#jof is so little.

[suispiria]

[tobitofunction]

A Pact of Fire and Ice Part 1

Recently became obsessed with Cregan Stark but I still love the Targaryen's. So here I go.

No skin tone was mentioned only the mentions of hair colour. Also some differences from the books to this

part2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7

Everything went so fast just a few days ago you were eating dinner in Kings Landing with your family. Now the same family was finally severed after years of hanging by a string, your mother Princess Rhaenyra was supplanted by your Uncle Aegon, and your younger brother was killed by your Uncle Aemond on a diplomatic trip. You meanwhile are being prepped to your journey to Winterfell where you meet your betrothed Lord Cregan Stark. Your brother Jaceryer's offered your hand in marriage to the young wolf. After discussing with his council he accepted." My sweet girl why that face" your mother's voice made you turn around," I'm just preparing myself to leave my home and get married to someone I don't know" You shrugged, Rhaenyra sighed," I felt the same when I married your father Laenor, both of us weren't keen on it. Still, we made it work" she said touching your silver hair gently, unlike your brothers you have inherited the traditional Valerian features of purple eyes and silver hair much to your mother delight as it got suspicions of her firstborn son's parentage of her back for a while."But it mostly it will help us gain a great ally as if House Stark is on our side so will the rest of the north" Daemon said showing up out of nowhere, you sighed," I love being a political pawn" you said to him with an eye roll," Princess since you became off age your mother and I have been drowning in papers of houses asking for your hand in marriage but we haven't accepted any of them as your mother wanted you to make your own choices, but circumstances changed. You should be lucky it's Lord Cregan Stark who will be your husband and not someone else" Daemon said making you squint your eyes at him," Cregan Stark is an honourable man my sweet girl" Rhaenyra said trying to defuse the situation," I'm doing this only for you mother" you said after a minute of silence, she smiled at you and kissed your temple," You remind me of your father" she said," I wish he could have been here" Rhaenyra gave you a tight-lipped smile,"So do I, now say your goodbye's your dragon is being prepared as we speak".

Joffrey was holding tight onto you his face buried in your stomach, "Please don't leave. Don't leave me" he whimpered, tears falling down his chubby cheeks," I will be back before you know it Jof. Take care of Dragonstone and Mother for me. My brave little brother, I know you can do it" You said while touching his hair gently, he slowly backed away from you, wiping tears away. You turned to Corlys and Rhaenys," You be safe in Winterfell, Lord Cregan is one of the finest swordsmen the seven kingdoms have ever seen. He will take good care of you" Corlys said placing a hand on your shoulder," That's not the reason I don't want to go Grandsire" Corlys nodded," I know but duty is important. Both your father and mother didn't want to get married but they did as it was there duty to the realm", you didn't answer but just bowed your head, Coryls grabbed your chin and made you look up at him,"And you being in the north will also stop you taking up arms to ride into battle to fight your Kinslayer Uncle. I already lost one grandchild to the Greens, I don't want to lose another" he said sincerely, you smiled sadly at him before moving towards Rhaenys who took you by the hands," I wish Laenor would see you right now. He would have loved the woman you have turned to. I still remember how happy he was the day you were born, his first and only girl. Take care of yourself, take the long route to the north in case the greens try to attack. This alliance is a turning point in this war, with the north-","I know, with the North my mother's throne can secured back, they have the biggest army in the North" she nodded, she gave you a hug gently caressing your hair before letting you go. You smiled at her before turning to your dragon Tyraxes, a beautiful Snow White dragon whose scales glittered in a purple hue when the sun shone and green eyes,"issi ao ready syt se journey bē jelmor? (are you ready for the journey up north?)".

Meanwhile Cregan Stark was taking Jacaerys out for a hunting trip wanting to know everything about his future wife and Jace was happy to give him the info," She is a bit of a handful at times so good luck with that. People say she is like mother when she was younger. But her beauty is something from out of this world. Her hair shines like diamonds in the sun, her eyes a purple like never seen before and her skin as soft as silk" Jace said in a way which made Cregan wonder if he was in love with his sister, everyone in the realm knew about the Royal Families queer customs," She loves the colour red and always wears jewellery doesn't matter what the situation is rings, necklaces and earrings are always on her" Jace continued," I had this in mind for her do you think she will like it?" Cregan said reaching into his pelt pulling out a small necklace and handing it to Jace who gently took it,"Is this made out of Dragon glass and Valyrian steel?" Jace asked surprised," I found it within my family Heirlooms, I don't know the history of it but I knew it was Valeyrian steel because of the feel of steel it's just like Ice," he said patting the sword which was attached to his hip,"Valeyrian piece of Jewellery should be worn by a Valeyrian Princess" Jace looked at the necklace more in detail it was a dragon which wrapped around a dragon glass sphere, "She will love it. I'm sure of it" he said handing back the necklace. Cregan tugged back under his pelt,"Let's try to hunt for something, your sister will be here by nightfall"

Just like Cregan said you arrived at Nightfall, Tyraxes landed on the snowy ground, the snow jumped into the air from the impact of the large beast,"I'm Princess Y/N, I'm here for Cregan Stark" you said to an approaching knight,"Follow me your highness" he said trying to avoid eye contact with Tyraxes, you patted her nose before following the guard into the castle. You pulled your cloak closer to your body, as the clothes you are wearing aren't doing much to protect you from the cold,"It be warmer once you get inside Princess" the guard said noticing you shivering.

Cregan was waiting in the main hall, Jace was with him excited to see his sister again."Princess Y/N of House Targaryen has arrived Lord Cregan" the guard said. The older man moved towards you,"Your Grace, I'm Lord Cregan Stark, Warden of the North" he said bowing his head to you," I assumed so as the guard called you Lord Cregan and you are the only other person here beside my brother" you said while brushing snow of your shoulders," I have a room prepared for you my Princess. It's close to your brothers, tomorrow I want to show you around Winterfell" he said ignoring the tone of your voice, he did study you from head to toe, Jace wasn't lying when he said your beauty is from out of this world. Your hair looked indeed diamonds when the warm lights of the candles hit them and your eyes took his breath away, "What are you waiting for my Lord? I want to change and I'm in need of rest" Cregan nodded,"Follow me Princess".

You followed Cregan towards your room,"I hope it's to your liking Princess" he said opening the door, It was smaller than your room in King Landing and Dragonstone but it felt homier, the furs and many wooden objects with the warm candlelight, you removed your cape and placed it onto a chair,"It's surprisingly warm in here" you said as Cregan moved towards the Fire place where he threw in more wood,"It's because of the hot springs, you need to see them sister. They are amazing" Jace said excitedly,"I leave the two of you be. You probably have a lot to talk about. My Prince, Princess" he said leaving the two of you alone.

You sat down on the couch making Jace follow he grabbed your hands,"Luce...-","We never found a body, well never his full one. We gave him a dragon rider funeral it was nice, only you were missing" you said sadly making Jace squeeze your hand,"I wish I could have been there. I wish it was me who went to Stormsend. Since I heard about his death, I have been dreaming about our last interaction. It wasn't positive, he was scared and worried and I just yelled at him. It's not what a brother does, it's not what a King is supposed to do" Jace said getting emotional," It's not your fault, you were worried as well and emotions can run high during those moments. The only ones to blame are the greens, our Uncle especially" you said kissing his cheek, making him sigh,"I'm glad you are here my sweet sister" he said touching your cheek gently,"I should be mad at you, selling me off like I'm some cattle" Jace grimaced," I did what was needed, he recently lost his heir and second wife. He needs a new one, his council was encouraging him. He's a great man, he will treat you right" he said while gently caressing your cheek, you leaned into his touch and sighed,"If it will help us get back the Iron Throne then so be it. At least he isn't ancient like some of the other Lords" you said making Jace chuckle," Only the best for my beloved sister" he said,"I let you get some rest. Lord Cregan has the day planned out for you".

The next day you were awoken by a knock on the door, "Princess" a servant girl appeared from between the doors, "Lord Cregan asked me to assist you in getting ready" she said with a soft smile, you nodded and stepped out of the bed,"Did you sleep well Princess","Yes, the beds are softer than I imagined, so are the furs I thought they would be scratchy" you chuckled," Lord Cregan made sure we gave you the best furs" she said placing down a gown on the bed before she began working on your hair, "Is this for me?", "Yes, it's more suited for the weather than the gown you arrived in yesterday. Even though stunning it's ill-suited for the weather" she said,"Very well" you said looking down at the gown, It was a deep red gown made out of a think velvet, and it had embroidery in the form of flowers and leaves on it, "It's beautiful" you said," It belonged to Lords first wife, she wore it often" she said making you frown,"It must mean a lot to him than?" you said as the servant picked the dress up again and back unlacing the back,"She was his first love, gave birth to his heir, so yes the dress means a lot to him" she said as you stepped into the gown,"Why would he give to me than?", "Cause Prince Jacaerys told him red is your favourite colour and you need more suiting clothes," she said,"That's very sweet of him," you said,"Your hair is truly beautiful Princess. We in Winterfell heard of your beauty often, so often that it seemed exaggerated but now seeing you" she smiled,"I'm sorry, it's just here in Winterfell we don't see many variations in peoples looks. Your brother fits right in but you not so much....looks wise of course Princess," she said quickly finishing lacing you up,"Lord Cregan will meet you in the great hall for breakfast".

Cregan was drumming his fingers on the wood, the food in front of him slowly becoming cold,"More wine?" a cupbearer asked, but Cregan only answered by waving him away." So nervous, it's not like you" a female voice said making turn around,"Sarah what are you doing here?" he asked with a smile," I want to see my brother embarrass himself in front of the Princess of this realm" she smiled cheekily," I forgot how long woman take to get ready" he said making Sarah roll her eyes at him," Ironic as there are best clothes. Someone likes to make an impression" she continued to tease, Cregan playfully rolled his eyes, like you tried to make an impression with the young Prince. This is your best dress" he said making her blush," I just want to look good, we don't have royalty here often and besides he is engaged to another and why would a Prince like a bastard like me anyway" She shrugged. Cregan patted her hair gently,"You are my sister which makes you a Stark, it doesn't matter what the others say". Sarah smiled and was about to say something when the door opened revealing you, in the red dress which made Cregan get up from his seat,"My Lord sorry for the wait" you said folding your hands together,"The dress..." Sarah began,"It looks stunning you Princess" Cregan said, he wasn't lying, you indeed look ethereal with it but the emotions of seeing another woman in his dead love dress made him feel emotional, A bit of regret began filling him but also something else started to bubble inside him. He didn't know what yet,"Let's eat, you must be starving," he said,"This is Sarah Snow...my.." Cregan didn't know how to word it,"I'm his Bastard sister," she said bluntly,"It's an honour to have you here in Winterfell your Highness," she said bowing,"It's an honour to be here," you said with a tight-lipped smile,"Is my brother joining us?" you asked sitting down," No your grace, he's breaking his fast in his room. Today is for us to get to know each other and for you to know Winterfell" Cregan said taking a sip of his wine, and looking at Sarah mentally telling her to leave,"I be on my way, have a lovely day" you smiled at her,"She seems lovely" you said cutting into the food," She is, I love her dearly doesn't matter if she is a bastard" he said making you smile." I have another gift for you" he said,"Bring it to me" he said making a servant nod and leave the room before re-entering it,"Here you will need it for the outside" he said as the servant handed you the bundle, it was white with some black and grey thrown in it, it was soft,"It's made of Wolf fur, your brother and I hunted it. We are going eat the meet for dinner tonight" he said,"The craftsmanship id amazing" you said as," I will send them your regards. I thought white would suit you well" he said with a smile,"Thank you Lord Cregan" he smiled,"Let's go, winter is close which means it will get darker sooner and I have a lot to show you" he said while you pulled the jacket on.

"These are the Godswood," Cregan said as you looked around in awe, "It's stunning, it's like those woods from fairytales," you said as the snow crunched underneath your boots,"It's so much larger than the one in the red keep," you said while looking snow covered trees, Cregan hummed in response,"The heart tree is just this way" he said placing his hand on your back and led you to the centre of the Godswood. Soon you were met with the large white tree, the white branches expand in a longer fashion than the one within the Red Keep. The red leaves stood out on its white surroundings,"You believe in the old gods instead of the faith of the seven?" you said,"Yes, don't try to convert me, Princess, your brother tried and failed ","Do not worry, I don't follow the seventh anymore. I find comfort within the Gods of Old Valyria" you said gently touching the leaves of the heart tree."Tell me more about those gods than" Cregan said making you turn around to face him,"Maybe another time my Lord, I want you to continue showing me around Winterfell" you said crossing your arms behind your back.

Cregan continued to show you around Winterfell," The last thing I want to show you is this" he said, he led you to a large door that was made from unfamiliar material, it looked heavy, Cregan seemed to struggle a little bit to open it. Once open only darkness was can be seen," Those are the crypts of Winterfell, all the tombs of my ancestors are kept here" he said grabbing a torch before walking into the darkness,"A bit inappropriate for a first date, he could at least wait for our third before showing me where all his dead relatives are being shoved in" you mumbled before following him. It was dark and chilly and the air was wet which made you wrinkle your nose as you walked down the spiral staircase. "These are statues of the Lords before me," he said shining his torch on the statues, "This one is of my father," Cregan said, he said looking up at the large stone statue,"Do you remember much of your father?", he shook his head," I just remember bits and pieces, I wish I remembered more and I wish I could forget the day he died" you said, Cregan looked at you,"You where there?" you hummed," I hear commission in the throne room of Driftmark, it was only days after my aunt's funeral. I couldn't sleep because of the events from the last few days, so I decided to see what was happening. I found my Grandmother crying over some shard remains, Grandsire Coryl's was yelling at the guards so I knew it must have been my father" you said making Cregan look at you sadly,"No child should have witnessed something like that. I'm sorry Princess for your loss, for all of your losses" he said," Let's leave, this place is giving me the creeps" you said.

Jace was talking to Sarah when you arrived back,"Hello sweet sister how was your trip" he asked,"I know Winterfell now, which was the purpose of this trip" You shrugged making Jace give you a look,"It went well brother. I want to take a bath however" you said,"I will tell the maids to draw you one" Sarah said which made you nod,"Thank you. Until then I will go back to my dragon" you said walking off with Jace following behind. "Now sister, tell the truth about your trip" he said,"I said everything that needed to be said Jace. I won't fall in love with him after one trip," you said before breaking off into a sprint when you saw Tyraxes in the distance, "I missed you girl," you said hugging her neck,"So you saying there is a possibility in you falling in love with him," Jace said making you roll your eyes, "I didn't say that"," but you also didn't deny it," he said,"Don't you have a fiancé to return too and annoy?" you huffed,"Not until you and Cregan are wedded, he wants to marry in the way of the old gods" he said making you look at him with a lifted brow,"It's a very intimate ceremony similar to a traditional Valeryian one" Jace explained making you nod.

[camilbarnessss]

¤ The Dance of The Dragons ¤

{ Aemond Targaryen }

《 Part 7 》

The One-Eyed Prince and The Rogue Princess married. Secretly, but they did, even after all the schemes and plots of their families so they couldn't. The lovers made their own discreet plot as well, and it is working just fine. Daera understands their position, the causes of their harsh decisions. However, anyone who was wronged like Aemond so many times was, is going to feel some sort of hatred, wether it's subconsciously or consciously, towards the people who did it. That is a hard true. But, what Aemond ends up doing above the skies of Storm's End, out of rage, and eternal resentment...ultimately starts the domino effect that would lead to The Dance of the Dragons, which will mean the lost of his sanity...and his love.

《 The Invitation's Second Season 》

Masterlist

Warnings: constant swearing, mentions of murder, angst, dry-humping, infidelity, family drama, family toxicity, mentions of rape, rape threats, fight, TARGARYEN INCEST [cousinXcousin]

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Enjoy your reading!!! Comments, likes and reblogs will be highly appreciated ♡♡♡

■ ■ ■

As it constantly happens when they are at The Red Keep, the whole of the family of The King's first daughter is gathered at one only chamber, Rhaenyra and Daemon's one.

Said spouses are seated together in a comfortable couch. Though the seat is large enough, they are as close to each other as they can. They are holding hands, placed on their legs, which she sometimes moves from side to side, making him to lowly giggle.

-And what happened after that?!-. Joffrey asks, excited.

They all keep silent for three seconds.

-Uh...then...-, Jacaerys, seated on the bed, raises his brows-...Ser Vaemond said that we are...dumb-, he narrows his eyes, doubty.

-He did?!-, Joff gasps, covering his mouth.

Daemon opens his eyes big, sharing a burlesque glance with Rhaenyra.

-Yeah, something- something like that-. Baela nods as she, also sitting in the bed, rocks little Viserys.

-Wao! And what happened after that?!-. The little boy questions, again, still excited.

They made silence again.

-Afterwards, after that, next...-Lucerys, standing besides the couch, tries to speak, but he just shakes his head with doubt.

-Speak, woman!-. Joffrey tsks, Luke gasps ofended and Daemon laughed sharply.

-After that, Ser Vaemond also commented that Nyra...-softly, Rhaena raises her brows. All the grown ups look at her with caution, and the little boy with curiosity-...that she is...silly-, she narrows her eyes.

-Yeah-, Daera mumbles with doubt, rocking little Aegon as she walks through the room.

-WHAT?!-. Joffrey immediately shivered, opening his eyes big-. Mom! Is- is that true?!-, his worried voice asks, turning to look at her.

His siblings made sweet faces of pity, glancing between them. Daemon created a soft smile towards the boy, while Rhaenyra gasped with tenderness.

-Oh- oh, yes, he did! But I didn't listen to him, so you must not worry, my boy-. She smiles gently, curving her brows.

-Are you sure?-, Joff mumbles.

-I am sure, sweetling, come here-. Nyra nods sweetly, palming her legs. The boy immediately smiles, running towards there, and climbing to her legs with a smile-. There we are!-, she hugs his waist, smiling.

The others laughed, moved. With calmness, Daemon blinked and passed a hand on Joffrey's brown mane, caressing it two times.

-He was sillier than me, anyways-. Rhaenyra mumbled burlesque to her boy, funnily scrunching her nose. He chuckled, and Luke, having heard that, blinked with thoughtfulness, looking down for a moment when thinking of Vaemond.

-Alright-, Joffrey giggles.

-He's finally done with the questions-. Baela mumbled, relieved, and Jace noded with his brows up.

-And what happened after that?!-. Joff asks excited, jumping on his mother's legs.

Silence again.

-Then...-, Daera blinks, rocking Aegon-. Vaemond surrended and, and he sailed far, far away-, she answers.

-Where to?-, Joff sweetly asks.

-Really far-. Luke instantly says.

-You don't know the name of where he sailed to?!-. The boy tsks his tongue.

-Canada-. Daera answered without a second thought. They all looked at her, highly confused-, which is near...The Dothraki?-, she narrowed her eyes.

-Yeah yeah, way too far-. Jace nods quickly.

-But don't ask anyone, don't-. Rhaena shakes her head.

-They'll tell you weird things-, Luke backed his betrothed, noding.

-Works for me-. Joffrey shrugged, smiling-. And what-

-I think that you still ought to congrat your broher, curious little man!-. Rhaenyra interrupted him before he could ask another question, pinching his ribs and making him laugh. Luke smiles a little, looking at them-. He still will be Lord of Driftmark-, she proudly mumbles, turning to look at him.

Everyone in the room glanced at Lucerys with pride, and they all started to clap when Rhaena did so. They cheer him funnily, making the blue-eyed boy to blush strongly, laughing with a smile.

Joffrey claps excitedly, looking at his big brother with a loving admiring shine on his brown eyes.

-This celebration requires wine-. The Rogue Prince said, raising his brows-. Daera-, he named.

-Already on it-. She smiles cockily, walking to the dining table as she rocks Aegon.

-You will not fetch booze while holding your brother-. Rhaenyra reproached with a tired expression.

-Yeah she will-, Daemon snorted.

-Yeah she will-, Daera grabs the bottle of wine.

Jace, Baela and Joffrey laughed funnily while Rhaena and Luke rolled their eyes, as well as Rhaenyra.

Daera hands a goblet of wine to her father, who grabbed it with a cocky smile on his face, thanking her with a hum.

-When my girls were Aegon and Viserys's age, they already would have supper with a cup of beer by their side-. Daemon showed off, movings his hands in the air.

-That explain some things-. Jacaerys joked, and his whole family laughed funnily-. Good one, Jace!-. He whispered to himself.

-I used to puke it-, Rhaena remembered with a bored expression. Her sisters and father sighed.

-Hells-, Baela tsks, recalling all those puking nights.

Daera walks towards her father again, now holding her own cup in one hand, and Aegon in the other. They toasted with their goblets, smiling.

-Husband and wife both are too fond of wine, it seems-. Rhaenyra raises her brows, glancing at Daera, and then at Jace, with reproach.

-Ow, mother-. He tsked his tongue.

-I have not forgotten yet your too much fun on your last name day, when you turned eight and ten-. His mom recalls with burlesque eyes.

Daemon laughs sharply.

-He puked more than me-, Rhaena mumbled.

-Hells, he drank more than me!-. Daera huffs.

-That says a lot-, Lucerys scratched his head-. Wow, you really did puke a lo-

-Enough!-. Jace tsks his tongue again.

-And, today, who died?-. Joffrey asked from a moment to another.

They all froze in that moment, opening their eyes big. They look at the boy, who is calmly smiling.

-Why do you ask?-. Lucerys mumbles.

-Because Daera is covered in blood-, Joffrey pointed at his older sister.

All the eyes look at her too. Turns out that the princess haven't changed her clothes yet, nor hasn't given herself a bath after brutally murdering those men in Flea Bottom. So her skirt and hair are still red-dotted.

-Oh, fuck, I forgot about that-. Daera mumbles, looking at Aegon with a face-. I forgot about that-, she funnily whispered at him. The babe chuckles loosely.

-I do think there is an interesting story behind your look-. Rhaenyra raises her brows, interested.

-I think that too-, Daemon mutters, sipping the wine.

-Oh well, what is there to tell?-. Daera sighs, shrugging as she walks around with easiness-. I can give you the short story, though, if you want-. She proposes, drinking.

-Yes-, her siblings immediately agreed. The princess humss, carefully moving her golden cup.

-Uhh, ah! Well, do you remember those thieves, in the shelter?-. She asks, looking at Jace, who immediately noded, as well as the others. Daemon and Nyra blink curiously-. Well, hehehe, I found them today again, and I shoved my sword up their fuckings a-

She shuts herself up, quickly glancing at Joffrey, who tilted his head with an innocent interest. Rhaenyra looked at her warningly, asking for caution.

-I mean- I, uhh, threw them rocks-. Daera answers-. Tiny rocks-, she adds. Her siblings glance at each other, mouth-opened, clearly knowing that was a lie.

She murdered them.

-And what are all those red stains, then?-. Joffrey aks confusedly, pointing at her mane.

-Raspberries were thrown at me-. Daera quickly answers.

-Works for me-, the boy smiles.

-Their own raspberries, actually...-, she mumbled, burlesque, looking at the others.

She is covered in their blood.

Even though being entirely familiar with their sister's remarkable rogueness from time to time, they shivered from deep their bodies, wondering how violently she must have killed them to end up that covered with brains.

Totally use to her husband's own doings, Rhaenyra just sighed tiredly, noding before the ones of her stepdaughter's. The Rogue Prince himself, being the proudest of the room, raised his cup towards his older daughter.

-To the raspberries!-, his sharp voice toasted.

-To the raspberries-, she smiled funnily, lifting her goblet.

Daera slowly drinks. Matters to say that she didn't fetched herself wine, as it would have been expected. She carries a child inside her now and, even though she was a little reckless, earlier in the morning, by taking some sips from Rhaenys's cup, she is determinated to don't again. The seed was barely put into her yesterday, yes, she knows! But...better safe than sorry, right?

She closed her eyes for a few seconds, also remembering all the situation with Dyana, and her raping by Aegon. The princess shivers, but decides to not share it just yet, for there is definitely not a sugar-coated way of saying it in front of Joffrey.

The doors of the chambers are knocked, interrupting the family's chat. Daera, as she is closer to it, planned to go.

-I'll go, I'll go-. Jacaerys immediately stood up instead, for she is carrying Aegon, and wouldn't want her to struggle to open the door.

Daera gave him a little smile, placing her empty cup back on the table, and rocking her baby brother in the middle of sweet hums, as well as Baela is doing with Viserys.

Jace opens the door, curious.

-Ser Arryk-, he greets, raising his brows.

Daera quickly turns her head to look at there.

-Its Ser Erryk, my prince-. The knight politely corrected, not wearing his helmet at the moment.

-Oh, come on, Jace-. The young man tsks, opening the door fully-. Forgive me, Ser, please do come in-. He allowed, and so he did.

The Rogue Princess blinked dryly, only looking at the feet of the knight, and then she simply looked away from him, attending only to the sweet Aegon. She only remembers that Ser Erryk was an accomplice in the cunt Aegon's rape.

-Ser Erryk-, Rhaenyra sighs with a greeting smile.

-My princes-, Erryk greets the whole family, noding. Rhaena smiles softly at him-. I come with an invitation from The King and The Queen-, he informs.

Nyra blinks, briefly scrunching her lips. She looks at Daemon, who only sighed in the insides of his cup. Daera rocks Aegon with a sour expression when hearing The Queen being named.

-An invitation to our ship to leave, I suppose-. The Rogue Prince hopes, opening his hand-. Can't stand one more day in this well-, he mumbles, discomforted, glancing at his children.

-Daemon-, Rhaenyra reproaches him, lowly.

For the briefest second, Erryk's blue eyes quickly glanced at princess Daera, who is with her back to him, silently standing. He sees the blood in her skirt and white hair, and for another brief instant he looked at her naked waist, and the belt with weapons wrapped in it.

-What invitation might that be, Ser Erryk?-. The Heir asks with politeness, raising her brows.

-The King has asked for all of his family to be gathered, this night, to have supper together in the dining hall of Maegor's Holdfast-, the knight informs with a neutral tone, only sharing the message-. Tonight, after the Small Council sees end of their today tasks-, he says.

As soon as "all of the family" and "gathered" was mentioned, they all felt a huge tiredness already. Daemon rolled his eyes blank, and Rhaena sighed longly.

Baela tsks, scrunching her nose. Jace stares at Daera, who looked back at him with a bored expression, the brown-haired soon rolling his eyes.

-Great-, Luke mumbles.

-And tell me, Ser Erryk, why couldn't The Queen herself come up to our chambers to hand us the invitation?-. Daera suddenly asks, looking at him for the first time. The knight blinks silently, staring at her-. Perhaps she is rather busy, solving her son's, Aegon, troubles-. She shrugged, burlesque.

Ser Erryk's unfazed expression slowly turned into a surprised one, lightly opening his lips. Does she know? The princess looks at him with harhsness and coldness, noding while she holds her brother.

-The Queen has posponed her works for the morrow-, Erryk answers, firmly-. Her Grace informed she were to spend her day in The Great Sept, with all of her children, my princess-. He detailed, looking at the princess, whose brows went loose in that moment.

The best of news, for them all, for that means that the castle will be free to calmly walk around, not having to avoid anyone or tolerate any taunt. Daera, however, wasn't to happy about the announce.

She has matters to speak of with Aemond, urgently. And, besides...she wants to be with him. Last night, as wonderful as it may have been, was not enought. Time is never enough when its regarding her desire of being with her husband. And now, he'll be all day out, with his family. When the fuck will they talk then?! Obviously not at supper! So, fuck, she'll have to wait until bedtime, again, to finally cuddle with him, and talk?

-Fucking great-, Daera huffs.

-Thank you, Ser Erryk. We...will be there, of course-. Rhaenyra sighed-. You may go, Ser-, she allows.

Erryk glanced at Daera, and she glanced back at him, until she sharped her gaze and looked away, turning around again. The knight feels the urge to gulp but, however, he just nods, and heads to the exit, leaving the chambers.

Jace sighs, closing the door.

In silence, they made bored and discomforted faces, already loathing the dinner they are suppose to have with The Green Queen.

Daemon blinks, looking at his empty cup.

-And what the hell is even Canada, huh?-. The Rogue Prince suddenly asked, confused.

-No fucking idea-. Daera instantly shook her head-. Don't even know why I said it-, she says.

-Sounds like a rough place-. Joffrey says, walking to the washroom. Rhaena agrees with a nod.

-Well, I'd rather go to Canada instead to that supper-. Rhaenyra mumbled with reluctance, making a pout with her lips.

-Hey, at least see the good side!-. Jacaerys smiles opening her arms.

-Jace, this is a fucking circle-. Daera snorted.

-No!-, he scoffed-. The castle is at peace!-, he says, smiling bigly.

-The young prince has a point-. Daemon agreed, raising his brows-. Who wants to go for a flight?-, he cockily asks.

-ME! ME! ME!-. Joffrey comes running from the washroom within a second.

■ ■ ■

And, as Ser Erryk informed, The Queen indeed is out of The Red Keep, for she had gone to the other only place she ever customs besides her home.

The Great Sept.

The insides of the temple are quiet and silent, now more than ever, that the Queen is at presence with her three older children. They were left completely alone, for the septons and septas withdrew to another space, to let them pray privately.

In a big hall of high roof, the candles lighted are countless. There are chandeliers and melting candles in every corner, provoking a smell that almost competes with the strong incenses that are equally lit all around.

There are only four people in this huge hall. One is redhead. The other three, white-haired.

Mother and children are kneeled in the floor, before a low stone table, where another bunch of candles are lighting their faces. Each of them have their hands crossed in front of said fire.

