing.

Sora: C'mon, Riku… Let’s quit fighting—let’s go help Naminé.

Riku: Together—right. So like you… …Sora—you’re always trying to worm your way into my heart!

Sora: Hold on! When did I ever do that?

Riku: Hmph, you forgot that, too? You never cared. It never mattered to you!

Sora: You won’t push me away.

He knew how the Riku Replica felt, thinking his friend didn’t care about him. And he knows only too well how Sora felt, trying to “worm his way” into his friend’s heart, only to be coldly rejected. And everything about it disgusted him. Sora is a lot like Lea. It made him remember what it was like to have such a strong bond, and how traumatized he was when he lost it. But Sora refused to take no for an answer. Just like him. But of course, that wasn’t really Riku anyways. Axel knew that. Sora’s friendship will be okay. But Axel’s won’t.

Axel: Is that your shield? Won’t do you any good, I’m afraid.

Axel wanted to save Sora. But he couldn’t have cared less if he killed Naminé. He wouldn’t have batted an eyelash. If anything, he would have been more than happy to do it. He knew she was an innocent young girl who was just an unwilling pawn of the Organization. He didn’t care. It’s so messed up if you think about it. He’d murder a terrified little girl—and he’d do it with a smile on his face. That’s how much he hated anyone who would cause a rift between childhood friends. That’s how devastated he was after the loss of Isa. He has extreme, deep-seated hatred inside of him.

Axel didn’t waste a second grabbing his chakrams. But his body was reluctant somehow.

I don’t want to disappear… But still, it wouldn’t be so bad if I did. Not here.

Axel let out a deep breath and leaped into the air as flames erupted around them.

“…Pathetic!” The Claymore moved to block Axel’s strike, while Saïx himself didn’t even twitch.

This is a pretty overwhelming disadvantage, Axel thought. Well, I knew that before we started fighting. I can’t win against Saïx with my own strength.

Still, he refused to hesitate. He had to force this path open. He wanted…to find hope—the hope that Sora and Riku had.

Saïx gave him a cruel grin. “You will lose everything!” And then the Claymore pierced Axel’s chest.

In my opinion, Axel changed because of Sora and Riku. When he came back from Castle Oblivion, his relationship with Saïx became very strained. Those two reminded him of what he used to have, and it’s unbearable to him that he no longer has it. At the end of KH2, while fighting Saïx, he said that he wanted the hope that Sora and Riku had. He wished that Saïx was just a fake replica the whole time, and that none of the awful things he said were true. The real version had actually gone away to protect him, but he’d show up later, and they could go back to being friends. Hmmm.

Sora: What are you— What ARE you people?!

Axel: Hm… Don’t know. I wonder about that myself.

When Axel saw the way Sora reacted when he killed Vexen, it made him feel ashamed. He realized that “normal” people are horrified by his actions, even when he is acting on their behalf. Sora was furious with Vexen, but even he was appalled by what Axel did.

Sora: After I finish you, he’s next!

Axel: Hmph. Now, Sora. We’ve got more in common than you might think. I’d really rather not fight you… But I can’t dishonor the Organization, now, can I?

Axel: You’re better than I thought you’d be. It was worth saving you after all.

Axel identifies with Sora, but Sora sees him as a monster. Maybe he was relatively well-adjusted compared to some of his fellow Organization members, at least in the morality department. But his “happy-go-lucky big brother” persona was mostly just a facade to cover up a very dysfunctional and wounded person. That was the mask he was comfortable showing outwardly. But it was not his true self.

Day 74: Xion’s Face

Honestly, I never got why Roxas was so crazy about Xion. I know they both joined up around the same time, and they’re both rookies, but how do you get so close to somebody who hides their face all the time? Well, I saw it today. All of a sudden, No. XIV up and takes off…her hood. Xion is a girl, and she looks just like Naminé.

It’s why he acted so strangely when he saw Xion’s face for the first time. He’s looking into the face of the little girl he was willing to murder, who is now asking to be his friend. It freaked him the fuck out. And it made him feel like total shit.

