#in which rhy maresh loses his shit

[ravencromwell]

Ask game: 1, 4, and 20 for Holland

Will do the Vor ones tomorrow!!!!! But for now:

* Rolls up sleeves*

1. First Impression: there's a funny and a serious answer to this.

Y'know how I'm always saying I'm terrible at predicting things? Before I picked ADSOM up, I went looking for ADSOM queer characters or something of the like. And discovered Rhy Maresh, about whom I only knew: his being gay plays a small part in the first book and a much larger one in the next two. So, I'm skimming along and this dude comes into Rhy's room and is all: "I have been to your father for business. I come to you for pleasure."

And my little May December loving heart—which also adores enemies to lovers? Fair somersaulted with joy as I read all about how this "Holland" worked for a rival kingdom. I was _amped up for this slow-burn where they had a long-term thing going on Holland's diplomatic missions that was secret from everyone even Rhy's brother, though I suspected maybe Kell guessed because he sure thought about this Holland a lot, which was only natural if you kinda thought he was gonna be your future brother-inn-law, right?

I can barely type this for laughing at how badly! I got the character dynamics wrong but like: Rhy was so _down! for flirting with him and the guard had said he was dangerous, with very cold, hollow eyes and I couldn't understand how Rhy could possibly be so casual about Holland being in his room if he didn't know something we were missing. (Only later did I learn that Rhy, dearest beloved, if confronted with a suddenly talking tree or wall: would aggressively flirt and charm the leaves/stone off it, only asking how it came to have the remarkable ability of speech after he discovered if it was in fact hot to kiss a tree or wall.)

The serious answer: from the moment I read the lines: "The Antari's eyes slid over the scene—the blood, the ink, the tortured commoner— expression lodged between distant surprise and disinterest. Holland liked to play at being hollow, but Athos knew it was a ruse. He might have feigned numbness, but he was hardly immune to sensation." followed swiftly by "What should I do with him?" even after Athos's "we're not too late" makes clear he expected Holland to follow him instead of help Beloc, I was just like _mine please join the cadre of my best beloveds and let me slay all your enemies (or set it up so that you can be the one to slay Athos do not fucking get me started on Holland being denied his vengeance we will be here all year).

Look, I know there are a dozen different ways to read that scene. I know you can think Holland was simply imagining himself there, or so deeply traumatized Athos was wrong and he didn't give a fuck. But those lines? Combined with Athos' latter staring for tells and seeing "Anger, pain, defiance" at the corner of Holland's mouth and the crease of his eye? Viscerally read as the only sort of solidarity Holland could show to this kid who was about to be a fellow abuse survivor. It didn't _work, but I will die on the fucking hill his asking "What do I do with him?" was a bid to get Beloc out of the frame for the night, because that sort of thing worked often when Athos was distracted.

And so, Holland showing solidarity with Maktahns, even when he didn't actually have the agency to do shit, became an absolute bedrock part of my characterization.

[The two stellar fannish examples of Holland's love for Maktahns in all their bloody glory are Snake Charmer, where he protects Nasi, and Green and Pleasant Lands, where Holland absolutely loses his shit in a contained fashion over Kell criticizing a (quite bleak) ritual. Just fucking peak characterization]

4. how many people do I ship them with? When reading, I'm down for absolutely _anything or _anyone with good Holland characterization. For what I'm likely to write: four. Vor and Tal, which you know. But I'm also deeply. deeply fond of a Holland Ojka arc where she follows him to Red and has to learn how to separate the man and the king, as well as the king and Osaron and properly falls for the man, rather than the king. And I have a deep affection for the Holland Rhy thing you gave me the excuse to write (it's coming at end of semester!!!): a Rhy who deeply misses Alucard and just getting to be a _person rather than a prince. Not even necessarily a fully rounded person who has in-depth conversations with his bed-mate (I mean. he misses that, too but he's not getting it with Holland and that's fine). Just someone from whom all the other party wants is thorough debauchery rather than a tumble and maybe a court appointment for their niece and maybe their friend's brother etc. "You draw them like flies," Holland says once, and Rhy doesn't understand why his laugh is bitter and wistful and it's probably cruel to think of people like insects, because he likes people most of the time he truly does. But also yes, he's so tired of only being the thing from which people take and take and take. And a Holland who wants an antidote to the Danes they probably won't kill who isn't Kell because his desperation to _know Holland is so sharp and Holland isn't here for soul-bearing hour.

