#it's that one of the reasons Dain is fighting is to protect the honor
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đđđđ đđđđđđđđđ.
Share at least 5 songs that you associate with or remind you of your muse!
⧠Regression â Ayanga.
Too much of the past for one to memorize Too many words remained for one to read through the lines The ebb and flow of the crowd, floods the world and paradise Along the path of time
Every night brings a dream, but the day relentlessly keeps me awake All the rest will be torn up whenever a choice is made Every living soul in the fray, striving for their own safe place Life is too long to end at grave
[...] Just a drop of water suffices Still, I wish to embrace the world with my thoughts A eulogy Time to leave where I have stood so long Letting you go recover traces overlapped Ends, then begins
⊠Moon Shadow â Elsword.
I would suddenly remember, merciless pain never felt before Agonizing hours that seeped into that singular painful memory, so even if, you
Apologize countless times, repeatedly, You can never get that moment back again.
In this never-ending timeline that turns like clockwork, I will raise my shimmering blue blade against the torturous shackles I won't be able to escape away from.
[...] Even if I can wake up and find a chance to run far, far away What I would dream of, instead, is to wake up repeatedly to slash away my endless nightmare.
⧠Sorrows of Strays & Fading Memories â HOYO-Mix. ⊠Midnight Reflections â HOYO-Mix. ⧠Swear on the Sword â Maplestory.
On the day I was alone, my back turned and full of hope raise your head and face the path of the sun It's full and overflowing a prayer of peace for all of us Your long-cherished desire and desperate wish, buried in the high waves Even if it is buried and collapsed, don't turn back.
Your weakness and fear will be forgotten now, I will triumph in your name and my name We'll be together for countless days together, it will make an endless journey.
Tagged by: @apocryphis (thank you â„ïž) Tagging: Whoever wants to do this, feel free to take it from me!
#I know I put two on the same but shhh#they're together and it's not negotiable#honestly it's one of my playlists for when I write ngl#the rest... yes /feelS/#with one last one about his feelings#about the Black Serpent Knights#and others too#because if there is one thing that was reaffirmed in Requiem of the Echoing Depths#it's that one of the reasons Dain is fighting is to protect the honor#of his soldiers#and the dignity and wish of his people#as for one last clarification for moon shadow specifically#it's the thought that he could do /anything/ but do what he's doing#including to run away#and yet he's facing his nightmares#but also to not see them repeating#namely the disaster in Khaenri'ah#but brought to people of the seven nations
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having many thoughts about Dain today
I've been reading a bunch of fics with Dain in them lately, and it's got me feeling like fanon Dain isn't enough of a chad- especially regarding his relationship with Bilbo.
Like, I've read so many fics that have Dain dislike bilbo- whether because he doesn't like hobbits, or Bilbo in particular, or disapproves of Bilbo's closeness to Thorin etc., but its pretty clear in the books that Dain likes Bilbo! and thinks he's super awesome!
I'm not sure how this got turned around? maybe he makes a good scapegoat- perhaps having an even bigger jerk makes Thorin look better? (sorry Thorin but it's true) Anyway, I don't know for sure, but there's about one million characters in LOTR u can pick to be an asshole- but Dain shouldn't be in there XD
Especially regarding Bilbo! like, Dain did SO MUCH for Bilbo- even when he barely knew him!
Looking at the events in LOTR, as told by Gimli in the council of Elrond, we can see that even 60ish years after only meeting Bilbo once, he still cared greatly about his safety.
Gimli tells everyone about how Sauron sent black riders to Erebor, and the riders were basically like âi'll give you THREE dwarven rings of power, and MORIA if u tell me where Bilbo Baggins is.â and Dain, the chad he is, was like âumm, noâ and sent Gimli and Gloin to WARN BILBO! He fucking waged war against THE GREATEST EVIL EVER- refusing literally the greatest gifts that could possible be offered to dwarves, for like, the safety of a hobbit. especially after ALL the dwarves have been through to get back Moria!! Dain was in the battle of Azanulbizar (aka the battle to reclaim Moria)!!
And yet he refused!
TBH of the great figures in middle earth his track record is actually amazing- like, so many Kings in LOTR history have fallen pray to Sauron's will. DAIN? The dwarf? A race known in middle earth for greed? He wouldnât stand for it! Stood up to Sauron for a hobbit! I cant get over it.
Additionally he's SO honorable! Dain DIED in the war of the ring- fighting alongside Brand, Bard's grandson. He signed his death certificate because he stood up to Sauron- and paid for it with his life to help the men. He literally died PROTECTING Brand's body!! Additionally the only reason all the men of Dale lived is because they were given protection by seeking refuge in Erebor.
Also even disregarding the events of LOTR- he is EXPLICITLY nice to Bilbo!! Dain says to Bilbo after the battle of five armies: â'This treasure is yours as much as it is mine... I should hope that the words of Thorin, of which he repented, should not prove true: that we should give you little. I would reward you most richly of all.'" -Dain in "The Return Journey" He gave Bard a fourteenth share!! MORE RICHLY THAN THAT? THATâS A LOTTA GOLD FOR ONE HOBBIT!
This is, I think, the only explicit dialogue ever exchanged between Bilbo and Dain, and it's pretty obvious he respects Bilbo. So it makes me sad when fanon Dain is like "get out of our mountain Bilbo" XD
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Deeâs asleep and not checking this blog much anymore so Imma write another essay cuz I wanna and Iâm so excited for the next chapter of The Lost Mage, maybe sheâll backread through this during the next hiatus lol.
Anyway. To no oneâs surprise, I also absolutely adore The Lord of the Rings series. Iâm sure a lot of Pierce fans are probably simultaneously Lord of the Rings fans, theyâre similar genres after all.
My favorite character was always Faramir. In both books and movies, Faramir was my boy. I didnât care about Legolas much, the pretty boy of so many a young girlâs eye, or Aragorn, the gritty honorable hero who also caught many a young girlâs eye.
In the books, Faramir is flawless, practically. He is another Aragorn, in many ways, though perhaps just SLIGHTLY more scholarly. Both of them donât want to really fight or lead but take on these roles because it is necessary and itâs whatâs best for their people. They both are very grounded in terms of who they are, neither of them thinks themselves above anyone else, they donât really seek power ever. This is why neither Aragorn nor Faramir is truly ever tempted by the Ring in the books, at all. Faramir is patient and kind and compassionate and has a very quiet sort of strength that hides in darkness until someone shines a light on it. He is the opposite of his brother, a foil to him the way Aragorn is, just slightly less flashy than Aragorn tends to be.
In the films, Faramir ends up somewhere in-between his brother and his king. He IS still tempted by the Ring, for similar reasons to Boromir, but he is able to eventually fight off the temptation and let Frodo go. He has flaws, he has insecurities that nearly cause his ruin, but he has a strength that allows him to overcome them. He still has that compassion and the patience from the books, though itâs shown less simply due to a lack of time, but itâs there. And he has his quiet strength still, too. Heâs not flashy, heâs not seeking glory ever. Most of the time, what heâs seeking is acceptance, love.
Youâd be forgiven for thinking that this lil mini essay is going to be about which of the Lost Mageâs characters reminds me most of Faramir. And youâd be forgiven for being surprised that this essay actually starts with his brother.
So letâs talk about Don.
Poor Don. Poor irresponsible, jealous, weak Don.
Don the Deadbeat, Don the Defective, Don the Deficient, Don the Discriminatory.
If youâre been in the Lord of the Rings fandom for any significant length of time, youâve probably seen and read at least one essay about why Boromir is not a villain. Why his failure to resist the Ring is not a sign of irredeemable weakness. Why he was actually the most relatable character of all of them, aside from perhaps Sam.
If The Lost Mage were Lord of the Rings, Don would probably be seen as a villain, too. At least, for a while.
Boromir fails a lot, too, but this doesnât mean he doesnât TRY to do good. He tries to protect Faramir from his father. And fails. He tries to save Merry and Pippin from the orcs and dies for it. And still fails. He tries to resist the Ring and protect Frodo as best he can. And he fails.
But heâs trying, above everything else, to protect his people, to be a good leader, to do what he believes needs to be done to defeat the darkness in the world. And he is led astray, yes, but not out of personal desire for power ever. Heâs trying his best to accomplish multiple tasks and please multiple people in a situation where not everyone can be appeased. Boromir wants to help, but feels as though his contributions and opinions are being brushed aside unfairly. The people he came all this way to try to protect are being dismissed as unworthy and untrustworthy, despite everything he has seen them do to keep the darkness at bay and away from the rest of the world. Boromir has had to lead his people to their deaths too many times to not take this personally.
Boromir fails. But his death provides an example of honor and leadership that Aragorn ends up following later on. Boromirâs sacrifice does not end up being in vain at all, as both Merry and Pippin live on and are rescued and are instrumental in helping defeat Sauron. Pippin in particular in instrumental in protecting Boromirâs own brother. And Aragorn goes on to take up the mantle of King, leading the kingdom of Gondor and Men in general into a new age of peace and prosperity. Boromir fails.
But he succeeds, too.Â
King Donatien is fighting similar darkness. Both internal and external.
Don is, at heart, a good man. A kind man. A man who wants little else but to make life better for his people, human and animal. A man who will take in injured otters who wonât survive in the wild, a man who sees his mother murdered in front of him and has to find a way to move forward after that while answering calls for vengeance from everyone around him. A man whose personal beliefs are now at war with the needs of the nobility which are at war with the needs of the common people. Don needed to appease the nobility whose families were being massacred one by one but in doing so managed to unravel the only way of life many common people knew.
Don fails.
But does this make him a villain?
No, of course not.
Don was an 18 year old placed in a position of leadership during a time of crisis and who had much of his support slowly whittled away, placing him at the mercy of his own personal One Ring of Power.
Could Don have been a good leader in other circumstances? Maybe. Probably, even. Don would have been an excellent peace-time leader. He could even have been a decent leader during a crisis had the crisis not included a bunch of people working to chip away at any support he might have and tear down his mental stability.
Sadly, thatâs not the circumstances we find Don in. The circumstances Don finds himself in put him in a position of always having to fail someone. Whether itâs Sav, the mages, the nobility, or even his own cats. Don fails.
But this arguably makes him one of the most relatable characters in the whole story. Because a lot of us can probably empathize with that feeling of having way too much responsibility thrown on you in the middle of a major crisis and just wanting to put your head down and sleep for a few months but being unable to.
Numair is, arguably, our Aragorn. He has flaws, yes. But he is the epitome of goodness so far. Heâs the one whoâs got things together the most, the most stable of the main characters, the kind and compassionate and patient hero who is there to support everyone else as they stumble and fall. He is big and flashy and powerful and capable. He is quite the opposite of Don in so many ways. But Numair, like Aragorn, is able to recognize that just because someone seems to be nothing but a failure doesnât mean they arenât TRYING to be better and doesnât mean they donât just need a little help.
Daine, I think, would be the Faramir. Savâs too flashy for Faramir, Iâm not sure where heâd be placed on the Lord of the Rings spectrum of heroic characters here. Maybe Savâs Legolas. Or Eowyn. Oh gosh Savâs Eowyn isnât he. Regardless, Daine is our Faramir. Quietly strong, compassionate, somewhat broken down, loving, caring, patient and understanding. Someone who doesnât really fall to temptation, either, and is able to fight through the darkness for someone elseâs sake, no matter how far into the dark she is herself. Someone who refuses to lose belief in anyone, but wonât stand by and let bad things happen, either.
Don is TRYING, weâve seen that. Heâs not a villain. Heâs perceptive and can be kind and compassionate in the right moments. He falls victim to certain vices and is incapable of pleasing everyone who wants something from him. But heâs trying. So so hard. Heâs trying to let go of the man he loves and let him be happy with someone else. Heâs trying to keep the peace between the nobility and the commoners, as impossible as they are making it. He is TRYING to work past his own trauma surrounding magic for the sake of his own people. He is trying. And thatâs important. Thatâs SO important.
Don is perhaps not my favorite character. Boromir wasnât, either, still isnât. Iâm a Faramir girl through and through, thatâs just part of who I am at this point.
But that doesnât mean Iâm not ROOTING for Don. I want Don to get better, to BE better, because weâve seen glimpses of the kind of man he can be, the kind of leader he can be. Don can be exceptional. Don can be inspirational.
Don the Dauntless. Don the Dedicated. Don the Dependable.
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;;Sprich mir von allen Schrecken des Gewissens, von meinem Vater sprich mir nicht.Â
He was a boy on the edge of becoming a man when his world slowly but surely began to fall apart. Drystan von ReuĂ, son of the princess of Dale, did not understand the anger within himself. He did not understand the distance between him and everyone else. But there was nothing he could do about it. He had tried his best to be a good son, to make his father proud, to make his mother smile. But whenever his mother smiled his father became angry. And whenever his father was proud, his mother became sad. There had been a time when he thought himself the reason for that. Had they not been happy when they first married? Lady Mother often spoke of that time. Brand was the crown prince, the golden boy, the wonderful future. They loved him. They adored him. Drystan was ready to die for him. The two boys were the best of friends, playing between the flowers in Daleâs gardens, fighting each other with wooden sticks. They hunted dangerous dragons and wild beasts in their dreams together. Nothing could tear them apart. Nothing and no one. But deep inside his heart, hidden away between hopes he never dared to speak about, dreams he never dared to dream, there was a different feeling altogether. There was agony. There was pain. And worst of all there was jealousy. And nothing he could do about it. He was seven when he first realised that there was something different about them. Something different between them. Where Brand was met with smiles and laughter, only cold hands and stern faces greeted Drystan. His father grew ever more distant, he could hear them shout at night, fight and bicker. Over the kingdom, over their honor, over the truth. Uncle Bain and Sir Lancelot turned away when Drystan approached with Lord Heinrich. They turned away from him, they turned away from his father. All he wanted was to make them proud. It was during that time that Brand became too busy to play with him. A future king needed a different sort of upbringing, a different sort of teacher. He was the heir after all. And Drystan was left to bend and break under his fatherâs iron fist, always eager to please but never good enough. He was seventeen when he dreamed of dying a heroâs death. When he dreamed of being a knight in splendid armour, living forever in songs and poems. His father would be proud of that, what other choice did he have? Mother would be sad. But she was always sad. And at least he would give her a reason for it. At least she would have to think of him for once. Brand laughed at him for that. All he had wanted was to make him proud. He was a grown man when he stood upon a bloodied battlefield, watching Dain Ironfoot defending a motionless body, a dead king. A dead cousin. Dain died that day, like so many others he died protecting the king of Dale and their kingdoms, the vision they had built for their future. But Drystan survived. And there was nothing to be done about that. Drystan, the spare, the one they had never wanted. He was the one that survived, for fate played a cruel game in those days. They cried for Brand. They sang songs and wrote poems, they would remember him forever. And princess Tilda, his own mother, was so so proud. Drystan could not help it. He was jealous. He was angry. He should have been the one to die. And Brand should have lived. Should have ruled. He had been ready to die for the other, but not even that he was allowed in the end. He was guilty all the same.Â
#meinliied#aelernil#there you go#the title which is also the Heinrich tag translates to#speak of all the conscienceâs terror but of my father do not speak.#or all the terror of the conscience#;;sprich mir von allen Schrecken des Gewissens; von meinem Vater sprich mir nicht - Heinrich von ReuĂ#headcanons#drys having serious survivors guilt?#drys being jealous of Brand while also fiercely loving him?#YOU BET ON IT#Giuli you challenged my honor I hope I defended it well
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Darth Vader and the violence against imperial low-ranking soldiers (Old Trilogy)
I have habit of re-reading star wars comics & books, mainly focusing on Darth Vader. I have quite clear idea of his character, shaped by various sources AND my own thinking & analyzing made over the years.