Roxas: When I saw her lying there… I couldn’t stop thinking that she’ll never wake up.

Axel: She will.

Roxas: Saïx called her “broken.”

Axel: Hmm… Well, if it cheers you up, I’m probably a lot more broken than her.

Underneath the mask, was a really fucked up guy who had a LOT of issues. And he KNEW it.

Axel stretched his neck and munched on his ice cream. “You know, I don’t mind disappearing.”

Naminé’s breath caught.

Riku stared at him.

“Roxas is gone. When we bring Kairi here, Naminé will be gone, too. So, same for me,” he said, as if he were discussing the weather, and then punctuated his comment with another bite of sea-salt ice cream.

“We don’t disappear… We’re only reborn,” Naminé murmured, perhaps to herself.

“I’m not like you and Roxas,” Axel said flatly. His hand holding the ice pop stick paused in midair.

“But—but you…” She looked down, clenching her fists.

“It’s because I don’t have a heart,” Axel went on. “I don’t want to disappear, but I’m not upset or sad about it.”

Why was he so convinced that he’s not like Roxas and Naminé? Because he’s not innocent anymore. He’s not going to get a next life because he doesn’t think he deserves one. In his mind, he’s not a good person. He’s done bad things. And he’s poisoned by hatred. I think that’s exactly why he clung to Roxas and Xion so much in the first place, aside from sheer loneliness.

They made him remember who he was before he became so fucked up. But he’d never, EVER tell them some of the things he’s done, or what he’s truly capable of. They’d be horrified and he knows it. He’s always eating ice cream during stressful moments in the novel. Even when he’s literally dying. The shittier he feels, the more he eats. The ice cream is comforting to him because it’s something he used to do in the past with Isa. It reminds him of better days. It’s almost like an addiction. Sea-salt ice cream is viewed as this cute, happy thing. But the reason it is so significant to Axel is because he’s in unbearable pain.

Kairi: So, you gonna try yours on?

Lea: Uh…I dunno. Maybe later.

Kairi: But you always wear the same thing.

Lea: If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. This is how you pick me out of a crowd. I make myself easy to remember.

Even in KH3, he won’t take off his old clothes and always stares off into the distance. In my opinion, this has nothing to do with Roxas or Xion. It’s because he’s got baggage. Serious unresolved baggage, connected to his time in the Organization XIII cult. I cannot describe how much I despise the way KH3 downplayed this, and made it seem like his only problem in life was not having Roxas around to hang out with. It felt SO out-of-character to me. Of course he’d want to see Roxas again (who is actually Ventus, IMO). But his entire life doesn’t and shouldn’t revolve around that. He had a life before Roxas and that deserved attention. Isa was the root cause of Lea’s pain.

Axel’s title in the series translates into English as “Flurry of Dancing Flames,” but this doesn’t quite capture the meaning of the original Japanese. The English title implies that Axel himself is fire, but the literal parsing of the Japanese phrase is more like “dancing fire’s wind.”

I think that Axel’s title is about Isa. “Tandava” or dance of destruction, is a divine dance performed by the Hindu god Shiva, where he is infamously depicted surrounded by a circle of flames. It symbolizes the cycles of creation and destruction. Sati grew up devoted to Shiva and spurned the advances of rich kings to the point where she left for a forest to escape the constant proposals. Eventually Shiva consented to make her his bride, and, elated, Sati went to share the news with her father.

Axel: Nothing lasts forever, man. Least of all for a bunch of Nobodies. But you know, we’ll still have each other…even if things change and we can’t do this anymore.

Roxas: Yeah?

Axel: As long as we remember each other, we’ll never be apart. Got it memorized?

Roxas: Ha ha, wow, Axel. That sounded ridiculous.

Axel: What? I thought it was pretty deep.

However, upon her father’s expression of his disapproval of her marriage, she immolated herself, praying to one day be reborn as a daughter to a father she could respect. Angered and grief-stricken after learning of Sati’s death, Shiva performed a terrible Tandava. The more Shiva danced, the more destruction arose. Out of grief and sorrow, Shiva carried Sati’s body and roamed around the universe with it, reminiscing of their moments as a couple. It sounds a lot like Axel to me. His relationship with Saïx is akin to carrying a corpse around. Isa’s even got the giant scar on his forehead which literally means “death”.