20. Weird headcanon: Not weird so much as the one I'm thinking about most today:

It was Alox who ensured Holland could read. Alox has heard rumors that in corners of the city, books can be found. And these Antari, who his brother is slowly becoming one of as his eye turns were once the greatest magicians in the land. People like that like to hear themselves talk, so they probably like to read each other's blather too. Which means his brother has to read, even if Alox never had any use beyond learning the runes for binding so he wasn't cheated out of an inking when he could afford to capture magic.

The year before he decides Holland has to die, he fetches and carries for an old, ill man in a slightly richer district—only for his brother would he carry a dying man's shit down three flights of stairs—in exchange for paper with all the runes on it and some lessons on their sounds. Does his best to teach Holl second-hand, even though what he really wants is a drink—maybe Kosh, maybe blood for a hit of magic he'll decide when he meets his friends later—. Bastard actually leaves Alox two whole intact books when he dies. After that, well Holl never could turn down a challenge. He tosses 'em over and lets him start sounding it all out.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Of course Cora Taskon, the groom’s youngest sister, caught the bouquet. Any other option would have been unacceptable, and things had a way of working out exactly how the second-youngest child of the Taskon family wanted.

 Kell was sitting at a circular table with Rhy’s parents across from them, Holland at his left, Rhy at his right, and a single empty chair where Luc would have been… if Emira hadn’t simply refused to allow him to come at the last minute. His name was even written on the little place card in front of the empty plate, and Rhy had been glaring at the perfectly printed Alucard Emery ever since they sat them down after the wedding had ended nearly forty minutes ago.

 It wasn’t like them to risk others noticing they had done such a thing, but they disliked Luc (who had the temerity not to be upper-crust pretentious shit like everyone else here) more than they disliked the idea of being rude. 

 Cora, currently being hugged by what seemed like a mob of similar-looking girls who somehow weren’t actually her relatives, was still in her sort of light pink bridesmaid dress (she’d told Kell the name of the color earlier and it was something like ‘ballet’, but honestly, Kell was pretty sure at a certain point color names didn’t mean anything and it just looked like light pink to him), but she’d ditched the sky-high heels for bare feet. 

 Her skin was deeply tanned and her hair was pulled back against the nape of her neck, with just a few tendrils hanging down in perfectly curled sections to just barely brush the tops of her bare shoulders. Kell could see her pink-painted toes, the exact same shade as her dress, as she jumped up high, shrieking wildly with excitement, waving the pink-and-yellow rose bouquet around over her head.

 Holland, sitting next to him, leaned over and murmured, “That’s the girl that had a crush on you?”

 Kell snorted. “Yeah, when she was like seven, before she figured herself out. And figured me out. Before I figured myself out.”

 “What did you figure out, then?” Holland asked, a note of wry amusement in his voice, the same voice he had sometimes when he would be working on his thesis and stop, turn to Kell, and say, you didn't come over here just to watch me type. Kell swallowed, hard, wanting to smile but not wanting Rhy to see him smiling, with his boyfriend here but Rhy’s banished to the land of Not Good Enough For Maxim and Emira.

 It felt disloyal to be glad Holland was here if Luc couldn't be.

 Luc had been furious at being disinvited, angrier than Kell had ever seen him, and was probably off with Lila Bard doing something illegal with the Dane twins. They had also been furious they weren’t invited, despite knowing literally no one involved, and Astrid��s first suggestion for revenge had been that weddings were always more interesting with gasoline and a match.

 “I figured out that it was never going to be someone like Cora,” Kell said softly, pitching his voice just low enough that Maxim and Emira couldn’t hear him over the music. “No matter how much they wanted it to be. That it would always be someone like you.”

 Holland didn’t say anything back, but Kell could see him smile. 

 “For one thing, Cora Taskon absolutely would not put up with my taste in music or movies."

 “Good to know our relationship has a solid foundation of me putting up with you,” Holland said teasingly, but then hesitated at the look on Kell’s face. “Hey, um, it was just a joke. I'm sorry. I like your music, you know that.”

 “No, I do, I just.” Kell frowned. “I'm just on edge. Sorry.”

 “Kell, are you okay?” Holland leaned in a little closer. “You’ve been like this all day.”

 “I hate weddings with them,” Kell muttered, glad the music was still just loud enough. 

 “Why?”

 Cora, spinning around, caught his eye and raised the bouquet back up, waving it at him. “Kell!” She shouted. “Kell, I caught it! Look!”

 Cora looked gorgeous today, but then, Cora Taskon never looked anything else - she wouldn’t have left the house without a full face of makeup and tailored clothes. Kell had known her since she was born, and knew that half the reason she was in such a good mood was just that she’d spent the whole day looking better than the bride (who she didn’t like, although she didn’t like her brother, either - Cora didn't like a lot of people), and was in about ten thousand photos to prove it.