Helaena has her eyes closed, and a sweet tiny smile decorates her thirsty lips. She is already calmer, after Vaemond Velaryon's decapitation, for the princess easily finds easiness in this place, though she has never admitted it.

The princess prays, her way, for her loved ones, thinking about them, and then of why she wants the gods to keep taking care of them.

My son, Jaehaerys, because he is the loveliest babe, and he enjoys bugs as much as I do.

My daughter, Jaehaera, because she makes me happy, and she always smells great.

My brother, Aemond, because he always takes care of me, and he sneezes weirdly.

My cousin, Daera, because she is the funniest and most pretty person I know.

My brother, Daeron, because he is very gentle and kind, and makes good teas.

My mother, Alicent, because she is really weird but loves us all. I think she likes girls.

My father, Viserys, because once he told me I am beautiful, and then gave me a sweet.

Aegon, because I don't want mother to loose a child.

My grandfather, Otto, because he always hears how was my day and he sleeps with his eyes open.

My new handmaiden, Claudia, because she is a good listener.

My former handmaiden, Dyana, wherever she is, because she was truly kind.

Myself, Helaena, because I dressed the children on my own this morrow.

There is a beast beneath the boards.

Aegon is with his eyes open.

The prince is constantly looking around, sighing and yawning with boredom. He finds no place in his heart for praying, for he swears nobody is listening to him. He used to pray, once, when he was a kid, back when his mother loved him and used to call him my summer sweetheart.

Sometimes, and only sometimes, Aegon would close his eyes, and imagine that there is a god listening to whatever he has to say.

Hey, somewhere there? I do not care.

I am glad Rhaenyra's second bastard won the hearing today. Hadn't my father walked in, the idiot would have been dismissed, and so his brother, and so my half-sister, and then...ugh, hells, no, I am so glad that didn't happen. Sorry for the Velaryon man, though, it was unfair.

I wonder -uh, just wondering, of course- if my father would have stepped in so steadfastly were it to be my claim the one put into ques- oh fucks, I am such an idiot. Why do I care?! Besides, I know the answer! The old cunt wouldn't have lifted a finger. I don't care.

But I do wonder -again, just wondering- wether if mom would have said something if...if the Velaryon man or any other would have said that I am a bastard, or an idiot, an asshole, whatever. Would she have done...something?

UGH, YOU TWAT!

Aegon shivered as he opened his eyes again, pressing his lips. He felt stupid, that nobody was listening to him, again. He sighs, scratching his face.

The prince sniffs his nose, bored, leaning to a side, and looking with curiosity at the gap that is below the table.

I would sleep greatly in there.

Alicent's hands are tightly crossed over the stone table, as well as her eyes are closed. Her mind, sinked in thoughts and prayers. Seven of them.

May The Father judge justly the doers of today's sun. I pray for him to bring justice and fairness only to those deserving of such.

May The Mother smile down, every day, to all of my children. My troubled firstborn, may she protect him from no good. My warrior son, may she keep him away from battle and wrong tentations. My sweet daughter, may she kiss her cheeks every night, and place another heir in her womb. And my dearest boy, may she keep him warm in every of his nights away from me.

May The Warrior give me courage and strength during all these trying days. May he give strength to my kingdom, and to bring peace to the soulds of the slained. Ser Vaemond Velaryon. May he receive him in his arms, and show him to the path he is now to follow, though it was not his time for it.

May The Smith protect us all from any doom or disaster. I pray for him to keep the skies clear, the earth still, and the sea calmed. May he keep us away from warfare and cruelty.

May The Maiden watch over my dear granddaughter, Jaehaera, and to help her to bloom into the most purest of young girls. May she guide her pretty head towards clean thoughts, and her body to the right decisions.

May The Crone light the clouded conscience of my husband, and to allow him to see the threads that keep entangling stronger. May she give me wisdom, and guidance...Please...May she send me a white dove or a pain in my fingertips, a sign. I beg her, to answer my pleadings, to let me know that this is happening because of a purpose. May she coo me and then show me this will have a good end, and that everything will have settled its account. I need her to take my by the hand, and to guide me through this black heavy clouds.

And may The Stranger...I beg him...rip no one away from me.

Alicent gulps harshly, as quiet as possible.

Aemond's hands are crossed in front of him, with the candle light caressing his pink soft skin.

The prince's eye is open, barely, having sour crystal tears gathered in it, but not even one of them falls. Brokenly and weakly, he is staring at the candles before his teary gaze.

They burn. They move freely. They are melting together.

Prince Aemond only has one petition to the gods, and it is a question, not a pleading, so all they have to do is answer his tired and miserable inquiry.

When will it be my turn?

■ ■ ■

Syrax and Caraxes have gone out to fly in the wide skies of King's Landing, getting away from the castle for a while. With them, Tyraxes and Kalistrox also flap through the light clouds, joining them with easiness.

The Rogue Prince mounts his Blood Wyrm, feeling the breeze blowing on his short white hair, while The Realm's Delight rides her yellow dragon right by his side, caressing her belly as she looks upfront. Joffrey The Tamer, as his old sister jokingly blessed him, flies with his red dragon, Tyraxes, going with the happiest of smiles. The Golden Ray, though joining the mounted dragons in the sky, is riderless, for The Rogue Princess is attending to some matters.

She, along her siblings, have remained away from the clouds, and stayed in The Red Keep.

All of them together, at the moment, go down the same path. They are silent, and their faces are relaxed, nearly serious, as they walk through a narrow hallway of the castle, where the lighting is opaque, and the air a strained one.

Daera glances at Lucerys, finding a sort of nervous shine on his eyes. Softly, she reached a hand of him, and gripped it in hers. The boy closed his lips, looking back at her, and gulping before giving her a quick tiny smile, grabbing her hand.

As they expected to do, the found princess Rhaenys at the end of the hallway, after turning on a corner. She stands alone, right in front of an old wooden closed door, which she was staring at deeply, until she heard those multiple steps getting closer. The princess, all dressed in black, turns her head lightly, finding her grandchildren heading towards her with a mix of expressions. Pity and worriness, and shame, perhaps.

-Grandma-, the older girl whispered softly when they reached her side.

Rhaenys blinks silently, staring at all of them.

-We wanted to check if...if you are alright, before you step in to the room-. Jacaerys speaks lowly, briefly raising his brows.

-It is no easy task to watch the work of The Silent Sisters-. Rhaena pointed, playing with her fingers-...I have heard-, she added, shyly.

The Queen Who Never Was is about to enter the chamber of The Silent Sisters, who will be embalming Vaemond Velaryon's body, which was dragged out The Iron Throne Room by the guards after his decapitation. Servants of the castle are cleaning the path of blood left, as we speak.

Vaemond's body will be cleaned, and sent back to Driftmark in his own ship, The Heart of The Oceans, for his funeral, one that his family was not expecting at all. His sons, Daeron and Daemion, will be devastated. The news hadn't reached High Tide yet.

Her grandchildren look worried for her, wondering if she is comfortable with entering The Room of The Dead, as many call it, but the truth is that...she has lost count of how many times she has done this.

So, silently, she just gives them a little smirk, one of her many.

-I am sorry-, Lucerys suddenly whispered, ashamed, looking down to his feet. His eyes grew somewhat softer, while his siblings startled in their places.

-What for?-, Jace opens his eyes big.

-Luke, naught of this is your fault in neither way-. Daera pointed with a reassuring soft tone, shaking her head as she caressed his hand.

-Neither of us is to blame, and much less you-. Rhaena raised her brows in the same way, looking for his blue eyes, which fixated on her with light tears.

-Our uncle just...wasn't prudent, and that is on him-. A sigh left Baela's lips as she caressed his back.

-He misused his tongue by choice, and if Daemon hadn't taken care of the matter, The King's Justice would had, any ways-. Jacaerys pointed with confidence, leaning his head front to look at him.

-Exactly-, his wife whispered, curving her brows.

Lucerys blinks softly, pressing his pink lips as she watches at all of them, trying to believe their words.

Rhaenys stares at all of them with her eyes lightly narrowed, reading all of their faces and the feelings within them. She clearly knows one thing: this children are complicated, all of them, wether if its by their choice of not. They belong to a family, as well as she, with rotten cores, and weird morals, which sometimes truly shows in them, though most of the times they are better persons than anyone else in such family.

As complicated as it is, she definitely knows something about this kids...she loves them.

The Lady of Driftmark, without having said one single word, smirked at them with a tired dearness, and then opened the doors of the room. The children immediately turned their heads around, and Rhaena even closed her eyes, gulping.

A putrid smell reached their noses, mixed with the whiff of countless candles. Jacaerys blinks strongly, and Baela covered her nose, being the first one in walking away, quickly being followed by Lucerys.

Daera presses her lips, staring at the floor for five seconds, and then turning around her head. She dared to look at the insides, finding, then, the naked sliced body of her uncle, Vaemond, resting on a table of stone.

The princess gulps strongly, biting her cheeks as she smells his corpse. Her head shakes briefly, as her mind remembers the last words he ever said to her.

-You, then, be as corrupt as you wish to be! On the morrow, I will bring justice to the House you so blatantly betrayed! Over my dead rotting corpse, I will allow House Velaryon to be ruled by a...!-

He said the word, this morrow. And now his dead corpse is rotting. And, indeed, House Velaryon will be ruled by a bastard.

Daera sniffs her nose, looking at the body.

-I warned you-, she whispered, for the second time in the day.

■ ■ ■

Back in The Great Sept, a handful of hours have passed already, so Alicent and her children are finally taking a quick break from their prayers, which are exhausting, according to her first son.

Aegon is quietly having some food, chewing a good stew that one of the Septas cooked herself. It is delicious, and he is eating it with no delicate manner, bringing the spoon up and down within seconds. The prince sneaked into the temple a discreet canteen of wine with him, and he sips it as calmly as if it was water.

Helaena is lying on the floor, moving her legs in the air while, most interested, she sees a line of ants carrying crumbs of food. They're so hardworking, she thinks as she laughs, her jaw resting on the ground.

Aemond is far from his siblings, on a more private corner of the room. The prince is sitting in the frame of a gigantic open window, receiving the breeze of the town, and its horrible smell of urine and shit. His long legs are crossed, his back a little slouched, and his hands resting on his thighs, while his only eye is looking up, at the sky.

He is watching at Syrax, Caraxes and Kalistrox, along another little red dragon that he simply forgot the name of. Aemond wonders if his wife, Daera, is mounting her dragon at the moment, or if his saddle is empty. He does not know. For a brief moment, before, he was wishing for her to be here, with him, but his dear love doesn't pray, and neither gets along with his family besides Helaena.

The One-Eyed Prince fixes his gaze on Syrax and Caraxes, picturing their riders's faces in his mind even though he's not seeing them.

After checking on Helaena, Alicent approaches to the window Aemond is seated in, endlessly looking at the sky. She arrives with silent steps, and he did not even blinked. She blinks, briefly looking at the dragons in the clouds, and then back at him.

-Septa Mira cooked stew for us, Aemond-. The redhead says within a whisper, raising a hand to caress his long hair's ends for a moment-. It is getting cold-, she adds. Blinkless, he stares at the sky-. Are you not hungry?-, she asks, wanting him to say something.

-I hate my father-. The prince says, calmly. His mother froze in that moment, completely, opening her eyes big-. I hate his first daughter, and the children of hers-, he adds, looking at Syrax.

-Aemond-, Alicent named with a nervous voice, quickly looking around-. You do not say such things out loud, someone may hear you-, she speaks fastly.

-You say this is the place for us to speak freely to the gods about our thoughts-. The one-eyed points with an obvious tone, turning his head to look at her. His mother curves her brows, staring front-...May the gods hear me-, he pleads.

Alicent only shakes her head briefly, knowing there was no worth in trying to stop him. Her son looks back at the sky belonging to the pass midday, watching again at those dragons.

-They always get away with it, do they not?-. The prince asks, husky, almost singing his question-. Each rogueness, murder and treason from them is welcomed with open arms by The King-, he whispers-...They are your husband's spoiled ones, and they know it-. Aemond moved his lips softly as he speaks, feeling a lump on his throat.

His mother turns her pity expression into one of shame and helpless, not knowing what to say to fight those words, for they are true.

-We ourselves have gone through so much-, Aemond whispers, narrowing his eye, thinking about all the wrongs they have had to endure during all these years, back beyond the days of his own birth-...and for what?-. He mumbles, shrugging.

-Son-, Alicent murmurs, looking down at him.

Aemond remembers that night, the one that fully cleared, if it was not clear before, that The King would always favour his first child's doings, and the lot of her family, over his own other children, and wife. The night where a slander -a fitting one- was heavier than the hanging eye on his bloody face.

-Where is duty?-. Aemond thinly asks-. Where is sacrifice?-, he narrows his eye.

When hearing herself being quoted by her own son, Alicent's heart sinked.

-Its trampled under their pretty feet again-. The prince hisses, remembering it all to well. His mother opens her lips, looking with pity at him-. I lost an eye for telling the truth, and Vaemond Velaryon his head for wanting to save his bloodline-. He studies the facts, sensing the tears gathering up in his sour gaze.

Aemond's throat trembled a little, and his head shook from side to side, with despair, feeling like a caged beast.

-I don't understand it-. And a unwanted sob left his lips, which curved with sadness and impotence.

Alicent tsked her tongue and, not holding herself anymore, she took seat in front of him in the window's frame, with her face dyed of heaviness, but firmness.

-Injustices are not to understand-, The Queen whispered, shaking her head, and lifting her hands-, but to avoid-, she says.

Her son takes both her hands, gripping them between his long fingers. He sniffs his nose, tired, and she watches him with her weary eyes, thoughtful.

-Do you not see it now?-. Alicent asks, in a low voice. He curves his brows, not understanding-. Do you not notice, my brave boy...what life I saved you from, regard what you once had with that rogue Daera?-. She pointed, firmly gripping his hands.

Aemond's confused gazed faded away. He opens his eye big, pressing his lips, and gulping in silence. He was not expecting this.

-Where does all your pains and wounds come from, if not from her, and her family?-. Alicent wonders, narrowing her eyes and shaking her head-. What her father did- the monstruosity her father did this morning, she would have done it exactly the same if given the chance-. She raises her brows-. I am sure of it-, she tilts her head.

Only to not look too quiet, he nods, pressing his thin lips. The prince gulps, a little breathless, wanting to cry so hard at the moment. It pains him, deeply, that even a year later his mom is still so denied to the love he "once had" for princess Daera.

-I know you wanted to know little of me, during those days...-. Alicent looks down for a moment, ashamed.

-That is no true, mother-. He immediately says, gripping her hands. She gulps, looking up again.

-What I did, I did it for your best, Aemond-. Alicent heartily promises, curving her brows-. Over my cold body I would have allowed my son to see himself tangled between such kind of people, the kind that mocks the system, whose injustices and recklessness are taken with ease by the blinded ones-. She speaks with a passionate determination, holding their hands together as the tears on Aemond's eye are burning everytime sourer-...You don't belong there-, she states.

Aemond's breathing began to grow faster. His eye starts to open hugely, and his mind commenced to suddenly think of something.

Oh no...

-It may sound hard, and it is, I've know it-. Alicent confesses, closing her eyes tiredly-. But our duty is to keep The Realm steady on its feet, and to not let ourselves be dragged nor drowned by incitements or dares-. She raises her brows. Aemond breathes fastly-. We must not make the same mistakes as them-. The Queen declared.

At that moment, the world collapsed on Prince Aemond's shoulders, and as his heart stopped beating for a second, his face lost all color and expression from before, because a name came to his mind when the word "mistake" was said.

Alyssa Targaryen.

-Aemond?-, Alicent calls, worried by his sudden paleness.

Aemond stood up from a moment to another, and his shaky legs walked him far from his mother with stumbling steps. She turns around her head, highly confused.

Alyssa.

The prince gasps, feeling that everything around him was beginning to spin. He walks through The Sept, holding on to the walls, feeling one of the worst panics of his life, having the worst realization of all.

His daughter won't be Alyssa Targaryen.

At the second he reaches a door, he opens it and closed it within a second, walking into an empty chamber of praying. He breathes fast, whimpering, taking off his patch and throwing it against a wall, forgetting about it.

-No, no!-. His thin voice starts to cry.

He grabs his head, opening his eye big as he only sees darkness.

His daughter will be Alyssa Velaryon.

-No-, Aemond whines.

Nah, scratch that. His daughter will be Alyssa Waters.

Afflicted, the prince falls on his own knees, unable to hold his weight any longer. His endless tears drop from his chin to the floor, wetting it.

The Seven watch him with pity.

How could he have been so stupid? How is he thinking about this NOW? HOW DID HE LET THIS HAPPEN?!

The babe he placed on Daera's belly will be no child of theirs.

Aemond breathes thinly, and while his blue sapphire soaked with his own sweat, his only eye lighted red with rage, and fear.

On Daera's belly, he placed his bastard.

And the child of Jacaerys Strong.

■ ■ ■

By herself, princess Daera stands in the balcony of her chambers, in The Red Keep. Both of her hands are placed in her naked belly, for her blouse is short, caressing it softly.

She stares at The Great Sept, watching it from the distance, and constantly sighing as she thinks of her beloved.

Daera wishes to see Aemond, and to kill Aegon, but mostly to see Aemond, and to talk with Helaena as well, for she hasn't even greeted neither of them today.

A while ago, she had one of the most incredible meetings of her life. She introduced Viserys and Aegon to Jaehaera and Jahaerys! It was lovely, and all of her siblings joined the moment as well. The babes spent more than an hour playing, babbling and laughing together, all the four of them constantly clinging to the one common person they knew, Daera.

Daemon and Rhaenyra knew nothing of it, for after their flight they kept walking around The Keep, spending time alone. Helaena will be thrilled when she hears of this, Daera is sure. After the babies got notably tired, she put her brothers to rest, and the gentle Claudia took the princess's godschildren twins to take a bath.

And, speaking of babes, Daera has been caressing her own stopless, since she was left alone in the tranquility of her chambers. The princess constantly smiles, feeling sometimes silly because of how excited she is, dispite she was impregnated just yesterday. She doesn't care about time, though, for she knows that the creature inside her will bloom, yes or yes, and the only thought makes her thrive of emotion.

Daera can't but remember, with the warmest feeling on her chest, one of the last conversation she ever had with her mother, before she died. In those days, Laena was with child, of course, the one who she burned with.

For some or other reason, she asked her about maternity, wondering why she was doing for the fourth time if it brings her so much pain and discomfort.

"The pain is only ephemeral, my sweet Daera", her tender voice would answer her.

"Will I be a mother...one day?", she asked that night, hugging her knees, when she was eleven years old.

"Only if you wish to. But be assured, it is the most beautiful experience of life, Daera, to bring another one to the world, made of your own flesh, and breathing with the strength of your own heart", Laena scrunches her nose, smiling.

"If I ever have children, I hope to be a good mother to them, as you are to me...and my sisters", Daera confessed.

And her mother, full of love, smiled at her.

"...When your time comes...you will be the best mother"

Daera sucked the insides of her cheeks, smiling, and looking down at her flat belly, caressing it with overflowed love.

-You'll grow-, she tenderly whispered to it.

-Daera?-. Some knocks in the door, and a voice from behind it, made the princess to turn her head around, calmly-. Are you in there?-. Jacaerys asked, politely.

-Come!-. She allowed, getting her hands off her belly, and walking to the insides of her chambers again.

Jace comes into the room, greeting her with a kind smile. She copies it, as he closes the door.

-Oh, you come alone?-. Daera raises her brows, smiling.

-Uh, yeah! Yeah-. Jace nods, raising his brows again-. I was walking through the gardens with Rhaena and Luke, but I left them alone, and they didn't even notice-. He narrates funnily, walking.

The princess laughs funnily.

-They are so silly-, she mumbles, burlesque.

-They definitely are-. He agreed, jumping and falling on her bed with total confidence. Daera scrunches her lips, amused, with her back leaning on a wall-. Ohh, great, I've been walking all day-. The prince sighs, comfortable, crossing his hands behind his head.

-Do not deprive yourself from the comforts of my mattress then-. She huffed, and he laughs funnily, laying in there.

-Uhh, Baela sat to sew with some ladies of the courts, gossiping-. He keeps telling, and she snicker amusedly, rolling her eyes-. And, lastly, Lady Beesbury is pampering Joffrey with endless cakes-, Jace sighed, smiling.

-Oh, very fucking good, the boy fawns over desserts-. Daera nods with her brows furrowed, and he copied her, calmly breathing.

The princess sighs, leaning the back of her head on the wall.

-Well, then I am fucking glad of being your last resort-. Daera jokes with a snicker, tilting her head.

Jacaerys immediately gasped, raising his head to look at her with his eyes wide open.

-No no no, you are not, I am sorry!-. He instantly denies, shaking his head. She laughs maleficently, clapping-. Do never think that, Daera-. The young man tsked his tongue-. You are my wife-, he remembered with a low voice, almost to himself.

Daera blinks when she hears him. She clicks her teeth a little, and thinks about Alyssa.

She has, indeed, thought about the fact that she obviously will have to say that the babe borned to her, will be Jace's. To be honest, she has thought of it since the idea was put in the table by herself and her husband.

To be far more honest, she is completely up for it, if that means that she will have her child. Daera knows the matter is delicate, hence why she hasn't asked Aemond, and also because they haven't had time. However, she knows he'll have to agree on this, because they both want children, and they obviously can't wait that many years from here until she has the power of queenship.

Princess Rhaenyra, when she was weded to Ser Laenor Velaryon, long may he rest, had an explicit agreement with him, regarding the parentage of their children. They were fathered by Ser Harwin Strong, of course, but there was not one moment when Laenor didn't supported that, discreetly. She didn't have to bed him, when they finally got things clear, and so the princess freely had her children with the man she loved at the time, and beared them with endless dearness.

Princess Daera, though, does not posses that kind of discrecy with her husband, Jacaerys Velaryon, for he is extremely loathe of her true husband, Aemond Targaryen. She cannot whisper to his ear if he would allow her to have The One-Eyed Prince's children and accept them as his.

So...she has to bed him. And if that is what she ought to do to give birth to Aemond's sons and daughters, then so be it.

Daera lifted her gaze back to him. Just with that single move, something changed in the air of the room.

Jacaerys, lying on her bed, looked back at her, with his arms still crossed behind his head. He opens his lips, having felt that switch of ambience.

-And- and about the thieves, the ones you killed, umm...-Jace clears his throat-, uhh- wow, must have been quite an experience, huh?-. He asks, lifting his brows with extreme interest.

-Um, I suppose it was-. The princess shrugged, calmly heading towards the bed. He gulps, nodding.

-Yeah. Did- did they do something, to the shelter, after all?-. Jace curves his brows, clearing his throat again.

-I cut their hands before they could-. Daera softly whispers, reaching the bed, and beginning to climb on it. The brown-haired boy gulps, only looking at her eyes-. I wasn't going to wait for the damage to be done-, she says.

-Smart-, he nods-. You...you didn't wait, then-. He whispers.

-I always do what I want-. The princess mumbled, lying over her shoulder, and looking at his eyes with deepness.

Jacaerys gulped, again.

Afterwards, he couldn't stop his eyes anymore, and they glanced down to her near body. He started having those thoughts again when staring at the curvature of her waist and the thickness of her thighs behind her red skirt, when looking at the generosity of her neckline, where her covered breasts come up and down along her slow breathing.

Jacaerys thinks to himself how he is husband to the most beautiful and, forgive his bluntness, most sensual woman of The Seven Kingdoms. Countless are the men that would kill for having her touch, not to say having her as their wife. Her smell is said to drive man insane, and he is a victim himself. While those men kill each other for the princess...he has her lying right beside him, on the bed.

Inevitably, the brown-haired gets nervous, gulping yet again, and moving a little on the mattress.

-What do you think we'll have for- uh- supper, tonight?-. He asks, curious.

The princess looks at him, centimeters away from his face.

-What do you fancy?-. She questioned back, whispering, taking all the breath of his lungs.

She knows what she is doing.

Jace hums, closing his eyes, and not keeping himself anymore from granting her a kiss. Daera sighs heavily, closing his eyes as well, and answering to his lips with slowness.

The spouses both kiss each other in total silent, sensing the fresh breeze that comes from balcony. Jace places his hand on her cheek, caressing it, and she places her hand behind his neck, pushing closer. He moaned, surprised, and then again when she started to go faster with her lips. The prince shakes, answering the best he could.

Jacaerys feels her hand starting to caress his hair. She is his sister, and this is not at all the first time she caress his mane, but this time was completely different. She hided her whole hand into his brown jungle, caressing it deeply, and then gave him a little pull, making to grunt, and to feel a prominent tickle in the between of his legs.

-Daera-, he whispered, breathless, when the kiss ended.

-Yes?-, she mumbles, playing with her lips around his, breathing around them. He sighs, bemused, mesmerized by her purple eyes-. Do you want me to show you?-, she proposes, with a thread of voice.

-What?-, he sighs, in trance.

Daera thinks about Aemond. This is not infidelity, she convinces herself. Is not. She doesn't wishes to ask him wether "if she can", because that would only bring a really big unnecessary discussion, and she knows it, and prefers go avoid that. Since when does she asks for permission? She will tell him, and that is it. This is something that must be done, for their child.

The Rogue Princess, in all of her cockiness, grabs the hands of her brother, and makes him to quickly move in the bed. Mesmerized, he follows every move she made him do. And, within three seconds, he ended up seated in the mattress, leaning his back on the back of the bed.

Daera meets their lips again, kissing him first for the first time ever. Jace sighs, furrowing his brows, moving his nervous hands on the sheets under. Afterwards, the princess climbs on top of him, and suddenly, she ended up seated on his leather pants's lap.

In that moment, Jace let out the strongest of moans, opening his mouth and eyes with surprise, and fascination. He looked down, shocked, seeing her open legs wrapped around his, clenching his sides. He breathes fast, turning as red as a tomato, nodding with silliness.

-Seven heavens-, he whispers.

His wife grabbs him by the neck, and starts kissing him again, stoppless. The prince moaned from deep his throat, wrinkling the sheets on his hands, not daring to place them on her, though he so much wants it. Daera, aware of his lack of touch, thanked it, and kept kissing as if she didn't notice it.

The princess gripped his body with her legs and, afterwards, she started to circle her hips around him, dancing over his lap. Jacaerys straight out whimpered inside of her mouth, speechless, closing his eyes strongly. His heart started to beat so fast as his pants grow everytime tighter before the strong touches of her. Oh gods, he is feeling something. There is that thing under her skirt, in the middle of her legs, rubbing against what is the between of his. It is so soft, even with the fabric in the middle, and is making him go insane.

Daera broke the kiss, opening her lips into a moan that will shame herself for the rest of her life. She wasn't expecting a sudden punch in her core by the pants of Jacaerys, and she definitely wasn't expecting such a thick and beefy cock, his, pushing against her. The princess blinks multiple times, thinking of Aemond, seeing his eye on her mind.

-Fuck-, she sighs, rocking her hips and making her dressed cunt to pamper Jace's awaken cock.

-Oh, gods-. The prince sighed as well, so silly and blushed, not believing The Rogue Princess got him this hard, with just seconds. He has never had a woman touching him like this, until now, less meandering above his dick-. Sister-, he moans, weak.

-I could not wait more-. She whispered against his lips, taking his hands, and interlocking their fingers. He groans, looking at her with teary brown eyes, constantly peering at her wrinkled skirt rubbing endlessly against his erection-. I know you want me, brother-. She seduced him with a honeyed voice.

-I do, I do-. His weak breath answers, with his chest coming up and down. Daera bites her lips, placing their united hands above of his head, trapping them in the back of the bed. Jace moans, feeling he is losing his mind-. I am sorry-, he whispered, blushed.

-Ouh do not be-. She sing-songs, tilting her head, and leaning it closer to his, watching at his eyes. He breathes fastly, seriously starting to believe his sister is some kind of witch. How does she holds so much power?-...I want you too, Jace-. Daera forced herself to say.

Jacaerys opened his mouth, moaning, and she took him by surprise by kissing again, now bringing out her tongue unexpectedly, making him to flinch and moan louder than before. He feels her expert tongue licking the most sensible part of his mouth and lips. She bites his lips, and then kisses them with slowless as her hips keep moving. He does as much as he can, also using his tongue, and licking hers with his, groaning when finding the sweet flavour of her saliva.

-Daera-, Jace breathes fastly. She humms, licking above his lips while he said her name. He whimpers, trembling whole, unbelievable-. I- I can't-, he whines, seeing her tongue, intimidated by the arrogance of it, and ashamed by the inexperience of his.

-You can-, she promised him, whispering, making the most perfect circles with her hips. The prince cries, not knowing that he is being really loud.

They are dry-humping in Daera's bed, filling the air with fast breaths and loud moans, feeling their private areas touching and rubbing harshly against each other under the fabric of their clothes. Jacaerys feels his cock twitching and pulsing, and Daera is ashamed to admit that her cunt is somewhat wet, not having resisted to the strength of the prince's manhood, it is so meaty.

Nothing will ever compare to Aemond, she says to herself, trying to only picture him.

-Sister-, Jacaerys whispers when they ended another kiss, and he groans when seeing a thick thread of saliva hanging between their lips-. Daera-, he names with no breath, feeling her harsh grip on his trapped hands, and her fast moves on his strong cock-. Daera!-, he moans sharply.

She kisses his lips for a second, and then again, and then again, and then abruptly gets her tongue into them again. Jace cried loudly, melting under her, and answering with weakness, for he is just overwhelmed by all the pleassure that he never had even a little taste of before in his life.