Eventually, Sati was reborn as Parvati. This time, she was born the daughter of a father whom she could respect; a father who appreciated Shiva ardently. Naturally, she grew up to be a beautiful woman and over time, she grew to love Shiva with her whole heart. Eventually, they married. The two are literally inseparable, as they have a form where they are fused together as one. Their fused form is another symbol of duality. It’s basically the Hindu version of the Red King and White Queen of alchemy.

Another reason I think Axel’s title was about Isa? Well, because that’s what his Mystery Gear weapon was about, too. The Jade Emperor wanted to test the virtue of the hare and his friends. They all gave him food. But the hare had no food except the grass growing in the forest. So he told the Jade Emperor to build a fire, and when the fire was burning, he said “I have nothing to give you to eat but myself!” Then, the hare threw himself into the fire.

Of course, the Jade Emperor caused the fire to go instantly cold so that the hare was not burned, and then revealed his true form. And then he painted the hare’s likeness on the face of the moon for all to see, so that his virtue would be remembered throughout the ages. The rabbit was unharmed and lived happily ever after. In some versions, he actually is taken to the moon and becomes immortal. But the rabbit hasn’t gotten to the moon yet. He doesn’t know that the Isa he remembers is still alive.

Xemnas: There hangs the heart of all hearts–Kingdom Hearts–shining down on us at last. See the countless hearts that have gathered? Hearts full of rage…hate…sadness…and bliss. There, in the sky, hangs the promise of a new world.

In addition to his own abuse, Axel is fucked up because of Isa. He’s angry at what they did to him, and he’s devastated over losing him. He was an emotional wreck, filled with rage, hate, and sadness. His entire arc was building up suspense for the “bliss” part…and then they did a bait-and-switch.

[twdmusicboxmystery]

9x10: Omega - Details

Okay, let's talk details. I’ll put these in three major groups: Lydia-related details, a few Carol details, and general/Alpha details. Some of these will touch on the things I said in my First Thoughts post yesterday, but with little more detail.

***Once again, spoilers abound for episode 9x10. Don’t read until you’ve watched! You’ve been warned!***

Lydia details:

My group has talked a lot about the strangeness of Lydia's ear condition. In 9x06, Daryl watched a bluebird/Songbird pull a worm out of a walker's ear. It then fed the worm to its babies. My theory with the worm is that it represents something negative that's being taken out of someone. Like negativity or negative belief of some kind. Now, in this episode, we saw both Lydia and Henry eat worms, and we also saw that she had some sort of pain or medical condition associated with her ear. Could be something as simple as an ear infection that’s gone untreated.

In truth, we’re not sure exactly how all of the stuff fits together, but here are a few ideas we’ve brainstormed. 

1) Naturally we’re relating it to Daryl eating the warm in 5x10 and Beth in general. 

2) Several of my fellow theorists have suggested it shows Daryl becoming a father figure and protector to Lydia. 

3) I would go so far as to say that, if the worm represents something negative, and it's being taken out of the year, then maybe it represents him showing Lydia how she's been thinking wrongly about things. About how her mother is crazy and abusive, and revealing the lies Lydia has believed all these years.

Even those I’m not completely satisfied with. We’re fairly certain the walker on the tree in 9x06 represented Daryl himself. So, it feels a little backwards as of right now. We’ll definitely be keeping an eye on this as the arc progresses.

Daryl offered Lydia water several times. First of all, Beth equals water. So there’s that. Another parallel to Beth. And what did Daryl use to give her water? A Big Dipper. Or Little Dipper. We can relate that to the North Star and Sirius/Dog star symbolism. I know @frangipanilove is working on a new post about this. The symbols are definitely important.

Some interesting dialogue.

At one point, Daryl says to Lydia, "You don't know shit about me." That really jumped out at me because it's exactly what Noah said to Beth at Grady. So, we’ve got some Grady stuff going on here.