 He put a smile on his face and waved back at her to show he’d heard. “Great, Cora, can’t wait to go to your wedding!” He yelled as cheerfully as he could, which mostly meant he only sounded a little bit sarcastic.

 Cora knew him as well as he knew her, though, and only laughed and waved the flowers at Rhy. “Rhy! Look! I’m the next to get married!” 

 “Wouldn’t that be lovely,” Emira said cheerfully, seated across from them around the circular table, leaning her chin on one perfectly manicured hand.

 “Shit, here we go,” Kell muttered. “You’re about to see why.”

 “What?” Holland asked in a whispered aside, leaning forward. He’d been uneasy and nervous this whole time and Kell knew it, but still… when he’d seen the +1 on the invitation, Holland was the only person he could imagine bringing.

 “Don’t start this again, Mom,” Rhy groaned, slumped back in his chair on Kell’s right with a scowl on his face and two empty glasses that had once held his weird fruity drinks in front of him. 

 “I’m not starting anything,” Emira said, the picture of innocence. “Just that it’s been a beautiful wedding. Honestly, Cora's such a hidden jewel in the Taskon family, and I hope some worthwhile young man snaps her right up.” She winked at Rhy. "She'll make a good match."

 “I wouldn’t worry about a man being the one to do that,” Kell said, a little dryly. Emira was sitting directly around the table from Kell, and he was trying not to look at her. 

 Rhy let out a barking laugh.

(Click here to read the rest)

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Excerpt From Writing

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Holland said incredulously. The other three simply stared at him, Cora with a mocking smile directed more at the idea than at him, Kell with a very old pain in those blue eyes, and Rhy with absolute fury. “He’s not in any of the photos?”

“They put him in the company Christmas photo,” Rhy said darkly. “So people won’t talk. They keep the articles he was in when they brought him home framed. Sometimes if magazine people come over, Mom puts up some photos she’s taken of him so it’s less obvious all the other photos are of me.” Rhy opened up the next bottle of champagne, and he and Kell both took drinks straight from the bottle. 

“Because they are fucked up,” Cora sing-songed, sitting back in her chair, kicking her feet up over one arm, as though her incredibly expensive bridesmaid dress was just sweatpants and an old T-shirt. “You want more stories? I’ve got some fucking stories for you, Holland Vosijk. The first year, they spent like three grand on Rhy’s Christmas presents, and all Kell got-”

“Stop it, Cora,” Kell snapped. “He doesn’t need to know all of it. Presents don’t matter, they’re just things.”

“Fuck, Kell, don’t just repeat what they tell you,” Cora grunted. “How about when you begged them to go to school with Rhy and they told you all of your problems would be bad for their reputation?”

“Wait, that’s really why?”

“I was going through a phase,” Kell said, taking another drink from the bottle, all but chugging the champagne from it. There had been times, before, when Kell would be strange and angry and refused to talk or see him, and it clicked into place for Holland all at once that it had always been after a conversation with Emira or Maxim. “I was acting out.”

“No, you weren’t, Kell!” Rhy groaned. “You were being fourteen years old, who doesn’t act out at fourteen! I started drinking at fourteen, and they never even noticed, they were too busy being up your ass about everything and treating you like a goddamn criminal!”

Holland felt like he had walked into a soap opera, or a teen movie, and wanted badly to simply turn and walk out of it. He was thirty years old, and he’d lived a lot of life in that time, but nothing had ever been like this for him.

“Stop trying to justify them, Kell,” Cora drawled. “And stop drinking all my champagne. What about when you got into all those Ivy League schools and they made you go to Arnes U because Rhy had to go there because Maxim’s friend is the Dean of Business Administration?”

Holland blinked. “You got into Ivy League schools?”

Kell laughed, a little bitterly. “I’m not as stupid as I look.”

“That’s not what I meant-”

“No, I know it’s not. I’m. I’m sorry, Holl. It was only two of them, and anyway, it was just nice to know I made it in. I didn’t mind staying here for Rhy.”

“But that’s not the point, Kell,” Rhy said, enunciating each word with great care in the way of the rapidly-getting-seriously-drunk, and Holland could tell this was a very old conversation indeed. “The point is that if you want to leave, to travel places, you should be allowed to! You shouldn’t be stuck never going anywhere just because of me!”

“Yeah, well, it’s in the goddamn contract, isn’t it?”