-Daera!-. Jace's body suddenly tensed up completely, and his factions all wrinkled as his mouth let out the biggest of moans, shaking and trembling under her.

The princess grips his hands harder, and makes slow circles with her core over his cock when she felt it twitching endlessly. Jace whines time after time, with his chest coming up and down, and his face turning even more red than before.

He saw stars in his closed eyes, and when he opened them, found the brightest of them.

Daera breathes fast in front of him, with his saliva around her mouth, and strands of hair in the middle of her sight. Jace moans weakly, blinking slowly, staring at her with his mouth opened. The dance of hips has ended, and now he just feels a pulsing thing still against his pants.

The princess quietly blinks, furrowing her lips while she looks at him with a silly expression, blinkless. The prince, with no breath, gulps strongly.

-Le-...let me go clean myself-. He whispers, completely blushed.

Daera blinks bigly, foolishly starting to nod.

-Of course, of course-. She starts to get off him, kneeling on the bed at his side. Jace moaned lowly shen she moved. Inevitably, his sister glanced at his pants, finding a remarkable bulk in there.

The princess opens her mouth, bemused. It is bigger than Aemond's, for the fuck's fucking fucks.

Jace gets off the bed, and she flinches when he limps.

-I'm fine, I'm fine!-. He instantly assured, raising his hands. She blinks, seeing him slowly walking away-...More than fine-, he foolishly whispered.

Heading onto the washroom, Jace blinks in shock, feeling how his uneergarments are literally soaking with cum, endlessly. He'll have to run to his rooms, right now, to take an immediate bath. The prince sighs, not believing that he just had his first sexual experience, and what a experience it was.

While Jace went to the bathroom, Daera got off the bed as well and, barefoot, walked back to the balcony of her chambers, completely silent.

The mix of feelingss in her chest is indescribable. It feels heavy. It is shame, mostly because she moaned during it, and she sincerely got wet. She feels...guilty. But, no! Again, this was not a mistake. He'll understand it, he'll have to. Aemond is as excited for a child as she is, this is just...the hard part, that's all. She has endured worst.

Daera already took a first step, showing Jace that "she desires him". The door is already open, for they are past of only kisses between them, after a whole year of being wed. Now, around the upcoming near days, she will have to...uhm, well, she will have to fully fuck him. He has to believe he got her pregnant.

The Rogue Princess gulps dryly, with her throat afflicted, staring at The Great Sept again, where her true love still is. When thinking about him, her hands came up to her belly by their own, and that made her to smile tinyly.

Alyssa, Alyssa, Alyssa. For her.

■ ■ ■

The dinner party has arrived.

In the dinning hall of Maegor's Holdfast, Rhaenyra and Daemon's family, them included, got ready early for the supper, and so they are the only ones at the room. And how much they love that.

The servants are yet to start bringing the food to the table, but the family is not desperate, for they are entertaining themselves with their usual talks. Plus, they have bread.

The Cargyll Twins are the only White Cloaks present at the room, firmly standing behind the table, and keeping their distance with the royals. Quiet and duly, the brothers just blink. There are around five more guards, further to the table, in the entrance and at the corners of the hall.

-I highly doubt that!-. Baela yells with her eyes big.

-Really, why?!-. Jace crosses his arms, standing as well as all his siblings.

-Do enlighten us!-. Daera scoffs, kneeled between the chairs of Rhaenyra and Daemon.

-It will be a boy!-, Baela pointed at Nyra's belly, who is laughing so loud-. Because all the children she has birthed are boys too!-, she opened her arms.

-Exactly!-, Luke heartily agreed.

-Are you not fucking listening to yourselves?!-. Daera screams.

-That is exactly the reason of why it will be girl!-, Rhaena pointed with passion.

-What are the odds of a SIXTH boy?!-. Jace raises his brows.

-And what are the odds of a SUDDEN girl?!-. Luke fights back, and Baela cheered, pointing at him.

-MUCH HIGHER!-. Daera, Jace and Rhaena screamed at the same time.

Daemon laughs sharply as he claps, very much amused, while Rhaenyra can't stop laughing at his side, holding her belly.

Ser Erryk and Arryk both find the conversation of the family a funny one, constantly hiding smiles or snickering.

Princes Joffrey, Aegon and Viserys have been already put to bed, for the hour of the supper is rather late. Besides, they didn't want Joff to be at present with The King's second family. They always keep him as away as possible from every strain or tense situation, perhaps the reason why he is such a happy boy. All the meals he knows are the ones in Dragonstone, where his family dines together in the dining hall, and gather to break fast at the mountains where their dragons rest.

Princess Rhaenys, as it turns out, will not be attending the family supper. One would have expected her to use the excuse of being rather busy with the shipping of Vaemond's body. But the princess simply rejected the invitation, because she didn't want to go. She may enjoy her teas and lunches with her grandchildren, but she wants little to do with Rhaenyra, Daemon and Aemond. The Lady of Driftmark is in the skies of King's Landing, as a matter of fact, soaring around with Meleys.

-Shut the fuck up! FUCKING SHUSH!-. Daera screams, and her siblings closed their noisy mouths, breathing fastly-. The question that needs to be asked, will be asked-. She lifts a finger.

-Fucking riddle-, Daemon snorts a laugh under his breath.

-Nyra-. His oldest daughter, kneeling besides his chair, turns to look at his wife, who looks back at her with her cheeks red due the laugh-. If it is a girl...how will she be called?-, she questioned.

Rhaenyra smiles beautifully, being tenderly observed by her children, and her husband.

-My girl will be named Visenya-. She answered, proudly, lifting up his chin.

They all smile, dreamy, adoring it.

-And, if it's a boy?-. Luke asks, pointing at her.

Nyra sniffs her nose, curving her lips into a rogue smile.

-It won't be a boy-, she cockily shook her head.

Rhaena, Jace and Daera instantly exploded with cheers and shouts of victory, clapping together, while Luke and Baela's mouths fell to the floor, and Daemon and Rhaenyra just laughed amusedly.

And as they keep making their noise, the sound of the doors being open catched the family's attention, making them to look towards there, still smiling.

The Hand of The King, The Queen of The Seven Kingdoms and the princes of the realm arrived at the dining hall, all together.

The chuckles of before vanished in the air, and the smiles faded away when seeing them. Daera blinks, lips opened, staring at Aegon, and then at Aemond.

Out of politeness, Jace signed Rhaenyra and Daemon to stand up, for The Queen just arrived. The Rogue Prince pulled a sour face towards him, but when his wife stood up, along a tired sigh, he huffed, and stood up as well.

While walking to her family's side of the table, Alicent glanced at them and, with a very brief smile, noded, and then instantly looked away, reaching her seat.

The Blacks stared between them, silently annoyed. The Green Queen is obviously resented by what they did to Ser Vaemond this morrow, so she didn't even greeted them with fake kindness, as she always does.

Fucking better for me, Daemon thought as he took seat again, being followed by his wife, whose face is now bitter. After clearing her throat, Daera abandoned their side, not kneeling in the floor again.

The silence in the hall was so sudden. The guards and the White Cloaks are already tense and alert, knowing that everytime the two families meet, someone always loses an eye, or almost does.

As Daera slowly heads towards her siblings, she can't help but to eye Aemond. Her husband is, along his siblings, walking to his seat as well. His expression is a deep serious one, and his gaze remains always on the floor. She sucks one of her cheeks, curious.

Daemon and Rhaenyra stopped talking at all, serious, already wanting to leave the supper already, but the servants are merely starting to bring the dishes.

Daera reaches her siblings, who are gathered in a little circle, at the right of the table, as away as possible from the ones of the left.

-Hey-, she whispers, softly placing a hand on Jace's arm. He eyes her, sucking his cheeks, remembering what they did-. I'll go greet Helaena, I haven't talked to her during the whole day-. She informs.

-Sure-, Rhaena nods, problemless.

-Careful, though-. Lucerys whispered, making her to lightly furrow her brows-. Aemond is near to her-. He whispered.

Discreetly, the siblings stare. Helaena is seated at the other corner of the table and, steps to her left, Aemond is firmly standing, talking with his brother.

Fucking better, The Rogue Princess thinked.

-And Aegon-, Baela warned as well.

-They better be careful with me-. Daera huffed, giving a last caress to Jace's arm, and then walking away from them, hearing their snickers.

Before they came to the dining hall, the siblings had a quick meeting in, of course, Daemon and Rhaenyra's quarter, and they talked in the balcony while their parents finished getting ready.

Their topic? The supper.

"The last time we had a meal all together was two years ago, and we fight with swords. I don't think anyone has forgotten that", Daera was remembering to them.

"None has", Baela agreed with a nervous mumble.

As being the most familiar one with The Red Keep, and its people, Daera firmly dictated them the rules to make the dinner as light as possible.

"When you say 'light', is it about the food, or...? ", Luke questions, and they looked confused at him. "Because I am really hungry", he sighed.

"About the Greens, idiot!", Jacaerys instantly cleared, hissing.

"Don't call him idiot!", Rhaena hissed too.

"Sorry", Jace rolled his eyes.

"Alright, all of you, come on!" Rhaenyra's voice called them from inside the room. "We are leaving!"

They quickly asked their sister to finish her guidement, and she steadfastly did.

"Have your fun, don't pay attention to them. Greet Helaena, but keep your distance. Ignore Aegon. And most of all, at all cost...do not look at Aemond" The older princess stressed with seriousness.

Daera headed towards her dear cousin, and Aemond didn't noticed it because she was approaching by his blind side. Aegon, however, did glanced at her while talking.

-Helaena!-. The brown-skinned princess arrives to her side from a moment to another.

-Daera!-, she immediately smiled, opening her eyes big.

At the moment of hearing his wife's voice, Aemond tilted his head, finding Daera's mane almost touching his arm. He stopped breathing for a second, tensing up his shoulders, and hiding any reaction, just keeping his talk with Aegon. If he allows himself to think too much, he'll cry, again.

-We haven't had talked in the whole day, what the fuck?-. Daera sighs tiredly, rolling her eyes.

-I was thinking the same thing!-. The dearest jumps in her chair, looking up at her-. I hope you had a good day-, she sweetly mumbles, looking at her sapphire rings.

-Uh, yeah, it was a...busy day-. The princess says, and her cousin pulls a little face, nodding-. I hope we can talk, later. I saw you got scared when Ser Vaemond was, uh...-she whispers, wrinkling her lips.

-Ouh-. Helaena looses her brows, briefly shaking her head-. Yes, I do hope we can talk-. She nods slowly, closing her lips into a tiny smile, thoughtful.

-We will-. Daera whispers, placing a hand on Helaena's hair, and giving it a tender caress. That made her to smile, looking up at her-. Was your day good, in The Great Sept?-. She asks, siding a smile.

-Yes, we had a delicious stew-. She nods proudly, making her to laugh funnily-. I prayed for you-, Helaena whispers, playing with her fingers on her lap.

Daera creates a slow smile, staring at her. She does not pray, but if Helaena does for her, she cannot be happier.

-What did you pray of me, sweet girl?-. The princess asks with a soft tone, still caressing her hair.

-Health and happiness, because you are very pretty-. Helaena smiled proudly, feeling her cheeks burn. Daera laughed warmly, staring at her.

Alicent and Otto are constantly peering at them, though being familiar with their close relation.

Helaena makes her a childlish sign, asking her to get closer. Daera scoffs, leaning front, and resting her elbows on the table. Her skirt grazed Aemond's pants, making him to flinch instantly, though he didn't get away an inch.

-Aemond told me I am soon to be aunt-. Helaena whispered with a thread of voice, whispering near her ear. Daera immediately smiled, biting her lips-. Is it true?-, she asks, excited.

Daera moved her right foot slowly and slightly. It reached her husband's own left foot, rubbing against it with discretion.

Aemond tighted his hands, which are crossed over his abdomen. He feels her discreet touches. So lovely and devoted, she. Yet, he thought about his miserable realization of this afternoon, and it just made him to hold his hands tighter.

Aegon just happened to be returning his gaze up after scratching his hands, but his eyes caught those rubbing feet for a single second, and he immediately looked back down, not knowing if he imagined that. Aemond, as though half blinded he may be, noticed and instantly took action before his brother checked. He started asking him about women, and his eyes shined.

-It is true-, Daera answered with a proud smirk, whispering on Helaena's ear.

The girl shivered, and clapped with extreme happiness. Her cousin chuckles funnily, nodding.

-Daera!-. Rhaena's voice suddenly called, making her to look up-. Come-, she asks with a soft smile.

Daera smirks, caressing Helaena's shoulder, and winking her an eye before going back to her siblings. Helaena smiled happily, lifting her shoulders.

-Grandpa!-. She suddenly calls with a bright smile. Otto looks at her, warmly, and sees how the girl excitedly kneels in her chair, placing her elbows and half of her body on the table.

-Helaena, please-. Alicent reproached with her brows up.

-Let her-, Otto spoke within a giggle. His daughter stared at him, to then tsk her tongue and roll her eyes, looking away-. How was your day, dove?-. He sweetly asks.

Daera returned to her siblings, who she happily joined to make a private funny toast to the name of Joff, who already is a brave dragonrider, just at the age of seven, as well as her mother. They clinked their cups with smiles, all of them saying Joffrey The Tamer in the middle of laughs.

While sipping the wine, Rhaena couldn't avoid the thought of her lack of dragon. Her smile slowly faded away, and she gulped the drink with slowness. She is fourteen years old, almost the same age her dear mother had when claiming Vhagar. And yet, here she is...dragonless.

A soft caress on her back brough her back to reality. Lucerys was softly smiling at her, a little sad, knowing what she was thinking about, and offering her his comfort. The girl smiles lovingly, staring at him with her brows curved.

While Helaena happily tells Otto about her day in The Sept, her brothers still stand besides the table, chatting between them.

-I know you sneaked wine into the temple-. Aemond calmly said, hands crossed in front of him.

-I did not do such thing-, Aegon politely denied.

-You did-, he insists.

-And why you didn't tell mother?-, he narrows his eyes.

-Because I took a sip while you weren't watching-. The one-eyed answered with simplicity. His brother sighs, forming an amused smile on his dry lips.

-"A sip"?-. He huffs.

-Does something surprise you?-. Aemond asks, husky tone.

-Nothing unusual has happened, as you do not drink enough-. Aegon accused with his nasal voice.

The one-eyed draws a tiny smile on his lips, having heard that point before.

-You drink more than a braavosi sealord-, Aemond accused back with taunt, keeping his face still.

-I do not agree with that-, Aegon shakes his head with easiness.

The One-Eyed Prince sucks his cheeks to the inside, remembering that time, way back, when he and his wife were together in Lovers Island for the first time ever. One of their many moments was fetching the wine, when Daera blamed him for not drinking enough, and he answered to her a similar thing of what he just answered to his brother now. Afterwards, they laughed.

The simplicity of those days...

After humming, Aemond eyes towards his wife, across the room. She is standing besides Jace, and he glanced at them right when they two were toasting their goblets, smiling at each other. The one-eyed breathes slowly, feeling his heart aching madly.

Stop looking, stop looking.

Aemond moves his superior lip with disgust, looking away after that, and after seeing them all giggling and joking. Disrespectful.

-Even with the news to High Tide, they expect us to share the bread-. The younger brother complains, thinking about Ser Vaemond. Aegon silently nods, looking at the cup in his hand.

Greens and Blacks both turned their heads when the shriek of the doors reached their ears when being opened. When they look towards there, they see The King arriving to the supper, carried on a chair by four guards.

Alicent stands up from her chair immediately, respectful, and everyone seated followed her, such as Nyra, Daemon, Otto, Helaena, Luke and Baela. Daera sighed, crossing her hands above her belly.

As his father is being carried into the room, Aemond looks at him with hided disgust, watching at his rotting face. Within two seconds, he cuts his gaze and turns around, struting to his chair, which was pulled by a servant, for him.

Everything is silent while The King arrives to his chair. Everybody stands behind their chairs, looking around or down. Daera tilts her head and sees to her left, glancing at the table's end, where Aemond is placed. He is looking down at his plate, serious, with his hands crossed over his abdomen. She sighs, a little desperated, for he hasn't looked at her since he arrived.

At last, Viserys is seated.

The only sound in the room was the one of the chairs moving when they all sat back down. When Aemond seats, he realizes he ended up just face to face with Lucerys and Rhaena. The one-eyed stares at the blue-eyed, remembering what he did to him on Driftmark.

Daera seats her chair. At her left, is Jace's seat, and after his, is Aegon's. And, as Jacaerys was dusting his jacket before sitting down, she has a clear view of the cunt.

Silent, she side-eyes him, having her mouth closed with superiority. Her older cousin glances at her too by the corner of his eye, bored and annoyed, soon rolling his eyes.

Jace takes seat, covertly pushing it closer to hers. Daera looks at him, and they share a quick smirk, soon looking upfront. Right in front of them, Viserys's weak breathed inhaled, gaining the forces to finally talk.

-How good it is...-his raspy voice speaks-, to see you all tonight, together-. He sighs, passing his left eye around all the table, looking at everybody. When he looked at him, Aemond looked away.

-Prayer before we begin?-, Alicent asks to her husband.

-Yes-, he weakly answered.

Daemon scoffed under his breath, turning to look at Daera, who opened her eyes big towards him, both of them thinking again of those hideous seven-pointed stones. Fuck, she spent all day in The Sept, hasn't she prayed enough?

-May The Mother smile down on this gathering with love-. Alicent begins to pray, crossing her hands on the table and closing her eyes.

Nyra's sons crossed their hands too, pretending to be praying, while Daemon's girls just stayed blinkless, less Rhaena, who copied Luke, and also pretended to pray.

Lucerys glances at Daera for a second, who is counting the candles with her eyes, and then he looked upfront, looking at his uncle.

Aemond is rightfully praying with his mother, so innocent.

-May The Smith mend the bonds that have been broken for far too long-, lady Alicent pleads to the gods.

Luke gulped. After seeing Daera, and then at Aemond, his mind immediately took him back to that time when he found them on that beach in High Tide, doing the most wrong of doings betweem them. He will never forget how scared he got.

-And to Vaemond Velaryon...-, The Queen named.

The children opened their eyes big, bemused, and they looked at Daemon, who blatantly scoffed with disbelief and opened his eyes hugely.

-...may the gods give him rest-. Alicent pleads, while her father shakes his head besides her, and her second son holds his hands tighter.

The Rogue Prince looked at the ceiling, wanting to burn alive rather than keep listening. After the praying, an uncomfortable silence grew, where Alicent glanced at Daemon with seriousness.

-This is gonna be a long night-, Daera whispered, quietly changing her cup of wine for a cup of water, placing it closer to her. Aemond blinks softly, from his place, looking at that. His heart tugged, and he made himself to look down, knowing that she did it because of the babe.

The bastard.

-This is an occasion for celebration, it seems-. Viserys commented. Aemond blinkled, bemused, glancing at his grandfather, who had the same discomforted reaction as him-. My second grandson, Luke, will marry his sister, the lady Rhaena-. He points out with a tired yet thrilled voice. The named ones looked at each other with pressed smiles, being tenderly watched by their siblings and parents. Aegon, meanwhile, sucked his cheeks with amusement-, further strengthening the bonds between our houses-, he says.

The Rogue Princess smiles proudly as she looks at Lucerys's blushed cheeks and Rhaena's thrilled eyes. They are adorable. Though Baela is over excited as well, she can't help but think she is the only one of her sisters with no "love interest". She feels so ridiculous by the single thought, for she knows she should not care.

-A toast, to the young princes, and their betrothal!-. Viserys moves a hand, and everybody instantly raised their cups. Aemond did not, as still as a rock.

-Hear hear!-. Daemon cheers funnily, lifting his goblet and looking at his youngest daughter, who smiled at him with shyness. Daera laughs, always adoring the sharp funny voice he uses.

While everybody sipped their drinks, Aegon separated from his, glancing at the nephew of his right, Jacaerys.

-I am starting to wonder, Jace, if is that none of you two knows how to, on your own, find a woman-. Aegon mumbles burlesque, barely moving his lips.

Ignoring him completely, Jace only gulped his wine and placed the goblet back in the table. His wife, however, was not shy to answer.

-He doesn't know, Aegon, why don't you go ask the whores you pay to look at your face?-. Daera murmured with fake curiosity, not even looking at him, and shrugging.

Aegon pressed his lips, coldly looking away. Daera tilted her head and glanced at Jace, who gave her a sided smile, prideful, one she answered with a little snort.

-Let us toast as well Prince Lucerys...-. Viserys speaks again, holding his cup, and giving a weak dear smirk to his grandson, who softly looked at him-, the future Lord of The Tides!-, he proudly names.

-The Lord of The Tides!-, Daera instantly cheered, lifting her goblet. Her siblings laughed, doing the same.

-Hear hear-. Rhaenyra cheers with a funny face, staring at Luke with amusement as Daemon, at her side, peers at him with pride, and easiness.

-You'll be great-, Rhaena promises with a tender smile, making Lucerys to smile as well.

With her mouth hided on her cup, drinking water, Daera silently looks to the left end of the table. Her heart stopped when she found Aemond finally looking at her. And it seems that his stopped too, also shielded behind his goblet.

The One-Eyed Prince gulps his wine, harshly, staring at her white curly mane falling freely over her shoulders and back. Some or her strands deliciously rest in her pronounced neckline, caressing the start of her brown breasts. He sighs, looking at the inside of his cup again, and whispering to it a low whimper of tiredness. His mind is being endlessly hammered by itself. There is something that...that he has to do, and...

Daera keeps drinking too, knowing they cannot stare for too long. So, she sips her water, calmly, until a cunt spoke.

-Ugh, sorry, I just keep wondering...-. Aegon leaned on his chair, placing his hands on Jace's. The brown-haired boy, who was smiling while drinking, stopped doing both-. I know you've been married for a long year already, but...I have to ask-, he scrunches his nose.

-Shut your fucking mouth, you stink like shit-. Daera insulted him, as usual, staring front. She sees Nyra and Daemon whispering to each other.

-But you do already know how the act is done, I assume?-. Aegon ignores her, looking at Jace with fake curiosity-. At least in principle-, he humbly adds, opening his hands. Daera breathes in deeply, blinkless-. Where to put your cock and all that-, his head tilts.

-I know where I will put your cock-, Daera whispers. Aegon smiles tinyly, imagining another thing.

-You can play the jester if you wish, but hold your tongue before my wife-. Jacaerys harshly whispered to the blond, raising his brows.

Aegon pulls a face, nearly laughing.

Afterwards, he returned to his place, chuckling cockily.

While hearing his snickers, Daera closes her eyes with slowness, keeping as quiet as she can. May those fucking six- seven gods give her patience, because if they give her strength, she will fucking kill Aegon. There is only one single reason of why she hasn't exploded yet, and hasn't faced him regarding the abouts of his crimes: the man seated in front of her. Viserys. Her poor uncle struggles even with his own breathing, so she definitely wouldn't do him the harm of creating a discussion he does not have to be witness of.

Oh, but it is just matter of time. Dyana's sobs have not left her mind even for a second.

Daera opens her eyes, landing them in one of the Cargyll twins, who still stand behind the table. She looked at Ser Erryk, getting caught off guard when finding his gaze on her already. The princess opens her lips, and within a second he knight looked down, serious and ashamed. Daera blinks slowly, gulping, directing her eyes now towards her husband.

Aemond is staring down at the table, with his only eye lost in his cutlery. His wife silently furrows her brows a little, thinking that he has been too quiet, even more than usual. She knows he is silent when he is uncomfortable -to be fair, everybody is uncomfortable right now- but there is something else in him. He is...sad, why? What happened?

The princess presses her lips and, before she could have another thought, she turns her head foward when her uncle began to stand up from his chair, breathing heavily. Everybody looked at him, and at his wife, who carefully placed a hand on his back to help him. Rhaenyra glanced at her.

-It both gladdens my heart, and fills me with sorrow...to see these faces, around the table-. The King's voice speaks softly and tiredly, and his eye starts to wander around, looking at everyone. By the start of his speech, many felt their heart pounding with pity, seeing the pain on his gaze-. The faces most dear to me in all the world...-Viserys presses his thin lips. Jace looks at him, thoughtful-...yet grown so distant from each other, in the years past-. He deeply laments.

Fuck. you. Aemond "mouthed" with the tap of his finger.

Viserys looked down, and then at his wife, who looked back at him with softness. He looks down again, and afterwards, reaches for his mask, starting to take it off his face. Alicent, at first, was worried, but then she accepted his decision, and closed her lips with heaviness.

The King's mask came off. And in that moment, his second son, Aemond Targaryen, fighted The Warrior and The Smith to not burst out laughing in mere hall.

His father lacks an eye. Viserys fucking Targaryen lacks a fucking eye.

-My own face...-, he talks as he receives surprised and shocked expressions from around the table. Daera's brows curved slowly, speechless-, is no longer a handsome one-. He briefly laughed.

Please don't, Aegon thought.

-If indeed it ever was-. Viserys mumbled, ashamed, looking down-. But tonight, I wish you to see me...as I am-, he breathes heavily, holding his mask to his chest-. Not just a King...-. Aemond sucks his cheeks, tapping his finger stronger on the table-, but your father...-. Aegon looks up at him, sourly-, your brother!-. He stared at Daemon, who glanced at him with crystal eyes-, your husband-. Alicent stares softly at him, slightly blinking-, your uncle...and your grandsire-. He sighed, being watched by the sad children-. Who may not, it seems...walk for much longer among you-, Viserys confessed, heavy hearted.

When hearing the last statement, Daera's eyes flickered, and her chest hurted. She felt stupid, to be honest. She is always feeling like her family's warrior, the one who loves them all the most, but...she didn't try harder, to visit her uncle to his chambers during these moons. She didn't read to him, she didn't tell Rhaenyra how her father was. Daera didn't expect, to regret this so hard, to feel that there is no more time to keep trying. Because, well...just look at him.

The mask clanks harshly in the table.

-Let us no longer hold ill feelings in our hearts-. Viserys pleaded with pain. Aemond sighed, tired of hearing the same words everytime they are together-. The crown cannot stand strong if The House of the Dragon remains divided-, he speaks, and then clanks the mask on the table again-. But set aside your grievances!-. He orders, literally pleading to them all.

Luke opens his lips, glancing at Jace, who looked back at him for a second and then looked down, both thinking about their uncles. The one-eyed, himself, also thought about his nephews too, staring at the table.

-If not for the sake of the crown...then for the sake of this old man!-. Viserys's voice broke with despair, trying so hard for everyone to truly listen to him, to truly amend their broken bonds-, who loves you all...-he grunts, insistently. Aemond gulps, just not believing him-...so dearly!-, the King sobs, staring at all of them. Daera sucks her inferior lip, believing in all the love his word carry.

Alicent's teary eyes stared at her husband with the saddest of dearness, moved by him. Then, she eyed Rhaenyra with that same softness. Her step-daughter is looking down, thoughtful.

Breathing heavily, Viserys has not anymore to say, so he sits back down, tiredly, almost falling on his chair if it hadn't been for Alicent, who carefully helped him to sit.

Aemond blinks slowly, lifting his eye. He stared at Lucerys, who shares a sad look with his betrothed and siblings. Aemond clicks his teeth, silent, remembering Driftmark, again.

From a moment to another, almost abruptly, Rhaenyra stood up from her chair, taking her goblet, and lifting it. Her children looked at her with curiosity.

-I wish to raise my cup to Her Grace, the Queen-. Nyra announced, and after finishing help Viserys to put his mask back, Alicent looked at her with shiny sad eyes-. I love my father, but I must admit that no one has stood...more loyally by his side than his good wife-. She speaks softly and politely, looking at her.

Helaena tilts her head with a tiny smile, seeing her mother's eyes gleaming towards Rhaenyra. Few are the times she sees her mom's face being so expressive, so she appreciates it now, endlessly looking at her.

-She has tended to him with...unfailing devotion, love, and honor-. Rhaenyra points with honesty, nodding. Daera blinks, doubty, looking at Alicent's expression as well, feeling a weird lump in her chest whem recalling all the times she forbided her to see her uncle. Has Nyra forgotten that?, she asks herself-. And for that, she has my gratitude...and my apology...-, the princess spoke lowly, sitting back down with a weight less on her heart.

Aemond plays with his napkin under the bed, constantly glancing at his mother, seeing the light tears on her eyes. He is honestly confused, not understanding why his half-sister's words meant so much to her.

-Your graciousness moves me deeply, Princess-. Alicent spoke, at last, after glancing at her kids for a quick second. Jace and Daera look at her, surprised before the softness of her voice-. We are both mothers...and we love our children-. She pointed with honesty, noding. Aegon instantly raised his gaze from his cup, opening his lips when he heard her say that. He felt his heart pounding hope-. We have more in common than we sometimes allow-, she confesses, siding a sad smile on her lips.

Daemon glances at his children, noticing that, even though they are listening, they look almost confused, for they are not fully understanding why The Queen and The Princess seem to be, all of a sudden, so kind to each other. How could they understand, anyways? Little do they know about how close the girls used to be, in their childhoods.

-I raise my cup to you-. Alicent stand up, grabbing her goblet. The children, again, seem surprised, cautiously glancing between each other-...and to your house-, the Queen toast, looking at all of Rhaenyra's children. Daera opened her lips, looking with her for two silent seconds, until Alicent gulped and looked back at Nyra, with her hazel eyes filled of forgiveness, hope, and love-...You will make a fine queen-. Alicent heartily assures.