Lydia also use phrases like "she's a good person," or, "they were good people." Obviously, that dialogue is the same Beth used.

Lydia was convinced no one was coming for her. This parallels her strongly with Beth at Grady. Beth specifically said to Dawn, "No one’s coming." 

She wasn't really talking about herself being rescued so much as about Dawn's misguided belief that the army or FEMA would show up to rescue them. Beth meant the world had pretty much ended and they were on their own. 

But even so. We have Dawn's misguided belief and Beth telling her that no one is coming. Then we have Lydia, whose also has misguided beliefs, and she tells Daryl that no one's coming for her. 

In both cases, this person's family turned up at the gates, and a prisoner exchange took place. At Grady, obviously Rick and Daryl showed up to collect Beth and Carol and there was the prisoner exchange that went very badly. Here, Alpha and the Whisperers, Lydia’s family, showed up to get her. We haven't seen it yet, but it's obvious that a prisoner exchange is about to take place. I'm actually very excited to see how this plays out because I'm anticipating a lot of Grady parallels.

It's also important to notice that things are kind of opposite from what they were at Grady. As I said yesterday, Lydia is actually being heavily paralleled Daryl. So in S5, Beth was the one who was the prisoner and TF came to get her. Here in S9, the Daryl figure (Lydia) is the one who was imprisoned and her family, who we know are villains, have come to her. I'm thinking the prisoner exchange will go well, specifically because the Grady didn't. But that remains to be seen.

After re-watching, I was also very intrigued by the baby references. When Henry got Lydia out of her cell, she reached for a hammer and was going to hit him with it and run. She didn’t know Daryl stood a few feet away watching.

When the woman from Hilltop came outside with her crying baby, it really freaked Lydia out. It made her want to go back into the cell. 

Not sure what that means, but now we have the Whisperers at the gates and one of them has a baby. I've read spoilers about what will happen with this, and I won't go into them here, but it's obvious the Whisperers aren’t big on babies.

As I've mentioned before, in the CBs there’s a major rape culture among the Whisperers. And we know Alpha abuses Lydia to keep her in line. This is complete conjecture on my part, but I'm sort of wondering if maybe at some point, Lydia got pregnant and had a baby, but Alpha forced her to give it up. That might explain why she had such a visceral reaction to hearing the baby cry. It also might play into the other worm/Songbird/babies in the nest symbolism going on in 9x06. Again, we’ll just have to wait and see.

With stuff like this, I immediately start developing head canons about it. Like maybe Lydia did something to try and save her baby, and Beth ended up with it. Maybe Beth will show up with Lydia’s baby, which would explain the child/baby symbolism around her. I even wondered if Gracie could be Lydia’s baby, but I don’t think the timeline works. Based on her age, Lydia would have only been ten when Gracie was born, so probably not. 

Daryl brought in the branch of a birch tree when he confronted Lydia about her abuse. This is super important because we’ve long thought the trees in the plate glass picture in FG’s church, which Sasha shot in 5x16, were birch trees. We couldn’t be sure, but they look like they were. Birch tree symbolism points heavily to Beth, and the fact that that picture was shot with the bullet suggests a retelling of Beth being shot at Grady. Don't forget, that's the scene where FG says all kinds of things about them sacrificing their own that makes absolutely no sense. Again other theorists are working on metas about the birch tree, so I won't go into it further except to say we’re glad they specifically named it as a birch tree because it validates a lot of our earlier theories.

As a child, Lydia had a stuffed rabbit. They said in TTD it was a nod to Judith's rabbit from Carl’s vision of the future. That’s significant because it could show that this war with the Whisperers will in some way lead to Carl’s vision of the future. I think, especially in terms of Negan, that's probably true. But we’ve also seen rabbit symbolism around Beth before. There are pictures of rabbits in 4B, and then there were the rabbits Lizzie killed.