One of the things that never sit well with me is idea of Vader using violence against low-ranking soldiers for no fair reason.
Donât get me wrong, Vader killed a lot of imperial soldiers, there is no deny of that. Either he sent them on very dangerous - sometimes simple suicide - missions without regard for their life or because âthere was no mercy for failure among the Imperial militaryâ. Vader was the ultimate executor of those who either betrayed Empire or were incompetent. Looking how the whole Imperial Army became corrupted, how so many people put their own ambitions and gains over the welfare of the Empire, Vaderâs ruthless presence was essential to keep the whole military in check.
And Dark Lord of the Sith was effective at his job, to the point that some characters - like bounty hunter Dengar - thought about him as a really busy man, who âhad his own political agenda, men to command, an Empire to runâ.
As much as Vader lacked patience for fools and tolerance for failures - what usually resulted in someoneâs death or at least force-choking - in the movies alone he never punished or threatened imperial low-ranking soldiers. All the verbal & physical violence was directed at officers, especially those with high status. At admiral Motti, for being disrespectful for Vaderâs belief about Force, at admiral Ozzel for incompetence, at captain Needa, for too hasty reporting success (catching Millennium Falcon) that turned out to be failure, at just-promoted-to-admiral Piett - if he failed him again. At Director of the Advanced Weapons Research, Orson Krennic, for being more focused at competing with Tarkin rather than performing a recommended task. But common troopers? Nope.
Frankly, the Old Trilogy gave us very noticeable contrast in Vaderâs behaviour that always depended on with whom he worked. The undertone of famous scene during Imperial Meeting in ANH was much different than, let say, boarding Leiaâs ship. For better analyze, here a short summary.
In A NEW HOPE:
After stormtroopers took over the rebel ship, the first thing Vader did was looking for enough alive rebeliant to interrogate. The few who fell in the first phase of imperial attack were dead, Vader didnât say anything, just moved on. Stormtroopers went with him.
Next scene, Vader personally interrogated Antilles after his trooper reported that âThe Death Star plans are not in the main computerâ. Not satisfied with rebelâs lack of cooperation, Vader ordered âCommander, tear this ship apart until you've found those plans, and bring me the passengers! I want them alive!â He sounded angry (then again, the man canât say a word without being terrifying) but there was no threat what will happen to stormtroopers if they will not find the plans. They didnât, as far as we know, no imperial soldier died in result.
Stormtrooper captured instead Leia, Vader had no patience for her lies and imprisoned her. Commander Daine Jir* pointed out flaws in Sithâs plan. No violence against him or against commander Praji*, who reported âLord Vader, the battle station plans are not aboard this ship, and no transmissions were made. An escape pod was jettisoned during the fighting, but no life-forms were aboard.â Â Vaderâs final words in that scene, âThere'll be no one to stop us this timeâ sounds not only confident about the future; the use of âusâ is an interesting choice of words. No stop âmeâ or âEmperorâs plansâ or Empire as a whole. Us. Vader referred to himself AND his troopers who hunted those rebels (and plans of Death Star) for a while.
During meeting with the most important Imperials on Death Star, minute or two after showing up with Tarkin, Vader was force choking Motti while saying the famous âI find your lack of faith disturbingâ. If Motti didnât act so arrogant, Vader wouldnât feel obligated to prove him wrong. There is visible contrast between Vader on battlefield (surrounded by his own soldiers) and Vader surrounded by high-ranking officers. The Dark Lord of the Sith is one of the most powerful being in Empire yet he is âoutsiderâ during the meeting. There is no place at table for him, he isnât part of military nor government the way Motti, Tagge or Tarkin were.
During battle of Yavin, Lieutenant Tanbris* informed âWe count 30 rebel ships, Lord Vader, but they're so small, they're evading our turbolasers.â Vaderâs reaction? âWe'll have to destroy them ship to ship. Get the crews to their fighters.â Once again, Vader used plural âweâ; he was going to join his troopers in fight against rebels. [Side note, since Tanbris is part of Vaderâs own crew, it makes sense he went straight to his boss, not to any official commander of Death Star. Then again, the 501st Legion wasnât personally responsible for protecting battle station but Vader involved himself in fight on his own because no imperial high ranking officer - be it Tarkin or Motti - either didnât think about using TIE fighters or were too arrogant to believe rebel attack may be dangerous to them]
Vader met two imperial pilots on his way to his personal TIE. He calmly told them âSeveral fighters have broken off from the main group. Come with me.â Not much emotions, no threats what will happen if they fail him. During fight, he only told them to cover him while he is dealing with rebels.
So, in ANH we have one a bit force-choked admiral, no threats against low ranking stormtroopers or imperial pilots. Vader doesnât have patience for Mottiâs arrogance & bullshit, but he doesnât mind Jirâs insight and is one of few imperial high-ranking officers who takes part in dangerous fights against enemy. Vader doesnât speak much with other high-ranked officers (beside Tarkin) and in final battle he doesnât just sent people on front line - he personally take action to secure Empireâs victory (and if not for Han Solo, he could succeed) while Tarkin, underestimating enemy, put faith in superiority of the Death Star.
In The Empire Strikes Back, Vaderâs status in imperial army changed. Until now he operated outside of military hierarchy and though he was always the second-in-command of Empire, now he was officially titled as Supreme Commander. Also, Vader already knew Luke is his son and became obsessed with finding / capturing him. The idea of having son at his side, made Vader closer to idea of overthrowing his master and thus âtread on thin iceâ. Because of the âpromotionâ to official Supreme Commander, for understable reasons, we see Vader more around officers than stormtroopers. Still in TESB:
the first man killed by Darth Vader was admiral Ozzel. Reason? Incompetence. Even then Vaderâs line âyou failed me for the last timeâ indicates that it wasnât the first mistake that Ozzel made. Unfortunately for the imperial officer - due to his obsession with finding Luke - Vader lost patience more quickly than usual. (General Veers tried excused admiralâs mistake but Vader didnât punish him in any way for speaking on behalf of another officer who clearly never was favored by Sith Lord; captain Piett get promotion)
The Rebel Base was under attack; though in the movie alone we didnât see Vader in battle action (not like in Star Wars Battlefront), itâs clear he joined troopers at some point and went into  Rebel Base before that was secured.
Later, Vader sent pilots after Millennium Falcon that hides in asteroid field which is like, the most(?) obviously cruel thing he did to common troopers, as far as movies showed. Then again, ANH already proved how high ranking Imperials do not care for people in general and Vader lack of care for wellbeing of subordinates does not stand out that much from âimperial normâ. What I mean, we still did not see him tormenting troopers for fun or act out anger by hurting them but using available forces in military operation that was important to Empire (and Vaderâs wish to save find son). This does not excuse the callousness of Vaderâs decisions but there is no malice towards troopers per se. He is doing what imperial officers would do - use troopers to archive victory for the glory of Empire.
Still, Vader does not mind use bounty hunters and mercenaries to do the dangerous job. Something that does not always sits well with imperial officers (Piett). If Vader could hear or feel in the Force admiralâs complain, he did not show any anger or care for it.
Captain Needa was second victim of Vader. This one death seems like unnecessary violence, especially since the officer was presented quite as honorable man (willing to take all blame on himself). But Needa reported capturing enemyâs ship that turned out to be not truth and was killed in result. No mercy for failure, after all. Still, no man under his command was put in harm way, as far as we know.
Later Vader was busy on Bespin, with the torturing Han Solo and fight with son. When once again Millennium Falcon run away (and the supposed ), the face of admiral Piett makes it clear, the man was painfully aware he failed. Yet Vader did not kill  nor threaten him in any way. Maybe Piett was to some degree liked by Darth Vader (he chose him after all) or maybe Piett was truly lucky man cause the Sith was too busy with his emotional/family conflict to care. Piett survived and was once again seen in RotJ.
Return of the Jedi puts once again Vader in different perspective. This time the focus on Sith does not involve much military matters, now his story resolve about personal conflicts; duty vs desire, master vs son and so on. Of course, we still can see Vader working well with admiral Piett or warning / threatening Moff about delays in construction of Death Star but he had no chance to take active part in combat like in previous movies.
So, in the Old Trilogy there is not much hints Vader used physical or verbal violence against low-ranking soldiers. He was willing to sacrifice their life for âgreater goodâ of Empire (or his own plans) but as far as movies shows, he did not force choke them for mistakes or talking back, like he did to Motti or director Krennic in Rogue One. And this shapes a lot of my thoughts about Vader, his relationship with other imperials and how he fit - or not - the imperial norms.
Of course, comics and books presents the matter in various ways but this is something for another meta(s). A meta(s) I hope to write in nearest future. For now, remember that the higher in rank someone is, the more critical, judgmental and strict Vader became.
* the names of imperial soldiers comes from additonal sources.
#star wars#darth vader#vader and stormtroopers#imperial officers#my analysis#my meta#yay i finally write this one it sit in my drafts for like months already#basicly i despite the idea that vader is using violence against common troopers for no reason#he will send them in dangreous places on suicide mission yes#but he is not gonna out of his way to scare or hurt or humilate them
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Tattooed Love
Summary: Soulmate AU. You have a small tattoo of your soulmates first initial and while you know him as soon as you see him it takes time to tell him how you feel.
A/N: this is for @thatfanficstuff 500 follower challenge. I also want to thank @mirandaaustin93 for being my beta. She isn't even into The Hobbit, but she watched it just for me and read over this. I can't thank her enough.
If you like this post and can Buy Me a Coffee
Warnings: none. I actually even made sure the boys lived because I can't handle their deaths.
Word count: 2203
Loyalty, honor, a willing heart. Those were the things Thorin looked for in a person, the things he respected. It was also something you had to offer. You were at the meeting in Ered Luin. You heard about his quest to reclaim Erebor and while Dain and the others told him it was the company's quest and theirs alone you refused to sit back and do nothing. The desire to help, to prove yourself, and to do the right thing burned deep in your soul and coursed through your veins hotter than a forgeâs fire. That was how you found yourself riding with Thorin to the Shire to meet the rest of the company and meet the burglar Gandalf had chosen to assist on the quest.
But truth be told those weren't the only reasons you had for joining such a dangerous quest. Even though they were the main ones. In the back of your mind and somewhere in your heart you hoped to meet your soulmate as well. Ever since you were old enough to understand what the little D rune tattooed on your ankle meant you had been looking for him. Everyone was born with a similar mark. For dwarves or in your case half dwarves the letter was a rune, but it was always the first letter of your soulmates name. It always looked like a tattoo, but the markings weren't always located in the same spot.
As soon as you met the stoic warrior with tattoos on his head and forearms you knew it had to be him. Just his rough voice sent a tingle down your spine and while most found his gaze and the way he held himself intimidating you didn't. It made you feel protected and if you were being honest a little bit aroused. However you kept this to yourself. For one you had just met him and wanted to get to know him before you blurted out you thought he was your soulmate. For two you were about to embark on a dangerous mission and more important things needed to be discussed.
You sat listening intently to Thorin as he spoke of the mountain and seizing the chance to take back Erebor with a smile. You were proud to call him king, but then talk of the front door being sealed began and arguments once again broke out because no one thought Bilbo could survive the wild. It made you sigh. Dwalin looked over at you with a raised brow. âWhat seems to be the matter lass?â You shook your head. âPointless arguing. Gandalf clearly chose the hobbit for a reason. So what if he's gentle and doesn't know how to defend himself. There's thirteen and a half dwarves here we can defend him if need be until we reach the mountain.â
Dwalin let out a gruff laugh. âThirteen and a half. You're funny lass.â After that moment you wanted to hear him laugh more and so you made it your personal mission to make him do so. Even if you weren't sure how to do it. That night everyone of the dwarves sang and you joined in, but your eyes were locked on Dwalin the entire time. His deep voice, the glint in his eyes that said he was a fierce warrior, and the way he held himself all drew you in. Like a moth to the flame or a dwarf to gold. There was no doubt in your mind he was your soulmate.
As you left the Shire and traveled over rolling hills and across little rivers you talked to all the company getting to know them better. You made friends with Fili and Kili easy enough. They were sweet and could easily make you laugh. You also talked to Balin enjoying the stories he told you, but your favorite talks were with Dwalin. You could listen to his voice all day. He told you stories of battles he had fought in, mischief he had caused as a dwarfling, becoming best friends with Thorin and many more. In return you told him stories of your childhood, how you learned to fight because you wanted to honor your father who had died in battle, how people put you down for being a halfbreed, and anything else you could think of.
The more you talked to him the more you fell in love. Dwalin was everything you could hope for in a soulmate. He was brave, strong, protective, loyal. Most importantly he had a soft side that not many got to see, but you did. One night while most of the company slept you and him sat up talking long into the night. âThere was this little fawn it had gotten separated from its ma, ya see. Well it was so tiny it was gonna die on its own. So I smuggled it into the house, fed it milk until it was big enough to survive in the wild and let it go.â He told you. It was the sweetest thing you had ever heard. This big tough dwarf who could easily crack skulls with his bare hands had taken care of something as gentle and precious as a lost fawn.
Getting to see that side of him made you realize there was more to him than meets the eye. And so you spent every night you could listening to his tales whether they be of gruesome fights or of helping someone in need by escorting them home safely, stories of boysâ night and getting plastered or of buying a single mother food for a week. Yes, Dwalin was a tough seasoned warrior, but he was also a soft kind soul once you got to know him. It warmed your heart that he allowed you to see the deeper part of him. You even had to stop yourself from telling him you loved him a few times.
Things seemed to be going great between you and Dwalin as well as for the company until one night you made camp near what used to be a farmer's  home. Gandalf and Thorin argued and the wizard took off. That was just the beginning of the trouble that would ensue that night. Just as you were about to take the last bite of the stew Bombur had made Fili came running toward camp saying trolls had Bilbo. You dropped the bowl grabbed your sword and followed after him like all the other dwarves. The battle was going in your favor until one of the trolls caught you and threw you into a tree. You landed on your leg funny and felt your ankle roll painfully. There was no doubt it was sprained.
Bilbo was captured and the dwarves dropped their weapons. Some were put on a spit over the fire while the rest of you were put in sacks. You closed your eyes and held back the whimper that was in the back of your throat. If you were going to die you would do it bravely. You wouldn't let the others know you were hurting as bad as you were. You were a warrior and you would die being strong like a warrior. You watched the spit looking at Dwalin sadly wishing you had told him how you felt. Now you would never get the chance to tell him, he was your soulmate and you loved him. Or so you thought.
The hobbit had managed to play for time. While his plan was a bit strange it had worked and Gandalf had showed up in time to turn the trolls to stone. All of you were released from your bags and off the spit. While some of the company went to look for a cave you sat there letting your ankle rest. You poked it and let out a hiss. âLet me have a look at it lass. You took a pretty hard hit.â You looked up at Dwalin and nodded not even thinking about the little soulmate tattoo he would find. You just wanted to make sure it wasn't broke as you didn't want to be a burden the rest of the journey.
Dwalin knelt next to you and pulled the leg of your trousers up, untied your boot and pulled it off. He lifted your leg and went to examine it. When he spotted the little D rune he took pause. The stoic warrior had felt himself falling for you more and more as you grew to know one another. He also remembered the rune on his right shoulder that was the first letter of your name. Deep inside he had prayed that you were his soulmate, but you were so soft, so gentle, so sweet, and perfect. He was none of that. He didn't want to get his hopes up in case he was wrong, but now he had a reason to have hope. For the first time in a long time he felt his heartbeat pick up and was honestly a little nervous.