As well as the others did, Aemond blinked hugely, shocked. He glances at his brother, who just stared at his plate with his lips pressed, silently noding. Helaena smiles, looking at the hope on her sister's eyes, and how they are looking at her mother endlesly.

The Queen, taking seat again, raised her cup, and so everybody took theirs, drinking as well, with a soft silence covering the room. Daera stares at Rhaenyra, and when she saw her looking down, trying to hide a happy smile, her heart got warm, and so she took her cup too, toasting for her step-mother.

Rhaena smiled sweetly to the Queen, moved by her words, and the redhead smiled back at her, shyly sucking her lips. Daemon lifted his cup towards Jace and Daera, who both cheered back at him with funny smiles. Aemond sipper his drink with reluctance, finding the wine of tonight a too sour one.

Aegon, on the other hand, enjoys it quite five much, and ended his whole cup within two seconds, making his grandfather to look at him with reproach. Afterwards, the older prince sighs, thinking to himself that he is already bored. He knows what he likes to do when he is borred at family suppers.

Fuck around.

Aemond watches his older brother standing up from his chair, and eyeing Daera. The one-eyed hums lowly, alert, sharing a quick glance with his sister, who looked at him with her lips wrinkled.

-Shit, it smells good-. Daera mumbles to her siblings, sniffing the air-. Do you think its pork?-, she curiously asks, but furrows her brows when she sees Rhaena, Luke and Baela's sudden alerted eyes-. Uh, chicken then?-. She shrugges.

But then, Daera understand the meaning of their gazes when she feels a person besides her. She tenses her body, immediately recognizing Aegon's smell.

-I, um...-. Aegon starts to fetch wine on his empty cup, looking down at her. Daera stayes froze, as well as Jace at her side-. I know we have had our differences, during your visits, cousin-. He mumbles, calmly-. But, now that I see you with your husband, I- uh, well, if you ever wish to know what it is to be well satisfied...-he starts to smile, and her heart stops-, all you have to do is ask-, his gross voice mumbled.

Daera clanked her empty cup against the table and Jacaerys punched it with both is fists while standing up abruptly within a second, raged. Everybody jumped in their seats and Aegon turned around innocently, walking back to his place.

-Guys-, Baela whispered with caution, seeing her sister's and brother's angry eyes.

As Nyra stares at them with confussion, Jace raises a hand, signaling everybody to keep calm. Daera breathes fast on his side, clenching her teeth, questioning herself if she'll truly be able to keep taking Aegon's shit.

Aemond didn't heard what Aegon told them, but when he saw Jace standing up with such fierceness, as if he is fierce, he felt the immediate need to remind his stupid nephew that he, in reality, is not fierce at all.

The One-Eyed Prince places his hands on the table and serenely stands up from his chair as well, standing tall and firm.

Jacaerys breathes in with superiority, but right at the moment when he looked at his left, he shivered, when finding the cold eye of his uncle staring at him. Jace realized he had broken two of the main rules, ignore Aegon, and not look at Aemond.

Daera's heart immediately twirled when she saw her husband looking at- well, at her husband. Oh shit, just what she wasn't needing.

-Great! I love contests-. The princess sarcastically smiled, clenching her fists on the table, and also standing up from her chair. Rhaenyra looked at her with warning, and Daemon with cockiness-. Who lasts longer?-, she taunts, turning to look at the one-eyed.

Aemond stares at her with the same coldness he stared at Jace with. Unfazed, she keeps that stare, more than familiar with pretend hatred with him when being in front of the people. Daera didn't know, though, the harshnes on Aemond's eye was real in this moment, for he can't stand the fact that she is -surprise- defending her brother. Her husband.

Relaxing his posture, Jace takes his goblet, and forces a little smile on his lips. So, trying to be the adult in the room, he friendly pat Aegon's shoulder, making his dimples to show as he sighed.

Aegon smiles, tauntly.

-To prince Aegon, and...-Jace deeply breathes in, shares a glance with his wife. And, then, he raised his cup towards the man whe stole the love of-...prince Aemond-, he smiles.

-Fuck-, Daera whispers under her breath, looking at Aemond's stone expression.

-I know our last memories are not the warmest, but...-Jacaerys smirks, glancing at Luke and then back at Aemond, who feels his heart sinking in his chest-, I have fond memories of our shared youth-. He says with positivity, nodding.

Daera blinks, having her lips loose, knowing that Jace straight out lied in that moment. She remembered the fight at Driftmark, and The Pink Dread. Feeling for her real husband, she gulps, touching her blue sapphire rings.

-And as men, I hope we may yet be friends, and allies-. Jace speaks with politeness, smiling at Aemond. He feels light tears fighing against his lashes-. To you and your family's good health, dear uncles-. He toasts, lifting his cup.

Aemond's family was supposed to grow larger, with the arriving of Alyssa. But now, how could it? How could it, if he knows that would bring nothing but more sourness to his heart, and a difficult life to the babe placed on Daera's belly? No, this...this toast is a lie, as well as Alyssa herself, and the parenthood he was fool enough to dream with.

-To you as well-. Aegon uncomfortably answered when Jace patted his shoulders again, jokingly punching him.

Everybody drinks in silence, and Jace took his seat with pride, being cheered by his weak grandsire.

-Uh, Daera-. Jace whispers, confused, as she is still standing.

Daera keeps her hands on the table, staring at The One-Eyed Prince, who looks back at her with his lips pressed. All the presents in the room glanced from one to the other, uncapable of telling what they are thinking, for their faces are both rocks. Daemon blinks with bitterness, deciding to just ignore the two of them.

The Rogue Princess tries to understand the deep sadness she feels in him, but it is literally impossible, not understanding what could've caused it. Aemond knows she is confused, and desperated for an answer. But what is he supposed to do, now, in here? Tell his wife that he realized that a child of theirs is impossible? Tell her that he has the most heart-breaking plan to revert this error? Tell her that he no longer...wants to be...

Aemond interrupted his own thoughts, quickly getting off them, for the best.

And so, he took his seat, not looking at her anymore. Daera sighed deeply through her nose, hiding her despair, and looking around the table.

-Oh I won, what a surprise-, she proudly shrugges, dusting her shoulders. A few laughs covered the hall, mostly from the part of her family, and she smiled, sitting back down.

-Well done, my girl-. Viserys's raspy voice cheers her, making the princess to smile sweetly at him, lifting her cup.

-Beware the beast beneath the boards-, Helaena tiredly mumbles as she plays with a wooden dragon toy.

Rhaena and Luke stare at Daera with kind and soft smiles, and she answered them the same way, winking an eye at them.

-I would like to toast, to Rhaena!-. Helaena stood up from her chair, holding her cup. When hearing her name, the young girl smiled at her cousin, and the others of the table also looked at her-. She'll be married soon...-, she smiles crookedly, as her eyes lost shine.

Baela blinks softly, feeling excluded again, but she quickly faded that away, shaking her head. Rhaenyra was curiously glancing at her.

-It isn't so bad-. Helaena says with her soft voice, obviously lying. Daera looks at her with a side of her face resting on her hands, and she shared a quick glance with Aemond, both very familiar with looking ater Helaena when Aegon is around-. Mostly he just ignores you-, the princess casually says, while her husband rolls his eyes with annoyment. She raises her brows, suddenly remembering something-...except some times when he's drunk-, she innocently adds, nodding.

Laughs were heard in the table from Daemon and Otto, perhaps the only time they've laughed together, while the others remained with serious faces. Rhaena blinked with pity, looking at her cousin.

Oblivious of any bad from this world, Helaena glanced at Daera, who noded at her with a tiny smirk. The sweet princess breathed in with a smile, proud of herself, and sat again on her chair, heartily laughing.

-Good-, Otto whispered at her, smiling and nodding with the biggest of prides. Alicent just sighed, overwhelmed by how unconsciously chaotic her children are.

Aemond glances at Helaena with a tired little smirk, while she just attends back to her meal and wooden toy.

-Let us have some music-, The King asks, and within a second the instruments of the hall began to be played, bringing a beautiful melody.

-Lovely-, Baela immediately smiles.

-Does Aegon really ignores her?-, Jace leaned to a side, whispering to Daera.

-Uh, of course, its Aegon, and thank the gods he does, its Aegon-. She clearly stresses, raising her brows. He presses his lips, thoughtful-. I love this song!-, she ceers to the musicians, lifting her cup.

-You don't know this song-, Luke huffs.

-Of course I fucking don't!-, the princess smiles, making them to laugh. Alicent sighed when hearing her cursing.

Jacaerys looks around for a second, breathing in, and then he stands up from his chair, leaning towards his wife.

-Excuse me, wife-. He whispered to her.

-Yeah-, she whispers back, curiously following him with her gaze.

Jace walks to the left side of the table, ignoring the sour sons of The Queen, and offering his hand to her sweet daughter. Helaena turned her head to look at him, surprised, and she began to take his hand, nervous, not having expected him to come and ask her.

Daera pressed her lips into a pride smile, turning to look at her siblings, who smirked as well, cheering for his move. Rhaena laughs, toasting, and they chuckle as well, lifting their cups too. Rhaenyra also giggled, proud of her gentleman of a son.

Aegon and Aemond both look at that with bemusement. The older brother blinked, turning to look at the younger, who nearly has fire on his eye, and turned to look at him as well, dead serious. So now he's suppose to tolerate this as well, right? The bastard touching his sister.

-We danced on the week of your wedding, aunt, do you remember?-. Jace asks with a smile.

-Yes, like this!-. Helaena happily answers, starting to jump, quickly followed by him.

Jacaerys and Helaena began to hop from one side to another, and they both laugh with joy, having fun with their weird dance.

The music brought a much calmer ambience to the table, so now the talking is pretty much easier. As she chats with her siblings, Daera sucks her cheeks and, for a brief second, she eyed her husband. Aemond stares at the dancing couple with coldness. Having expected that, she just sighed, knowing she can't do much.

Afterwards, the princess looks in front of her, at The King, who is enjoying the music with a weak smile. Daera smiles silently and, then, stands up from her chair too, starting to walk around the table to reach the other side.

-For the fucks sake, Luke, you are gonna choke-. She huffs, burlesque, when walking behind his chair and seeing how he quickly eats.

-That is what I'm telling him!-. Rhaena quickly tsk her tongue.

-I said I'm hungry!-. He excuses himself with his mouth full.

-So is the whole family!-, his betrothed smiles funnily.

-Yeah, leave something for us-. Daera scoffs, ruffling his brown hair.

-Oh, that reminds me of those salty eggs that sicked me once-, Rhaena murmured with a face, as her older sister kept walking.

-Ah, the eggs!-. Rhaenyra instantly laughs, knowing that story by heart.

-Wait, what eggs?-. Luke asks, curious.

-You don't know about the eggs?!-, Baela jumps in her chair.

Aemond looks, by the corner of his eye, how his wife is approaching to the seat of his father with a kind nervous smile on her lips. He furrowed his brows, wondering what the hell is she doing.

-My King-, Daera arrives with a soft voice, placing a hand on Viserys's shoulder.

-Oh...Daera-, he weakly names, turning to look at her. Alicent is busy, speaking with her father and one of the servants-. Are you having a good time, child?-. He asks.

-The best of them-. She smiled, kneeling besides his chair and Nyra's so that he wouldn't force his head to look up-. I'd take you to the dance floor if you weren't dining your supper, uncle, be assured-. Daera funnily raises her brows, making him laugh.

-Oh! Oh, I am sure you'd take me, rogue one-. The King chuckles, and his niece does with him, though soon her eyes gained a sort of sad shine.

-Uncle, I...-the princess breathes in, under his tender soft eye-. I wanted to extend you a formal apology, personally, regarding my...my notorious lacks of visits, to you, during- during these last moons I've visited the capital-. Daera confesses, ashamed, but honest, looking down for a second. Viserys tilts his head to a side, breathing slowly-. Your guards are, well, rather protective of you, and I think that...-she sucks her lips for a second-...that I didn't try enough-. The princess whispers.

The King sighs, though it was a laugh, wrinkling his eye, and beginning to shake his head.

-I should have tried harder, I know it!-. Daera vividly nods, curving her brows. Daemon is silently listening at her from time to time, with a thoughtful gaze, though he's also listening at Rhaena's tale-. Had I kicked them out of the way, perhaps I would have-

-You will shush now, child-. Viserys interrupted with weak chuckles, moving a hand. She blinks with attention, gulping-. An illed King, is also an illed man, and it looks like the...the guards, have forgotten such-, he sighs, smiling. Daera curves her brows, starting to smile-. You've done...nothing but the better, dear niece, and there is no mistake to name on your account-. He heartily says, shaking his head.

The princess presses her lips, smiling with relief and surprise, looking at him with no disgust or hate, as Aemond is doing, as they speak.

-I'll see that you can come to visit me, and...and no one will even think of halt you-. Viserys promised, lovingly looking at her, his brother's first daughter.

-Oh, fuck!-. Daera laughs with her brows curved-. Uncle!-, she tenderly chuckles, leaning to give him a sided hug, one he answered with weak but true laughs, sweetly closing his eye.

-THEY WERE SO SALTY!-, Rhaena was screaming with passion, being admired by a mouth-opened Luke.

-No sea in the realm had more salt!-. Baela narrates as well, standing behind her chair.

-Stop it!-, breathless, Rhaenyra laughs.

-Thank the gods these are not eggs!-. She jokes, pointing at the plate, and making them to chuckle even more.

Daera separates herself from The King, smiling.

-I'll bring the whole bloody Citadel to read it to you, uncle-. She fiercely promises.

-I shall expect heartily on it-, Viserys weakly laughs.

The princess laughs as well, and then she raises her brows when she notices Helaena running towards hers with a big smile.

-Cousin!-, she stands up from the floor.

-Come!-, Helaena, all red, grabs both her arms, and starts pulling her, making her laugh with surprise-. Come dance with us!-, she pleads.

-I shall!-. Daera laughs, immediately following.

Both happy princesses pass running besides the Cargyll twins. Ser Erryk's nose shamely caught the sweet smell coming from princess Daera, and all his permitted himself to do, as a reaction, was to blink.

Daera laughs when they arrive with Jace, who turned to look at her with a bright smile, also red and breathing fast. Just as he was, this afternoon.

-A dance cannot be held if you are not in it-, the prince funnily says, offering her a hand.

-I am glad you both know it-, Daera cockily smirks, taking his hand, and one of Helaena's as well, who smiled at her with a dear shine on her eyes-. Come on!-, she pulled them both, making them laugh.

When Aemond saw that Daera also joined the dance, he knew he didn't had to watch, but all the strong countless feelings he has been having today have clouded his mind with worst sad feelings, desperate and dark ones. He must look.

Aemond nails his eye on Daera, who is dancing in circles with Jace and Helaena, the three of them laughing and holding hands, glancing between each other. Aemond feels outraged, not understanding why that brown-haired boy keeps getting always the best, and he never has to hide it. He, on the other hand, can't dance with his own wife in front of anybody. He can't even look at her.

But he is, endlessly, and that is something that Aegon is starting to notice, curious. At first he thought Aemond was looking after their sister, but then, when she neared to the table for a second to drink water, Aegon realized he kept staring just at Daera, following her every move. ...Why?

Aemond looks around, and his brother instantly pretends to be occupied with something else, babbling something to his cup. Idiot. Afterwards, the one-eyed hummed, and cautiously moved his chair, placing it in a way that it faced almost completely where the others were dancing. Now, he stares at there without having to move his head.

Aegon opens his eyes big, looking at the inside of the cup, still wondering with doubt if it is at Daera he is staring at that way. Jealous. Oh my gods, Aegon thinks to himself, almost laughing, is my brother still in love with Daera?!

Otto claps and smiles proudly towards the dancers, cheering them while Alicent laughs. Luke, Rhaena and Baela keep telling stories and jokes with their parents, who always are so listening. Jace, Daera and Helaena dance with smiles to the lovely music of the hall.

Looking at all of this with a soft tired gaze, King Viserys breathes with peace and yearning. His heart beats with the purest of feelings as he sees his family altogether, laughing and talking, dancing and toasting, constantly smiling at each other. Why can't it always be like this? He...he wished to remember them like this...and he will.

Aemond, just as his father, is also looking around, just with an only eye, as him. The prince glances at he so called family, but the truth is that more than half of the people here have harm him, in one way or another, on purpose or unintentionally, but mostly on purpose. The scenes at presence don't give him joy, but sorrow, for life has forbidden him to enjoy any of them.

Look at the spouses around, all holding hands, even his parents. His own wife is dancing, at the moment, with the one who stole her from him. Look at the parents around, with their children. For the briefest rejoice, he dreamed to become a parent in the days to come, but just this noon he fell in the reality that he's not able to have a child in his own marriage, for it would be a mistake, a mistake he already put in his wife, a mistake that will have to be...vanished away...

Tears started to come up to Aemond's healthy eyes, and he whimpered deep in his throat, feeling his gaze burning.

Beyond those tears of him, Jace and Daera are smiling to each other as they spin together, looking at their eyes while they laugh, and Helaena claps at them. Aemond watches this in slow motion as his heart aches, seeing how she twirls between his hands, and touches his shoulders as he giggles.

In these moments, Aemond feels like the most stupid and lonely person in The Seven Kingdoms.

The Sad Prince, he is, for he has to keep the best of his life, his wife, hidden, so that no one takes her away from him, a second time.

Aemond, at last, looks down, doing it tiredly. Silently, he stands up from his chair, without looking at anyone. With long steps, he heads himself to the washroom of the hall, walking down the short steps of the hallway that will lead him to it.

While twirling, holding Helaena's hands, Daera turns her head, looking at him leaving. She didn't fade her smile, to keep appearances, but her heart beated with worriness, truly concerned by her dear husband. He has been so overly quiet, he has barely looked at her, and now he is suddenly going to the bathroom? Fuck, she wants to go with him. The last conversation she had with him was this fucking early -way early- morning, in their island, basically ages ago!

In the washroom of the dining hall, Aemond looks at his reflection in a blurry mirror, seeing the three sour tears running down his cheek. He sighs, cleaning them away, sighing tiredly, and closing his eye strongly as he breathes as calmly as he can.

The rage in him is immeasurable. To be honest, he actually doesn't know how he hasn't exploded yet, with everything that has been going on. The only reason of why he hasn't hammered the bastards's faces against a fork may be Daera. No, it is Daera. Her constant remindings to him keep him in a safe distance from them, plus, her only presence does, for the prince knows himself the unconscious calmness his wife makes him feel. But the longer the day gets, the less calm he feels.

Aemond sighs heavily, hearing to the fucking tune of the musicians, tired of the same melody. He sighs, again, getting out of the washroom, for he doesn't want a search party after him.

The One-Eyed Prince walked back in to the dining hall, finding a misfortune, and a blessing. First, his wife is still dancing with her fake husband. And second, his father apparently is leaving the party already.

Something is something, Aemond thinks to himself, serious, sitting back down.

Almost automatically, he places his eye in Daera, who was farewelling the King with a sweet smile, promising him something. By one side of the door, Viserys was taken out, and by the other one, a roasted pork is brought in by the servants.

Aemond thinks that if he keeps quiet during what is left of the evening, as he has been doing, things may just be easier.

Lucerys, who happened to be looking at the door while chewing his third portion of potatoes, stops every move when he sees that pig arriving. Oh heavens.

Joffrey's imitation of Aemond from yesterday came to his mind, when the boy covered his left eye and started to cry like an idiot. He sighs shakily, fighting against every desire of laughing. But, OH HEAVENS, they placed the pork right in front him!

Have your fun, don't pay attention to them.

Aemond, blinkless, sees by the corner of his eye the sizzling pork the servants placed in front of him, in the table.

Greet Helaena, but keep your distance.

Aemond sees Jace holding Helaena's hands as they dance, touching her at all times.

Ignore Aegon.

Aemond hears a snicker, coming right from the other end of the table. He turns his head, serene, looking at there.

And most of all, at all cost...

Lucerys stares straight at him, malicious and tauntly, laughing with no discretion.

Do not look at Aemond

Aemond raises himself like the most powerful tower, lifting up his cup, narrowing his eyes, and having had fucking enough.

Within that second: the table trembled, everybody jumped on their seats, the music shutted down, and the dancers stopped dancing.

-Final tribute-. Aemond spoke, for the very first time in the whole supper. His voice is firm, husky, and ill-intentioned.

Daera gulps, eyes big open, not liking the expression on his face at all. Please, please, no. The whole family, now silent, looks at him, each of them with different expressions, but everyone sharing a same one: cautiousness.

-To the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms-, Aemond smirks tinyly, nodding. Rhaenyra blinks dryly, not even looking at him. Everybody eyes Nyra, thinking he was talking about her-...Daera-, he slowly names.

All hearts stopped for a second, everbody having a thousand memories at once. The princess herself froze, opening her eyes big. Her step-mother and father looked at the one-eyed with total harshnes, and warning, when their daughter was named.

-Who is...-, Aemond points at her with his cup, smirking, and she just blinks, still holding hands with Helaena, who is as attentive as the others-...a skilled warrior, a dutyful princess, a faithful wife-. He goes saying. Jace clenches his jaw, anxious, glancing at his wife. The one-eyed sucks his cheeks, looking at her while nodding-...and a talented dragonrider-, he softly added.

Luke furrows his brows lightly, staring at his older sister. He, then, looks at his step-father, whose eyes are filled with annoyance.

-You are all fine riders, son-. Alicent politely smiles, trying to get the focus off Daera.

-Hmm, I have my own memories-. Aemond confessed with cockiness and calm, narrowing his eye.

Rhaenyra flinches, and Daemon's breath became heavy, while Daera went speechless. Jace clenched his fists, and Alicent went pale, completely understanding what her son meant by that.

The princess "used " to fucking ride him.

Aegon laughs in the middle of the heavy silence.

-You flatter me-. Daera says as quickly as possible, raising her brows-...my prince-. She mumbles, trying to tell him with her eyes to fucking shut up.

Nevertheless, The One-Eyed Prince is relentless, and he just widens his smirk, still holding his cup high in front of him. Nobody toasted with him, though. Daemon smiles like a devil, playing with his cup, and staring at that maimed whore.

-Oh but let us not leave out your husband-. Aemond smiles, singing his words, and now resting his eye on her husband, Jace, who is coldly staring at him. Daera gulps, feeling her mouth dry-. What a good companion he must be, as well as his brothers-. He speaks with fake kindness-. So to the health of my nephews-, he starts another toast-. Jace...-. Jacaerys blinks, serious-. Luke...-. Lucerys places his goblet on the table, serious as well-...and Joffrey-. Baela clenches her fists when the little one is mentioned.

-The best of the best companions, cheers-. Daera claps with hurry, and Helaena smiles doing the same.

-Each of them handsome-. Nevertheless, Aemond kept talking, making them all to look at him with bemusement, not understanding where he wanted to arrive-, wise...-. He closes his mouth, thinking of another fitting virtues of the brown-haired brothers-, hm...-. He pretends to think.

All the hearts in the room gave a twirl. Luke's eyes dyed with warning, Alicent's with fear, and Daera's with incredulity, not wanting to believe him capable. No no no, one thing is that he says it on their island and sometimes taunted the boys with that, when only they listen, but he just can't dare to say it in front of everybo-

-Strong-, Daera's husband said beautifully.

-Aemond-, Alicent opens her eyes big.

-Cousin-, Daera flinches in her place.

-Come!-. Aemond smirks proudly, while all the siblings are shocked, outraged. He looks at Jace, whose jaw is about to break for how clenched he has it-. Let us drain our cups, to these three...!-. He toasts, and Aegon lifts his cup highly, backing him tauntly-, strong boys!-. He smirks at Luke, so meanly.

-I dare you to say that again-. Jace's warning voice dared his uncle, menacing.

-Why?-. Abruptly, Aemond turned to look at him, fading his smirk away. Hatred lies on his eye-. 'Twas only a compliment-. And he puts his goblet down, beginning to walk towards him. Jace does the same, and Daera didn't even had time to react-. Does your wife does not call you strong?-, he taunted.

And at the same time that Luke punched the table to stand up, Jace clashed his fist against Aemond's face within a second.

-Jace!-, Rhaenyra flinched.

From now, everything happens at the same time.

-JACE!-, Daera's voice yelled when she saw Aemond being punched. Helaena gasped so hard at her side, moving back instantly.

Luke took two furious steps towards the one-eyed, but Aegon catched him off guard, and grabbed him by the neck, violently pinning him against the table.

-Going somewhere?-, he taunts madly.

-That is enough!!-. And, as Alicent was screaming, Baela stood up with rage, throwing back her chair and planning on going to Aegon, but Rhaena quickly grabbed her to stop her.

-Oh no- YOU!!-. Daera shot out like lightning, and within a second her hands grabbed Aegon's hair and began to pull it violently.

-WHAT THE...?!-, Aegon shrieks, twitching.

-Daera!-. Rhaenyra yells, quickly standing up from her chair.

After a deep satisfying breath in, Aemond turns to look at Jace with the most burlesque smirk. And with no effort, he pushed him harshly towards the floor.

Daemon calmly sips his wine.

Ser Erryk ran, within a second, to the fighting princes, and he quickly took the wild princess Daera away, surrounding her body with his arms and pulling her back, away from his protected, while she yelled and roared.

Jacaerys grunts from the floor, and he quickly stands up again, but he, as well as his brother, was catched by two guards, who they fighted against with rage.

Aemond looks at them with, perhaps, his most honest smile of the day.

-LET ME!-, Daera roars, struggling against the knight's tight grip.

The Rogue Prince, as calm as he has been, clenched his teeth when seeing the White Cloak holding his daughter so blatantly against his body, with the excuse of keeping her off fight. Fiercely, Daemon grumbled and clashed his cup three violent times against the table, making it tremble whole, and Alicent to gasp, standing up.

Ser Erryk immediately let Daera go, fearing her father, and she grunted madly, pushing him away and getting back her breath. She looks at Aegon, who smiled at her with madness, shielded by his guard.

Right at that moment, Aemond chuckles with taunt, looking away from the bastards and eyeing his wife instead, funnily raising his cup to her.

Daera breathes fast, blinkless, seeing how her struggling brothers are being retained by the guards, and Baela by Rhaena, while Ser Erryk stood by Aegon, to protect him.

Helaena had run to Otto's side, scared. And soon, Alicent ran to Aemond's, grabbing his arm tightly at the moment of reaching him.

-Why would you say such a thing before these people?!-, she desperately asks, hurted.

-I was merely expressing how proud I am of my family, mother-. Aemond casually answers her, with no repentance at all, hearing all the struggling from behind. He blinks one time-. Hmm, though it seems my nephews aren't quite as proud of theirs!-, he let go her grip and faced them with taunt and daring, looking for even more quarrel.

All the siblings, but Rhaena, grunted, ready to run against the one-eyed, Daera actually to stop her siblings from hurting him, and viceversa.

-Wait! Wait!-. But the sharp voice they so much know stopped them all, only with that single word, and a lifted finger.

The Rogue Prince steps in, in front all of his children and wife. He caged Jace and Daera in his gaze, making them to walk back, and to hold their rage. Over his uncle's shoulder, Aemond stares at his wife with a smirk, lacking regret. She, however, was looking at her father.

When all the children are finally backed in, Rhaenyra breathes heavily through her nose.

-Go to your quarters-, she orders, and spoke before any of them could complain, which they would've done-. All of you, go! Now!-, her harsh tone commands.

And a harsh tone is a harsh tone. Slowly, and sourly, the kids began to walk out the room. Daera, however, kept her eyes fixed on Aegon for a few more seconds, full of rage. His cousin, cowardly standing behind his protector, snickers at her, wrinkling his eyes with amusement.

-Daera-, Rhaenyra insisted.

As The Rogue Princess pass walking behind him, The Rogue Prince sighs tiredly through his mouth, crossing his hands on his abdomen, and watching with a bored daring at the spoiled one-eyed brat.

The One-Eyed Prince's smirk began to slowly fade away while staring at his uncle, remembering his doings of this morrow in The Iron Throne room. Aemond looks at him, now with caution, deciding -at last- that this matter has reached its end.

Slowly, he breathes in, aparting his gaze from him. He found Daera being the last of her siblings walking out, turning her face to look at him for a fast second, raged and mad. At him, obviously, he is not expecting less.

-Hmm...-, Aemond doesn't look at anyone again, and leaves the cursed dining hall, at fucking last.

The adults remained in the room, and when Aemond came out of it, he stood firm and still, looking with seriousness at the hallways around, trying to find a trace of his wife, but found nothing.

-Speak about my daughter again, nephew...- . A cold voice suddenly whispers right behind his neck, making all of his body to shiver. Aemond stays still, looking front-....and you will have no tongue to say her name one more time, nor a head to think of her either-, Daemon easily and blatantly threated him.

Aemond, blinkless, clenches his jaw strongly, and tights his fists at the sides of his body. He didn't dare to make another move, ashamedly intimidated by The Rogue Prince's heavy breathing on his neck.

Seconds after, Daemon walked pass him, giving him a taunt evil smirk, and then walking away with total calmness and indifference. Seeing him leaving, Aemond gulps strongly, impotent. Once again, someone of his wife's family has mocked him.

A few moments later, excited laughs get near to him, and soon, Aegon reaches his side, coming out from the dining hall with Ser Erryk besides him.

-Oh, that was the best!-. Aegon cheers, drunk and happy.

Without even looking at him, Aemond humss and begins to walk with his custom way of doing it, strutting. His brother, laughing, followed him doubtlessly through the corridors.

-I want to do it again-, the older prince goes dragging his words, while his sworn protector follows them both in total silence, serious-. We must do it again!-, he jumps crazily at his side.