I started to wonder if maybe we should look for some Lizzie/Lydia or perhaps Lizzie/Alpha parallels. I honestly haven't thought about that too much, but Lydia is pretty messed up, and Lizzie was he was pretty messed up. Lizzie killed a bunch of rabbits and Lydia had a stuffed rabbit. Carol mothered Lizzie, and we’re starting to think this whole Lydia arc is going to end up having to do with Carol. I get to that in a minute. So just some food for thought.

In terms of eating worms, we’ve talked about a few different ways to interpret it. @wdway suggested maybe we could parallel it to Beth and Daryl eating snake together. 

Yes, we know they’re two different species and even symbolically, they generally mean different things, but they’re both long and skinny and slither on the ground, right? All that aside, I think we can read into Beth and Daryl eating snake together at the beginning of their journey, and now Henry and Lydia eating worms together at the beginning of theirs. I think that's too close a parallel to ignore.

 @rabia___81 (IG) also suggested something I thought was really beautiful and wanted to include. She said she believes Henry fell in love with Lydia when they ate the worms together. I think that’s valid, as right after that we see them holding hands. So, she suggested perhaps Daryl eating the worm in 5x10 shows it was then, after he lost Beth, that he realized he'd been in love with her. All together now: 

 Carol stuff:

Henry, talking about Carol to Lydia, said, "She's tough." This is exactly what Daryl told Carol of Beth in S5. Actually, he said it to a few people. So, I wondered how we should interpret this. Does that mean Carol will be missing and presumed dead, much like Beth? Possibly, but I think it's more complicated than that.

Several of us during the episode last night started to get the vibe that they might be juxtaposing Carol and Alpha. This came in several different forms. When we first started seeing the flashbacks of Lydia's father, and she presented him as being a being somewhat abusive, we made comments that he seemed a lot like Ed, Carol’s first husband. 

Of course, as we move through the story, we find out that the opposite was true. Even though Lydia remembered certain things that way, it was only because her mother brainwashed her. In each of those scenes, it was really Alpha who was abusive and the father was the more loving one. So, we have a reversal from Carol and Ed. Carol was the abused and Ed, the abuser. In Alpha’s case, she was the abuser and her husband was the abused. Now, Alpha abuses her daughter, where we know Carol protected Sophia from Ed as best she could.

Then there’s the hair thing. I said at the beginning of the season that her long hair probably reflected that Carol was so happy with Ezekiel, and I was willing to bet something would happen down the line, some tragedy, and she’d cut it off again. The first part of that was confirmed by Henry in this episode. He said the reason she cut her hair short was because Ed used it to grab her by and summer against the wall. When she finally found love with Ezekiel, she finally felt happy enough and safe enough to let her go wrong again.

It’s super interesting that they chose this episode to put that story in, because Carol wasn’t even in this episode. But we saw an iconic scene of Alpha, completely bald, showing up at the gates. So, it may be a juxtaposition there between long-haired Carol and bald alpha. 

And there's the fact that this arc is about parents abusing children. Obviously, Daryl has a huge link to that because he was abused as a child, but Carol was abused as an adult and if they are heading toward a Carol/Alpha showdown, we’ll have a woman whose fought abuse her entire life and fought to protect her daughter against a woman is been abusive all her life and specifically abuses her daughter. That’ll be a pretty epic showdown. I think it’ll be a really great story. Obviously we aren't the only ones thinking this as the caller on TTD last night asked the same question. So, people are definitely picking up on this vibe.

And that’s what I mean about not being sure about the whole "she's tough" line. I think it will end up playing into this entire arc, but I'm not sure exactly how yet.

We also have an anti-parallel in the reason behind the hair length. We can surmise from Lydia’s flashbacks that Alpha only ever kept her hair long to please her husband. She cut it off for selfish reasons. (“I’m doing what I want now.”) Carol cut her hair off specifically as a way to fight against her abusive husband, and she kept it long because SHE was in a good emotional head space.