âY/N, lass.â He looked up at you his eyes more serious than you had ever seen. You could see the different emotions playing in his eyes. Nervousness, happiness, pride, love, and a little fear. All of it made you very nervous, but you didn't take your eyes off his for a second. âI think it's time I showed you something.â He shrugged his fur coat off and moved his tunic showing you his mark. There it was for you to see. A little rune depicting the first letter of your name. Honestly you didn't know how to react. This whole time you had been afraid to tell him how you felt when you had nothing to fear.
You smiled at him, the pain in your ankle completely forgotten and pulled him down for a kiss. His lips were chapped and rough just like he was, but having them pressed to yours was the sweetest feeling in the world. Tingles ran down your spine, your heart picked up pace and you felt like nothing bad could happen as long as he kept holding you like he was. Dwalinâs hands had come to rest of your hips and despite his tough exterior he held you gently, like a butterfly he was afraid to crush. When he pulled away he rested his forehead against yours. âI love you, Dwalin,â you whispered knowing he would hear you.
âI love you too, Y/N. And I swear to protect you to the end of my days.â He promised. And no matter the hardships you endured on the quest he kept that promise. He made sure the orcs didn't get you as you ran, he protected you during the thunderbattle, in the goblin tunnels he hit any one of the nasty creatures that dared touch you, hanging from a tree he protected you then too. A skinchanger, spiders, elves, and a dragon. He watched over you through it all. He even kept you safe during the battle of the five armies. There was nothing he wouldn't keep you safe from. You thanked Mahal for giving you such a perfect soulmate. Without Dwalin you just knew you would be lost.
When the day finally came for your wedding you couldn't be happier. The smile on your face was more stunning than even the Arkenstone. What made the day better was the fact your best friends, Fili and Kili were walking you down the aisle while Thorin was officiating. It had been a miracle they had survived the battle, but they had and here they were to experience the happiest day of your life with you. You fussed with your hair one last time before opening the door and smiling at the boys. âTime to get you married,â Fili said. Kili had a cheeky grin. âI know you're excited for what comes after.â The young prince wiggled his brows. You smacked him, but accepted his and his brother's arm as they were offered.
Dwalin blinked rapidly. He couldn't believe how beautiful you were. The stoic warrior felt he was looking at an angel as he watched Fili and Kili bring you closer to him. As soon as you were standing across from him he held your hands in his and smiled. For anyone that didn't know how he was with you it was a strange sight, but for the company they expected nothing less. You stood there barely hearing a thing Thorin said as you gazed at your soulmate with all the love and adoration your small body could muster. If someone asked you what was said during the ceremony you wouldn't be able to tell them.
The only thing you remembered was promising to always love Dwalin and him promising you the same. Of course Kili then yelled from the crowd, âKiss already.â Dwalin let out a growl, but did just that. Normally he wasn't one for public displays of affection, but today he made an exception as he kissed you with everything he had. âYour mine and I'm yours for now and until the end of our days,â he whispered. âI wouldn't have it any other way,â you whispered back.
#dwalin#dwalin x reader#the hobbit#the hobbit fanfiction#soulmate au#happy ending for all#thatfanficstuff's favorite things#dwalin fanfiction#the hobbit reader insert
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Elastic Heart - Part 19 - Battle Begins
Warnings: Fighting, mentions of abuse, mentions of death, ETC
Pairings: Hobbit X OFC; Thranduil X OFC; Fili X OFC; LOTR X OFC
A/N: Since Tumblr is Broke youâll have to go to my master-list to find all the other parts.
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As a battle rages around me I look around to see all my friends fighting against the Orcs as one. Thranduil and Bard fight on in the city of Dale as the dwarves fight on upon the plains that lie before the mountain. I watch as Thorin, Kili, Dwalin, and Fili climb unto rams and head up to Ravenhill after Azog. I stare at them for a moment before I feel the scenery around me change. I look around to see ruins of an old watchtower and the smell of blood was thick on the air.Â
I see no one as I slowly walk along until I reach the top of the tower. I look down at the plains to see the dwarves and elves over powering the Orcs with help from the eagles and Beorn and smile. I hear something behind me and I turn to see Fili walking toward me a smile on his face. I smile back at him and as he reaches me I wrap my arms around him.Â
âI missed you.â I say to him but he doesnât reply he just gently cups my face in his hands and gently places a kiss on my lips. I feel heat fill my body as my eyes close and our kiss is deepened. Suddenly he pulls away and I look into his eyes to see them slowly growing cold.
He looks down and I follow his gaze to see a sword plunged into his back. My eyes widen as I cry out in anguish. He turns away from me and I see Azog standing behind him. Fili stumbles and as I reach out to grab him he falls over the edge of the tower and tumbles to the ground. I stare wide eyed at his lifeless body before I look back to see Azog was gone.Â
I look around and see Kili fighting with Bolg to protect Tauriel when he is suddenly impaled as well. Tears pour from my eyes as I watch Tauriel fight against Bolg. I hear another cry and I turn to see Thorin being impaled by Azog and I cannot contain my sadness as I let out a ear piercing scream in pain.
I quickly make my way down the tower to Fili where I see Dwalin cradling him in his arms and my heart completely breaks. I reach up and clench the piece of hair that he had braided before I lean down in front of him and bury my face in his chest. I feel Dwalinâs hand gently touch the top of my head before he places his head on mine. I cry out into his chest, âFili get up! Please I canât do this without you! Get up!â I scream it over and over again until I feel myself being shaken awake.
âRandĂr!â Mahrie cries out as she shakes me. âWake up!â My eyes widen as I jump awake. âAre you alright?â She asks as my eyes dart all around me finding anything to make me realize it was just a dream. âRandĂr!â she says as she smacks my cheek. I pause tears streaming from my eyes.
âI am sorry, I just had a nightmare.â I say as I reach up and gently wipe the tears away.
âI heard you screaming and came to check on you.â
âThank you Mahrie, I didnât wake Frieda did i?â I ask as I try to compose myself.
âThankfully not, but I am worried about you. I know you have probably seen many horrors in your life but you mustnât let them control you.â
I smile as I say, âYou are right.â I slowly stand up and look around to see the sun about to creep over the ridge and I turn toward her and say, âWhen the chaos starts I want you to stay close to Frieda, and stay in the great hall. I wonât be able to protect you.â
She nods as she says, âAre you sure youâre ready to fight?â
I look down at my hands and remember Filiâs blood being on them in my dream and say, âI have to make sure my nightmare doesnât come true. Thank you Mahrie,â I grab Ithildin and quickly make my way from their home to where they had roomed Bilbo. When I arrive I see him sneaking out and I smile as I sneak up behind him and poking him in the shoulder say, âAre you sure you wonât get caught?â
He jumps and I smile as he turns back to me and says, âItâs just you,â
I smile as I say, âI see youâre sneaking back to the mountain,â
âI am.â
âCan you do me a favor?â
He eyes me for a moment before he says, âWhat do you need?â
âWill you tell Fili, that I miss him and I will see him soon?â
Bilbo smiles as he says, âYou really do care for him donât you?â
I smile as I say, âThis stays between us, but I love him. When this is all over Iâll follow him anywhere.â
He smiles as he says, âI knew there was something going on between the two of you. Filiâs lucky to have you.â
I smile and leaning down to hug him say, âThank you Bilbo; now off with you. Iâll make sure no one realizes youâve gone.â
âThank you Randir,â He says as he turns an heads off toward the mountain.
I walk toward where Thranduil was camped and upon reaching it walk out onto the balcony that looked toward the mountain and smile as I say, âI will keep you alive, all of you.â I close my eyes and let my voice carry as I sing out an elven song about love and battle. I meant it to calm the people of Laketown and perhaps relax the elves but I had no idea it would give them the courage to fight. I glance behind me to see Thranduil and Bard staring at me and I smile as I say, âShall we then?â
I watch as Bard mounts his white horse while Thranduil climbs up upon his massive Elk. Thranduil then turns to me and says, âInnas lle nor-yassen amin?â (Will you ride with me?)
I look toward the mountain before I turn back to him and say, âAmin innas,â He holds out his arm to me and I gulp down a breath of air before taking it and allowing him to pull me up onto the Elk behind him. We ride toward the gates until Thorin fires an arrow at the ground before us.
âI will put the next one between you eyes.â I hear Thorin call out and I grip tightly to the back of Thranduilâs robes. The dwarves start to holler in excitement until the Elves behind us draw their bows and aim toward them. I watch as they all go quiet and hide behind the stones. Â I tighten my grip on Thranduil and he instantly raises a hand stopping the elves from firing.
âWe have come to tell you, payment of your debt has been offered and accepted.â Thranduil calls out and I slowly manage a quick glance toward the mountain as Thorin yell out, âWhat payment, I gave you nothing! You have nothing!â Thranduil turns toward Bard and I follow his gaze.
âWe have this!â Bard says as he reaches into his into his pocket and pulls out the Arkenstone holding it up for all to see. I gulp down a breath as I once again look around Thranduilâs shoulder at the dwarves.Â
âThat stone belongs to the king!â One of the dwarves cries out and Bard replies, âAnd the King may have it, with our goodwill. But first, he must honor his word.â
It is silent for a moment before Thorin cries out, âThe Arkenstone is in the mountain, this is a trick!â he goes silent again and my heart drops as I realize Bilbo is telling him the truth. I quickly climb down off Thranduilâs Elk and standing between him and Bard I stare up at the gates.Â
âThrow him from the ramparts!â I Hear Thorin yell and my heart drops. I watch helplessly as Thorin tries to throw Bilbo over the edge until I hear Gandalf cry out, âIf you donât want my burglar them please donât damage him. Return him to me.â I slowly turn toward Gandalf as he continues saying, âYouâre not making a very splendid figure as king under the mountain are you Thorin son of Thrain.â
âNever again will I have dealings with Wizards, or Shire rats!â Thorin cries out and I turn to see Bilbo scrambling down the side of the gate toward the ground and I quickly make my way over to him.
âAre we come to terms? Will you have the Arkenstone for what was promised?â I hear Bard cry out from behind me as I help Bilbo. âGive us your answer. Will you have peace or war?â
I manage a glance back up the gate side as I wait for Bilbo. I silently pray that he takes the deal but I see a Raven fly up to him and know he will not. âI will have war!â he says as he turns to the east. I follow his gaze to see an army of Dwarves marching towards us. It is the Iron foot, distant relations of Thorinâs. âRibo i thangail!â (Rush the Shield-fence) Thranduil cries out as he rides his Elk toward the front lines.
âCome along Bilbo!â I call out as I wait for him to hop over the large stones. I glance up to see Fili looking down at me with sadness in his eyes. I gently reach up and grabbing the braided piece of hair give him a reassuring smile. I watch as the side of his mouth tilts up momentarily before his attention is pulled away by his uncle.
Bilbo and I quickly make our way to Gandalfâs side as we all walk toward the dwarves. âWho is that? he doesnât look too happy.â Bilbo says as I keep my eyes on the dwarf army.
âThat is Dane, Lord of the Iron Hills, Thorinâs cousin.â
âAre they alike?â
âIâve always found Thorin the more reasonable of the two.â Gandalf slowly looks down at Bilbo and I can already see that this wasnât going to end well.
As Dane rides toward us upon a giant pig he says, âGood morning, how are you? I have a wee proposition if you donât mind giving me a few minutes of your time. Would you consider just sodding off!â The people of Laketown flinch back at his sudden outburst but I remain firm. âAll of you right now!â
âStand fast!â Bard calls out and I gently place my hand upon Ithildinâs hilt ready for anything. âCome now Lord Dane!â I hear Gandalf cry out and I slowly turn toward him.
âGandalf the Grey?â I hear Dane say and I listen carefully to their conversation. âTell this rubble to leave or Iâll water the ground with their blood!â
âThere is no need of war between Dwarves, man, and Elves. A legion of Orcs march on the mountain. Stand your army down!â
âI will not stand down before and Elf! Not least this faithless woodland sprite. He wishes nothing but ill upon my people. If he chooses to stand between me and my kin, I'll split his pretty head open! See if he's still smirking then.â Â I feel anger fill my chest as I grip tightly to Ithildin.
âHeâs clearly mad, like his cousin!â Thranduil calls back to Dain.
âYou hear that lads!â I hear Dain say but I donât hear the rest as I feel something once again come over me.
âThere are coming.â I say making everyone go silent around me even the Dwarves from the Iron Hills.
âWhen will they be here?â Gandalf says and my eyes jerk to the right as I say, âItâs too late, they are here!â As I finish speaking the earth starts to rumble beneath our feet. They follow my gaze and see the Were-Worms burst out of the ground like daisies.
âOh, come on!â Dain cries out as his army quickly resituates itself against the Orcs. I glance toward Ravenhill and feel my heart drop. Azog was there just like in my dream. Â âThe Hordes of Hell are upon us! To battle! To battle, sons of Durin!â Dain cries out again as the Orcs moves closer to them. I pull Ithildin from his sheath as I stroll up beside Dain and say, âIf youâll have me, I will fight with you.â He says nothing but nods in agreement.
I glance back to see the Elf army not moving as the Orc army is about to attack and hear Bilbo say, âThe Elves, will they not fight?â
âThranduil! This is madness!â Gandalf cries out and I slowly turn to Thranduil and give him a sad look. Then I turn back toward the Orcs and brace myself for their approach. As the Orc army is heading towards us suddenly the Elf army joins in the fight and starts attacking the Orc army with the Dwarf army joining them. I wave Ithildin around like crazy as I take out all the anger from my past out on them. I glance over to see part of the Orc Army start heading towards Dale and my face blanches.
âAzog. He's trying to cut us off.â Gandalf yells and my mind instantly goes to Frieda and Mahrie.Â
âAll of you, fall back to Dale! Now!â Bard cries as he starts riding toward the city upon his white steed.Â
âTo the city! People, this way!â Gandalf cries as he and Bilbo run toward the city with the people of Laketown close behind. As I fight I turn to see an Orcs running toward me but before it reaches me Thranduil brings his sword down slicing its head clean off its shoulders.
âThranduil!â I cry as I turn over to him. âPlease take your elves to Dale, I need you to make sure a little girl named Frieda and her mother Mahrie is safe; will you do that for me please?â He eyes me for a moment before he nods and rides off on his massive Elk toward Dale followed by a handful of Elves. âThank you my friend.â I say before I quickly turn back to fighting.
The Dwarf army and I continue to fight the Orcs until I hear Dain cry out, âThorin! Where's Thorin? We need him. Where is he?â I look back to the mountain before I turn and quickly decapitate a advancing Orc. We continue to fight until I hear Dain call again, âFall back! Fall back! Back to the Mountain! Fall back! Hey you she elf fall back!â I quickly fall back until I am standing beside him behind a line of prepared dwarves.
I glance over at him and say, âHe will come, Thorin will not abandon you.â He looks down and I see the doubt in his eyes as he nods slightly to me. I look back toward the Orc army as it moves forward to attack when suddenly I hear the horns of Erebor sound behind me. I hear a loud crash and turn to see a huge golden bell smash through the wall of the mountain. My heart lifts as I see Thorin and the rest of his company run out of the mountain and as they run past us toward the Orcs Dain cries out, âTo the King! To the King!â
Will Continue -Â
#berjhawn#berjhawn writes#hobbit fanfiction#hobbit x oc#hobbit x reader#the hobbit#thranduil fanfiction#thranduil x ofc#thranduil x oc#Thranduil#fili x OC#fili x ofc#fili#fili fanfiction
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The Cruel Prince by Holly Black Review (Spoilers)
The Cruel Prince follows the story of Jude Duarte, a human living among the creatures of fay in a magical place called Elfhame. When she was 7 years old, along with her two sisters, she witnessed the murder of her mother and father by the man who would become her foster father, a man she would learn to love and respect. This manâs name is Madoc and he is the high general for the King of Elfhame.