While his brother hops and yells with desires of fight, Aemond keeps walking silently, looking all around while they walk. He tries to have a glance of his wife, or even of one of her stupid siblings, but neither of them is nowhere to be seen, which made him to grunt under his breath.

Aemond decided to join Aegon to his chambers, rather, to take him to them, to see that his brother wouldn't do one of his, like sneak out to the city or such. Afterwards, he will immediately look for Daera, for he has lost count of how many things he has to talk with her.

Soon, they arrive to the older prince's chambers. Ser Erryk walked in as well, closing the door behind him, and standing near to it.

-I mean, the- the wastrel punched you, and you barely moved!-. Aegon laughs stopless while he takes off his dress sack, now wearing only a sleveless shirt. Aemond, barely listening to him, walked straight to the washroom, desiring to wash his face-. And then you- you only touched him and the idiot was already in the floor!-. He curves his brows with amusement.

-Hmm-, Aemond's voice came from the washroom.

A single knock comes from the door, brief. Silent, Ser Erryk turns around, heading to open it.

-Oh, gods!-. Aegon sighs with a smile, walking to his table, and going to fetch himself some wine-. This family is just the best-, he murmurs funnily, watching the drink pouring on his cup. He raises his gaze, smiling tauntly-. Wouldn't you agree?-

Ser Erryk opens the door, and he was not expecting at all for princess Daera to suddenly make her way into the chambers, pushing him away and coming in with mad teary eyes, and her siblings behind her with the same hurry.

-Princess!-, Erryk gasped, almost grabbing her arm, but princes Jacaerys and Baela pushed him back.

Before the sudden abrupt fuss, prince Aegon quickly turns around and gasps with horror when he sees his cousin approaching to him with the most crazy of looks.

His wine poured all in the table.

Daera roared as a wild beast, lashing out completely against Aegon, but he was fast enough to react. And so, both princes tightly grabbed the other by the shoulders, strongly, stopping the other.

-YOU!-, Daera's broken voice yells, shaky, as she tries to push him.

Aegon breathes fast with fear and angriness on his eyes, struggling with her.

Aemond came out of the washroom within a second, freezing completely when finding them in the middle of the room. He opens his eye big.

-Step away!-, Aegon trembles as he watches her with wide open eyes, fighting against her harsh grip on his shoulder.

-I've had- ENOUGH of you!-, the princess yells madly, with her eyes shining in tears.

-Not as much as I have of you!-, his cousin shouts back, shaking, trying to push her away at all moments, but they look like they're dancing.

-How dare you, to lay a hand on my brother?!-. Daera asks with bemusement and rage, trembling under the tight hands on her shoulders-. To lay a hand, in that poor girl?!-, she yells loudly, voice shaken.

-What?-, Aegon lets a breath out, confused-. What are you talking about?!-, he screams, furrowing his brows.

-YOU RAPED HER!-. Daera roared madly and desperately, right on his face.

In that moment, Aegon froze, and he was not the only one. Aemond felt his whole body sinking in shock, as well happened with the other princes, whose mouths opened with confusion and terror. Ser Erryk's eyes dyed with worriness.

-YOU RAPED DYANA! YOU- you ruined her, her childhood!-. Daera screams, so thirsty of revenge, while her sour tears finally escaped her eyes.

Surprising was when tears also reached her cousin's gaze.

-I- I...I was drunk-. Aegon whispered with a thread of voice, feeling his lips shaking.

-YOU ARE ALWAYS DRUNK!-, Daera yells with madness.

-It- IT WAS AN ACCIDENT!-, he tries to defend himself, crying, raising his brows up.

-YOU are an accident, fucking piece of shit!-. His cousin roared with poison, and her nails started to deeply bury into his skin, making him to grunt with despair. He began to do the same, sobbing, burying his dirty nails in her-. A disgrace, to my blood!-. She whines, endlessly struggling.

-YOU DON'T KNOW ME!-. Aegon madly cried, desperate, feeling his shoulders burning.

-A disappointment of first son, and a useless drunken wastrel I know-. Daera mumbles with her teeth clenched, looking at him from head to toe while they both tremble and keep pushing the other-. Shielded by his fucking mother in all the shit he does-, she spits her words with poison.

-No!-, Aegon sobs, with his eyes red due all the tears-. YOU NEVER GAVE ME A CHANCE!-, he yells with pain and despair.

-A chance?-, she repeats, bemused, burying her nails even stronger. Aegon cries, hurted, marking her entire shoulders with his nails, hiding the half of them in them. Blood is almost appearing.

-You are a mad woman-, the prince states with his hurted broken voice, while everybody keeps staring with stopped hearts-. You have it all- WHAT DO YOU COMPLAIN OF?!-, he desperately roared.

-OF YOUR FUCKING EXISTENCE!-. She roared back, pushing him, and they both whined before the great pain on their shoulders-. I want to kill you-, Daera sobbed, and Aegon opened his teary eyes big, speechless-. I want to kill you with my bare hands-, she poisonly desired, shaking.

-Oh-, breathless, Aegon's lips trembled into a smile, making the dark bags under his eyes to wrinkle disgustingly-. Oh, you talk so much, whore-. He whispers with a thin voice.

Daera whines, clenching her nails deeper on his skin. Aegon laughs with pain and also hurts her more, feeling his broken heart fastlybeating.

-Oh, I should have done it-. The prince whisper with weakness-. I should have just fucked you, right in that hall in Driftmark-, he murmurs with poison.

The princess let out a shaky broken breath, bemused, looking at him with a deep sorrow in the middle of her raged tears. Aegon looks at her with trembling lips and bitter tears, eyes filled of exhaustion.

-As you don't mind to fuck each of your cousins-, he sourly and poisonly whispered.

And after that moment, the both of them yelled with the greatest of rages, and pushed the other with wildness. There, the entire ten nails of each slid down the full length of the other's arms, just as sharply and deeply as they had plunged into their shoulders before.

At the same time, they took long strides back from the force of each other's push.

Aegon's stumbling back collided with a shelf, and his brother and knight immediately ran to him. Daera was fastly catched by her siblings, preventing her from falling backwards.

Everything is silent at that moment. The only sounds are the agitated breaths. Until, seconds later, a broken shocked whimper came out from princess Rhaena, when she looked at Aegon.

Both of the insides of the prince's arms have five long thin paths of blood, which is starting to pour out as the borning sun of a new day. From his upper arms, to his wrist, the claws of his cousin have left her name.

After a slow blink, Daera looks down, and she finds both her arms in the exact same condition. In the left one, five lines of blood, and in the right one, three, all of them being perfect cords of red. From her upper arms, to her wrists as well, Aegon too marked her.

Aemond stares at his brother's arms, shocked, and then he raises his gaze, almost fainting when finding his wife's arms as bloody as Aegon's.

-Daera!-, Luke's low worried whimper echoed as he ran towards her side. He holds her right arm, mouth-opened, while Rhaena grabbed her left one, concerned. Baela and Jace approached as well, in shock.

The wine spilled in the table dyes the floor red, and so does the blood, with their arms.

Daera lifts her eyes from her arms, speechless. She moved her head to look at Aemond, finding him as wordless as she is. The princess blinks, bemused, turning to look at her older cousin.

Aegon is crying with the most bitter tears, breathing fast as he stares at her, and just at her, feeling how hot his arms are burning because of her violence, her insolence against him. Daera looks at him as well, not sobing anymore, and just assuring herself, more than ever, that his cousin is the worst person she knows, and that she has to make him pay. Some day, in some way.

While Daemon and Alicent's older children are glaring stoppless at each other, the princess's siblings stood closely, right by her side, with harsh gazes, looking upfront while they hold her hurted arms. And by the side of the prince, his brother looks back at them with warning, and hatred, as his sworn protector is alert, breathing heavily under his armour.

The Rogue Princess's sense of cautiousness tells her that it has been enough already, and that she can't risk her siblings to face The One-Eyed Prince and the White Cloak.

-We have to treat that...-, Jace whispered behind her, briefly touching her elbows.

Daera, with not one of her factions changing, slowly begins to turn around, immediately being worrily held by all her siblings.

-I'm fine, I am fine-. She whispers to them, placing her hands behind Rhaena and Luke, and pushing them lightly-. Go ahead-, she mumbles.

After sharing doubty expressions, her siblings walked ahead, being followed by her and her slow steps. She didn't look back in, and came out of the room while gulping dryly.

While the others walk upfront, constantly looking back to watch at her, Daera glances down at her arms, watching at the irritated bleeding perfect lines in them.

The sound of an armour makes her siblings stop with alert, but she doesn't, only clenching her jaw.

-Princess-, Aegon's sworn protector runs to her, breathless.

-Leave me at peace, Ser-. And within a second, she turns around, meeting her hands right with his chest, and harshly pushing him back.

Ser Erryk breathes fast, with worriness nailed on his blue eyes.

-Your- your arms, princess...-. He just whispers, preocupate.

-That is nothing! compared to the abuse that girl suffered -and the gods know how many more- while you were hiding all the prince's secret up in your ass, you fool!-. Daera hisses with poison and no shame, pushing him again with no mercy.

The knight takes two steps back. His lips are opened, and his gaze filled with shame and concern, feeling his heart beating with heaviness as he sees the teary harsh look on The Dragon's Goodnes purple windows.

-Princess...-, he tries to insists.

But, already too tired, the bleeding princess ignored him completely, turned around, and kept walking with her siblings, who placed her in front of them, and softly grabbed her red stained arms.

From this moment on, Prince Aegon didn't see his cousin, Princess Daera, again, up to the day he had her kneeled in front of him, in The Iron Throne room, and commanded her to acknowledge him as her rightful King.

[writeblrfantasy]

EXCERPT FROM QUEEN OF CROWNS: the theater

“Are you two done?” Jacke yells, looking over his shoulder at them with a raised eyebrow. “What the hell is so important that you must talk over the music? The symphony of this fine performance? I love you both to death, but can it, will you?”

“Sorry, Jacke,” Theo says shamefully.

“Just turn your pretty little face back to the show,” Stalia says, patting Jacke’s shoulder and gently turning his head for him. He rolls his eyes, but goes willingly—until she feels her hand being pulled, and she all but shrieks as she’s pulled into the chair beside him.

“Sit with me,” the king of the Red City most certainly whines, reaching for her.

Stalia tries to shrug her arm out of his grip, but he persists. With a sigh, she says, “Jacke, for gods’ sake, I was gone for not even a full day—”

“It felt like more to me,” Jacke says, laying his head on her shoulder and looking up at her with batted eyelashes. “You wounded me. You took yourself out of my presence.” He presses a hand to his heart—he’s been wearing black leather gloves recently, a new fancy. They go well with his red coat and top hat. Stalia still prefers her own silk white ones, but that’s just another layer of juxtaposition between them, hm? Two sides. White and black. Mirrors, in many ways, a good and an evil, according to some. It’s becoming harder and harder to tell which is supposed to be which.

“You don’t own me, Jacke.”

“Ah, but you own me. The things you could do to me, my darling.”

Stalia rolls her eyes. Who’s talking over the music now? “I’m surprised you’re allowing us to see a show that’s not yours.”

“Well—”

“All of you shut up and sit still or I’m going to murder you,” says Thena, the one most capable of carrying out the threat.

“Sorry, Thena,” Jacke and Stalia chorus, going straight backed and still.

The music comes to a crescendo before the curtains draw back on the stage. Applause erupts throughout the theater, as the lead singer—the one who Jacke met at some party, who got him the invitation here in the first place—opens his mouth. He bellows out to the theater, a sweet song of vice and virtue. Stalia is instantly captivated, squeezing Jacke’s hand within hers.

Jacke’s eyes sparkle from the lights. Stalia recognizes the fire alighting in his soul at that very moment, ideas spinning behind his eyes.

“Drawing inspiration?” Stalia has to practically shout to be heard, grinning.

“Of many sorts,” Jacke murmurs, a certain fiery heat entering his eyes.

jof taglist (lmk to be added/revmoed): @magic-is-something-we-create @imaginationxlost @outpost51 @worldbuildng @ashen-crest

[world-cinema-research]

Week 2, The Seventh Seal

For this week, I chose The Seventh Seal. Set in medieval Sweden during the black plague, the premise of the protagonist Antonius Block challenging the personification of Death to a chess game, with his life as the prize, I was immediately drawn to it. Considering the dark setting and historical context, existential crisis seems to be the main theme of the film, and Antonius represents it well. Despite the gloomy setting, the film has moments of cheerfulness and humor. These moments not only create contrast, but highlight the importance and power of hope even among the worst conditions. Given the last few years under a new pandemic, I guess the film spoke to me a little louder than it otherwise would have.

Doubling its $150,000 budget, and generally favorable reception, the film can certainly be considered a success today. With the film still being favorably reviewed today, with reviews like

"The Seventh Seal possesses some of the world's most recognizable filmic imagery, beginning with the knight's fateful game of chess with Death, and continuing to the eerily joyful dance in the final frames,"

It makes me wonder how it would do if it were released today.

Going back to the film's contrast and to illustrate that point I'll focus on the juggler, Jof, and the crusader, Antonius, being on opposite sides of faith. Though once devoted to the idea of fighting for the glory of god does not believe in god himself. At the very least, he's not convinced he exists especially after the last ten years he wasted on his mission along with his squire (Jöns). Set along the backdrop of a medieval Sweden, Antonius', coupled with the disappointment of his ten year long failed crusade, returns home to find the spread of the black plague. The doom and gloom surrounding Antonius has him questioning his faith and yearning for logical answers to make sense of why the almighty being he served for so long is allowing the world to deteriorate and leaving people to suffer. Antonius spends much of the film searching for answers through others but comes up short. Early in the film, he confesses at church "I want knowledge! Not faith, not assumptions, but knowledge." This sentence felt very powerful to me, especially with how deadly atheist thoughts could be; how taboo they were considered. It also sets up his character and motivation perfectly. With this declaration driving him for most of the film, he comes up short with answers until he comes across Jof and his family.

Jof, being the exact opposite, is a juggler and firm believer in god. By making a living as a performer, Jof travels and provides entertainment for anyone watching. Jof's strong faith seems to give him the ability to see spiritual visions, resulting in his more positive outlook on life. From the moment he's introduced, even though he's not thrilled about the way he makes his living, he's thankful for the family he has and fully embraces his performance skills as part of his everyday life. Rather than only for work, in the same way someone would sing a song to keep themselves entertained simply because they can, Jof rolls and juggles for fun when after waking in the morning. Similarly Jön sings to himself for the fun of it, though usually pessimistic, as a way to pass the time. Considering the plague filled world the characters are in, Jof's outlook on the world isn't just the result of his means for survival (being a juggler), but also because it keeps him focused on pushing through it for the sake of his son. This genuine hope for a better tomorrow ultimately places Jof on the complete opposite of where Antonius finds himself.

One similarity between Antonius and Jof, though for different reasons and with different outcomes, is both characters suffer. Antonius' suffering is rooted in the disappointment of his failed crusade and lasts for most of the film. Jof's suffering, however, is something the viewer witnesses in real time, physically. From humiliation to beatings, Jof seems used to it. Once past the pain, he regains his cheeriness and looks forward. This can't be said about Antonius. His existential crisis and suffering felt more painful to see than anything else in the film. Antonius has practically accepted defeat, only fighting to live for the sake of finding an answer for the faith he lacks, only breaking out of this after seeing Jof's faith and hope in action. The resolution he finally comes to is shown in the final moments of his game with Death. Even if Antonius' end is inevitable and the answers he sought remain missing, he realizes the world isn't completely lost with people like Jof pushing it forward. In helping the family through the forest safely and keeping Death from harming them, Antonius at least found some purpose to his life by securing some of the hope that aided him to live on for the rest of the world.

Shifting focus to the rest of the film, watching from start to finish, there were moments I wasn't sure how to feel about it. Was I supposed to feel scared throughout, or were the few moments with music intentionally made that way to emphasize the moment's importance? The only time I felt strongly, fear, anxiety, or both, was when Death appeared or sometimes when Antonius' fear was shown. Maybe that was Bergman's intent. Showing moments of people living their lives, sharing in these medieval re-enactments of the mundane only to be reminded that Death is right around the corner (for Antonius, literally).

Either way, although the film was easy to follow, having more knowledge on the Crusades and time period in general, as well having more Biblical knowledge, would have made the film more fun to watch. Next time!

[electricaquarius]

For some reason the full version of this fic went walkabout, i have no idea why as I'm certain I posted it. Oh well, here's my self insert Tav doing the Save Vanra quest along with some backstory on her.

'Say what you want, but the Mermaid has always been my haunt.' Joanna pushed open the doors and took a deep breath. Inside had the slightly sour smell of spilt rum and the yeasty odour of beer. Not exactly pleasant, but to her it smelled like home. Astarion wrinkled his nose but said nothing, knowing it was far better to try to blend in when in this kind of environment. She was about to head over to where the barman had given her a nod of greeting when Gale caught her wrist.

'Wait. I know you're happy to be home, but please, for everyone's sake, keep your guard up. We're looking for a hag here, it could be any of these...' His eyes coasted over the clientele and Joanna saw a flicker of distaste in his eyes. '... *fine* people.'

She turned to face him and placed a hand on his cheek. 'I promise, everything will be fine. Sure, the usuals are a rowdy bunch but I don't think anyone's going to be intentionally picking a fight with a giant tiefling that's currently on fire. And if they do, we can handle ourselves.' She turned back to Bosun Gannet and started over, seeing that Karlach had already secured herself a tankard of grog.

'It's not a fight I'm worried about...' Gale muttered darkly but followed her all the same, briefly wondering where Astarion had disappeared to.

'Jof! Been a while since I've seen you in here, the regulars have missed you.' Gannet greeted her, putting down the mug he was cleaning to clap her on the shoulder. 'Who are your new friends, eh? Do I need to inform them of the rules, too?'

'It's nice to see you too, Gannet.' She laughed and took a seat at the bar. 'Let's just say we're on a little adventure together. I don't suppose you remember a woman named Lora, do you? Poor thing's distraught, says she lost her little girl here.'

He tensed at the mention of the name and his speech became a touch more mechanical, as if rehearsed. 'Troublemaker. She's been in here before asking after the little mite but none of us saw hide nor hair of a child with her.' He picked up the mug and began cleaning it again, seeming to relax a little. 'Besides, you think I'd let a sprog in here? I've got my hands full with all the others screaming and pissing, last thing I need is one who can't help it!'

'I thought as much, just being thorough. Do you think we could see the Captain? Been an age since I've last seen her and you know she'll never let me hear the end of it if I didn't come and say hello' Joanna knew she was being fed a line, especially after so many late nights pouring her heart out to Gannet over life's sorrows. It hurt a little, honestly, but there was a strong possibility he was being manipulated, magically or otherwise.

'You know where she'll be, girl. Go up and show your face, I'll keep an eye on your mates while you do.' He nodded to the stairs. It was here Gale found his voice once again.

'I'll be coming with you' He said firmly, placing a hand at Joanna's waist. There was something definitely off here, and he knew a divide and conquer tactic when he saw it. Gannet rolled his eyes and gave a derisive snort.

'Upstairs is for regulars only. Sit down, lover boy, she'll be fine.' He nodded to the empty barstool next to Karlach. 'Besides, someone needs to pay up for the amount the tiefling's knocking back.'

'Eh?' Karlach raised an eyebrow, then realised she was surrounded by multiple empty tankards. It'd been an age since she was last in a pub like this and had gone somewhat into a trance at the prospect of a cool, frosty pint. Luckily her tolerance was through the roof, at most she was slightly merry heading towards pleasantly drunk. 'How much do I owe you?'

Joanna dumped a bag of coins onto the counter and Gannet's eyes widened. 'I'm sure this'll cover it, and besides. Just don't get too drunk, alright gorgeous?' She winked at Karlach. 'I assume there's no further problem? Besides,' She gestured towards Gale, 'This one's a Waterdeep boy. What kind of friend would I be if I didn't introduce him to the Captain?'

Gannet hadn't taken his eyes off of the coin pouch, but snapped to attention at the title of his boss. 'Oh, sure, sure... Gods, my little bookworm really has grown up, hasn't she?' He quickly pocketed about half of the money, putting the rest in the usual petty cash box. He wondered what on earth could’ve happened in the space of a couple of weeks for her to disappear sweet and timid, on the meagre wage of a junior scholar, only to return with some dangerous-looking friends in tow and with money to burn. Still, it was none of his business. Things being the way they were, he stood to make a tidy profit provided the Captain didn’t get involved.

Having peeled themselves away from the bar, Joanna took Gale’s hand and gave it a squeeze. She knew he was uncomfortable in here but put it down to the clientele rather than anything else. In truth, she was the same on her first couple of visits. Still, it was somewhere out of her room where the drinks were cheap and she could read mostly unbothered, at first. It wasn’t long though until she became a regular fixture, poring over maps and riddles, singing sea shanties and having the occasional stolen kiss. Still, it was all in the past now. Joanna still had a fondness for her time at the Mermaid but had no desire to repeat it. 

They reached the top of the stairs and Joanna paused. ‘Hm. Astarion isn’t up here either? Concerning…’ She shook her head. ‘Do you think we should try to find him, or talk to the Captain first?’

Gale frowned and folded his arms. ‘I’d think you’d be a better judge of that, my love. I wasn’t aware you were quite so popular here.’ It sounded a little more malicious than he’d intended, but the words were out of his mouth, now. Joanna sighed.

‘That was before we began our little tadpole adventure. Things have changed a lot since then, I know you understand. Besides, we’re trying to save a little girl here. Can we put this behind us, just for now?’ Gale squeezed her hand and studied her face carefully.

‘For now.’ He agreed after a long moment. ‘Anyway, we both know Astarion can handle himself, especially in this kind of environment. If he’s in dire need of help he’ll use the tadpole.’ He tapped his head. ‘And quite honestly I’d like to get out of here as quickly as possible’ He added to himself.

‘The Captain it is, then.’ Joanna nodded, heading over to the side room where Grisly would usually be nursing a hangover this time of the morning. As expected, the woman was sitting with her head on the table in front of her, groaning slightly. Joanna sidled over, sitting down next to her and tapping her on the shoulder. Grisly’s head jerked up and her one eye narrowed, before a beaming smile spread across her face.

‘Joanna! Hey, where’ve you been beautiful?’ The Captain excitedly patted the seat next to her and Joanna settled in. ‘And who’s the bodyguard? You come into some money or something, sweets?’ Her one eye flicked to Gale, still leaning in the doorway.

Joanna stiffened, feeling a vibe of something definitely off coming from Grisly, but nothing that she could identify. She hadn’t used her special nickname but that wasn’t that unusual. Still, best to watch and wait. Joanna could hardly go barrelling into an accusation if she had nothing to accuse her of. ‘I took a little trip outside the city, let’s leave it at that. This one’s a Waterdeep lad I met on my travels.’ She nodded towards Gale. ‘He’s a good boy, I promise he won’t cause any trouble.’ She laughed. 

Grisly gestured to another chair, looking at Gale. ‘Come on in then, Waterdeep. I won’t bite.’ Gale bristled at the over-familiarity but would much rather be nearer and ready to act when the time came. He’d already spotted the shimmer of Astarion’s invisibility spell over in the corner of the room and knew that a fight wasn’t far off. A subtle tap-tap on the back of Joanna’s hand clued her in that the rogue was present and snooping around. Time for her to be moving this conversation along, sharpish.

‘Now I must confess I’m not just here for pleasure. I mentioned to Gannet downstairs that there’s apparently a little girl that’s gone missing here. He said he hadn’t seen her but I know his eye, unless someone’s waving around gold he’s got selective blindness. I don’t suppose you remember anything like that?’ 

Grisly sighed and rolled her eyes. ‘It’s Lora, isn’t it? She’s absolutely loopy, sweets. Hand on the black coal that used to be my heart, there’s been no sprogs in here.’ She theatrically placed her hand over her chest. A rustling sound drew her gaze as Joanna had a paper thrust into her hand. Not Astarion’s finest work, but certainly effective. Not needing it any more, he dropped concentration on the invisibility spell and finally spoke. 

‘Good job keeping her occupied for so long, but this is definitely our hag. The note is proof.’ Joanna scanned the note quickly while Grisly sputtered an excuse, quickly losing control of her disguise.

‘Sweets, you can’t believe this, can you?!’ Her accent began to drift, leaves and spores beginning to pop out from her skin. ‘How long have you known me? You’d accuse me of snatching up a child like some kind of fairytale witch?’ 

Joanna folded the note then stood up and shook her head. ‘You have one chance, Gris. There’s a nickname here everyone knows me by, you made it up one night. Tell me what it is and what it’s short for, and I’ll believe you’re innocent in all this.’

Grisly, now twitching and shuddering attempting to hold on to her human form, stood in silence for a moment. Her face screwed up into a scowl. ‘Bollocks!’ She spat, casting away the last of her disguise. ‘You won’t take the girl away from me this time, sweets. This one’s mine to raise.’ With a puff of smoke she was gone, just as she’d disappeared from her teahouse so long ago. 

Joanna sighed and folded her arms. ‘Shit, now we’re going to have to tear the place apart to figure out where she’s hiding.’ She knew a couple of side entrances and where the stockroom was but with a hag’s cunning Ethel truly could be anywhere. 

‘No huge loss, I’d wager.’ Astarion sniffed derisively. ‘Now then, before we start turning the place upside down, would you indulge us both as to what this nickname business is?’

Joanna blinked, surprised. ‘It’s nothing exciting, I promise you. You heard Gannet use it as I walked in. I’m not the only regular Joanna here, and my second name is Faith. It got shortened to ‘Jo F.’ to differentiate, and then slurred into Jof after one too many late nights here.’ She shrugged.

‘Faith, hmm?’ Gale rubbed his chin. ‘Suits you, actually. You’ve had nothing but faith in more than one of our shadier companions.’

Astarion rolled his eyes. ‘Forgive me if I’m not in a hurry to use it, it’s hardly dignified. Now then.’ He peeked around the archway leading into the room. ‘There’s about a dozen angry redcaps out there and our darling Karlach is still downstairs. We should probably think about rescuing her, first.’

[skullsandwineglasses]

Xianxia Ranking

For those who watch xianxia romances, how would you rank them? These are the ones I’ve watched and listed in the order of when they were released. 

Journey of Flower (2015) - I was obsessed with this drama when it first came out, probably because I was young and impressionable and it was my first time watching Zhao Liying and Wallace Huo, but looking back at the drama now, it wasn’t a good romance. It was angst upon angst, and Bai Zhi Hua never confessed his feelings for Hua Qian Gu even until the end, so it was all very one-sided. Love the OST though. 

Eternal Love (2017) - Probably the most well-known xianxia in the last 5 years. This is an unpopular opinion, but I was never really on board with the Ye Hua or Bai Qian ship. But I did like Bai Qian’s character though because she’s both flawed and badass, and so I mainly pushed through the drama to see her get her revenge. Another great OST. 

Ashes of Love (2018) - I’ve seen a lot of polarizing opinions about this drama. You either hate or love it. I really enjoyed it, even though Jin Mi made some really bad decisions. The one issue I has was that I did not care for the subplots that made this drama 63 episodes long. Another good OST to listen on repeat. 

The Legends (2019) - Apparently this is classified as xianxia, although the worldbuilding is very different from other dramas on this list. It was okay until episode 35, and there were some good moments, but I found that it dragged a lot of the time. Zhao yao was such as an interesting FL at the beginning, but she lost her spark as the drama went on. 

Love and Destiny (2019) - Tends to be overlooked because of Chang Chen’s haggard styling, but I personally loved both him and NiNi in this. I liked how their relationship progressed and how Ling Xi grew as a character. I think this is an example of angst done well. It wasn’t over the top and it wasn’t done just for the sake of having angst. The events that led up to the misunderstandings made sense, and the misunderstandings were resolved quite soon. 

Love and Redemption (2020) - I’d say this is probably the angstiest drama on this list. It could be tied with Ashes of Love, but Sifeng suffers through so much whump from beginning to end that I would say that the angst in this drama surpasses what Xufeng went through. Xufeng was betrayed and killed once, but Sifeng was killed 10 times and then some. 

Ancient Love Poetry (2021) - Maybe it’s because I just finished watching this drama so it’s still fresh and therefore I’m biased, but I think it might have some of the better character building and world building in this list. It’s a very watchable and enjoyable drama with a really solid story and romance arc. The CGI and plot pacing is good, it doesn’t drag, and it’s a drama that keeps you guessing. One weakness is that the chemistry is a little lacking compared to the other dramas on this list, but the actors and the characters really grow on you, and the romance is sweet even despite some issues in chemistry (it does get better as the drama goes on. I think my issue is that Xu Kai didn’t really deliver in some of the emotional scenes, which dampened their intensity a bit). I would even say that the main couple has one of the more healthier relationships than the other couples on this list, and the angst is manageable, but still intense. 

I’m not sure how I would rank them. JoF will always have a special place because of nostalgia, but I don’t know if it’s a xianxia I’d recommend to others. Ashes of Love, Love and Destiny, and Ancient Love Poetry have a reincarnation arc, which I’m always a sucker for, but ALP embeds the arc well into the overall story. Love and Redemption has flashbacks of reincarnations, but not an arc devoted to it. But if you like angst and suffering and want to feel something intense (mostly pity towards the ML’s emotional torture), then that’s probably the drama to watch. Eternal Love is a popular classic, but it’s not at the top of my list and neither is it a drama that I’ve ever felt inclined to rewatch. The Legends is meh, but I loved watching Bai Lu in it. 