I kind of hope Carol doesn’t cut all her hair off again. I mean, she probably will, but it would be nice to see some growth in her by having her not cut it off when her losses start piling up again. And it’s interesting that Daryl knows this about her now, because if she does cut it off again, he’ll know why, and it will make him sad. 😥

Aside: someone in my group also made the very good point that Carol never felt safe enough to grow her hair long before Ezekiel, and that includes with Daryl. So in terms of proving Carol and Daryl aren’t romantic...just thought I’d point that out. 😉

Miscellaneous:

In one of Lydia’s flashbacks, she and her mother played checkers, and Alpha said checkmate. Obviously, a chess reference. My post on the chess game is HERE, but remember we saw the Governor playing chess a lot in S4. During that time, he was very heavily paralleled with Beth and they used his episodes to foreshadow her arc, so that's important. Perhaps we could argue that seeing chess again might suggest that this is when the resurrection arc will finally come back around.

I also think they use this to foreshadow the bad guy TF is now faced with. The villain is overly confident and thinks they’ll win easily. This was definitely true of the Governor who I believe said “checkmate” more than once. He felt confident he could take the prison down. Of course he didn't, which I suppose we could see as a foreshadow that eventually TF will beat Alpha as well. (Of course, most of us figured that anyway.)

I think this is especially interesting because we now know it was Lydia’s father who said this, not her mother. But we never saw him saying it. It’s like the writers came up with an excuse to specifically show Alpha saying it. That’s obviously intentional.

Another parallel: the Governor attacked the prison and took it down. Lydia keeps saying that this place, meaning Hilltop, will fall, just like every other place. It just feels like a call back to the Gov bulldozing the prison.

They emphasized a 23 in Lydia’s flashbacks. We saw it on the wall, and then we heard her parents talk about it at least twice. It seemed to me that we’d seen this number before, but I couldn't remember where. I looked into my old theories, and I found it. We saw it prominently in episode 5x11, directly after the music box woke up, when the TF goes with Aaron to Alexandria for the first time. He tells them to take Highway 16. The reason is that it's been cleared of walkers and they’ll get there safely. Rick doesn't trust Aaron because he doesn't know him. He says that they're going take Route 23. Aaron warns them heavily against that, saying it hasn’t been cleared and it's a bad idea, but Rick does it anyway. Sure enough, they run into walkers.

Originally, I tried to use these numbers as a way to point S7 or S8 for Beth’s return. Obviously not. But the meaning hasn’t gone anywhere. Route 16 (a multiple of 8, btw) led to a smooth journey, life, and safety. Route 23 (2+3 = 5 for S5?) on the other hand, led to death and separation. TF got all split up and ended up having to reunite at the end. It was especially significant that there was a flare (fire) and a water tower (Beth equals water) that were present were TF reunited. So, I always saw this as a Beth parallel.

We could argue the 23 here might be a Beth thing, but I think it's more likely that it shows that in TWD symbolism world, this is just a very negative number. It will always result in death and familial separation. This definitely happened with Lydia. We saw day 23 and the sequence that followed led to her father's death. It also could foreshadow that the war with alpha is going to be long and deadly.

We later saw the number 43, after more time has passed. Episode 43 of the show was Too Far Gone. And its when this number is shows that we see Alpha kill Matias. Kinda interesting and another parallel to the Governor.

In closing, I wanted to touch on the Omega title. I’m not clear yet why they called this episode Omega. Alpha is the first letter of the Greek alphabet, and of course it's Lydia’s mom's name. Omega is the last letter of the alphabet, and the title of the episode. 

I think this could be a Carol/Alpha thing. As in, if Carol equals Omega, then Carol will be the end of Alpha? I'm not positive about that either. Because Carol wasn't in this episode and I'm not sure that it makes sense to think Omega equals Carol.

Of course, in terms of TD, the title “Alpha and Omega” is one of the best known titles for Christ, so we can’t help but think this might be a Beth thing. But again, even if that’s the case, I’m not sure how to specifically interpret the title of this episode.

This was essentially the beginning of the war with the Whisperers, as they are at the gates. This is the first real encounter with them. But I’ll keep an eye on this symbolism as we progress.

Okay, that's it for today. I will talk about all the musical references in this episode tomorrow. Can't wait to hash that out because they’re really good! Stay tuned!