In the Kingdom of Faerie, humans a are viewed upon as second class citizens. Humans in Elfhame fall into one of several categories: People who were tricked to be in service of the fay, a human who has shown some special skill that is favored by one of the fay, used as lovers to keep the blood of the fay alive (it is very hard for the fay to have children), or in the case of Jude and her twin sister Taryn, as wards under the protection of one of the fay. This is especially shown in the schooling of the gentry (the highborn of Elfhame). Even though being human, Jude and Taryn are allowed to join these lessons being the foster daughters of Madoc, the high general. In school, Jude and Taryn constantly get bullied for something they canât change about themselves, which is the fact that they are human. While reading, I viewed this portion of the book to be an allegory to the big problem of bullying in our world in this day in age. Kids can be bullied for the smallest things, usually things that they canât change about themselves. Jude decided that if she is going to be picked on, she is going to make life a living hell for the people who are picking on her, especially after witnessing her sister cry from being bullied. The main culprit for all the bullying that is done to Jude and her sister is the youngest prince of the high king, Prince Cardan. In the first half of the book, I hated Cardan. He is such a jerk. What you start to find out later in the book is that just like in the real world, people who are bullies tend to get bullied themselves in some other capacity. Cardan is being bullied at home by his older brother Balekin. Since he is humiliated at home, he wanted someone else to share in his pain. This doesnât excuse Cardanâs behavior, but it does give reason to it. One member of Cardanâs posy, Locke, shows an interest in Jude and decides to somewhat stand up for her and try to woe her. To his success, it works. Jude starts to really like Locke. She likes his company, she likes kissing him, she likes having someone pay attention to her for something other than the fact that she is human.
One thing that Jude wants more than anything is to make a spot for herself in the kingdom of Elfhame that is more than just the human foster child of the high general. To do this, she wants to become a knight. Growing up in Madocâs household and being taught with the gentry, Jude has become proficient in sword fighting and views it to be one of her only skill sets. Jude plans to volunteer to be picked to be a knight at the next tournament but her dreams get shattered when Madoc tells her that he wonât allow it. Madocâs decision here is really the inciting incident for later decisions in the book. Jude would have been happy being a knight but since she is not allowed to do the thing she wants, she ends up finding a place for herself in another way. Jude still decided to fight in the tournament and her skill catches the eye of Prince Dain, the next King of Elfhame. Prince Dain recruits Jude to become a spy for him for the fact that she can lie unlike the fay and that she is pretty good with a weapon. He also grants her resistance from glamour. The spies of Prince Dain are called the Court of Shadows.
Being a part of the Court of Shadow, Jude learns new skills and is assigned on missions. One mission is to go to Hallow Hall, where Prince Balekin and Prince Cardan live, and find something of worthy that Prince Dain can use. Jude completes this mission, but not without stealing Aliceâs Adventures in Wonderland from Prince Cardanâs room and witnessing Cardan getting beaten by a human servant under Balekins orders. The completion of this mission was finding a letter in Queen Orlagh handwriting stating âI know the provenance of the blusher mushroom that you ask after, but what you do with it must not be tied to me. After this, consider my dept paid. Let my name be stricken from your lipsâ that was addressed to Balekin. Later when Jude opens Alice and Wonderland at home, she finds a piece of paper tucked inside the book with her name written over and over again in Cardanâs handwriting with smudges and holes in the paper from writing too hard. At that moment, she comes to the conclusion that Cardan must really hate her.
When it comes time for Prince Dainâs coronation, everything goes wrong. First, Jude finds out that Locke had been playing a game with her and her twin sister. Locke had asked Taryn to marry him under one condition, she prove her love for him. The way she would prove her love is to let Locke try to get with Jude and not tell her anything about Locke and Taryn. This is such a stupid way to show someone you love them. Itâs an awful deal for Taryn. She betrays her sister and gets to see her man cheat on her just so she can marry him. When I found this out, I began to not like Taryn or Locke very much. Locke is an asshole and Taryn chose a boy over her sister and that is just not right. Next, Balekin, along with the help of Madoc, murders the entire royal family, aside from Cardan because he was nowhere to be found, to try to get the crown. The crown can only be passed down from one member of the Greenbriar line to the next and Balekin believed he would be a better king than his younger brother Dain. My jaw was probably wide open when I read this chapter the first time because I was really surprised of the events that passed. Jude was witness to all of this and for a second time in the book, her heart breaks. All that she has worked for to find a place in Elfhame were she belonged was stabbed in the back by Madoc. Jude tries to escape and who does she find on her way, none other than Cardan; the person that everyone is looking for because he is the only one who can crown Balekin now. She brings him to the Court of Shadows and he is surprised to find out that she was a spy for Prince Dain. Even though throughout the entire first part of the book, you really hate Cardan, you start to feel bad for him. All of his family just died, even if none of them really liked him much, and he is just scared about what is to come next. He is scared for his life. The author emoted such hatred for this character to then have you feel sorry for him and to hope that he makes it out alive.
When trying to figure out what to do, Jude leaves Cardan with the Court of Shadows to go home and see what Madocâs play is. Jude is given a day to come back. If she takes longer than that, the Court of Shadows will cut their loses and kill Cardan. When Jude sees Taryn, anger takes over her and she challenges her to a duel for her honor, which was grievously betrayed. Taryn states that she wanted to tell Jude but she couldnât because then she would fail the test that Locke gave her to prove her love. Jude then asked what Cardan said to her the day she witnessed her crying from his words. Cardan told Taryn that it was because of her that he kicked dirt onto Judeâs food. Locke tricked him into thinking that Jude stole Locke from Nicasia. That Jude was suffering in Tarynâs place. Jude throws her sword at Taryn and tells her to pick it up. Jude grabs the sword on the wall and tells Taryn she can make the first strike with the better sword. The two sisters start fighting and would have probably seriously hurt each other if Vivi did not glamour them to stop. Well, Vivi was only able to glamour Taryn because Jude is resistant to glamours but Jude ended up throwing her sword across the room as to not seriously hurt her twin when she realized Taryn would not block her blow from the glamour. Madoc pulls the two girls into his study to lecture them about family fighting with family. After Taryn leaves, Madoc mentions that he is not too fond of Locke and does not think he is good for either Taryn or Jude. He also asked Jude if she knew where Prince Cardan was and Jude lies to him saying she does not. Later that night, Vivi offers Jude to run away with her to the mortal world. Jude asked Vivi to give her a day to think on it.
The next day, Jude goes to Orianaâs room to find Taryn since she wasnât in her room. Taryn is at Lockeâs house and Jude catches eyes of a golden acorn on Orianaâs desk. This acorn is the twin to the one she had taken from Lockeâs house earlier in the book. From that small acorn, Jude figures out that Oak is not Madocâs child and Prince Dain had Liriope (Oaks actual mother and the mother of Locke) murdered with poison that was provided by Queen Orlagh of the undersea. With this knowledge, Oak is part of the Greenbriar line and can crown a King, or even be crowned himself. Oriana lets Jude know that Madoc is already privy to this knowledge and Jude suggest that Madoc will probably get Oak crowned king so he can rule as his regent. Oriana does not want this for Oak and makes Jude promise that she will find a way to make sure Oak is safe. Jude gives her a maybe as an answer.
When Jude returns back to the Court of Shadows, she comes to find Cardan drinking and laughing and playing cards with them the Roach, the Ghost, and the Bomb (all members of the Court of Shadows). Jude, angry that Cardan is having a good time, pulls him into the other room to have a chat with him. She has him sit down and then she sits at Prince Dainâs desk and points the crossbow at Cardan. Cardan tells Jude he is terrified and that he will answer any question she has for him. Through the whole interrogation, Jude finally finds out why Cardan hates her so much. He hates her because she has a father that loves her even though she is a human who was born to an unfaithful wife while his never cared for him even though he is a prince of Faerie. He hates her because she doesnât have a brother who beats her. He hates her because Locke used her and Taryn to make Nicasia cry after he stole her from him. He hates her because after the tournament, Balekin never failed to throw Jude in his face as the mortal who could beat him. Cardan is jealous of Jude. But the thing that makes Cardan hate Jude most of all is that he thinks of her, often. Jude doesnât believe him at first and goes around the desk and pulls a knife on Cardan and leans in close enough to him for a kiss. His eyes widen and his face shows a combination of panic and desire. Jude then kisses him. This moment of the book is so intense and quite funny. Jude ends up making out with a person she hates while holding a knife to his throat.
Jude comes up with a plan and makes Cardan think that he will be crowing Oak High King of Elfhame to then have him go to the mortal world with Vivi to grow up so that Madoc does not have true influence over him. To enact her plan, Jude ask Cardan to be in her service to make sure that he wonât betray her. He agrees to be in her service for one year and a day after Jude agrees that Cardan can live in Hallow Hall, get every last bottle in the royal cellars, and have the Roach teach him how steal. Cardan and Jude then travel to the Unseelie courts to try and get them to agree to backing a new king. One of the Kings of the Unseelie court, King Roiben says he will back this new king if the king will give him a favor in the future. Jude makes this agreement with him. By this point, Jude has made multiple promises to people she may not be able to keep. She has definitely spread herself thin.
When Jude arrives to Balekinâs dinner, everyone is surprised to see Cardan with her. In Cardanâs mind, he is working alongside Jude to enact her big plan. What he doesnât know is that Jude was keeping her true plan away from him. She told him to kneel down to show Oak how itâs done to be crowned king and while he was in that position, she ordered him not to move for a full minute. In that minute, Oak crowns him High King of Elfhame. Judeâs thought process is that the safest way to make sure Oak can get the crown when he is older is to have someone else wear it while he grows up in the mortal world. After Cardan is crowned, he makes a toast to Jude, who gave him a gift tonight, one he will repay in full. This scares Jude because she knows how angry he is with her at that moment because Cardan never wanted to be king. The Court of Shadows decide to give Jude her code name after this whole debacle, The Queen.
In the epilogue, Cardan warns Jude that a year and a day can pass in the blink of an eye. He tells her he wonât be a good king. He will be her puppet. Jude will do the work of ruling while Cardan will drink wine and make his subjects laugh. He promises her that he will not be useful.
I highly recommend this book. The characters are written really well and you really get to see the motivations of each characters even if you are only reading from Judeâs perspective. Cardan is not happy with Jude by the end of the book, but he has always held a hatred/disdain for her. Like they say, there is a fine line between love and hate and that is definitely explored more in the next book.
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Update - Greater than Gold
AN: Fun fact - this is one of the first chapters I outlined. Itâs so crazy to see how my writing style has changed over the years, but this chapter stays mostly true to my original vision.
Warnings: BotFA, yâall. Battle scenes, injuries, goldsick!Thorin
Also on FF.net and AO3
Chapter 29: The Battle of the Five Armies
Word Count (chapter): 7000
âThorin, this is madness!â Balin whisper-shouts. No one has moved to follow their Kingâs command to barricade the entrance to Erebor. The Company anxiously looks from one to another, hesitant.
âI want this fortress made safe by sun-up,â Thorin continues, ignoring Balin entirely and staring down the rest of the Company. âThis mountain was hard-won. I will not see it taken again. Now, all of you!â
âThorin,â KĂli starts, taking a step back when Thorinâs sharp gaze whirls to him. âThe people of Laketown have nothing. They came to us in need; they have lost everything.â
âDo not speak to me of loss!â Thorin shouts. âI know well enough of hardship. They have survived dragonfire; they should be grateful.â
âYou gave them your word,â FĂli interrupts. âI gave them my word. Are you not an honorable king? Does that mean nothing to you?â
Thorinâs eyes narrow. âThings have changed,â he says sharply. âMore stone. Bring more stone to the gate!â Again, no one moves. âIf you will not obey me, I will charge you with treason and rid this place of you,â he hisses.
Reluctantly, Bombur and Dwalin move to follow his orders, and the rest of the dwarves eventually follow. FĂli is the last to do so, his eyes locked on Thorinâs tense shoulders as his uncle retreats back into the halls. He decides to follow Balin and Bilbo as they gather more debris, throwing stones into a pushcart that, just that morning, they had been using to clear the gate instead.
âWe have to do something,â Bilbo murmurs once heâs sure Thorin is out of earshot. âIsnât there something we can do?â His eyes search FĂliâs before he turns to regard Balin, pleading.
Balin gives them both a sympathetic look. âItâs the goldsickness. Iâve seen it before, with your grandfather, Fili. That look. That terrible need. It is a fierce and jealous love, Bilbo. It drove Thrain mad.â He angrily throws another chunk of stone into the pushcart.
Bilbo hesitates, eyes flicking nervously between the two of them. âWould it...I mean, if we found the Arkenstone...would it help?â
FĂli gasps, catching his meaning, while Balin chuckles sadly. âThat stone crowns all. It is the summit of great wealth; bestows power on those who possess it. Would it stay his madness?â He angrily brushes an escaped tear. âNo, laddie. I fear it would only make it worse.â He looks sadly to FĂli, knowing full-well that the last hope he and KĂli clung to was that finding the Arkestone would set everything straight in their Uncleâs mind once more.
âPerhaps it is best it remains lost,â FĂli murmurs quietly, and he physically feels the hope drain away from him. There was nothing more they could do, was there? How else could they make Thorin see reason? He had been cruel to everyone, even to KĂli. It had seemed that Thorin had already forfeited his love for his kin and company in favor of the treasure.
Bilbo nods before looking down at his feet. âIâm sorry,â he says quietly.
They wordlessly return to their task.
-----
He paces along the rampart. He cannot rest. The Arkenstone stays lost to him, and an army of elves sits at his doorstep. They have finished the barricades, but he knows that they do not have the rations to protect Erebor. He has sent word to Dain, but without the stone, his cousin has no reason to answer. If he doesnât...well. Thorin will die before he lets a speck of his treasure fall to Thrandiul, the treacherous snake.
A lone rider makes their way up the road. He glares at him, watching intently before recognizing him as the man from Esgaroth that had spoken out against him.
âHail, Thorin, son of Thrain!â the rider calls once he is near to the foot of the mountain. âIt is good to find you alive beyond all hope.â
Thorin doesnât waste time with pleasantries. âWhy have you come to the mountain armed for war?â he shouts, waving his arm at the elven encampment.
âWhy does the King Under the Mountain fence himself in like a robber in his hole?â the man retorts, and Thorin feels his ire rise.
âPerhaps because I am expecting to be robbed!â
âMy lord, we have no intention of robbing you,â the man says, raising his hands in a placating gesture. âWe only come to seek fair settlement. A bargain was struck, was it not? Will you not speak with me?â
With a glare, Thorin heads down from the rampart as the man dismounts his horse. He passes by the Company, who watch him anxiously, as he walks to the old guard station where a small window remains unobstructed. âI am listening,â he says curtly. In his periphery, he can see Balin, KĂli, and FĂli hovering at the entrance to the station.
âI only ask that you honor your pledge. We have been left in ruin. We seek only a small portion of the treasure to rebuild our lives,â the man says.
âI will not treat with any man while an armed host sits at my door,â Thorin snaps, ignoring when he hears Balin swear from behind him.
The man sighs. âThat armed host will attack if you do not honor your bargain.â
Thorin laughs darkly. âYour threats do not sway me.â
âWhat of your conscience?â the man implores. âOur children are starving; will you not help them?â
âWhat aid did the men of Laketown provide my people?â Thorin roars. âWhen we came to you, starving and in ruins, your ancestors turned us away. Why should we not do the same?â
âYou gave us your word!â the man shouts in response. âA bargain was struck -â
âA bargain?â Thorin interrupts. âWhat choice did we have but to barter our birthright for blankets and food? To ransom our future in exchange for our freedom? You call that a fair trade?â He paces angrily. âTell me, Bard the dragon-slayer, why should I honor such terms?
Bard steps back, shaking his head in disbelief. âYou gave us your word,â he repeats. âDoes that mean nothing?