What’s your xianxia drama ranking? Which ones do you enjoy? Which ones have high rewatch value? Which ones do you not enjoy?

[365days365movies]

March 11, 2021: The Seventh Seal (Review)

Because I could not stop for Death, he kindly stopped for me...

The Seventh Seal is...a lot. And while it’s not exactly the most difficult film to watch or understand, at least on a cursory level, it’s still a hefty movie on its own. I loved it, to be fair, but it is...difficult to talk about critically for me. Sorry, I just haven’t leveled up that far yet.

Well, despite that, I’ll give it the old college try, yeah? Check out Recap Part One and Part Two for more!

Review

Cast and Acting: 10/10

Before being known for his groundbreaking landmark role in Star Wars: The Force Awakens (kidding, nobody remembers that), Max von Sydow was best known overseas and at home for this film. And I completely understand why, because he was excellent in this film, playing a wonderfully complex and conflicted Antonius Block, a man struggling with his faith in a time and position that demands absolute faith. Von Sydow plays the role well, and is actually more memorable for me than Death. Speaking of Death, Bengt Ekerot is hauntingly good as what is essentially the Grim Reaper. He’s not sinister or cruel, he’s just a force of nature, and one with a sense of humor. He’s pretty much perfect in the role.

And, for the record, there’s not a weak member of this cast. If I absolutely had to choose, I guess they were Åke Fridell and Erik Strandmark as Plog and Jonas Skat respectively, but they were meant to be more comedic characters, so using them as “bad-acting-scapegoats” is not only unfair, but straight-up inaccurate. Nils Poppe plays a kind (and kinda psychic) Jof, Bibi Andersson is sweet as his wife, and Gunnar Björnstrand‘s cynical, cutting, and uniquely atheistic Jöns is...maybe my favorite character? Yeah, he’s pretty great, to be honest. In any case, I’ve got no complaints with this category. 

Plot and Writing: 9/10

This is where my non-English-major brain runs into a little difficulty. And I say “a little” because this isn’t the most oblique script, but it’s still somewhat oblique. There’s a lot there, is what I’m saying. Plot’s straightforward enough, based on the play Trämålning, by Ingmar Bergman himself. Knight questions faith, plays a game and waxes poetic with Death, some shenanigans happen, and eventually everybody dies. There’s a lot more to it, but I can at least remember it without too many problems or omissions.

Bergman’s writing, though, is...a lot. And I’m saying that specifically for me, not for anybody else. The amount of symbolism that’s going right over my head is palpable, which was clear through reading even the simplest film essay about the movie. For example, the “Silence of God” was a major theme, and I barely picked up on that outside of the scene shown above. Not to mention the symbolism behind a game with Death just basically being a simple metaphor with life in general. And also, while I’m at it...why did everybody die? Did the castle collapse, was it the plague brought by Raval...or was it just their time? I looked it up, and it looks like I’m not the only one with questions, so that makes me feel better. Nevertheless, the writing in this film is still brilliant, please don’t get me wrong there.

Directing and Cinematography: 10/10

It’s amazing. I mean, it’s Ingmar Bergman, and it’s genuinely just a brilliant looking film. Gunnar Fischer and his cinematography are also to blame here, but the movie’s definitely got a unique setting and look, which is well framed by some great direction and shot composition all throughout. No complaints here.

Production and Art Design:10/10

Same with this category, because it’s definitely medieval Sweden here. Feels right, looks right, and the atmosphere feels like we’ve stepped directly into the Dark Ages. And, yeah, I love it. High rank also deserved here.

Music and Editing: 8/10

And as for the music and editing, both are great, and done by Erik Nordgren and Lennart Wallén respectively. That musical score, throughout the movie, is both fitting to the setting and memorable...mostly. I actually can’t remember it at the moment, but I can recognize it once I’ve heard it. Editing is also greatm but not quite as notably good as in some other recent films. So, both are great...but I don’t know that I can say they’re perfect. Maybe I was just too distracted by the script...

94%, and the Seventh Seal is now closed.

However, that doesn’t mean it’ll never be opened again. This film DEMANDS future viewing, and multiple viewings at that. I’ll have to revisit this one day, maybe while reading a film essay about it. In any case, this film was amazing, make no mistake, and I recommend it to anybody who’s interested.

Let’s see, I’ve done Greek myth, then Japanese ghost story, then European surrealist film. Lets loop back around to Greek myth again!

March 12, 2021: Jason and the Argonauts (1983)

[welcometoels]

Session Thirteen - Zanthia

After a decidedly mixed few hours in the unfriendly city of Monthend, the party has found themselves in the much more agreeable company of Zanthia, a perky Halfling who works as a waitress-cum-entertainer at The Wayward Alchemist.

It is under her guidance that the team now finds themselves upstairs at the Alchemist, as she leads them past the rooms where the staff entertain their more discerning clientele in private.  She also tells them of the tradition wherein particularly satisfied customers purchase lanterns to be hung on the walls next to the rooms of their favourite workers.

Zanthia’s room is the last, the largest, and the most abundantly illuminated.  Inside, the floors and walls are bedecked with expensive and peculiar gifts from all over Toltirgis.

Also present in the room are three Elves, whom Zanthia introduces; admiring himself in the mirror is the High Elf, Jof Suffers; trying their best to be unnoticed is the Wood Elf, Anemia Rixme; and perched on the edge of the four-poster bed is the Drow, Cailynn Coldcloud, with her clockwork wyvern Moo.

While the first two show little interest in the party, Cailynn takes a moment to introduce herself - perhaps because she sees in them a common yearning to solve the mysteries that have plagued them in life, but more likely because she is played by an actual human person (welcome to the game, Alex!)

Cailynn is an artificer, specialising in alchemy.  Purple of eye and skin, she cuts a dashing figure in black studded leather armour and candyfloss pink hair - though, due to certain magical causes, this changes on a day-by-day basis.

As the team settles in on a plushly cushioned corner of Zanthia’s room, she fills them in on why she has brought them all upstairs.  It transpires that a close friend of hers has been taken hostage by a dangerous group of people - of whom dragon hunter Herrington is a member.  She needs a group of seasoned adventurers to assist in setting them free.

To help pique their interest, Zanthia suggests to Talion that he may well find useful information pertaining to the people who may be tracking him down.  Talion is surprised by how much she knows, but, with a coy smile, she points out that she makes it her business to know as much as she can about new arrivals in the city, and he and his party are the most interesting people to have arrived in a long time.

At this juncture, Jof drops off a hastily scrawled map of the building where Zanthia’s friend is being held, and leaves cautiously.  Zanthia explains that he used to be a member of this dastardly group of kidnappers and dragon killers, and has provided a layout of the building at great personal risk.

There is more to the plan too.  Downstairs, in the back room of the Wayward Alchemist, the guards who form tomorrow night’s shift are playing a friendly game of cards.  Zanthia feel confident that she can get one more player into the game, potentially allowing them to incapacitate the guards somehow, thereby allowing the party to take their places.

Cailynn has just the thing.  Rummaging through her alchemist’s kit, she quickly concocts a mild poison - not enough to kill a person, but certainly sufficient to cause them great intestinal discomfort the next day.

And so, a plan is formed:  Kadis will pose as the player, whilst Oddsock sneaks around dog-style, checking out the other players’ cards and mentally transmitting them using his eldritch powers.  Talion will offer musical distraction, Cailynn will stand ready with the poison, and Julius will be an adorable otter.

In order to help them prepare for this ruse, Zanthia opens up her various closets, with an instruction to take anything they need, but to stay out of the bottom drawer.

Talion is in first, tarting himself up with various ruffs and powders, and perhaps taking it too far.  Oddsock keeps it simpler, with just a top hat, bow tie and monocle.  Julius dons a jaunty poncho, and Cailynn takes feather boas for herself and Moo.  Kadis changes into so smart but comfortable red gear, better matching his new eyewear.

Before they head down, Zanthia bestows a quick blessing upon them, making them all harder to spot when sneaking.  You never know when it might come in handy.

Downstairs, Zanthia has a quick word with the Tiefling bar manager Tabitha - firstly about the game, and secondly about the sleeping man she left at one of her tables.  Tabitha nods, and mutters the words “clean-up on table twelve” into her necklace.

At this, the hulking Golem doorman Stopdick folds himself in through the door.  A path is quickly cleared before him, and he picks up the slumbering lecher and carries him out of the door.  There is a soft clattering of a rubbish bin, and nothing further is seen of heard of either of them.

Inside the back room, the team finds six High Elves around a table, with a jug of booze and a deck of cards.  Kadis strides up to them with unusual brazenness, inviting them all to find out how it feels to be beaten by a blind man.

Amused by his chutzpah, they allow him to join the game.  Kadis sits himself down - successfully feigning blindness, despite his beholder companion being secreted in his eyescarf - and is dealt in.

The game is Raktika Hold’em - a simple poker variant involving two cards per player, five in the river, four rounds of betting and a buy-in of a single copper coin.

The dealer hands out the cards to the players.  Around the table sit Melch, Punsie, Rimothy, Elbothan, Gunnannonnimon and Talion’s nemesis Herrington - a fact that does not go unnoticed by the bard.

Kadis’ hand is promising:

Jammy git.

He throws in his copper, and matches a raise from Herrington - as do the other players.  The river is dealt, revealing an all-important King. Off to a strong start.

Oddsock does a good sneak and ogles the cards of Melch and Punsie - nothing much going on, though the presence of some diamonds in their hands could be an issue.

A round of betting follows, while Talion begins performing a rousing (and hopefully distracting) song for the players.  As he does so, he can’t help put spread a little magic, conjuring up an unpleasant smell from Herrington’s direction.  Gunnannonnimon wrinkles his nose and shifts a little further away.

The fourth card is dealt into the river - a Two of Clubs.  Oddsock can see that this offers nothing to help either Rimothy or Elbothan, both of whom are holding absolute rubbish - not that one would be able to tell based on their bets.

The players go in bold for the next round, and even Kadis allows himself to put in a raise now that four of his six competitors’ cards are in his mind.

The final flop seals the deal - it’s only the bloody King of Spades.  Though he is now sitting on a Three Of A Kind, Kadis does not let this break his poker face, even after Oddsock confirmed that Herrington and Gunnannonnimon have nothing to threaten him.  Delivering a new magical smell into Herrington’s lap, Oddsock returns to Kadis’ side for well-earned scritches.

Emboldened by his sneaky knowledge, Kadis puts in a large raise.  Several players bow out, but Herrington holds fast in the mistaken belief that his pair of fives will bring him anything but embarrassment.  Already troubled by the looks he is receiving for his odour, he puts in a raise of his own, which Kadis matches and raises further with a handful of gold.

A disturbance ensues, with much grumbling about “limits” and “poor manners”.  Between this, the stench and the increasingly raucous music, the stage is set for a sneaky poisoner.  Cailynn sets Moo into flight with a tiny vial, the contents of which he successfully deposits into the jug unseen.

After Moo has returned to his partner, the fracas begins to die down, and somebody proposes a toast to help clear the air.  Drinks are poured from the jug for each of the players - including Kadis.

Ruh-roh.

Seeing this happen, Julius beckons Oddsock over and asks him to connect with him mentally.  Minds linked, the otter tells the dog that he has a certain spell that can remove the effects of poison.  Oddsock passes this intel across to Kadis, who raises his glass and sups with confidence.

Now that the mood is once again convivial, the group excuses themselves to return to Zanthia’s room, wherein Julius lays on his paws and removes the poison from Kadis, thereby avoiding a day of severe intestinal distress.

Settling back into the room, the gang tries to relax - which is easier for some than others.  Julius is uncomfortable with all the skullduggery, and takes a quiet moment in a corner to contemplate the blue pebble that used to be a glowing gem, but which now hangs from his necklace.

He runs his paws over its surface, and tries to recall the intense feeling he got when first he held it, but the emotion of that moment evades him.  Drawing the pebble close to his mouth, he whispers to it:

“Pa...?”

At that moment, each of the former gems and lanterns - even the one in Kadis’ pocket - emits the same sound:

“Pa...?”

Everyone looks at Julius, who looks back with confusion.  A further mystery - albeit a useful one - has now come to light.

With his mind on the gems, Kadis dips his hand into his pocket and withdraws the golden gear.  Taking a bit of a punt while riding high on his modest poker win, he hands it over to Cailynn.  As her fingers meet it, she

Hears the voices of her family for the first time in many years

Hears them pleading with their pursuers

Hears them no longer

She sinks to the ground as the golden gear affixes itself to her silver skull necklace, and becomes very quiet.

After some tentative support from the team, she tells them about the murder of her parents and her 50-year-old sister - still just a child by Elven lifespans - at the hands of a violent group who had been blackmailing them.  Still being young herself, her magic was not enough to save any lives but her own, and she has lived with the guilt ever since.

Talion sympathises and shares his own story of familial woe, as do the others, all of whom have lost family in one way or another.  The mood becomes bleak, so  Zanthia opens up a Dragonborn statue, withdraws a very expensive brandy with several crystal glasses, and proposes a toast to them all, to their friendship, and to the success of their future endeavours.

And with that, to bed.  Most of the group settles right down onto the cushions, though Oddsock has a quick, very educational snuffle around the forbidden drawer, while Julius fidgets nervously, unable to catch sleep.

Zanthia takes to her four poster bed, leaving space for company, and tipping a wink to Talion.  Never one to turn down an opportunity, he joins her as she draws the bed's curtains.  There follows an experimentation with bardic inspiration that shall never be explicitly discussed.

The dreams that follow reflect the day that they’ve all had: Themes of familial loss and gambling abound, but at least there aren’t any tentacles.

In the morning, breakfast is brought up - sausages and regular, non-mimic eggs.  Zanthia asks the group all to be here in her room in the afternoon, but otherwise they have the morning to themselves.

Talion immediately tries to pursue a monetary reward to help refill their dwindling stocks, and speak to Tabitha about a slot performing in the Alchemist.  She requests a sample of his music, and his performance is sufficiently good to earn him a spot onstage during happy hour.  Satisfied, he settles in to hone his art.

Oddsock heads out a-sniffing, to see if he can find any trace of his homeland.  A familiar scent is on the breeze, so he follows it, passing by some priests desperately scrubbing their steps, and finds a barrel storehouse.  Further in, two men are operating brewing equipment, and the scent of hops and malt fills he air.

Oddsock approaches them, and the nearest - a simple fellow named Brando - approaches.  After a deployment of the canine charms, he becomes besotted with Oddsock, and asks his companion Kevinge if he can keep him.

Kevinge is less impressed, so Oddsock delves into his mind and tells him that belly rubs are his only road to salvation - or, at least, that’s what he means to say.  Oddsock is not so good with the long words.

Mistaking the voice in his head for god, Kevinge begins rubbing his own belly and muttering the word ‘salamander’ to himself.  Pleased with his morning’s work, Oddsock trots away.

Also out on the town is Julius.  In an attempt to reconnect with nature, he goes out looking for foliage.  Though the city is very built up, there are a couple of trees here and there, and it is towards one of these that he strays.

Resting a paw upon it, he channels his druidic magic and begins to speak to it.  The spell works, though the tree does not have much wisdom to offer.  It has stood for long and seen much, but its only concerns are the soil, the water and the sun.

It turns out that this is just what Julius needed - a few calm, relaxing words from nature to soothe his anxious soul.  He meanders in the sunshine, a much happier otter.

Cailynn is on a natural quest of her own, but for nothing quite as pure as Julius.  The poison she made last night depleted her mushroom stocks, so she is hunting around for something unpleasant for future efforts.

Though mushrooms and toadstools are nowhere to be found, she does finds a promisingly thick collection of mould behind some bins.  Scraping it into a little container, she adds it to her alchemy kit for later perusal.

In a nearby library, Kadis is sat with a stack of books on the topic of local history.  He is trying to read up on his old home town of Amberstall, and anything that may have happened to it after the event that robbed him of his sight and his family.

Unfortunately, the only books he can find are too old, and the entries only refer to Amberstall as the modest farming town he remembers from his youth.  He does also find an entry about Thornhelm, the town he helped defend against bandits, though again, there is no mention of that event.

Mostly, he is just happy to be reading again, and takes his time leafing through a few tomes in peace.

As the team members begin to return to the Wayward Alchemist, Talion starts playing.  Though his audition was just adequate, his afternoon performance is exquisite.  Even the taciturn Tabitha pauses her work to watch him, and once he is finished, she hands him a purse of gold and a little bottle of good brandy as a tip.

All together again, the group heads upstairs, where a strange woman awaits.  Long of ear and sharp of uniform - just like the guards of last night - she stand just shy of five feet tall in her stacked but professional boots.

The adventurers are cautious, but Oddsock catches a familiar whiff of perfume.

This is Zanthia.  And she’s ready to get to work.

[redsoapbox]

A British Band and a Nashville-based Singer/Songwriter Are Today’s New Artists

The Boy Least Likely To very kindly provided some background notes for their contribution to Have Yourself a Merry Indie Christmas:

‘Mince Pies and Brandy Butter, Morecambe And Wise, Bert and Ernie; some things were just meant to go together. And so it is with The Boy Least Likely To and the holiday song. They go so perfectly together it is as if the Christmas song was a concept thought up especially for them. Songs from their full-length album The Boy Least Likely To Christmas Special have become staples of alternative holiday soundtracks and playlists since its release in 2010. Like Christmas itself, the band’s songs are brimming with joy and excitement, at the same time as being undercut with a melancholy and a feeling of sadness, a longing for something absent or seemingly lost. ‘The First Snowflake”, which was the first of their big festive hits and even turned up in and episode of Grey’s Anatomy*. 

The band, made up of Jof Owen and Peter Hobbs, met when they were still at school and they grew up together in the middle of the English countryside in the small Buckinghamshire village of Wendover. They spent their teenage years scouring countryside car boot sales for rare Dexys seven inches and Lee Hazelwood albums. They released their debut album, The Best Party Ever, in 2005 to widespread critical acclaim, earning spots in both Pitchfork’s Top 50 albums and in the Rough Trade Shop top 10 of that year. The band’s second album The Law Of The Playground, resonated just as quickly as the first, with “When Life Gives Me Lemons” on the soundtrack to the hit Emma Stone movie, Easy A and more recently the Peter Rabbit movie’.

The utterly terrific “Be Gentle With Me”

Pitchfork’s take on the band is worth me noting here: ‘The Boy Least Likely To’s child eye perspective on English Anorak pop, sunny west coast harmonies, Belle and Sebastiany folk, country and soul is now theirs, just theirs’.

* Our daughters Jenny & Becky reliably inform me that the song underscores a key scene played out between Patrick Dempsey (McDreamy) and Sandra Oh (Cristina).

https://theboyleastlikelyto.bandcamp.com/

If there is a link between The Boy Least Likely To and Hannah Miller, it’s probably the fact that their wonderful songs are very likely to turn  up unannounced on an episode of one of your favourite TV shows. Hannah’s songs have featured in This is Us, Virgin River, Station 19, Pretty Little Liars and Sons of Anarchy.

Hannah Miller

The Atlanta music guide sums up Hannah’s body of work in the following way: ‘Alabama-raised, Nashville-based singer/songwriter Hannah Miller has quietly built a reputation and growing following for her thoughtful, lovingly rendered folk/pop that also taps into her roots of gospel and soulful Americana. Miller's almost dispassionate vocal style, reminiscent at times of the languid cool of Cowboy Junkies' Margot Timmons, communicates as simply and effectively as a knowing glance.”

“O Black River”, below, is taken from the album Selective Memory released in 2013. 

https://hannahmillermusic.com/

https://www.crisis.org.uk/

[electricaquarius]

I finally finished it! This is basically my version of what went down in the Save Vanra sidequest including a bit of my Tav's backstory. A little jealous Gale but not too much, Astarion and Karlach are here but only slightly. Tbh this is kind of a mess but I'm just glad to have it done.

'Say what you want, but the Mermaid has always been my haunt.' Joanna pushed open the doors and took a deep breath. Inside had the slightly sour smell of spilt rum and the yeasty odour of beer. Not exactly pleasant, but to her it smelled like home. Astarion wrinkled his nose but said nothing, knowing it was far better to try to blend in when in this kind of environment. She was about to head over to where the barman had given her a nod of greeting when Gale caught her wrist.

'Wait. I know you're happy to be home, but please, for everyone's sake, keep your guard up. We're looking for a hag here, it could be any of these...' His eyes coasted over the clientele and Joanna saw a flicker of distaste in his eyes. '... *fine* people.'

She turned to face him and placed a hand on his cheek. 'I promise, everything will be fine. Sure, the usuals are a rowdy bunch but I don't think anyone's going to be intentionally picking a fight with a giant tiefling that's currently on fire. And if they do, we can handle ourselves.' She turned back to Bosun Gannet and started over, seeing that Karlach had already secured herself a tankard of grog.

'It's not a fight I'm worried about...' Gale muttered darkly but followed her all the same, briefly wondering where Astarion had disappeared to.

'Jof! Been a while since I've seen you in here, the regulars have missed you.' Gannet greeted her, putting down the mug he was cleaning to clap her on the shoulder. 'Who are your new friends, eh? Do I need to inform them of the rules, too?'

'It's nice to see you too, Gannet.' She laughed and took a seat at the bar. 'Let's just say we're on a little adventure together. I don't suppose you remember a woman named Lora, do you? Poor thing's distraught, says she lost her little girl here.'

He tensed at the mention of the name and his speech became a touch more mechanical, as if rehearsed. 'Troublemaker. She's been in here before asking after the little mite but none of us saw hide nor hair of a child with her.' He picked up the mug and began cleaning it again, seeming to relax a little. 'Besides, you think I'd let a sprog in here? I've got my hands full with all the others screaming and pissing, last thing I need is one who can't help it!'

'I thought as much, just being thorough. Do you think we could see the Captain? Been an age since I've last seen her and you know she'll never let me hear the end of it if I didn't come and say hello' Joanna knew she was being fed a line, especially after so many late nights pouring her heart out to Gannet over life's sorrows. It hurt a little, honestly, but there was a strong possibility he was being manipulated, magically or otherwise.

'You know where she'll be, girl. Go up and show your face, I'll keep an eye on your mates while you do.' He nodded to the stairs. It was here Gale found his voice once again.

'I'll be coming with you' He said firmly, placing a hand at Joanna's waist. There was something definitely off here, and he knew a divide and conquer tactic when he saw it. Gannet rolled his eyes and gave a derisive snort.

'Upstairs is for regulars only. Sit down, lover boy, she'll be fine.' He nodded to the empty barstool next to Karlach. 'Besides, someone needs to pay up for the amount the tiefling's knocking back.'

'Eh?' Karlach raised an eyebrow, then realised she was surrounded by multiple empty tankards. It'd been an age since she was last in a pub like this and had gone somewhat into a trance at the prospect of a cool, frosty pint. Luckily her tolerance was through the roof, at most she was slightly merry heading towards pleasantly drunk. 'How much do I owe you?'

Joanna dumped a bag of coins onto the counter and Gannet's eyes widened. 'I'm sure this'll cover it, and besides. Just don't get too drunk, alright gorgeous?' She winked at Karlach. 'I assume there's no further problem? Besides,' She gestured towards Gale, 'This one's a Waterdeep boy. What kind of friend would I be if I didn't introduce him to the Captain?'

Gannet hadn't taken his eyes off of the coin pouch, but snapped to attention at the title of his boss. 'Oh, sure, sure... Gods, my little bookworm really has grown up, hasn't she?' He quickly pocketed about half of the money, putting the rest in the usual petty cash box. He wondered what on earth could’ve happened in the space of a couple of weeks for her to disappear sweet and timid, on the meagre wage of a junior scholar, only to return with some dangerous-looking friends in tow and with money to burn. Still, it was none of his business. Things being the way they were, he stood to make a tidy profit provided the Captain didn’t get involved.

Having peeled themselves away from the bar, Joanna took Gale’s hand and gave it a squeeze. She knew he was uncomfortable in here but put it down to the clientele rather than anything else. In truth, she was the same on her first couple of visits. Still, it was somewhere out of her room where the drinks were cheap and she could read mostly unbothered, at first. It wasn’t long though until she became a regular fixture, poring over maps and riddles, singing sea shanties and having the occasional stolen kiss. Still, it was all in the past now. Joanna still had a fondness for her time at the Mermaid but had no desire to repeat it. 

They reached the top of the stairs and Joanna paused. ‘Hm. Astarion isn’t up here either? Concerning…’ She shook her head. ‘Do you think we should try to find him, or talk to the Captain first?’

Gale frowned and folded his arms. ‘I’d think you’d be a better judge of that, my love. I wasn’t aware you were quite so popular here.’ It sounded a little more malicious than he’d intended, but the words were out of his mouth, now. Joanna sighed.

‘That was before we began our little tadpole adventure. Things have changed a lot since then, I know you understand. Besides, we’re trying to save a little girl here. Can we put this behind us, just for now?’ Gale squeezed her hand and studied her face carefully.

‘For now.’ He agreed after a long moment. ‘Anyway, we both know Astarion can handle himself, especially in this kind of environment. If he’s in dire need of help he’ll use the tadpole.’ He tapped his head. ‘And quite honestly I’d like to get out of here as quickly as possible’ He added to himself.

‘The Captain it is, then.’ Joanna nodded, heading over to the side room where Grisly would usually be nursing a hangover this time of the morning. As expected, the woman was sitting with her head on the table in front of her, groaning slightly. Joanna sidled over, sitting down next to her and tapping her on the shoulder. Grisly’s head jerked up and her one eye narrowed, before a beaming smile spread across her face.

‘Joanna! Hey, where’ve you been beautiful?’ The Captain excitedly patted the seat next to her and Joanna settled in. ‘And who’s the bodyguard? You come into some money or something, sweets?’ Her one eye flicked to Gale, still leaning in the doorway.

Joanna stiffened, feeling a vibe of something definitely off coming from Grisly, but nothing that she could identify. She hadn’t used her special nickname but that wasn’t that unusual. Still, best to watch and wait. Joanna could hardly go barrelling into an accusation if she had nothing to accuse her of. ‘I took a little trip outside the city, let’s leave it at that. This one’s a Waterdeep lad I met on my travels.’ She nodded towards Gale. ‘He’s a good boy, I promise he won’t cause any trouble.’ She laughed. 

Grisly gestured to another chair, looking at Gale. ‘Come on in then, Waterdeep. I won’t bite.’ Gale bristled at the over-familiarity but would much rather be nearer and ready to act when the time came. He’d already spotted the shimmer of Astarion’s invisibility spell over in the corner of the room and knew that a fight wasn’t far off. A subtle tap-tap on the back of Joanna’s hand clued her in that the rogue was present and snooping around. Time for her to be moving this conversation along, sharpish.

‘Now I must confess I’m not just here for pleasure. I mentioned to Gannet downstairs that there’s apparently a little girl that’s gone missing here. He said he hadn’t seen her but I know his eye, unless someone’s waving around gold he’s got selective blindness. I don’t suppose you remember anything like that?’ 

Grisly sighed and rolled her eyes. ‘It’s Lora, isn’t it? She’s absolutely loopy, sweets. Hand on the black coal that used to be my heart, there’s been no sprogs in here.’ She theatrically placed her hand over her chest. A rustling sound drew her gaze as Joanna had a paper thrust into her hand. Not Astarion’s finest work, but certainly effective. Not needing it any more, he dropped concentration on the invisibility spell and finally spoke. 

‘Good job keeping her occupied for so long, but this is definitely our hag. The note is proof.’ Joanna scanned the note quickly while Grisly sputtered an excuse, quickly losing control of her disguise.

‘Sweets, you can’t believe this, can you?!’ Her accent began to drift, leaves and spores beginning to pop out from her skin. ‘How long have you known me? You’d accuse me of snatching up a child like some kind of fairytale witch?’ 

Joanna folded the note then stood up and shook her head. ‘You have one chance, Gris. There’s a nickname here everyone knows me by, you made it up one night. Tell me what it is and what it’s short for, and I’ll believe you’re innocent in all this.’

Grisly, now twitching and shuddering attempting to hold on to her human form, stood in silence for a moment. Her face screwed up into a scowl. ‘Bollocks!’ She spat, casting away the last of her disguise. ‘You won’t take the girl away from me this time, sweets. This one’s mine to raise.’ With a puff of smoke she was gone, just as she’d disappeared from her teahouse so long ago. 

Joanna sighed and folded her arms. ‘Shit, now we’re going to have to tear the place apart to figure out where she’s hiding.’ She knew a couple of side entrances and where the stockroom was but with a hag’s cunning Ethel truly could be anywhere. 

‘No huge loss, I’d wager.’ Astarion sniffed derisively. ‘Now then, before we start turning the place upside down, would you indulge us both as to what this nickname business is?’

Joanna blinked, surprised. ‘It’s nothing exciting, I promise you. You heard Gannet use it as I walked in. I’m not the only regular Joanna here, and my second name is Faith. It got shortened to ‘Jo F.’ to differentiate, and then slurred into Jof after one too many late nights here.’ She shrugged.

‘Faith, hmm?’ Gale rubbed his chin. ‘Suits you, actually. You’ve had nothing but faith in more than one of our shadier companions.’

Astarion rolled his eyes. ‘Forgive me if I’m not in a hurry to use it, it’s hardly dignified. Now then.’ He peeked around the archway leading into the room. ‘There’s about a dozen angry redcaps out there and our darling Karlach is still downstairs. We should probably think about rescuing her, first.’