âBegone, before I let arrows fly,â Thorin sneers. âKĂli, to the rampart,â he continues when the man hesitates to move.
Reluctantly, Bard stomps away in anger, cursing Thorin with every step, mounting his horse and retreating to Dale.
Thorin whirls around and narrows his eyes on KĂli. âDid your king not give you an order? To the rampart.â
KĂli glances to his brother before nodding, obediently taking his place along the wall. Thorin pushes past FĂli and Balin to meet the rest of the Company, which watches him with apprehension.
âWhat are you thinking?â the little hobbit says, eyes alight with anger. âYou cannot go to war.â
Thorin walks past him, casting him a dismissive look. âThis does not concern you, hobbit.â
Bilbo persists. âExcuse me, but in case you havenât noticed there are several thousand armed elves out there. Not to mention a few hundred angry fishermen. You are outnumbered.â
Thorin scoffs. âNot for much longer,â he says, pointedly ignoring the confused looks the dwarves shoot at him.
âWhat does that mean?â
He smirks. âIt means, little hobbit, that you should never underestimate dwarves.â
âThorin,â FĂli interjects. âLet this be. They can have my share of the treasure; that will be enough for them to rebuild. That can be the end of this.â
Rage fills him once more. âThis is your birthright,â he snaps. âI will cut you from my line if you cast it away.â
FĂliâs face crumples. âUncle, we can end this. Now. Please, see reason.â
âThey can have my share instead,â Bofur offers, and several others murmur in agreement.
Thorin glares at them. âIs this mutiny? You will have what you were promised.â He whirls around, stomping off in the direction of the armory. âWe have won the mountain; now we will defend it.â
-----
Bilbo watches as the dwarves prepare for war. They are sifting through the pieces in the armory, seeing what is still useful, repairing what they can. No one speaks. He doesnât know what to do; he cannot fight. Sting alone will not protect him from an angry hoard of elves. Perhaps once the fighting starts he will put on his ring and slip away. Perhaps Thorin is distracted enough that he could slip away now.
As if summoned, the King Under the Mountain stands before him. He throws a shiny, silver shirt of chainmail to him. âYouâre going to need this. Put it on.â
Obediently, Bilbo removes his jacket and slips the silver shirt over his clothes. It hangs off of him, clearly too large. âI look absurd,â he sighs. âIâm not a warrior, Thorin.â
The king seems to ignore him. âThis shirt is made of silver steel. Mithril. No blade can pierce it.â
âThen perhaps it should go to someone who will last longer in the fighting,â Bilbo says darkly.
âIt is a gift,â Thorin says, his voice suddenly soft. Bilbo glances up in surprise; he had not heard such warmth in Thorinâs voice since theyâd come to the mountain. âA token of our friendship. True friends are hard to come by,â he adds.
But just as abruptly, Thorinâs eyes harden.
âI have been blind, but now I am beginning to see,â he says sharply, eyes frantically roving from one dwarf to the next. âI have been betrayed!â
A lump forms in Bilboâs throat when Thorin fixes his glare on him. âBetrayed?â he ekes out, fearful that Thorin somehow knows.
His glare shifts back to the company. âOne of them has taken it. One of them is false.â
âWhat?â Bilbo says quickly, wits returning to him. He sees that Thorinâs glare is focused on KĂli, who is fletching as many arrows as he can, deft fingers making quick work.
âBetrayed by my own kinâŠâ Thoin mumbles.
âNo, of course not!â he interjects. âThorin, you made a promise,â he says, shifting the conversation away. âYou are one of the most noble and honorable people Iâve ever known,â he admits, and Thorinâs gaze is soft again when it returns to him. âIs this treasure worth more than your honor? Our honor? I was there, Thorin; I gave my word.â
âAnd it was nobly done; for that I am grateful,â Thorin admits, clapping a hand on Bilboâs shoulder. âBut this treasure does not belong to the people of Laketown,â he continues, squeezing Bilboâs shoulder tighter. âThis gold is ours, and ours alone.â His tone shifts, becoming dark and foreboding, reminding him of Smaug. âWith my life, I will not part with it. Not a single coin.â
Bilbo swallows thickly. He knows what he must do. Tonight. He will go tonight. It is the only thing he can think of that might end this war, that might return Thorin to himself.
And if it doesnât work, he hopes the battle will take him swiftly.
-----
Atop the wall, FĂli stands close to his brother. They had tried to mend and tailor the armor, but it still looked too big on his little brother. His little brother who wasnât even of age, who shouldnât be here.
He bites his lip, remembering the conversation theyâd had the night before. Promises that they would watch the otherâs back, that they would protect each other. That they would go together, or not at all. Promises FĂli knew they had no control over whether they could keep or not. And this morning, they had embraced each other, both murmuring every term of endearment they had ever heard to the other.
He kicked himself. He had thought of going behind Thorinâs back to try and treat with Bard privately, but Dwalin had talked him out of it. He was too important, could be used as collateral - there was no guarantee that Thranduil wouldnât return with FĂliâs head on a spit, just to incite Thorinâs ire.
Discreetly, he reaches down and squeezes KĂliâs hand. Thranduil and Bard are nearing the gate.
Thorin whirls around suddenly and snatches KĂliâs bow from his other hand, reaching over him to pull an arrow from the quiver. He fires it in Thranduilâs dorectopm, where it embeds itself in the dirt before his horse.
âThe next one will be between your eyes,â he sneers, before shoving KĂliâs bow back against his brotherâs chest, giving the unspoken command that he is to kill the elven king if he continues forward. FĂli fearfully watches as KĂli shakily takes a step forward, to stand beside Thorin, pulling an arrow free and raising his bow.
With a smirk, Thrnaduil gives a signal to his men, and FĂliâs heart drops when he sees their archers take aim in the distance.
Thorin growls in frustration, but reaches over to lower KĂliâs bow. FĂli lets out the breath he didnât realize heâd been holding.
Thranduil positively grins as he signals for his own men to stand down. âWeâve only come to tell you that the most gracious payment of your debt has been offered and accepted.â
âWhat payment?â Thorin snaps. âI gave you nothing. You have nothing.â Frantically, FĂli searches for Bilbo, heart sinking when the hobbit gives him a knowing look.
Bard pulls the Arkestone out from under his coat. The morning light gleams off it, sending prisms about, making the dwarves gasp at the sheer beauty of it. âWe have this,â Bard says simply.
âThieves! That is the heirloom of our house,â Dwalin shouts angrily. âThat stone belongs to the King!â
âAnd the king may have it, with our good will,â Bard continues, before slipping the stone back inside his coat. âBut first, he must honor his word.â
Thorin howls with rage before turning back to regard the company. âThey are taking us for fools,â he sneers. âThis is a ruse; a lie. The stone is still within the mountain.â
Bilbo steps forward. âI...itâs not a trick. The stone is real,â he says, eyes flicking nervously between Thorinâs and the floor. âI gave it to them.â
Thorin jolts back like he has been struck. FĂli watches, helpless, as a myriad of emotions flash across his face - hurt, anger, betrayal, despair...he cannot stand it.
âYou?â Thorin asks, disbelieving, looking more like a small child before his face hardens into absolute rage. âYou would steal from me?â
âI didnât steal it,â Bilbo says, raising his hands. âI may be a burglar, but Iâd like to think of myself as an honest one. No, I...I took it as my fourteenth share.â He hesitates, but keeps his gaze even with Thorinâs. âIâm willing to let it stand against my claim.â
âAgainst your claim?â Thorin barks, before dissolving into a dark, humorless laugh. âYou have no claim over me, you miserable Shire-rat!â He takes a step toward Bilbo, hands shaking.
âI wanted to give it to you!â Bilbo shouts. âMany times! ButâŠâ
âBut what?â Thorin snarls, and when he steps toward Bilbo again, FĂli grabs his arm, pulling him back for a second before Thorin wrenches himself free with a shout.
âYou are changed, Thorin! The dwarf I met in Bag End would have never gone back on his word,â he explains, voice breaking, eyes shining with tears. âHe would never have doubted the loyalty of his kin.â
âDo not speak to me of loyalty,â he hisses angrily, voice dangerously low. âThrow him from the rampart!â
No one moves. âThorin,â someone says, tone soft and disbelieving.
âDo you not hear me?â Thorin shouts, eyeing the company, settling his gaze on KĂli, who barely shakes his head. âI will do it myself,â he snarls as he steps toward Bilbo once more.
FĂli grabs for his arm again, pulling him back once more, as KĂli rushes forward and pushes back against their uncleâs chest. Thorinâs arms flail wildly, eventually freeing himself from FĂliâs grasp and shoving KĂli roughly to the ground.
âI curse you!â Thorin shouts as he grasps Bilbo by his coat, and FĂli can hear the deep hurt in his voice.
âThorin, no!â KĂli yells as he begins to drag Bilbo to the edge.
âCursed be the wizard that brought you to my company!â
Suddenly there is a bright light, and a voice booms out. âIf you do not like my burglar, then please return him to me.â
Thorin roughly shoves Bilbo to the ground, whirling around to regard their visitors once more. âYou,â he snarls, recognizing Gandalf now joining Bard and Thranduil. âYou orchestrated all of this, didnât you? Never again will I have dealings with wizards!â
âYouâre not making a very splendid figure as King Under the Mountain, are you?â Gandalf asks.
With Thorin distracted, FĂli sees Bofur help Bilbo back to his feet. âGo,â he hisses under his breath. âGet him out of here!â he says to Bofur, eyes pleading. Itâs not a moment later that Bilbo is using a rope to climb down the rampart, fleeing from Erebor.
FĂli reaches down to help KĂli stand as well, pulling him back, away from Thorin, positioning himself between his uncle and his brother.
âFee,â KĂli says softly, and he feels KĂliâs hand grip the arm of his sleeve.
âAre we resolved then?â Bard calls out. âThe return of the Arkenstone for what was promised to our people.â
Thorin says nothing, but FĂli can see how his shoulders shake with rage.
âWhat say you, King Under the Mountain?â Bard tries again. âGive us your answer. Will you have peace or war?â
A large black crow flies in front of the rampart, landing before Thorin.
He laughs. âI will have war.â
âFĂli,â KĂli calls from behind him, and FĂli turns to regard his brother. KĂli is absolutely terrified, and he can see the sheen of tears in his eyes. Without hesitation, he presses their foreheads together, hand squeezing the nape of his neck.
âItâs going to be okay,â he says, but he knows KĂli doesnât believe him. He doesnât believe himself.
Then, from behind him, there is an uproarious shout, and Thorinâs laughter grows even louder. FĂli turns to see another army ascending the hill, led by none other than Dain.
-----
Dwalin paces angrily, like a caged animal. And they were, werenât they? Trapped within the mountain as the sounds of battle raged outside. He couldnât believe Thorinâs cowardice. Dainâs army, their kin, who had come to their aid, now faces an onslaught of orcs and other foul creatures, and Thorin wanted them to sit here and wait.
âLet them fight amongst themselves,â he had said, before disappearing into the halls once more.
Heâd had enough; with an angry huff, he treks through the halls to find Thorin, easily finding him sitting on the throne, Thrainâs crown atop his head, staring at nothing.
âSince when do we forsake our own people?â he shouts as he approaches the throne, not bothering to hide his anger. âThorin, they are dying out there.â
âThere are holes beneath holes beneath holes within this mountain,â Thorin mumbles, seemingly ignoring him. âPlaces we can fortify. Shore up; make safe. Yes; yes that is it,â he says. âWe must move the gold further underground to safety.â
âDid you not hear me?â Dwalin calls again, standing directly in front of Thorin now. âDain is surrounded. They are being slaughtered, Thorin.â
Finally, Thorin looks up at him, and Dwalin can see the madness in his eyes.
âMany die in war; life is cheap,â Thorin says, sounding weary. âBut a treasure such as this cannot be counted in lives lost. It is worth all the blood we can spend.â
Dwalin steps back, mouth agape. âIs it? Is it worth my blood? FĂliâs? KĂliâs? You sit here in these halls with a crown upon your head, and you are lesser to me now than you have ever been.â
Thorinâs eyes narrow. âDo not speak to me as if I were some...some lowly dwarf lord,â he says, getting to his feet, though he staggers a bit, as if drunk. âAs if I were still just...Thorin Oakenshield. I am your king!â
âYou were always my king!â Dwalin shouts, unashamed of the tears that are in his eyes. âYou used to know that once.â His voice breaks. âYou cannot see what you have become.â
Thorinâs brow furrows in confusion, and for a moment, he thinks that maybe, just maybe he has gotten through to him. âGo,â Thorin utters darkly. âGo now, before I kill you.â
He doesnât want to, but he doesnât trust that Thorin wonât make good on his threat. Dwalin scoffs softly, shakes his head sadly as a few tears slip loose, then he turns to take his leave of Thorin and rejoin the Company.
-----
He stares at Dwalinâs retreating back, his oldest friendâs words echoing through his mind.
You are lesser to me now than you have ever been.Â
He shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts. Dwalin was wrong. It was he who could not see; Thorin had been betrayed, it was him who had been wronged. Dain had only brought his own men so that he could stake his own claim to Erebor, he was certain of it. With the Arkenstone in the hands of men, Dain could easily take it, and all would be lost, lost, lost. It was better to let the orcs and elves take them out; it was better to let them all kill themselves so that Thorin would be the last standing, and he could reclaim the Arkenstone.
Is it worth my blood?
How could he even ask that? Dwalin knew what he had agreed to when he joined the Company. They had talked of nothing other than reclaiming their homeland since their youth, and now Dwalin doubted whether it was worth it? Of course it was. He must just be frightened; that is the only explanation. He staggers to his feet, walking aimlessly to try and recenter his thoughts. His head throbs. Maybe he was making a mistake. He feels sick.
FĂliâs? KĂliâs?
His wandering carries him to the Gallery of Kings, over the freshly-cooled floor of gold. He smiles, seeing his reflection in it, admiring how kingly he looks with the crown atop his head. No, no; he was right. Would it hurt to lose the boys? Of course, but if that were the price of this treasure...he could pay it.
But then he remembers...remembers the first time heâd held KĂli in his arms as a tiny, newborn dwarfling. How terrified he had been at the thought that he might not survive the winter. How he had almost lost him in battle before. How his heart had once shattered at the mere thought of a world without KĂli. And now...now it was an acceptable price? He could live in a world without KĂliâs warm smiles, without his touches and embraces that lasted just a touch too long? Was it worth that?
He stares down at his reflection on the golden floor. It feels like his boots are sinking in, like thick mud, trapping him.
And FĂli...FĂli who had followed him into this mess, who had trusted him implicitly his entire life. Was it worth his life? Smart, responsible, FĂli, who had never failed him, who had always pushed himself to the brink to please Thorin, who had taken every additional, impossible responsibility that Thorin had thrust upon him with grace and humility. FĂli, who made him stronger, who made him better. It...the gold...it was worth losing that. Wasnât it?
The gold seems to pull him in deeper, no longer solid, but molten. Pulling him down, down, down...suffocating him, crushing himâŠ
With a gasp, he rips the crown from his head and throws it aside, the room returning to normal as it clinks across the floor. He struggles to regain his breath, the realization of what heâs done, what heâs gambled washing over him.
It wasnât worth it. None of it.
-----
âI donât care what Thorin says,â Dwalin says, pacing the room once more. âI am not staying here and letting Dainâs army die for...for this.â He gestures around the hall, hands shaking. âI would rather die out there.â
Balin gives FĂli a knowing look. âPerhaps it is time to continue down the line of succession,â he says evenly, though there is a glimmer in his eyes. âThorinâs mind is far afield. He is lost to us now. We can not give him more time to come to his senses; not without leaving our kinsmen to die.â
FĂli sucks in a deep breath, catches KĂliâs eye. He knows itâs the right thing to do. He knows, but his heart aches. He was never meant to be king without learning under Thorinâs rule first. Then KĂli looks away, focusing at something behind his shoulder as he gets to his feet.
He turns, and spies Thorin returning to the entry hall, sword drawn. It would not surprise him if Thorin had overheard, if he were coming to accuse the Company of treason. He prepares himself for a fight, gathering every bit of confidence he has as he approaches Thorin.
âThorin,â he starts, fighting to keep his voice strong. He can feel KĂliâs comforting presence behind him. âI will not hide behind a wall of stone while others fight our battles for us. It is not who I am - who we are,â he says, gesturing to the Company behind him. Closer now, he can clearly see Thorinâs face; he looks almost...normal? Like himself. Hope renews itself in his chest; he thinks he might burst into tears at the sight. âIt is not in my blood,â he finishes, voice breaking, relief flooding him when Thorin smiles. Not the crazed, manic smiles of days past but a real, genuine smile. His uncleâs smile.
âNo, it is not,â Thorin agrees. âWe are sons of Durin, and Durinâs folk do not flee from a fight.â He reaches out and grabs FĂliâs nape, touches their foreheads together tenderly. âI am sorry that I forgot myself,â he whispers.
FĂliâs withheld sob breaks through. âUncle,â he murmurs, returning his embrace.
âI am so sorry,â Thorin murmurs again as he pulls his head away, before reaching for KĂli and dragging his tearful brother into their embrace. âI love you; the both of you,â he whispers fiercely. âMore than any treasure within this mountain. I swear it.âÂ
FĂli doesnât want to let go. While he knows the battle may very well take them, it sits so well within his soul that Thorin has returned to them. That he had found peace, that he had remembered himself. That he had remembered them.
Eventually, Thorin takes a deep breath to steady himself, then separates himself from the lads to regard the Company. âI have no right to ask this of any of you,â he says, voice thick with emotion. âBut, will you follow me? One last time.â
Heâs met with roars of celebration from the Company, before being embraced by each of them in turn.
All too soon, they are focusing on the task at hand. They must bring aid to Dainâs men, even if there are only 13 of them. Itâs quick work for them to get armored up, to get their weapons in order.
âFee,â his brother calls from behind him. When he turns to regard him, heâs struck once more by how young KĂli looks. He prays to Aule that they will make it out of this alive. He hasnât forgotten KĂliâs oath. He hasnât forgotten his purpose as the spare. He knows KĂli hasnât, either. He knows that if he or Thorin are in danger that KĂli would protect them with his last breath, with every ounce of strength that he could muster. With them being so outnumbered, he canât imagine how KĂli survives this. He honestly isnât sure that any of them will survive this. Together or not at all, they had promised.
There are tears in his brotherâs eyes, and without a second thought he gathers him into his arms, breathes in his scent, commits him to memory. Just in case.
âLook at me,â he says, and KĂli does. FĂli cups his cheeks in his hands, studies his face.
âFĂli, whatever happens out there,â he starts, but FĂli shakes his head. Heâs saying goodbye. âNo, listen to me!â KĂli continues. âI...I need you to know. Just...whatever happens, itâs not your fault, okay?â
Together or not at all.
âStop,â FĂli whispers, feeling fresh tears coming; he hopes that if KĂli departs for the undying lands that he wonât be far behind him. He presses a kiss to his brotherâs forehead. âI love you,â he says quietly.
âI love you too, nadad,â he replies, reaching up to cup FĂliâs cheek as well. His lips quirk up into a small smile. âDonât do anything stupid.â
FĂli chuckles lightly, feels the icy vise thatâs wrapped around his heart ease just a bit. âIsnât that usually your department?â he asks, smile growing wider when KĂli laughs. He pats his brotherâs cheek, then touches their foreheads together once more. âWatch my back, wonât you?â
KĂliâs answering smile is genuine. âAlways.â
-----
The pale orc laughs as he mows down several of Dainâs soldiers, turning to point his mace at him. Thorin rights himself, staggers to his feet. The fighting has lasted for hours, and he is wholly exhausted. With the help of the men and elves, they had managed to beat back the orcs and goblins, but there was still Azog to deal with. Dain had spotted him atop Ravenhill, leading a second wave of goblins and orcs to the battlefield, and they had diverted a few dwarves to handle the onslaught.
He had lost sight of KĂli and FĂli in the fighting. He trusted that Dwalin had stayed with them, that he would help protect them.
Because now, Thorinâs eyes were singularly focused on the orc filth. The others could handle the rest of them; Azog was his. He would avenge his grandfather, avenge his brother, who had died at the hands of that murderous beast. Then he could be at peace.
The orc spits something in Black Speech at him, bearing its teeth in a feral smile. âThis one is mine!â he shouts in common, again pointing his mace at Thorin.
He readies his sword, braces himself for Azogâs onslaught. As expected, the pale orc rushes at him, throws his full weight behind his sword as he leaps at Thorin, who is able to use Orcrist to block his blow and force him to the side, sending the orc tumbling across the ground. Azog growls.
âI will end you, Oakenshield,â he hisses. âI will end the whole of your filthy line!â He curses in Black Speech again.
Thorin sets his jaw, rebalancing himself so he can advance on the orc. If Azog knew of FĂli and KĂli...no; it did not matter. Thorin would strike him down, here and now atop Ravenhill. With a shout, he raises his sword and swings it mightily at the org, only narrowly missing as Azog rolls to the side. Thorin doesnât relent and swings again, successfully knocking Azogâs mace from his hand and sending it skittering across the battlefield.
He is met with a well-placed kick from the orc that slams right into his side, forcing the air from his lungs as he careens to the ground. He is quick to get back on his feet, frowning when he sees that Azog has grabbed a scimitar from a fallen goblin and is ready to fight; the score evened once more.
He steps back, resetting his footing as Azog advances; successfully parries the scimitar and puts the beast on the defense again. âMen shmek menu!â he shouts as he swings his sword down, cursing once more when Azog is able to block the blow. He doesnât relent, slashing his sword down again, but Azog is able to evade him every time, and on his final swing he misses, and Orcrist slams down into the dirt. He turns with a huff and raises his sword once more, but is met with the blade of the scimitar piercing his abdomen, just below where his armor protects him.
He staggers back in surprise, dimly reaches down to touch the wound, and is dismayed to see his hand come back stained with blood.
Azog laughs, throwing his head back in celebration. âDeath to dwarves!â He raises the scimitar victoriously.
Mustering as much strength as he can, Thorin lunges forward again, swinging Orcrist in a graceful arc that succeeds at separating the foul creatureâs head from his neck. His head thumps lowly on the dirt of the battlefield, a grin still fixed on itâs wretched face.
Thorin sinks to his knees, relief flooding him. Heâs done it. Heâs killed Azog. Heâs done it!
He presses his hand over the wound in his stomach, frowning. Itâs a lot of blood. Too much. He is too far from the mountain, too far from aid.
A few orcs are advancing on him, weapons drawn, howling in Black Speech over the death of their leader. He uses Orcrist as a crutch in an attempt to get to his feet.
Then a fearsome roar sounds from behind him, and the Bear-Man bursts forth.
-----
They both have a moment to catch their breaths; there are no enemies advancing on them at the moment. FĂli knows that he should be scanning the field, but he looks his brother over instead. KĂli doesnât look too worse for wear, aside from the smattering of blood caking the dark hair at his temple and dripping into his eyes. He reaches up subconsciously, wiping some of the blood and dirt from KĂliâs face, ignoring the soft hiss of pain as he does so.
âCome on, lads,â Dwalin says, reappearing behind him, readying his axe. âItâs time for the big one.â
FĂli turns back to the battle, sees that the next wave of orcs and goblins are led by the other pale orc - Bolg, FĂli thinks Gandalf had called it. It rides atop a white warg, with a handful of other mounted orcs. Most of the troops appear to be goblins, quick work for the dwarves. If they can kill Bolg, if they can cut the head off the snake, they may well win this. It is no small task; the wargs add an additional challenge, for those creatures knew only bloodlust.
He readies his twin blades, nodding to the other dwarves who are holding the line with him, before running to meet their enemy head on. âDu bekar!â he shouts.
Itâs chaos on the battlefield. The only constant is KĂli at his back; he can feel his brotherâs presence throughout the fighting. Dainâs men fight valiantly beside him, but still, some goblins manage to take them down.
After much fighting, they have managed to decimate most of the evil forces. Only two of the previously mounted orcs, a smattering of goblins, and Bolg with its white warg remain. The pale orc shouts commands in the Black Speech, before dismounting his warg and pointing his sword at FĂli. âAre you ready to die, princeling?â it growls, twisting its face into something akin to a smile.
Thinking quickly, FĂli drops a sword and grabs one of the throwing knives from his vambrace, hurling it with deadly aim at Bolg, who manages to deflect it with his mace before advancing on FĂli. He draws his sword again and runs to meet the charge, striking at Bolg with each of his blades. The beast manages to parry him, though FĂli has him off balance now, so he does not relent. He swings again, this time managing to slash the beast across its torso.
His victory is short-lived as Bolg howls with rage, swings his mace and slams it directly into FĂliâs left shoulder. He can hear the bones break, and his sword falls from now-useless fingers. Regaining the upper hand, the orc punches him, and FĂli careens into the blood-soaked earth. He scrambles to right himself with only one arm, fingers scrabbling at the dirt to find his sword, but it is just out of reach and he catches nothing. The orc continues to advance on him, and FĂli frantically tries to think of his options. He doesnât want to die here.
Then, a yellow-fletched arrow lodges itself into Bolgâs chest, followed quickly by a second, then a third. The orc sinks to his knees, shouting something FĂli does not understand as he yanks an arrow free. The ambush districts Bolg long enough that FĂli remembers the knife stowed in his boot - one KĂli had made him ages ago. With a fearsome cry, he grabs the knife and lunges forward, stabbing it into the orcâs neck and dragging it along, ignoring the spray of blood. Bolg sputters for a moment, eyes wide with surprise, before he falls over backward; dead.
Then a sound breaks through the rushing in his ears - a scream. KĂliâs scream.
He whirls around, blood turning to ice when he sees KĂli trapped in the white wargâs jaws. He stammers back to his feet, grabbing his sword as he runs as fast as he can to his brotherâs aid. Dwalin gets there first and smashes his axe over the wargâs head. KĂli tumbles limply to the ground, dropped by the warg as it turns its focus to Dwalin. His weapons master slashes at the beast with his axe again, then, with a pitiful wail, it falls to the ground.
âKĂli!â he shouts, rushing to his brotherâs side, heart leaping in his chest when he sees how pale he is. His armor is bent and dented, punctured by the wargâs fangs. Then KĂli coughs, and itâs a sputter of blood. âNo,â he murmurs, using his good hand to brush KĂliâs hair from his face. âNo, no, no, no, no. Hang on, okay?â
âFee,âKĂli whispers, somehow sounding calm and terrified at the same time. He draws in a ragged breath, then coughs more blood.
FĂli bends down and touches their foreheads together, a few tears falling onto his brotherâs dirty face. Distantly, he hears the dwarves cheering of victory. âWe won, nadadith,â he murmurs. âBecause of you.â
Heavy footsteps come from behind him, before a warm, familiar hand rests on his shoulder.
âDwalin,â he murmurs, reluctantly pulling away from his brother to regard his weapons master. âDwalin, I canât carry him. You have to get him out of here. Please.â
âIâve got âim,â Dwalin promises, voice thick with unshed tears. He squeezes FĂliâs shoulder. âCan you manage?â
FĂli nods. âItâs only broken,â he explains, but when he looks at his arm he sees that his sleeve is stained bright with blood. More blood than he had thought.
âLook,â KĂli whispers, his glassy eyes on the sky. âThe eaglesâŠâ
But he cannot bear to look away from his brother, away from KĂliâs bloody face, away from the soft, half smile that plays on his lips.
âCome on, my boy,â Dwalin murmurs, gingerly gathering KĂli into his arms. His brother hisses in pain, coughs more blood, and the smile drops away.
âDwalin,â KĂli murmurs, sounding delirious. FĂli fears heâs lost too much blood already. His only hope is that Dwalin can get him to the mountain, can get him to Oin and the healers quickly enough to spare his life.
âIâll send someone for you,â Dwalin promises as he adjusts his grip on KĂli, but FĂli shakes his head.
âJust get him help,â he says, and Dwalin hesitantly nods, clearly reluctant to leave FĂli alone, before rushing back to the mountain.
Heâll be okay, he tells himself, his head starting to swim from the blood loss. Dwalin will get him to the healers. Theyâll take care of him. His body feels strangely heavy, so he lets himself sink down to rest on his back. Overhead, the eagles are circling, occasionally swooping down to pick off the last of the orcs and goblins. The dwarves are already singing drinking songs. He can hear similar shouts of victory from the elves.
They won. Thorin had returned to himself. KĂli would be okay; Dwalin would be sure of it.
Little bits of black start to creep into his vision.Â
They won. The mountain was theirs. He had helped bring his family home. He had restored his motherâs legacy.
He smiles. His vision darkens further, and it is almost as if he can feel his motherâs worn hands carding through his hair.
They won.
Someone calls his name just as everything fades to black.
-----
Stay aliiiiiiiiiiiveâŠ
Only one more chapter to go, friends. I am nearly sobbing now thinking we are at the end. I am almost certain of which ending I will use. Almost.
I still struggle with goldsick!Thorin and writing battle sequences, so hopefully this one was okay. I also had to pull a lot of dialog from the movies, which I also have a hard time with.
#greater than gold#durin family feelings#look at me being all productive#formatting is better on ao3 or ff.net#hope you enjoy it my loves#not sure who is still interested but i'm gonna finish this baby of mine
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The Forging of the Wolf, Chapter 3
I finally finished the next in the Aedion prequel. Read Chapter 1. Chapter 2.Â
Aedion shifted the pack on his back and squinted up at the fort that towered up the hill above him as he sucked down some water from his skin. Â The sun had dropped just low enough in the sky to glare over the spiked tops of the protective walls, and they probably still had an hourâs climb before they reached it. Â Breiner had been distant the whole trip down, over the border into Adarlan, the grudging bond they had been forming at the war camp thinning until it had all but disappeared. Â Indeed, Aedion had been nearly silent for the ten day trudge, talking mainly to Deaghall and Iain, ignoring the glares and occasional small stone missiles sent his way by Burr and the other boy he thought of only as Burrâs shadow. Â The few younger boys didnât harass him but followed him at a discreet distance with wide eyes that made him self conscious. Â
All but four of the prisoners of war had been released before leaving the camp. Â Aedion had watched them file out, and Deaghall had tactfully ignored the wetness on his cheeks as person after person had touched their brows in honor as they passed him. Â The four who were retained had been kept in the prison wagon and fed and watered exclusively by Breinerâs most trusted guards. Â He didnât know who they were or what theyâd done to result in being dragged along on this miserable journey, but he wished he could help them somehow. Â Unfortunately he had no leverage. Â Yet. Â A situation he planned to change, however long it took.
Hoofbeats sounded behind him just as he was starting up the hill, and he paused as Breiner trotted up, then reined back to a walk without looking at him. Â They walked next to each other in silence for a while, the lord standing in his stirrups as his big chestnut dug in to climb. Â Soon they had far outstripped the other soldiers, and Breiner said out of the corner of his mouth, âI want you to take care at this camp.â
âOh?â Aedion replied after a brief hesitation. Â He waited, his huffing breaths matching the horseâs as they climbed, but the older man did not continue. Â âWhy?â he finally asked, stealing a glance up from the corner of his eye.