[titusreno]

Chapter 2

Reno

                 The showers in the Caldegot dorm always run hot. While there’s nowhere at Auxie Mautlin where you can rely on cold water coming out of a tap, what I mean is that the showers in Caldegot are almost permanently near-boiling. It sucks during summer but it’s even worse in the winter, since there’s no air conditioning to keep the air in the bathroom cool. But there’s something nice about standing under a really hot, painful shower when you have gravel scratches all over your back. I rubbed the powdered soap into my hair and felt the places where the blood had clumped.

               Titus stood outside the shower, watching me.

               “Do you think you’re going to get as big as Fib?” he asked. I looked over at where he was standing, wearing his gym clothes because his orange school uniform always smelled too much for his liking after a full day of classes. The white cotton shorts slipped down under his hipbones as he leaned against the towel rack. His socks folded down around his ankles.

               I had pine soap in my eyes and had to close them. “I don’t know,” I said. “I gained fifty pounds this year.”

               “You did good today,” Titus said. “I thought I was gonna end up hiding Fib’s contraband and licking his toes or whatever, but you did really good.”

               “Thanks,” I said. “I think I need to redo the mask soon. There’s a lot of blood on it.” I leaned my head back into the water and knew my skin was getting red where it hit.

               “What do you think Fib would be if he wasn’t a tester? Or I guess if he wasn’t a lab kid.” Titus took off his shirt, and I felt a little fun knot tie itself in my stomach. I like the way his chest looks, the little hairs running down the middle in a line. “Do you think he’d be a soldier?”

               “I think I need to get to know him more to know for sure,” I said. I let myself reach out to him, and pull him to me through the water. “I bet he would make a good fireman. He could save a lot of lives.”

               Titus kissed me. He was still wearing his shorts and his socks, and I could feel his fluffy black hair getting wet. I kissed him back and pressed my face into his cool neck. The hot water ran over us both.

               I felt like I was streaking through the sky like an asteroid, as out-of-control as the ship that brought the worm to Earth.

“I bet he’s a decent person,” I said.

The double match with the Littlests and then my match with Fib was the kind of thing that meant that all the Caldegot kids were going to spend the night getting jumped up and crazy. It’s a good thing. I like parties. I remember when I was a Littlest, and before that when I was in my worktown down in the desert, watching the older kids get ready for parties and then listened to them as they made noise all night long with dancing and screaming and clapping and breaking things. There was a big guy named Jof that was like a big brother to me and I remember listening for his voice above everyone else’s while I tried to fall asleep in the crates they used for beds. Sometimes the dataminers would report houses for parties and there would be a crackdown where a few people were moved around or sent away as punishment, but it never stopped anyone. Here we rarely got stopped either. The kids in Auxie Mautlin come from all over but we all remember the parties in our worktowns and we all do the same things whenever there’s the tiniest little thing to celebrate. Something about piggos I guess. There was a lot of the night left, and the dorm monitor was out in the hallway falling asleep reading something from the ecotablet he had at his desk. The dorm monitors don’t make as much stink about parties as they used to. Titus would say it’s because they know that their worms are growing just like ours and they sympathize. I think it’s just people get used to their jobs and by now they know we aren’t going to do anything really dangerous, for the most part.

Jenny was sitting on her floor doing her makeup when Titus and I went over to her room after I showered. Titus’s cotton shorts were still wet and his other pair was being cleaned, but the air in the dorm was so hot that it was probably good to be wet. Jenny looked up when she felt us at the door. Her roommates, Deck and Haiqa, were laying on their bunks, shirts off, fanning themselves with pieces of paper. Someone had hung a wet towel over the window, where it flapped in the thin little wind coming in distantly from Jamaica Bay. We could hear crickets and frogs outside. I could also hear kids in the Alberto dormitory already clapping and banging on their bunks with cups and feet. I wondered if all the kids running out to the park to grab their contraband stashes would get anyone noticed by the night patrol.

“Want some makeup, king lizard?” Jenny asked. She held out a palette of lip shines and eyebrow filler in a pink plastic container. Jenny never lets anyone touch her makeup or art stuff. I looked at Titus, and he grinned at me.

“Are you sure?”

“Totally. Look, you can even use my beeswax gloss. King for a day or whatever. What color do you want?” She gestured and patted the floor next to her.

I sat down and looked at the little stash of makeup spread over the bed. All of it must have either cost Jenny a lot or she must have worked really hard to steal it. None of us are supposed to wear makeup and even if the dorm monitors don’t care and the instructors don’t care, if one of the care providers catches you then they really lay into you and will usually call for someone to come clear out your room and take all your stuff so they can make sure to get all of it. It seems like bullshit, especially because the staff has to know that everyone does drugs that are way more intense than lipstick. Titus would say it’s because they’re scared of how we look with makeup on. But I guess rules help keep stuff from going totally out the window.

I felt myself being really pulled toward a purple plastic tube with gold lettering on it. I opened the cap. I think I expected it to be purple inside, but it was a bright, deep red. I looked at Jenny again, uncertain. “I just rub it on, right?”

“Gently, or it’ll break,” Jenny said. She took the tube from me and pushed it lightly over my bottom lip, then pressed her lips together and gestured to me. I rubbed my lips together and smiled at her. Titus laughed, and Haiqa did too. I offered the tube of lipstick to Titus. He took it and applied it like he’d done it before, which he might have, or he might have just watched Jenny. It looked beautiful on him. But then I always think Titus looks good. I like the way his ears fold on top, and the length of his eyelashes. I like how small he is, too. It’s not good for him to be so delicate—he would hate to hear me say delicate—but he’s like a princess in a storybook, and I love that.

Haiqa sat up. She’s from the desert out in Oklahoma like I am, so she has a big number tattoo on her lower ribcage. Her number is lower than mine because she’s older. “What I want to know is why I didn’t get lipstick when I beat Deck last week,” she said.

“What, and ruin my roommate dynamic? Get it from someone else. If you both want lipstick now you can have it,” Jenny said. She took the lipstick from Titus and passed it back over her head to Haiqa. “I’m feeling real gracious. A girl got wifed up today and is just feeling very happy and positive.”

“A ring and all?” Titus asked. He was looking at his face in one of Jenny’s little mirrors. His hair hangs in dark ringlets around his face when it’s wet. “Was this after I left?”

Jenny did a little dance with her shoulders that meant whatever had gone down it had been good.

“How did it go with Daylun?” I asked. “I’ve never heard her talk.”

“She’s coming over later. I just knew she was gonna be my girl. Ever since she cut her hair. She looks so good, don’t you think?”

“She’s from Manitoba, right?”

“Yeah, up where it’s cold. I bet that why she’s so big, for the cold.”

“Is that why she doesn’t talk?”

“She just doesn’t talk to boys any, really.”

Deck got out her stash of lizzie from under the bed where it was hidden under a tile and shook the plastic baggie. “Anyone want to trip?”

“What, for free?” Jenny asked. “You said it would cost me three Sharpies last time I asked you.”

“Free tonight, as long as we all dance.”

I take lizzie sometimes, though it isn’t exactly a consistent thing because you never know if it will make you happy or really freaked out. The way it distorts things and makes shapes drip and colors change can mess with you if you’re already anxious. I don’t know why it’s so popular here, except that our lives are maybe uglier than most, and maybe we like things to look different, for better or worse. It does make you a lot happier when it’s a good trip. I took a tab from Deck and put it on my tongue.

“I don’t want any,” Titus said. “But thanks.”

It took a while for all of us to get downstairs and start dancing. Everyone had to put makeup on.

The main floor of the building had tables we could sit at after classes or at night before the lights went out, and during parties the tables were where people stomped to make a beat. Our songs go around in a call and response. Some of them have words and sometimes people yell verses and other times we go back and forth just calling out words or names, the names of our dorms or the places we come from. Jenny started out a call-and-clap that was a tradition from when we were in the worktowns, that everyone knew whether they were from Oklahoma or Manitoba or Montana or the tar sands.

“When-are-we-done-today?”

“In-fifty-years!”

“When-are-we-done-tomorrow?”

“In-a-hundred-years!”

I kept looking at my face and Titus’s in the dark mirror of the windows out into the yard. Titus and I danced in the middle for a while. Even when he isn’t high on anything, Titus dances like he is. He throws his arms in the air and spins on one leg and grabs at people around him to make them dance with him. And they do, even if they don’t talk to him other times. He’s a good dancer.

After a while people started to tire out and drift away, and Titus’s knees started to shake from landing hard on the floor, so we moved to find somewhere to sit. In the stairwell we found Benja and Wein, smoking, and so we all sat with them. Daylun saw us from the bottom of the stairs and came up to kiss Jenny. She didn’t talk to the boys and I realized that maybe what had seemed to be shyness on her part was really just a total indifference to boys. She whispered in Jenny’s ear a lot.

Benja and Wein were talking about worms, which isn’t a great subject when you’re trying to start a party and forget, but something they’d taken was making them open up and talk about dark things. I didn’t want to be rude and leave them.

“What’s crazy to me,” Wein was saying, “is that we might be the very last people left, if they can’t figure out how to stop the worm. We might be the very last people.”

“Not the very last. There’s kids younger.”

“I guess the real last ones are the kids that are around now, the little four year old piggo kids. But in fifteen years we might all be dead—us and the scientists-- and the little kids might all be dying and there’d be nobody to run the piggo labs and no more babies would get born. Human or piggo. I hear the labs are having trouble now because the sows are starting to die.”

“Imagine being a human mom,” Benja said. “Imagine thinking you were going to have more babies and then learning you couldn’t and learning your babies were never going to have babies. Imagine seeing your kids die before you.”

Titus looked at him. “What about our moms?” he asked.

Benja looked at him. “What do you mean?”

“How can you get sad about human moms when you know what happens to our parents?” Titus was the only one not stoned and high, and it showed.

“We don’t have moms,” Benja said. “Not really.”

“They had brains the size of ours,” Titus said. “They had eyes like ours, faces and teeth sort of like ours, hearts and lungs and stuff. And they had babies they never saw grow up, again and again and again.”

“For a human mom it has to be worse than it was for them,” Wein said. “That’s what Benja means, Titus. They didn’t have any other way of being. And they never saw any of us. They can’t miss us the same.”

“At least human moms can still grow babies from embryos in fake wombs,” I said to Benja, trying to interrupt before there was a real argument. “There are lots of embryos.”

“But if everyone has the worm, those babies will get it too as soon as they’re out of the sack,” Wein said. “Even if everyone’s dead by that point, the worms will still be here, waiting.”

“But they’re also making the babies from the DNA on the ship. They’re close now, too. Those babies would have antibodies.” I closed my eyes and pictured a little row of marching green babies in the arms of big square robots. “They could save us. Save the world.”

“They said all that when we were Littlests, too,” Titus said. “They keep saying they’ve made an alien baby with human DNA and used the antibodies in its blood to make a medicine that works, and they tell people that the studies we do are with that medicine. But it never works, does it?”

“It might this next time,” I said. “They have to learn from it every time it doesn’t. So next time it might work.”

Titus looked at me with heavy-lidded eyes and raised his eyebrows. I leaned back to look at the colors dripping down from the ceiling so I didn’t have to meet his eyes. Sometimes I don’t know if Titus went through something really bad in his worktown that he hasn’t ever told me about. He’s tougher than I am in some ways but also weaker. He doesn’t care if he gets beaten in a fight. It’s like he expects to lose, waits for it.

“Titus is right. Ms. W said that the new study would be happening by now,” Benja said. “And it’s not.” He sucked on his joint.

“Maybe they should just make the alien babies and leave it there. Don’t make any medicine out of them. I bet the aliens would do a better job on this planet than humans did,” Titus said. He looked over at Jenny and Daylun, and Daylun smiled at him, though she said nothing.

“We don’t even know what the aliens would eat,” Benja said. “Out past Neptune and whatever. We don’t even know that they have plants like we have plants.”

“They have worms.”

“Hey guys. Guys.” Jenny gestured at the ceiling with a long arm. I could tell she was about to try to change the subject, and I was grateful to her. “Is anyone else getting kind of a paisley situation over by the window or is that just me?”

I traced the colors with a finger. “With me it’s more like little birds,” I told her.

Titus was bored and irritated, I could tell. I pulled him to me with my arms across his chest and he settled against my thigh and closed his eyes.

“Sorry I’m tripping,” I said.

“It’s okay,” he murmured. “I had fun dancing.”

We passed the joint around again, and by the time it came back to me and I offered it to Titus, he was asleep. I made my excuses—as best as I could, because my tongue wasn’t totally working to say real words—and carried him up to his dorm. He half woke up on the way and kissed my cheek. I put him under the sheets even though it was too hot out, and I sat next to him for a while, watching the dark of his hair bob like a cresting wave, letting the light remind me of other things the same color. One thing lizzie does is help reorganize your brain so when you’re coming down you start remembering things you hadn’t thought of in years. I thought of Jof, and the deserts out in Oklahoma, of seeing cows, before the cows all died, standing in feedlots chewing and ambling around like nothing was wrong, like the world wasn’t ending. I remembered their brown eyes.

Eventually I was down completely again and I stood up and walked back to my dorm. Nobody else had returned upstairs yet, so I climbed into my bunk and fell asleep, my face turned toward the window so I could see the distant black skyline against the blue sky across the river. I wondered what it had been like when the whole city lit up at night. In the distance, I could see the lights from Jersey making the clouds yellow. A hundred years ago, I thought, the sky over here would have been bright yellow and starless all night.

In the morning I pulled myself out of bed and looked over to where Benja and Wein were sleeping. They were in the same bunk, Wein’s hand and arm sprawled across Benja’s broad chest. Both were just wearing their shorts. It was already hot in the room and I felt sweat prickling on my brow. I could smell the sweat from the night before radiating through the dormitory, sticking to the fifty-year-old walls. I lay in bed, thinking about how it was good that today was the resting day, so I wouldn’t have to do anything much. I had rolled over and was staring out the window when our door-tag blinked and the intercom buzzed to life above us.

“All Caldegot report to cafeteria by ten-thirty. Full facility assembly at eleven.”

Across from me, I saw Benja and Wein stir and sit up.

“What did it just say?” Wein asked. “Did it say full facility assembly?”

“It has to be a study,” I said. I was bolt upright. “It has to be.”

Wein knocked on the frame of the bed. “Knock on wood,” he said. That’s something Ms. Y does, and we started off joking about it but now we treat it like a ritual that works.

There was a rush for the showers all over the floor after the announcement. I made it into one and rinsed for a couple minutes—just long enough to get the crust out of my eyes, and raced back to my dorm to pull out my rest-day jumpsuit. Everyone else was awake by then, and moving quickly. We jogged down the stairwell together in a great green-suited tide. None of us had put on socks. Our feet in the thin white sneakers rattled against the linoleum and then the cement of the courtyard like a thunderstorm. I found Titus only after we were in line for breakfast. We looked at each other and hugged and didn’t say anything, just walked forward. I know I felt like it would jinx the day to say anything. I don’t know if that’s how Titus felt.

Breakfast was rice and egg substitute with greens and cricketbev. The cafeteria workers were wearing masks like they always did, and refused to talk to us, like policy told them to do, but I could tell we were all looking for something in their eyes as we made our way down the line. I think it’s so hard to read their faces even when their masks are off, but I felt like they radiated a certain energy toward us, like this was the start of a new day.

“I’m sorry for what I said last night,” Titus said to me. “I might have been wrong.”

“I hope you were,” I said.

After breakfast the intercom crackled again and they had us move into the long hall which was only used when they were bussing people somewhere. When we were inside, I realized that they had both us and the Fores on the side near the long garage door, where the buses would pull up. I could tell other people were noticing too, and talking to friends about what it meant. They had never taken such a large sample before—never a sample bigger than the total group of Fores. To take the LetLets meant that it would be a bigger study than we had ever seen. I don’t think any of us had any idea what that could mean. We lapsed into uneasy silence, eventually, waiting for someone to come up to the podium at the front of the hall and tell us what was going on.

“As you may have guessed from the change in schedule,” Ms. A said, “Today is the day that our facility has scheduled for eight hundred participants from group A, B, and C to be transported to a New Jersey laboratory to commence a study.”

There was thunderous applause. Ms. A smiled at us.

“Shortly, we will explain the day’s schedule. You will return to your bunks here tonight, however, as the laboratory does not have housing capacity for this number of participants.”

There was a pause as this sank in. Some of us breathed with relief, because even though we all desperately wanted to be part of a study, we didn’t have any real idea of what it was like to live at a laboratory while they were doing one. If it was anything like worktowns, some of us probably would have taken their chances with a worm rather than live in one. Sometimes I thought Titus was one of those people. I looked at him, next to me in one of the small plastic chairs they set out for assemblies. He looked over at me and gave a little nod.

“This is a new study,” Ms. A continued. “The advances that have been made since last year have been significant. As you may know, embryo growth has been a goal of ours for five years. This year, the scientists at Jersey Technical Labs have managed to push growth to full gestation, and as a result have been able to study better the mechanisms of antibodies.” She paused. “Three large tests performed on sows from January of last year to July of last year completely eliminated tapeworms in the test population over the course of six months. You are the next group we are conducting studies with. If this study confirms the results seen in sows, we can proceed to research and development in the general population.”

We clapped hard. She waited for us to stop before continuing.

“I cannot emphasize enough the importance of your participation. This is the moment we have been waiting for. The moment that you help us save the world.”

We had all heard this before, of course, but we all wanted to believe it. I saw Rustler at the front of the room straining forward in his seat. He looked ready to try to save the world. His blue eyes were fixed on Ms. A like she was going to reach down with a golden baton and touch his forehead with it, turning him into someone ordinary.

We had seen the garage doors roll up before and watched the Fores as they were loaded onto the buses. Now we joined them and followed them up the steps. The buses from Auxie Mautlin are white and have solar panels on the roof. They aren’t labeled on the sides, though the parent corporation’s name is printed on the back over the taillights. The staff who directed each group and house on where to go stood at the end of our rows of chairs, their masks on, muffling their speech. Titus and I weren’t on the same bus. He squeezed my hand before we parted.

I hadn’t left the facility since coming from my worktown. After the bus was full and the doors shut, we waited, silent, inside. There were staff coming along as monitors, seated at the front and the back of the bus, and I think we were all too nervous about upsetting them to make any noise or speak, but our heads all turned to the windows as the bus began to roll over the gravel to the edge of the gates around the facility. It was a sunny day, hot like the day before had been, and while the windows blocked some of the light, the blue sky above the bus and the white light bouncing off the cement illuminated the road like a silver ladder stretching down and across the water.

The highway we took was one of the new ones that go over the old crumbling roads of the city. There are places under it where people live in large neighborhoods with no electricity or water except what they collect from rain or with solar panels. The infrastructure for the core of the city in middle and upper Manhattan has been repaired, just like the new white highways have been built over the flooded zones over the last three decades, but as the bus passed over Brooklyn we could see the way that overgrown trees and marsh grass had covered up much of what had been the city. The people who used to live in the neighborhoods down below had moved to Jersey or moved far into the Bronx. It was possible that many were dead now, because of the worm. The things that were left behind were crumbling slowly into the brackish water that had covered all the low-lying ground. It wasn’t illegal to build in the ruins, and from the bus window I could see that the floating houses at the edge of the water took up more space than they had five years before, when we had come to Auxie Mautlin from the worktowns.

Jersey has grown and gotten more full of people. It’s been a big city for a long time, of course, but even in the years since the last time I saw it, it had become more packed. The buildings stuck next to each other like stalks of bamboo or cane sugar. I could see people on the streets, not wearing masks. We were too far away to see the details of their faces.

The laboratory was a long cement building that looked like an outpost of Auxie Mautlin. At the lab, we were all given white shirts and pants to put on instead of the green rest day jumpsuits. They didn’t have us change behind any kind of partition, just had us take our clothes off in the hall and change in front of each other. We still were quiet, because I think we all felt like this was the time it counted most to show that we understood what was expected of us. They sorted us, I think, by gender and age, and moved us around in the entry hall before leading us in through different doors depending on where they had put us. I couldn’t see Titus.

               We were led into a room where a woman without a mask spoke to us. She was wearing a white coat but I wasn’t sure if she was a doctor.

               “Good afternoon,” she said. “You all are group C-3. We will be giving you each a bracelet stating your group number and identification code. We are going to perform general physicals on each of you before we move you to the next room to be briefed on the specifics of the study. Feel free to specify your name to your physician in order to increase the ease with which we can identify you in our records.”

               We were lined up again and weighed. I had gained two pounds since the last physical I had. I wished it was more. I was the same height as the physician standing with me. He was one of the first human men I’d seen since the worktowns. He didn’t have a mask, and his nose was little and flat. He had me take off my shirt, and he checked the number on the bracelet he gave me against the number on my torso.

               “Name?” he asked me.

               “Reno,” I said.

               “You from Nevada?”

               “Originally. The lab. It was a small one. I grew up in Oklahoma.”

               “They’ve closed the Nevada lab, now.” He looked at his chart. “No headaches, seizures, and no emaciation, right?” He looked at my chest and stomach.

               “Not yet,” I said. “I think it says somewhere in my records that they think I was infected around when I was two or three, because of the water. I don’t think the larvae is in my brain yet.” I wanted to make sure he had all the information.

               “Right,” he said. He pressed a cold stethoscope to my chest and listened.

               In the room they took us to after the physicals were done, the walls were green. There was a picture of a baby connected to a lot of tubes projected onto one wall. The baby looked strange, but not strange like we look. It wasn’t green, but its skin was a kind of deep mottled purple that made it look like it was dying or dead. As we sat down, still quiet, and waited for someone to speak to us, I looked at it closer and realized that was seemed like horrible bruises were just patterns on its skin. It was connected to a breathing tube. Its eyes were very large, though they were closed, so if they were the bug-eyes I thought of aliens as having I couldn’t see.

               The same woman in white appeared again to talk to us. She didn’t introduce herself.

               “This trial uses antibodies developed from those present in the extraterrestrial humanoid species we have come to know as La Rosa,” she said. “In the last year, we managed to bring a partially extraterrestrial embryo to full term. We created this embryo from the DNA of the two La Rosa extraterrestrials present at the site of the 2043 crash, though we used human and sheep DNA to fill in certain gaps. This trial has produced the most accurate reconstruction of the La Rosa DNA sequence and resulted in a viable infant, with viable antibodies. Without harming the specimen, we have used these antibodies to create an intravenous medicine that will behave in the host system as an anthelmintic. If it behaves in your intestinal tract and brain as it has behaved in the bodies of pigs, it will drive out the tapeworms from the host body.” She took a deep breath and smiled. “If it is successful, BezFarma will be able to move the drug to human trials.”

               We shifted in our seats. She seemed to be waiting on something, so we finally started to clap a little. She clasped her hands.

               “This trial will last six months. You will be treated twice a week. This is presumed to be more than sufficient, based on studies in pigs. The treatment involves being connected to an intravenous drip for an hour at a time. The medicine will not harm you, though it may provoke some mild immune reactions and inflammation for the first two weeks.”

               An image flashed up on the wall of one of the adult starworms, covered in blood, next to the brain of what I guess was a pig. The brain had holes in it.

               “In cases where advanced deterioration has occurred, the brain may not return to normal, though the parasite dies. We are still conducting studies into long-term effects on fertility in pigs. However, in most cases where there is larval development but no maturation, neurocysticercosis disappears almost one hundred percent of the time over the course of two to three months.”

               We clapped again, more enthusiastically this time. She grinned at us and took a step back before resuming her presentation. I don’t remember much of what she said after that.

               The first day, when they stuck the needle into my arm and I felt the cold shock in my vein, I smiled at the woman with the mask who stood over me.

               “Thank you so much,” I told her.

[ratherhavetheblues]

CLAIRE DENIS’ HIGH LIFE “It’s called a taboo…”

© 2019 by James Clark

     Although this film, from 2018, proceeds with an English lexicon, it is most important to comprehend the French title. Une Vie en Hauteur, translates as, “a haughty, superior, arrogant approach toward others.” What sort of intransigence could be in play within our film today? There is, as we all know at some level, a distemper underway between amateurs of reality and those professionals regarding the former as having failed to digest the ultimacies already in full flower, namely, religion, humanitarianism and science. (All of which, seemingly, despite little tiffs, well embarking unconditionally all three of them at once.) With her film, High Life, filmmaker, Claire Denis, has squarely ventured into that latter buttress, science, whereby she stands (in many eyes) to be embarrassed by the “hauteur” of her betters. Moreover, let’s not kid ourselves that such “ladies” pastimes will be merely met with droll tolerance.

Our helmswoman here does have up her sleeve the resources of a guy who posthumously maintains a filmic action as far from “ladies concerns” as you can get, namely, Ingmar Bergman, an avatar of very high problematic. She has deployed for our considerations a film which, on the surface, has nothing to do with science, namely, The Seventh Seal (1957)—a biblical concomitant which leaves room for heresy during 12th century Sweden, bristling with witch-burning, flagellation and a far-reaching plague. A couple, Jof and Marie, itinerant circus entertainers, choose to be not fans of the regional leadership (just back from a crusade), who obsesses about living forever, by somewhat odd but actually usual means. The couple—but Jof definitely in the lead—see in their infant son a budding acrobatic genius and juggler the likes of which the world has never seen. Those latter gifts will reappear in our matter before us, in a scenario millennials’ into the future, whereby the march of (bored?) science has dreamed up travel far beyond the Solar System to transport death-row killers into the range of the nearest black hole, and others’ beyond, in hopes of some miracle. During this time-bending amazement, one protagonist, Monte, the highest flyer, another Jof, but very different, what with the bloody Jacobean melodrama blazing, encounters another such craft from that site of inspiration, but this time with a crew of dogs.

The first scenes appear to be far remote from a saga reeling from “hauteur,” let alone outer space. We begin with a lush and sunny vegetable garden sparked with reverberant musical undergrowth. Gentle mist brings about an ambience of decidedly earthy locale. Then a rather jarring note—a muddy pit and a ladder looking down. A baby cries, and we’re soon taken to an office where the child stands up in an improvised playpen, watching two screens featuring American Indians. The baby babbles happily, and, as if a cue, we cut to an astronaut, repairing something on the surface of the gray craft, while being connected by radio to the office. He smiles on hearing the happy child. “Da-da,” she calls. “Dada,” it is.

Then down to business. The show that day on the screens is short on baby talk. On the monitor at the left, there is, in silhouette, an aboriginal warrior on his horse (filmed in black and white). The peculiar headpiece resembles a bird of prey, or also a wolf’s head. (The world of wolves being germane in Bergman’s eyes, particularly in the film, Hour of the Wolf [1968].) On the monitor at right, we have a dying brave with, if not an atomic bomb, a lot of smoke pouring upward. The baby smiles. When the screen becomes a sunburst void, the young viewer begins to cry. The dad tries, “Shhh,” as a fix. She screams, and the enhanced communication factor causes a fright which results in the tool he was using to fly into the primal darkness. On his way in, we see a close-up of Monte’s mouth along with two cold spotlights in the surround. (Inherent cold?) Also, we see him wearing a set of underclothes which might have been used in the 12th century. Just before that entry, the repairman repairs to a reverie of circular stones and hardened mud in semi-darkness. Amidst that apparition was a small tooth-like, white object. Then the imagery attends to sharpened focus, and an arm with a bloody hand holding a bloody rock, which promptly relinquishes its burden into the void, to be followed by the arm lifting upward and quickly disappearing (perhaps elicited by the baby’s howl startling him to drop his wrench into infinity). Hour of the Wolf includes its protagonist fracturing the skull of a bothersome child by a similar action. And Monte, as later seen in flashback within that first flashback, had been on death row due to crushing the head of a young girl with the rock seen in that vision. Her annoyance to Monte involved noticing the mutilated and drowned dog of his he’d savaged, where we were able to see our-dad-of-the-hour displaying the full jacket from the avant-garde glimpse of sleeve.

When finally stifling for the time being that horror, the reformed travelling killer proves to be not so shabby a single parent. By way of the ladder, he accesses the garden, chooses a legume and promptly and gently provides a healthy pablum. After that, seated on the kitchen floor, he bathes the girl with skill, affection and patience. They play awhile with a red devil sort of doll. (Later, he withstands the girl’s loud and long crying jag.) But his loving solicitude does have a veer. With attention to emotive care, he delivers a sort of eccentric Ted Talk. “Don’t eat your own shit… Don’t drink your own piss… Don’t swallow horseshit… It’s called a taboo, tooo…booo… If my old man could see me now… Brake the laws of nature… You’ll pay for it, you son of a bitch!” After hours of deafening screaming, Monte complains to his only listener. “So many tears from such a tiny little body…Please, it’s gonna kill me…” It stops. The baby pulls at the skin on his arm. “Look at that,” he says. Monte sits by the bed, beholding a miracle. After she falls asleep, he says, “You don’t drown them like a dog… It’d be so easy… That’d be a first, and then me.” This sequence ends with him and her at the garden. She feeds him a strawberry, and he’s all smiles. At the ladder, he holds her and encourages her to climb up. “Up, up…”

   “Don’t eat your own shit,” would be a strange but potent gambit as to disinterestedness. The avatars of advantage—and they number by the billions—can’t get enough of dubious golden oldies. Denis pivots at this point, whereby the action up till now constitutes the newest stage while flashback to the preboarding and then subsequent earlier vignettes march apace. Why? We need to see, by way of the history of this flight, how bad and how good things go under the aegis of a hard and dominant sell. Though the film finds Monte trying not to eat shit by challenging a lead pipe punk, namely, Boyse, for carving with a hard and sharp weapon a graffiti into a wall at the medical zone, we encounter her first a bit out of order (very appropriate for her) as an insert showing particulars before she’s arrested. Boyse, we’ll tell you now, is the baby’s mom, induced by the medic, Doctor Dibs, the Pedant of Pregnancy, who has recruited, all the guys but Monte, to a daily regime of masturbation for the sake of in vitro fertilization—the payoff being a mild drug. Her one and only success being with stand-off, Monte, as we’ll describe in the order of the flashback.