Breinerâs lips were pressed, tension in every line of his face.  âI donât know why they insisted you boys come to this camp.â  There was a long pause where Aedion almost gave up on getting more information, but then he continued.  âWeâve passed within a few miles of two other training facilities, including General Pagetâs, both more suited for training younger soldiers than this one.  I would have expected to leave you at one of those, and I know Paget wanted you.  This general hasâŠa reputation, though.â  Breiner glanced down, making sure Aedion was paying attention.  âHeâs got a bit of a loose interpretation of ethics when handling prisoners.â
Despite himself, the boy huffed a laugh. Â âI wasnât aware Adarlan had any ethical regulations when it came to their enemies.â
âWe do,â Breiner assured him. Â âBut Perrington seems to operate outside the law.â Â Aedionâs heart sank like a stone. Â He had heard that name. Â Met him, in fact, almost a year ago, right before everything went to hell. Â âHeâs the younger cousin to Duke Perrington,â the lord went on, âthe Kingâs Hand.â Â Ah, so not the same man who had stared at Aedion and Aelin across the dinner table with fathomless black eyes, but a relative. Â âAnd heâs part of the reason Adarlanâs forces have the reputation they do. Â Be on your guard.â Â They reached a more level spot and Breiner clucked to his horse, sending him into a brisk trot. Â Aedion watched after him, mulling over the cryptic warning. Â He ran his thumb over the subtle ridge of the scar his teeth had left in his palm all those weeks ago. Â Aelin. Â Rhoe. Â Evalin. Â Quinn. Â Orlon. Â Cal. Â Marion. Â Elide. Â Ren. Â A pass of his thumb for each name, over and over, with each step he took towards the gate that now loomed close.
*****
As Erik trotted Farus towards the gate, two of his personal guards flanked him on their chargers, Adarlanian colors flying on the standard held by Alfi. Â The rest of the soldiers and camp workers were behind them in a loose formation, Aedion at the head with two of the younger boys behind him, the prison wagons and their guards in the center. Â All these boys would be better off in Pagetâs camp, he thought irritably as the remainder appeared over the crest of the hill.
He halted Farus to one side of the gate as was protocol, Alfi and Iain continuing over the draw bridge and through the paired gates into the fort proper, setting themselves at the head of the lines his soldiers would form. Â Erik watched his men approach, Aedionâs golden head bobbing along at the front. Â Shit, he thought, he should have told Aedion the required procedure, and he couldnât break his position now. Â But the boy paused and made a bit of a show of pulling out his water skin and taking a drink, acting more winded than he no doubt was, allowing himself to be overtaken by the soldiers. Â Clever boy. Â When the three younger boys behind him, red-faced and sagging, followed suit with expressions of relief, Erik was struck again with just how canny the prince really was. Â How well-schooled already in the leading of men.
Deaghall approached the boys, leading Burr and Dain, and ushered them into the lines now forming as the men entered the gates. Â The two older boys made to step on Aedionâs heels as they walked too close behind him, but a well-timed kick up from a booted heel caught Dain on the shin and they backed off a pace. Â Erik fought to keep his face straight as Manasâ son furtively tried to rub his shin on the back of his other calf as he walked. Then they disappeared through the opening and he turned his attention to the prison wagon that was now approaching. Â The half-dozen guards that surrounded it looked grave rather than relieved as they passed him. Â They all knew what was likely to befall those men.
Finally the last stragglers, wounded men who were well-enough recovered to make the journey, limped past and joined the lines, and he sent Farus through at a slow trot. Â The horseâs fancy gaits were the reason heâd chosen him, despite the fact that his red coat was considered unsuitable for an officer, blacks and grays being more desirable. Â But he heard the murmuring from the fort soldiers and residents as the huge stallion pranced between the lines, shining copper in the setting sun, while he sat tall in the saddle. Â The prison wagon was rattling off towards the holding cells as he rode to where Perrington was waiting. Â He swung off of Farus and handed his reins to Iain, who had fallen in behind him as he passed before facing the general.
âWalk with me,â was all Perrington said as he turned on his heel and strode towards the largest of the houses. Â Erik had never been to this particular fort, but all the permanent forts were set up in roughly the same alignment. Â A gravel center square faced up to the generalâs luxurious home. Â A large dining hall stood opposite, and the barracks were in neat lines to one side. Â The armory was adjacent to the large stone keep behind the main house, the stables beyond that. Â Stone towers stood in each corner of the camp, with archers manning the upper floors. Â Perringtonâs living quarters were a bit more spacious than most, and more luxuriously appointed, Breiner noted wryly as he passed into a salon that could have satisfied the King himself. Â Perrington seated himself in a large chair, and gestured Erik towards a low couch. Â
âSo,â Perrington drawled, âI understand you have brought me five Terrasen prisoners.â
âFour, sir,â Erik corrected. Â âI was ordered to release the rest.â
The general cocked his head, fingers lightly resting on his lips as he studied Erik for a moment. Â âDidnât I understand that you were to bring me a prince of Terrasen? Â Did I not in fact see him myself, lined up with the other youngsters? Â Or did you hope to sneak him past me?â
The heat rose in Erikâs face, and not for the first time he hated his betraying coloration, the flush that showed even through the deepest tan. Â âI apologize, sir, I was not under the impression he was considered a prisoner.â
Perringtonâs knuckles were white on the arms of his chair as he leaned towards Erik. Â âHave you gone mad, or is it simply that you have the heart of a nursemaid beating under your armor? Â Are you running a sanctuary for wild beasts at that godsforsaken camp of yours?â Â When Erik remained silent, the general rose slowly and stalked over towards a table that contained several bottles of amber liquid and a stack of glasses. Â Erik had snapped to attention the second the general had stood, and so he remained as Perrington poured two glasses and handed one to him. Â âSpeak, man,â Perrington ordered, waving him on.
âSir, Iâve had two months now to observe the boy. Â Heâs a natural leader and a natural warrior. Â Heâs respectful. Â The other boys follow his lead and the prisoners adore him. Â We can use him, sir, to subdue the people of Terrasen with less loss of our own forces.â Â Erik took a sip of his drink, more to be polite than because he wanted it. Â If he was being honest with himself, all he really wanted was a good meal and to find one of the camp women willing to share her bed.
The general sat back in his chair and surveyed him, amusement seeming to play on his features. Â âA natural leader. Â Everyone follows his lead.â Â He shook his head slowly. Â âDonât you see, Erik, that this is precisely why heâs so dangerous? Â Youâre looking to shelter a snake and then youâll be surprised when it bites you.â Â He drained his drink in one gulp, and there was a long pause, broken by the small clink of the glass hitting the table. Â
âDid you ever wonder why I was made general and you were not?â Â Perrington laughed drily at the surprise no doubt written across his face. Â âYou bested me in every fight in training; you were a gifted speaker, and youâre an excellent strategist. Â Donât think all that went unrecognized.â Â He shook his head pityingly. Â âBut you bought too much into Brulloâs teaching. Â You subscribe to the idea that thereâs some sort of moral code when it comes to our enemies. Â And thatâs an idea that some day is going to get you killed. Â Probably by this creature whose throat you should have slit when you had the chance.â
Erik mulled this over for a moment. Â He had his own theories why, though he had surpassed Perrington through their years of training, the other man had advanced farther than he had, and it had more to do with their last names than with some sort of excessive moral squeamishness on his part. Â True, Perrington had excelled in the âEnhanced Interrogation Techniquesâ while he had performed abysmally. Â After all, he had always believed that torture was, in the end, unreliable. Â Strong men would withstand it, and weaker ones would say whatever they thought you wanted to hear to get it to stop. Â Brullo, his mentor and one of the main trainers of officers, had lectured that compassion towards those we conquered built loyal subjects, while suppression bred rebellion. Â
Unfortunately, the latter seemed to  be the way Adarlan was leaning in recent years.
He thought back to his relationship to Aedion, those first moments of calculated violence, his stubborn willingness to die⊠When it came down to it, he was certain that he had won the boy over more by vomiting after his threatened rape of that girl than by the threat itself.  He raised his eyes to meet Perringtonâs cold black stare.  âWith all due respect, sir, I maintain the belief that we can expanded our kingdom far more successfully by assimilation than by wanton destruction.  Talented young men who can be cultivated to our side can sway the minds of the people.â
The condescending smirk that had settled on Perringtonâs thin lips did not falter as he reached into his pocket and withdrew a letter, then slowly unfolded it. Â Erik could see the seal of the King at the bottom. Â âWell,â said the general sardonically, âI see that you have retained your habit of pretty speeches. Â And it appears that you are an equally gifted letter-writer, given that you have persuaded His Majesty.â Â He indicated the letter. Â âBut I am not blinded by weak compassion or visions of grandeur. Â I will be watching that boy, and when he shows his true nature - as he will - I will be waiting. Â And he will be praying for the noose before Iâm done. Â Now,â he tucked the letter back into his pocket and rose with a startling shift in his tone, âIâm sure itâs been a while since youâve enjoyed the comforts of a solid roof over your head and sharing your bed with a woman. Â Have a good evening.â
*****
Aedion strode out of the mess hall, needing fresh air, needingâŠa break.  When first he and the other boys had been shown into the trainee barracks, he had been relieved to be accepted by the few dozen Adarlanian boys with no more interest than the others, just a line of casual glances up as he tossed his pack down on the assigned bunk.  But Burr and Burrâs shadow had known a few of the other boys, and by the time they were sitting down to dinner there were murmurs all up and down the table, stares and glares and subtle posturing.  Thankfully the boys didnât know his true title.  Clearly being a ârecruitâ from Terrasen made him an object of curiosity at best, more likely one of derision.  He couldnât imagine what creative torture these other boys would come up with if they had known he was a prince and a member of the Terrasen and Wendlyn royal families.  Not that it mattered.  His thumb ran automatically over the scar on his palm, and he headed across the gravel square, looking for the stables.  Surely Breiner wouldnât object if he checked in on Farus after their journey.
The scent of horse and hay hit his nostrils and he followed it to a stone structure with a few small paddocks outside. Â Ducking through the door, he blinked in the lamp light. Â There were several wisened men and young boys setting out hay for the evening, but nobody paid him any notice as he walked down the aisle, looking into the rows of stalls. Â Farus was in a large loose box down at the end, and he stuck his head over the door and whickered at Aedion. Â Rubbing the glossy neck, he fed him an apple heâd snagged from the dinner table. Â The two had made friends in the weeks at the war camp, Aedion having long been comfortable with horses from his frequent assignments to stable duty for various infractions. Â Plus Farus didnât give a shit where Aedion came from as long as he brought apples. When he had spent long enough with the stallion to earn suspicious looks from the stablehands, he found his way out the back door. Â Creeping along the grass through the dark, he nearly tripped over a person who was crouched peering around the corner of the barn, just barely catching the scent of lavender and mint in time. He side-stepped at the last second, his boots crunching suddenly on the gravel path and earning a startled feminine yelp, then a hissed, âShhhhâ from the other.
âI didnât say anything,â he whispered.
âWell donât start now,â she spat under her breath, standing and spinning to face him. Â He couldnât see much of her in the dark, just that she had lighter hair that gleamed silver in the moonlight and that her head barely rose to his chest. Â He ignored her and crept forward and peered around the corner of the barn himself, expecting something dramatic like an execution or a fight, though he heard nothing more than the usual sounds of movement and conversation. Â Instead he found a collection of men and women mingling in the square. Â Several of the men he recognized from his own camp.
âWhat are you hiding from?â he asked, still keeping his voice low. Â When there was no answer, he looked back at the girl to find her leaning away from him, face still hidden in the gloom. Â She responded with an imperious wave, a silent order to keep his mouth shut. Â He wasnât sure why he obeyed but he turned his attention back to the milling forms out in the lit courtyard. Â Some of the voices reached him, and he realized abruptly what was going on - a negotiation for the sharing of beds. Â He felt the heat rise in his cheeks and was grateful for the dark, determinedly avoiding any glance at the girl. Â Breiner seemed to settle on a voluptuous woman in a laundressâ outfit and they strolled out of view. Â Deaghall soon disappeared as well, and in just a few moments the square was clear. Â
A rustle behind him drew his attention back to the strange girl. Â Without a word to him, she had turned to make her escape, but he slipped around her and cut her off. Â She pulled up abruptly with a curse. Â The moonlight hit her face now and that was real terror he could see in her eyes. Â Taking a step back, he raised both his hands and murmured, âEasy, easy.â
âIâm not a horse, you prick. Â Now leave me alone.â Â She pulled her cloak closer around her as she started to push past him. Â
âSorry. Â Iâm sorry. Â I just wanted to ask if you were okay.â Â
She stopped and looked up at him. Â âWhat, do they breed saviors where you come from? Â Just go back to your friends and get rested up so you can learn how to kill people tomorrow.â Â With that, she shouldered him out of her way and disappeared into the gloom.
*****
Delaney scurried through the shadows, still keeping an ear open for the sound of male approach. Â Thankfully this new group was small, only a few officers, and the grunts wouldnât dare try for that privilege. Â When she reached the row of huts reserved for the camp workers, she slipped through the back door of the fourth one and up the ladder into the loft. Â Judging by the noises emanating through the single interior door, her mother was entertaining that tall brown-haired lord. Â Her brother had moved to the barracks last spring, so she only had her sisters to be careful of as she shucked her shoes and crawled under the blankets that covered their pallet. Â Another night safe. Â
As she cuddled in against Avis, her mind went to the tall boy behind the stable. Â His accent was odd, and his voice still had the inconsistency of transition despite his lanky height. Â He must have come with the soldiers, though he certainly seemed surprisingly unaware of the rhythms of training camps. Â At least for now. Â Give him a few weeks and that careful consideration heâd given her would be trained right out of him. Â Avis wrapped a thin arm around her and drew her in closer. Â The sound of the childâs breathing was as good as a lullaby, and her last conscious thought was to wonder how the boy had moved so quickly to cut her off.
*****
The next few days quickly settled into a rhythm that was not dissimilar to that of the war camp. Â Each of the boys was assigned to help in an area of the camp in the morning, and afternoons were reserved for training. Â The main difference was the size, this place encompassing many hundreds of soldiers and trainees and the necessary staff to support them. Â Aedionâs first week he was to work in the kitchens; evidently they rotated through there, the armory, the stables, and the gardens, one week at each place. Â
He quickly won favor in the kitchens by tackling the giant stacks of dirty dishes without complaint. Â The weeks at Breinerâs camp had taught him how to be both efficient and thorough, and with him washing and an unfamiliar Adarlanian boy drying they worked their way through the dishware with alacrity. Â As they reached the end, the wizened old creature who ran the kitchens approached and eyed him carefully, calling out, âI donât know about this new girl. Â She seems too pretty to be a kitchen maid. Â Or a soldier.â There were sniggers around the room and Aedion grinned down at her. Â âI think we should make sure she gets sent to Rifthold. Â No doubt she could entertain Prince Dorian quite well, even if sheâs a few years older.â
A twinge shot through Aedionâs heart as he remembered the black-haired prince and his âfine ladyâ manners, but he laughed as he held his hands out to the crone. Â âI donât know,â he replied, âI donât think theyâd let these anywhere near the prince. Â He might be contaminated.â Â She inspected his large hands, callused and flecked with scars, nails chipped, and patted him on the arm with a cackle. Â
âWell, then, we must find a way to make you useful here. Â Even if we can barely understand a word you say!â Â A chorus of comments on his accent and his pretty face and the length of his hair followed as the other boy showed him where to stack the clean dishes. Â
Training was similar to at Breinerâs camp, with somewhat stricter discipline. Â Aedion quickly fought his way out of his age group and was put in with the most experienced boys. Â Though he was superior to them as well in most regards, he was pleased to see they would learn some new weaponry that he had not yet handled. Â He was also to learn to fight more on horseback, something he had up to now received minimal training in. Â
Every night after dinner he visited the stables, giving attention to not just Farus, but all the horses. Â They didnât mind his accent, or his size, or his skill, but were content with apples and neck scratches. Â The girl he had encountered remained a mystery, and another reason he visited the horses each night. Â He had not seen her again. Â Not that he was not at all certain he would have recognized her if he saw her, but he thought heâd recall that sweet lavender scent. Â He still wondered sometimes what she had been hiding from. Â
The shift came on the sixth day. Â He had noticed the black-eyed man who had greeted Breiner on their arrival came to watch training every day, had felt that cold stare on him as he parried and blocked and aimed. Â Perrington. Â He looked little like his cousin, the man Aedion remembered from the days before the world went to hell, other than those eyes.
This time, Perrington called training short and requested all attend the sentencing of the prisoners in the square.  Judging by the lack of surprise, this was a normal occasion, and the soldiers and trainees all bustled onto the large gravel expanse.  Aedion hovered near the back.  He didnât need to see this, his countrymen sentenced to the mines or to death.  He watched anyway, feet braced apart as men were led onto a platform, their heads covered.  Five men, not the four they had brought with them.  He wondered who the fifth was.  As Perringtonâs despicably nasal voice rose over the crowd, his thumb brushed the ridge on his palm.  One by one, the hoods were removed and the men stepped forward to hear their fate.  âFor crimes against the crown, you will be sentenced to six months in EndovierâŠthree years in EndovierâŠone year in EndovierâŠeighteen months in Endovier.â  These were all truly death sentences, nobody survived more than a few months in the salt mines; they just gave the illusion of hope for ultimate freedom.  Judging by the resigned expressions on each face, the men all knew this.  All for the crime of being soldiers of Terrasen, trying to protect their home from invasion.
Finally the last man had his hood removed, and Aedion gasped loudly enough to earn curious glances from the boys around him. Â It was Kenway, one of Cal Lochanâs favorite guards. Â Aedion had assumed he had gone to the butcherâs block along with Cal. Â His feet moved of their own accord, and he wove through the close-packed bodies until he was but a few rows from the front just as Perrington finished reading the charges against the man. Â Kenway was looking out over the crowd, face impassive, giving no indication he was even listening to the summary of his crimes. Â Just as Perrington intoned, âAnd for these crimes against the crown, you shall hang from the neck until you are dead,â Kenwayâs eyes met Aedionâs and his eyes widened in shock before he schooled his face back into a neutral expression.
Aedion closed his eyes and began shaking, memories of riding out hunting with Kenway and Cal, Quinn and Rhoe, of sparring with sticks when he barely reached the older manâs waist, of jokes and meals shared all flickering behind his lids. Â This was a good man, he thought. Â Better than any of the Adarlanians, better than himself. Â Kenway had helped Aelin onto her first pony, had given Elide a bouquet of tiny daisies when she had fallen and skinned her knee, had told no one when Aedion had cried after shooting his first deer. Â
Without realizing it, Aedion moved right to the very front of the crowd, his eyes fixed on his friend. Â Kenwayâs face was bruised, his lip split, and though he stood straight and proud it was obvious that he was guarding his ribs. Â Perrington had put his paper down and turned his attention to Aedion where his golden head shone above the surrounding men, and it was with a thin smile that he added, âUnless someone shall volunteer to take his punishment.â Â It took a few seconds for Aedion to realize what had been said, and he slowly turned to the general as boos echoed out around him. Â He didnât know if this was regular; in Terrasen, volunteers could take on certain punishments, such as whipping or time in the stocks, for nonviolent crimes. Â He had never heard of this in the case of capital punishment. Â Though he did recall hearing that Adarlan had allowed one member of a convicted family to volunteer to take the sentence for the rest. Â
He could feel other eyes on him, and turned to see Breiner slowly shaking his head, Deaghall next to him looking grim. Â On the other side of the square, standing in the shadow of one of the buildings, was a slip of a girl in a laundress outfit, reddish gold hair curling past her shoulders, biting her lip as she studied him. Â Turning back to Kenway, he saw the older man looking at him with grief and love in his face, giving a barely perceptible shake of his head once he knew Aedion was looking. Â Perrington was still staring at him, waiting, as the moment stretched into an eternity. Â
Could he do it?  Could he offer his life for this man, who had done so much for his country?  He thought of the vow he had taken to help Terrasen, and how much better equipped Kenway was to fulfill it.  He could barter his life and be reunited with his family again.  Aelin.  Rhoe.  Evalin.  His motherâŠ
Just as he was about to take the step forward, open his mouth to call out, Kenway screamed, a vicious, primal sound, then spun and viciously head-butted the guard next to him, before throwing himself at another. Â Despite his bound hands, he fought efficiently, taking down two more guards with his feet so quickly nobody even reacted. Â The crack of oneâs skull on the wood seemed to spur everyone into action, and soon he was swarmed, even Breiner, Iain, and Deaghall leaping onto the platform to subdue him. Â
The boy watched in silence, unable to breathe, as Kenway was dragged nearly unconscious to the edge of the platform where the gallows stood, as his hood was pulled down and a noose settled over his neck, as smelling salts were applied until he was able to rise to his feet, as the floor dropped out of the platform and the crack of his neck echoed through the square even over the jeering, as his feet kicked out briefly and went still. Â And still the boy stood as the crowd slowly quieted down, as the wagons rumbled over the cobbles for the other prisoners, as four men approached the brave Terrasen guard with knives to cut his body down. He remained rooted there as the sky darkened, as familiar faces approached, as gentle hands squeezed his shoulder and gentle words were spoken. Â It was not until there was a sharp tug on his sleeve, then a pinch to his arm, and a feminine voice whispered, âYou must leave now. Â Come on, you must leave,â with a frantic urgency that the ground released his feet and he stumbled after the light hand on his arm, guiding him into the darkness.
*****
Erik watched as a young woman approached Aedion and plucked at his sleeve, finally convincing him to follow her. Â He was leaving in the morning, taking his men back to their base camp far to the south and leaving the prince behind. Â It was clear now why their departure had been delayed; Perrington had wanted to see his reaction to this spectacle. Â He must have somehow known that the prisoner was familiar to the boy and hoped to provoke a response. Â It had been a close thing, that much was clear. Â It was hard not to respect the man for recognizing that and taking the necessary steps to keep the boy alive. Â But now Erik must leave the boy to his fate, unable to even say farewell. Â He wondered if he would ever see him again.
He wondered if Aedion would have tried to save him, had he been about to hang. Â And knew he would have made the same decision as that prisoner had in response.
***** Â
Delaney dragged the boy behind her, desperate to get him off the square before the general noticed his odd behavior.  She didnât know who that prisoner was to this boy, but it was obvious to all who could see his face that he was ready to give himself over.  As if that wouldâve saved the man.  She could have laughed at the boyâs naivety if it wasnât so desperatelyâŠsad.
Reaching the granary, she tugged the door open just far enough to slide through, the boy following mutely. Â When it was nearly empty like his, it was an excellent spot to hide from prying eyes. Â They headed up the stairs that hugged the wall, the grain dust settling on her hair, sticking to her skin. Â She sat down on the small ledge that ran under the upper window and pulled him down next to her. Â In the moonlight pouring through the window his face was ghostly, shadows pooling in the hollows under his sharp cheekbones and obscuring much of his mouth.
The silence stretched on as the sounds outside slowly died. Â Everyone would be at the evening meal, she thought. Â She wondered if the boy would be missed. Â Oh well. Â As long as he was back in his bed by morning she doubted anyone would care. Â âWhatâs your name?â she asked, her voice echoing in the nearly empty building. Â He just looked at her uncomprehendingly. Â Some instinct told her she needed to get him talking but he might as well have been deaf and mute for all he responded. Â Perhaps sheâd asked the wrong question, though it seemed simple enough; she tried again. Â âWho was that man?â
âKenway Cranuc,â he said after another long pause, his voiced cracking. Â âHis name was Kenway Cranuc.â Â
She knew that, as the general had named all the prisoners, but she nodded encouragingly. Â âHow did you know him?â
The boy pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them.  âHe wasâŠhe was a guard, for my uncleâs friend.  I thought he was taken when the rest of them were taken.  I thought he was gone, I thoughtâŠâ  At that he broke down completely, pressing his face to his legs, lean body wracked with sobs.  Hesitantly, she scooted closer to him and wrapped her arms around him, holding tight.  This pose was familiar to her as for all his size, he reminded her somehow of her brother.  She pressed her cheek against his shoulder and waited until he began to quiet, and was still holding on when he whispered, almost too quiet to hear, âHe was my friend.â
They pulled apart then, both a little awkward, and she searched for something to say. Â âYouâre from Terrasen, then?â Â He nodded, not looking at her. Â The tracks down his face gleamed in the moonlight. Â âWell, that explains the accent,â she added lightly. Â No response. Â âHowâd you end up here?â
âI was captured,â he said thickly, then cleared his throat. Â âBy Lord Breinerâs men, in the last battle before Terrasen surrendered. Â Lord Breiner and General Paget decided to let me live.â Â He snorted, but there was no amusement in the sound. Â He cocked his head then, suddenly alert, evidently hearing something that escaped her ears. Â âTheyâre finished with the meal,â he said, with a jerk of his chin to the window. Â âYou should go back to wherever you belong.â
Delaney shook her head. Â âNot yet. Â After an execution itâs not safe for a bit.â Â He flinched at the word, and she cringed internally. Â âHe still would have been executed,â she said, and he looked at her quizzically. Â âIf you had given yourself up. Â They would have hanged you, and then hanged him anyway.â Â She wanted to laugh at his dumbstruck expression but couldnât bring herself to wound him any further. Â âItâs how they call out traitors. Â Not usually here, there arenât too many of those at the fort, but itâs common in public hangings.â
âYou must think me a fool,â he said, shaking his head, then shrugging. Â âPerhaps I am.â
âNo, but I think you come from a place where honor still has meaning.â
âIt doesnât here?â
Now she did laugh, a wry, bitter sound. Â He accepted that answer with silence. Â By this time she could hear the low murmur from the nearby square, and her mouth twisted in disgust.
âWhy do you hide?â the boy asked abruptly.
âBecause Iâve no desire to take a man to my bed.â
He looked shocked at that answer. Â âSurely youâre a bit young?â
âIâm sixteen, and more than two years past my first cycle, so hardly.â Â It was impossible to keep the bitterness from her tone.
âBut if you didnât want to, would they truly force you?â Â The sympathy in his voice made her skin crawl. Â She didnât want the pity of this strange, awkward boy; didnât know what to do with it. Â
âWhat are you, a child?â she snapped. Â âIâm a laundress, and thatâs as good as a whore. Â Sure theyâd toss a piece of silver on my table and call us square.â Â He growled then, a startlingly fierce sound from his skinny frame, all the more eerie for the echoes through the mostly empty building. Â âShush, shush, youâll give us away,â she hissed, unnerved. Â It struck her that she was very alone with a strange boy twice her size, and she felt her mouth grow dry.
âYouâve nothing to fear from me,â he said, holding his hands up as he had the other night, and she wondered how he knew what she was feeling. Â He stood up then, stooping to keep from hitting his head on the strut above them. Â âAre you safe to get home?â
She nodded mutely, and he dusted the loose grain from his clothes and slipped silently down the curved stairs. Â At the bottom he stopped and gave her a little wave. Â âIâm Aedion,â he said, answering her first question at last.
âDelaney.â
And with that, he cracked open the door and disappeared.
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// Talk about Leif's relationship with Areone and Altenna
                    send me a topic to write a meta on!
ooc.
sure! iâve already covered most of the basics in other hc posts, mostly towards the ends of this one and this one, but i can try to shed some more light on specifics since both of those were in the larger context of other things.Â
in my current ferpcanon for leif, since as of now we have neither an altena nor areone, i imagine them as being romantically involved â to my knowledge, itâs basically implied canon already, so itâs not much of a stretch. altena is a really important figure for leif and has been so all his life because sheâs his only surviving immediate family, and we all know how vital family is for leif and how much importance he ascribes to blood relations ( in fe5, for instance, the nature of his conversation with august re: seliph can be understood as leif being excited to meet seliph not because heâs the scion of light or the savior of jugdral, but because heâs his cousin ).Â
heâs obviously been told about altena and where she is by finn â itâs no secret to the surviving leonster natives that thraciaâs princess altena is, in fact, leonsterâs princess, but travant has kept her so sheltered that sheâs the only one who doesnât know about it; even areone knows. therefore, leif has basically been looking forward to the day he might get to meet his sister and reveal to her the truth, at which point heâd always imagined they would fight alongside each other as brother and sister and spearhead the rise of leonster again in honor of their mother and father. what he hadnât realized was how attached altena was to her adopted family, and how she had never grown up with the same view of quan and ethlyn that he had â she doesnât see them as her parents, obviously, and while if leif had stopped to think about it, he would have realized that means she wouldnât feel the same way he does, he never did and continued to solipsize his feelings onto his projected image of her.
i hc that when they finally did meet, he was understanding of her reluctance at first because he realized this was a huge change for her, but he had expected that after she came to terms with it, she would want to be close to him and fulfill the image he had conjured. this didnât happen. instead, while altena recognizes him as her younger brother, she sort of only acknowledges this in name, and doesnât feel much of an attachment to him outside of what she knows she âshouldâ. she is supportive of him and protective of him because she knows heâs her brother, but itâs not really out of a strong emotional attachment.Â
leif came to realize this slowly over the course of the war, but the blow that really hurt him and made him realize his expectations had been wrong was when altena chooses to return with areone and work alongside him instead of staying with leif at leonster castle, making it clear that despite knowing her true heritage, she still considers south thracia home. ( she also is canonically emotionally devastated by the end of the war and would understandably want to return to the place that sheâs familiar with, surrounded by people sheâs known all her life. )
while leif has come to respect her decision, he still canât deny he feels a little bit betrayed, especially since he already loses the company of most of his closest relations after the war â nanna going to live in agustria, asvel eventually returning to frest, etc.Â
areone is a can of worms in and of himself. leif already feels guilty that the only way heâd managed to unite the country was to essentially conquer southern thracia by killing their king. despite this, he tries to show areone however he can that theyâre a team and heâs in no way a âsubjectâ, though of course this is easier said than done. tensions remain because areone is still strongly backed by a lot of the southern thracian population, and his more aggressive, harsher way of implementing policies ( which he often butts heads with leif on ) are more popular down there; heâs pretty much an economic socialist, whereas leif â and many of his supporters â think itâs important to maintain good relations with the mansterian nobility, which of course makes areone ( and his supporters ) often call leif out on being a rich sympathizer. itâs a doozy.
of course, looking at just heritage alone, areone is more qualified to lead new thracia â not only is he major blooded, but he and altena are literally the unification of the dain and noba lines; symbolically, theyâre as good as it gets. areone is also older, and has a lot more training being royalty, and generally a lot more experience. he is not afraid to remind leif of this whenever itâs not improper. if it werenât for the fact that leif is actually the one who did the liberating, areone would be on the throne. that being said, neither areone nor travant wanted to remain under the empireâs rule; they were simply biding their time and just didnât get to it quickly enough. as iâve mentioned before, leif does want areoneâs support â he knows itâs really important to have his backing because even though new thracia is one country now politically, in terms of culture, ethnics, tradition, and pretty much every other sense, theyâre still divided and areone represents the southern thracians more than he does.
tl;dr: itâs tense, and he knows that the only reason areone isnât actively trying to unseat him is because he doesnât want to start a civil war and he does want to see thracia improve. but the moment leif missteps too much and areone no longer thinks heâs doing whatâs right for the entire country or has a mutual forward-moving vision in mind, you can bet heâs gonna shove gungnir right up leifâs sorry ass.
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