Whereas Boyse, as you’ll see, is almost totally feral and destructive during her stint in the sky, there is a brief but searing episode involving her on land, which leaves you enchanted. Like a great acrobat, she gracefully and powerfully uses the instances of the boxcar to reach the roof—in this rooftop position being kin to Monte. Moreover, the travellin’ kids resemble, somewhat, Jof and Marie, in their caravan. (A third rider, at another place on the train, puts up his middle finger and smiles in a rather shy manner to no one in particular; but to everyone in fact.) As night takes over, she leans back in a shallow container and relishes the currents from the plunge of the iron horse, and the darkness. She and her cohort sleep closely and on cardboard. Almost as gritty as old-time coal miners, it is the grottiness on their exposed calves that both repels and endears them to us. One more noteworthy, earlier moment on terra firma, consists of her stretching out here hand, to feel the ripple of prevailing wind as the train races on. In doing so, she’s surprisingly at work on her education, an education you won’t find in college because the jailers there have a very big gun (named, classical rational thought) trained on students and faculty alike. We saw that same laconic gesture with the protagonist of Denis,’ White Material (2009), wherein she was having too much adventurous—actually, suicidal—fun  to heed the classical rational chopper screaming at her to get the hell up and out of a nasty civil war.

   Back to the dust-up at the hospital/ lab, Boyse rips a long wound along Monte’s arm, for his interfering in her showing how little she respects the doctor. (Bergman had a long history of portraying medics as not up to the intimacies of sensibility.) While being patched up by Dr. Dibs (that term denoting Straight A’s as far as it goes), the patient, rather surprisingly, sees fit to explicitly mention that he sees value in her range of interests. (Though he comes across as an inflected born-again Aquarian, he does have a whack of pedantry. Will it cripple, over [bloated] time here, his scatological commitment to disinterestedness? [Back to the time of the baby, we see him earnestly posting reports—for instance, how he removed and replaced the defective piece of surface—while such messaging had been defeated by the light-years’ gap. On the other hand, he brags, “I never caved in” [to the sleep-killing noise]. And then the baby’s strawberry gift to Monte; and Boyce’s strawberry hair and complexion, once scrubbed up. Bergman’s, Wild Strawberries [1957] being a parable of pristine recovery. The numeral “7,” placed on the craft and on all the uniforms, perhaps refers to the release date, 1957, of both The Seventh Seal and Wild Strawberries. The signage, “9,” on the dog craft, might refer to Bergman’s, The Passion of Anna, 1959, where the protagonist is a killer of farm animals. Denis often joins Jim Jarmusch’s umbrage [not to mention’s that of Kelly Reichardt] toward those abusing entities far more consistently and effectively balanced than humans. Monte’s history of killing his dog, not to mention killing his neighbor, would be perhaps a factor not completely resolved.)

We already have a lot of cards on the table, here; but a direction to thrill us is nowhere to be seen. Or, rather, I’ve found it advisable until now, that the soundtrack and playlist be stilled, the better to orient the viscosity and traction struggling to make headway. Denis’ musical force, “Tindersticks” (having already almost stolen the show in her film, 35 Shots of Rum [2009]), endeavor, by reverberant and seductive aural thrust, to further illuminate the mastery of eschewing one’s own shit. Much startling pain and confusion are right around the corner. But it is the measure of thrust (acrobatics) we must especially ponder.

We could describe the crisis woven for us to be the limits of control. As it happens, Jim Jarmusch put out, in 2009, a film, called, The Limits of Control, including actress, Tilda Swinton, tall, thin and blonde, who comes to an unpleasant end. Another of the killers onboard here, rather alike Tilda (but with a prominent scar the length of her right cheek), confronts Dibs, “Why do you keep taking this sperm?” Her stressed response is, “The odds are not in our favor. But when my work of perfection is achieved…” That unwelcome question drives the perfectionist to another dimension of bounty, situated by the stairs close to the earthy garden, namely, that presiding lunge of emotive delight, known as the fuckbox, a small but powerful rollercoaster to help survive the stupid fuckers who stuck them there. Joining Dibs nearer to what really matters to her, when freed of taboos, and with the band of the day attending to reverb and real invention, she, along with means of intervention, joins those dance rebels (writhing acrobats) like Loie Fuller, Isadora Duncan, Josephine Baker and Martha Graham. (The Bergman film—and right here I’d like to declare how many viewers were wrong about it being a flop, namely, The Serpent’s Egg [1977], features such a dance innovation.) On ending her gig, she immediately bumps into Monte headed to the garden. “I know I look like a witch,” she says. Her handsome outreach (juggling) is met by Monte’s pedantry, “That doesn’t seem to do you much good.” Her retort, “Better than you think,” does, at least leave room for imperfection. Monte, overly proud to tell himself and her, “I kept my fluids to myself,” continues, “So humiliating… You need to wipe your nose.” He rubs her upper lip. An odd register between a boss and an underling, however the miasma may run. But not an odd register between spouses. (Boyse will, later on, have the nerve to pull from her that Dibs had wiped out her whole family. But her credentials gave her a measure of gravitas.) The one sworn to saves lives argues, “You all come to look at me at night.” He counters, “You’re foxy and you know it. I just can’t understand your mission… I still believe in the mission. However, he can conclude, “It’s just a new religion for you.” And she can swing back to, “Because I’m totally devoted to reproduction.” She leaves him with, “Happy Monk, going to sew your fields.”

   The slipping and sliding of that twosome on the go, close to the speed of sound, have, going forward, neither the luxury nor the talent to polish their genius. On their voyage to short love and long death, they become immersed with disease and murderous hate. But their far from insignificant efforts lift this crash to something sublime. Boyce, swamped by her refusal to recognize limits of control involving a paradoxical agency, peels away from the center of the action, to be briefly superseded by the leukemia of a man beset by the lurking of radiation. Having a glimpse of her at her level best, we’re not astonished that Dibs has a heart. Her empathy strikingly conveys cinematically by the superimposing over her face of the cancer cells from a scan. So engaged is she by soothing the pain in gently touching him, the dying man kisses Dibs and she responds in kind. In contrast, there is Monte, with light years away from wisdom, crudely insisting, “I have good genes.” He adds, “Stink, the usual stench. It gets me hard…” Dismissing such trash, she assures the victim she’ll dull his pain. “There is nothing to fear, I promise…” He responds, “Everything’s gonna’ be fine…” On the heels of that real confluence, she unfortunately declares, “No one to help me, as I’m helping you… No one to put me out of my misery… I’m alone with my guilt…” The man closest to death tries to say something. She puts her ear to his mouth. She inserts the poison, and she mourns the disappearance, more profound than a black hole.

Also getting him hard in this moment is a frail young Brit with a triangular tattoo on his neck and another one on his arm. He’s no Stephen Hawking (that celebrated black-hole-mathematically-sharp-gazer); but there is something about his irreverence and appetite for the flashy—following up Dibs at the earthquake room, and addressing her as, “Fucking cock block” –which is bound to be spectacular, if not tremendously substantive. In the wake of the long death throes, he wakes up in the middle of the night and discovers that he craves more dark stories. He comes to a three-woman bedroom and decides to rape Boyse. The ensuant disarray involves the tall skeptic wedded to the limits of control trying to help a figure who knows another field of dynamics. The former gets dragged out to the corridor and beaten senseless. Monte arrives and subdues the rapist; and while his attention is elsewhere in the chaos another woman with a knife stabs the troublemaker many fatal times, including ripping out his eyes.

Earlier on, there is a dip to our planet where a celebrity pundit conducts an interview with a Millennial journalist, around Boyse’s age. They’re sitting in First Class, and the subject is the flight and what a shame the physicists are on the wrong track to rehabilitate criminals. He’s particularly miffed that the space riders on the rapid move, with a vehicle resembling a ghetto Walmart, will never return to Earth. Dibs, though sleeping through the little war, is on the hook to elevate the tone she actually knows quite a bit about. (If she felt like it, she’d have pondered the syntheses flashing on the two triangular tattoos, and the triad of lights at the craft’s rear end.)  Beyond lockdowns she knows she needs some magic, being a witch, a bit more stable than the witch in The Seventh Seal, who, nevertheless, does better than the pundit. Sometime, perhaps prodigious speed-of-light later, she tip-toes to Monte’s bed and sort of rapes him. While he sleeps through the invasion, she pledges her love to him. She kisses his hand; she sucks his finger; she opens her blouse. “Will you hold me?” she whispers. “Why don’t you take me in your arms? I close my eyes. I hold you… Hold me…” She mounts him. “Feel me, Monte.” Astride, and a moment of far-sighted love, she kisses him. “Monte, thank you!” She carries the semen to the lab, places it in a vial, comes to Boyse’s bed, kisses her belly and introduces the semen. This singularity elicits a blaze of a galaxy tinted with pink hues.

   Soon after the violent targeting of Boyse, and quite a while before she’s pregnant, she’s with Dibs at the clinic. The witch remarks, “Not so easy to get inside you as you think…” Boyse, rather surprisingly, laments, “I’ll never have kids. I’m sure of it.” (That happens to be the same remark by Eve, a flakey and promiscuous wife, in Bergman’s film, Shame [1968].) The hardened cynic asks for confirmation that the controller killed her youngster. “With a knife!” is the answer. Countering her dismay, she moisturizes her hands and braids her remarkably long hair. Soon after Boyse, with a baby in an incubator and pouring out milk, there comes to her a storm of resentment concerning a looming loss of wildness. (Not so easy to get inside the you.) Dibs’ delight in this coup (Monte not yet up to speed) coincides with a close encounter of the first of many planned and completely daft “experiments” –perhaps a Trump-like administration in play—with a neighborhood of comic-based thrills. The skeptical blonde had been tagged to take one for the team, but Boyse, thinking that her best move would be a comic book finale, kills the intended and goes on to kill herself with a black entity demanding grown-up reflection.

There is a cordial black (perhaps a one-time traitor of “intelligence”) who shares the work of gardening, and who misses his gospel-based wife. His quirky will to die coincides with the outset of Monte’s tenure of parenting. Dibs, our protagonist’s not-quite-to-roll-on as a Marie to Monte’s Jof, due to her being assassinated by one of her many enemies, and according by him a dignified funeral in slow-motion upon the heavens, may have lost a new outlook on life. But Monte, that lucky stiff, shows us a possibility and a failed possibility of some measure. (As seen before the long, long flashback, there was now visibility about his visit to the multiplex’s morgue [with a complement awaiting a miracle], suiting them out and flushing them out to graces of dynamics they hardly knew. One other thing, he descends to a tantrum concerning the phenomenon of death there. Looks like overcoming eating your own shit is still a work in progress.)

As we begin to put an end to that early odd story, the witch’s singularity has overshot that noisy baby girl. (One moment back there, shows Monte opening the incubator door. He holds the baby and he smiles.) She’s an adolescent now, and the delight with the baby has been overrun by bothersome questions—a bothersome girl about that age having once been murdered by him. Monte’s first annoyance onscreen is that she insists upon sleeping with him. “Get outta here…Too heavy now…Go back to your own bunk… Crazy girl!” In her bunk she calls out, “Too far…”

Facing the day, we are struck by the shabbiness of their clothes and the craft’s interior. Will to live is on the line. The baby’s name is Willow. Their dilemma is extraordinary, but not unprecedented. How to go forward in what certainly appears to be a dead-end. (Boyse and her friends on the freight were about that.) Monte has become subdued; but he does now instinctively describe an acrobatic move with his hands. The ship is an eyesore, but in addition to its long history of essential emptiness, it continues to maintain three lights in triangular form. The Hawking departure went nowhere. But the magic of true dialectic was there for the asking. Willow is of a mind to say, “Looks like out.” The visit from “9” (perhaps, as mentioned, regarding Bergman’s film, The Passion of Anna [1969], where the title figure comes to light as a maniacal killer of farm animals) is probably unhelpful regarding their being between a rock and a hard place. (Moreover, there is the virtual date of 1959 for the Bergman film, The Magician, where a wizard is not.) But, then, beasts are not to be overlooked. Then there is the notice, on a dysfunctional apparatus, announcing, “Communication Error.” This barrier somehow drives Willow to realize, “We don’t need help.”

   In the brush with the dogs, Monte covers her eyes, guessing more slaughter to come. Its turning out to be merely sad sends her reverting to childishness. “I want a dog so bad!”  She calls him cruel for worrying about an epidemic, a plague. “What do you know about cruelty?” he snaps. (The plague being probably everywhere.) He retreats to the garden and washes up. She tells him, “You’re right, dad. I’m sorry. I have everything I need here…” (That couldn’t be right, could it?) The soundtrack rings out a far-reaching possibility. The undirected screen comes back to life, and delivers a Half-Time American Football marching band (perhaps not so far-reaching). He notices her in the disposition of praying. “What God are you praying to?” She explains, “I saw them on the random images from Earth. I just wanted to know how it feels. An event onscreen shoes the ancient blue and white Swedish flag, from the era of Jof and Marie. They have a view of another black hole.” “It’s like a mouth that just swallows up,” he says. “Too big.” she agrees. But she comes back with, “We should try it. To feel it” [Boyse felt it]. Monte’s hair is now pepper and salt. He quietly chides, “Thought we were supposed to be drifters.” (That couldn’t be right, could it?) She persists, “But it’s so big… I think the density is very low.” He shakes his head. “I believe it,” she concludes. Now they’re at the entry zone, setting up a two-seater, like the one Boyse commandeered. Something possesses her to add, “I’m sad you’d leave your data, even your prisoner list” [pedantry being a hard disease to beat]. In quite a mood swing, resembling her mother, she declares, “I’ll be destroyed by the fire wall of the black hole, anyway!” Now en route, she over activating the ways of acrobatics, she reports, “Here’s the fire wall. I know it. We’ll make it through.” From here to there, she turns to the super-quixotic: “Do I look like my mother?” [quite a question]. Since she clearly looks more like Monte [or Dibs] than Boyse, his answers, as to her mother’s features, are all no’s. He tells her she has rodent teeth… a little rat… But he grants her, “You’re special. You’re like no one else. I love that.” Their little ship has only two lights. The magic did not prevail. But there was some golden to love.

We then see a rapid re-spooling of scenes of defeat: the aboriginals; the garden; #7… With an oxygen level of appalment, the drama takes over, asking why did they shut down? True, there were mountains (as per Monte) to manage. But the second necessity, juggling, was hardly considered in this rocketing blaze of being a soloist, first and foremost.

This film’s underwhelming optics plays into that aberration. But its aural life brims with reverberance, a ripple of energy, wherein juggling comes to life, and that careless term, “the heavens,” comes onboard. Denis’ association with the British band, Tindersticks, has carried us to new frontiers of mood; and mood, whether acknowledged or not is pretty much everything. Sonic acrobatic initiatives and their juggling responsiveness-in-appreciation installs a work and play space to challenge the suicidal outcome in High Life. Were the last two standing fully aware of that dance of life, the radical confinement could have sustained duets and solos-not-so-definitively-solo.

Willow

Willow, where are you hiding now?

Willow, where are you hiding now?

In the dappled light, deep in the trees

The spiders and the centipedes

Crawl across your hands, across your knees.

Willow, do you walk across the sand?

Willow, do the waves crash and fall?

And their fingers tickle at your feet

And pull a little as they retreat.

Do you feel the rushing forward?

Though you’re standing still?

Willow, are we rushing forward, are we standing still?

Willow, are we rushing forward, are we standing still?

Willow, do you crouch among the rooftops?

Willow, do you listen to the city wheezing?

And your dreams, they stretch beyond the clouds

And past…

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tOHFktF5E1o

[auskultu]

Grand Old Nashville Sounds: They’re A-changin’

Donal Henahan, The New York Times, 22 October 1967

NASHVILLE — The old and the new are wrestling for the soul of American country music here this week and, as it has a way of doing, the new is coming out on top.

Change—in the music, in the booming industry that now lives off it, and in this state capital itself—dominated the scene as more than 4,000 disk jockeys, record-company workers, song writers and performers met for their annual Country Music Festival, a three-day event that ended today.

Chet Atkins, the guitar picker who runs the RCA Victor recording operation here, sitting in his office in the middle of what is variously called Tin Pan Valley and Music Row (16th, 17th and 18th Avenues), sums up much of the changing country-music picture. Like many of the big names here, Mr. Atkins is reputed to be “a millionaire many times over,” in the phrase used by an associate.

"Country music is much more sophisticated today,” Mr. Atkins said. “Sometimes it’s hard to tell except by the singer’s accent whether he’s trying to sing country music or something else.” The infiltration of rhythm and blues, folk rock, and electronic sounds have altered the older styles of country music. Unamplified music, such as Bluegrass, is almost dead, according to several Nashville experts.

Fans With Devotion Mr. Atkins, a diffident, tweedy, cigar-smoking man who collects guitars, lutes and other plucked instruments (there was a sitar in his well-appointed office), is regarded as a spokesman for the new sophistication.

“I tried something pretty new myself in my latest album. It’s a classic guitar collection, tuneful little pieces by composers like Ponce and Tierrega, along with other nice tunes like Schubert’s ‘Ave Maria.’ It’s called ‘Class Guitar.’ It scares me, though. I wouldn’t want to lose my country fans.

"But lucky for us, these people have devotion. Once they dig you, they’re yours forever unless you do something awful, like being continually rude or French furniture and a variety of paintings are also listed, not showing up at personal appearances.”

Country musicians do break out Eddy Arnold is not at this year’s festival because “he is in the third week of a three-week engagement at the Coconut Grove in Los Angeles,” according to Mr. Atkins, “and breaking them up.” Mr. Arnold is said to be the richest man ini country music. “In a world of wealthy men, he is a really wealthy man,” said Tandy Rice, a freelance publicity man.

The Country’s Backbone Mr. Rice was one who did not think change was yet fully upon country music. “It’s still like the Yukon. All these somebodies are first-generation.”

“Of course, it’s going to happen. Bound to. But right now, country music is stable, like the backbone of this great country. The lyrics are simple, and sincere, not about civil rights and such.

“These folks don’t go for the Bob Dylan, Joan Baez kind of thing. The lyrics are about what concerns everyday folks. No, Nashville is not about to go to Hippieland. [As the Byrds would shortly find out — auskultu] Take Roger Miller. His ‘King of the Road’ was for easy going people.”

Down in Tin Pan Valley, Buddy Killen, vice president of the Tree Publishing Company, which now has music-publishing offices in 12 foreign counries, including Japan and Czechoslavakia, took a slightly different view. “The basic in gradient is still simplicity. Some idea that appeals to everybody—triangles, being broke, heartbreak. Everybody loves somebody, you know, and most everyone has been barefoot.

“But where a farmer used to listen to the radio once a week, on Saturday night, now he has a transistor strapped right on his tractor and listens all day long.”

An Underlying Theme The lyrics are not so simple anymore, either. Even the uptempo melodies have an underlying sad theme.

“A good example is Roger Miller’s ‘Dang Me.’ Just listen to these words,” Mr. Killen said:

Dang me Here I sit high gettin’ ideas  Ain't nothin' but a fool could live like this Out all nite runnin’ wild Woman sittin’ home with a month-old child. Dang me, dang me. They oughta take a rope and hang me. 

Mr. Killen raised his eyebrows. “Funny? Simple? No, not if you listen to the words. But whether they’re funny or sad, it’s life that country lyrics are talking about.”

Despite the nostalgic view, not much about country music or Nashville, its capital, is all that simple anymore. One of the week’s major events was the opening of a new business, the Minnie Pearl Fried Chicken System, Inc. Miss Pearl, a happy-faced veteran of the Grand OIe Opry, presided over a fried chicken luncheon at the Municipal Auditorium that featured many country entertainers. Patrons stretched off in all directions, the whole scene resembling a national political convention in full caucus.

A Changing Town Roy Acuff, on hand to help Minnie launch her business venture, smiled. “Those were the days.” Mr. Acuff, a small, grayhaired man wearing a maroon button-up sweater, baggy pants and old shoes, looked like the stereotype of the old order.

The Nashville that is host to the country music industry this week is changing fast, too. A new law that legalizes “liquor by the drink” (instead of by the bottle at package stores) goes into effect next month, and “should make a great change for the better in this town,” in the view of Boud-leaux Bryant, a mustachioed song writer. Nashville still can get excited about the opening of a new fried-chicken store, or a four-story luxury motel (the Ramada Inn), or the prospect of open drinking.

Behind the folksy facade, sophistication lurks. In the RCA-Victor studio on 17th Avenue, a 20-year-old blonde named Lynn Anderson sits dubbing lyrics to "Too Much of You” over a musical soundtrack. Her mother and father, Liz and Casey Anderson of Grand Forks, N. D., watch fondly. It is a homey scene, but one learns that mother is a successful songwriter, and that Lynn is a regular on the Lawrence Welk television show, and lives in Hollywood.

Such discoveries come thick and fast. Roy Horton, the jovial, outgoing president of the Country Music Association, winds up a conversation by inviting one to visit him in his offices at 1619 Broadway, New York. Homer and Jethro, the hillbilly comedians, live in Chicago. A new magazine appearing at the festival, called Country, is published by Curtis.

But, perhaps most symptomatic of all, the major event jof Thursday night, the Broadcast Music Awards Dinner, was held, not downtown at the Andrew Jackson Hotel, where the disk jockeys and artists gamboled far into the night, but at the Belle Meade Country Club. It was strictly black-tie. Country dress not optional.

[365days365movies]

March 11, 2021: The Seventh Seal (1957) (Part One)

Well, I did Cocteau this month already, so...time for another big boi director, I guess.

I’m sorry for me, too, because this one scares me a little more than Cocteau.

Ingmar Bergman. One of the greatest directors of all time, and the only prominent Swedish director that I’ve ever heard of. Also someone whom I’m DEFINITELY not qualified to judge, but here we are anyway.

Best known for Persona, Fanny and Alexander, and...one more movie, Bergman was an EXTREMELY prolific director, and far more influential on global film than you or I know. Seriously, dude influenced everyone from Martin Scorcese to Terry Jones to Peter Hewitt in one way or another. He’s passed away, as of 2007, at the age of 89. And speaking of Death...

There have been a LOT of incarnations of Death in media. Hell, we literally looked at one two movies ago, in Orpheus. You could argue that Ugetsu also revolved around death, but I’m talking about Death, the physical embodiment of the concept.

Now, the most common incarnation seen is the Grim Reaper (pictured above), but there are MANY other well-known versions. Here, have a few different versions, just for taste.

Yeah, that’s a lot. Kudos if you knew all of them! But that last one...I mentioned Peter Hewitt earlier. He directed Bill and Ted’s Bogus Journey, and in it, the two meet that films version of Death, a Swedish-accented ghoul. And if you’ve ever wondered about that, or about this joke from the opening song of Muppets: Most Wanted:

...Well, keep reading. Like I said, Bergman was influential, and perhaps NONE of his films was quite as influential as The Seventh Seal or Det sjunde ingelet. Welcome to a show about Death.

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (1/2)

ONCE AGAIN, The Criterion Collection logo brings us in, followed by the opening credits and music from that should accompany a Dark Souls boss, followed by a quote from Revelation 8:1-6, about the opening of the Seventh Seal. Roll credits?

Well, no. Instead, on the shore of the Atlantic Ocean, we meet a knight, resting there and praying to God, as his horses drink from the salt water. This is Antonius Block (Max von Sydow), a knight who is resting here with his squire, Jöns (Gunnar Björnstrand). As Block takes out his chess set, he is joined by...

ALREADY?

Holy shit, I didn’t expect this scene to happen FOUR MINUTES IN??? Dear Lord, if this is happening now, what the hell is the rest of this movie? I am afraid of that answer now.

Anyway, yes, this is Death (Bengt Ekerot). And yeah, dude is indeed a CREEPY motherfucker. He’s been at Block’s side for a long time, but has now finally come for him, at last.

However, Block, ever clever knight that he is, capitalizes on rumors that he’s heard about the character, and challenges him to a game of chess. They start, with Block playing white and Death playing black.

But as they’re about to begin, we cut to Block and Jöns leaving the beach. Huh. OK then, I guess we’ll get back to that, huh? Jöns speaks of ill omens, and they see a pair of corpses, rotted after a long time dead. As their journey continues, we shift focus from them to a small group of actors in a caravan.

One of these actors - Jof (Nils Poppe) - sees a vision of a woman walking with her infant child, as angelic music plays in the background. He runs back to the caravan, where he wakes the sleeping Mia (Bibi Andersson), his wife. He tells her that this was the Virgin Mary and her baby boy, Jesus. Um...wow. Holy shit, my man.

Mia takes her husband’s vision as his active imagination, while he takes it as pure fact. Apparently, he’s very prone to having these kinds of visions. Mia warns him to tamp those visions down, or people will think him a fool. All of this rouses both fellow actor Jonas Skat (Erik Strandmark), and Jöns and Mia’s infant son Mikael (a cute chubby baby).

The troupe is on their way to Einsmore, performing for a group of priests. They will perform in a play about Death, once again making me think about Beetlejuice the Musical, which is really need to watch.

Block and Jöns arrive at a church, where real-world painter Albertus Pictor (Gunnar Olsson) is painting a Danse Macabre. Jöns asks why paint something so...well, macabre, and Pictor notes that it’s not a bad thing to remind people that they will die. This is especially as the Black Plague sweeps across Europe. YUP. IT’S THAT TIME PERIOD.

The two speak more on the absolute HORROR of the Bubonic Plague, a topic that clearly bothers Jöns. Meanwhile, Block goes to pray in a confessional, where he reveals that he doesn’t truly understand the point of prayer in this world. He’s clearly struggling with his faith, which must be HELL for a knight. And he delivers these confessions to his ever-present companion: Death.

Block wants God to speak to him directly, and questions whether or not God truly exists. He wants to do one last, meaningful thing before he meets his inevitable end. Block hasn’t yet realized that he’s speaking with Death, and openly talks about the chess game they began that morning. Death replies that they will continue their game in a nearby inn. This is how Block intends to prolong his own life.

He goes back out to meet Jöns, who’s still speaking with the painter, and the two leave the church. Directly outside, a woman is in the stocks, and is preparing to be burnt at the stake for learning carnal knowledge of Satan. She’s also being blamed for being the cause of the Black Plague itself. Just gotta say, big if true, goddamn. Black wants to know if she’s met the Devil himself, but she’s not quite all there.

Block and Jöns continue their journey, making their way from farmlands. Jöns goes into one of the barns in a village, where a dead body lies. He then hides as another man enters, and steals jewelry from the woman’s corpse. This is Raval (Bertil Anderberg), and he’s quickly caught in the act by a mute woman (Gunnel Lindblom).

However, before he can do anything to this poor girl, he’s stopped by Jöns, who recognizes him from the seminary, ten years prior. He tells him to shove off, and offers the mute woman a place as his housekeeper. And, uh...yeah, Jöns is kind of a dick, but more of a cad, y’know? He’s not likeable, but he also isn’t hateable.

In town, the actors’ troupe is performing, and the leader of the troupe - Skat - is seduced by a woman during the performance, and they have sex in the bushes behind the stage. As all of this is happening, the performance is interrupted by a group of flagellants, extremist priests that whip themselves and parade through the town, showing their extreme devotion to their faith. Fuckin’ yikes, this is a thing that ACTUALLY HAPPENED.

And as these people, devoted in their faith and pain, march through the town, the townspeople are moved to tears by this act. And this act has real blood, sweat, and tears poured into it. The head priest of the parade then gives a fatalist sermon to the townsfolk, noting that death will come for them all with the plague, and berating them for their seeming ignorance of their fate.

And dude is MEAN. He mocks people’s appearance, and screams to all of them that they’re doomed, and will die painful deaths. Watching on is not only the actors’ troupe, but also Block, Jöns, and the mute girl (yeah, she never gets a name, goddamn it). The pain parade moves on, singing their solemn hymns all the way. And I’m not gonna lie...it’s intense. Especially knowing that this shit actually HAPPENED? Damn.

Once they pass, Jöns notes his disbelief at this display, never believing how far people will go, or the stories that they’ll tell. He’s interrupted by blacksmith Plog (Åke Fridell), who’s looking for his wife. Meanwhile, inside, a group of townspeople talk about the spreading plague, and wonder if this is the end times indeed. Plog comes in and asks Jof where his wife is. He also doesn’t know, but it’s revealed that this is the woman that Skat ran off with in the bushes. The conversation is joined by thief Raval, who outs Jof as an actor, and a friend of Skat.

Raval and Plog both threaten him for information on Skat and Lisa’s whereabouts, and humiliate him in front of the entire tavern. It’s actually quite hard to watch as well. This poor, poor guy, who seems like a nice enough dude, is essentally tortured for the transgressions of his asshole friend. But it’s interrupted by Jöns, who stops Raval in his tracks, and slashes his face, which he said he’d do if he ever saw him again.

Excellent spot for Part 2, I think! See you there!

[cogentranting]

In my opinion- you're right there was no right answer with the lie. However for myself, that isn't what Oliver did that was awful. It was the big proposal and then the let's move up the wedding he had no right way out but samantha didn't tell him to propose and then to ask to move up the wedding. Was he scared to lose her? How was he going to explain any jof this? For a smart man he showed no planning? It could be he was trying to make her not leave but then isn't that not trusting

Yeah I’ve talked before (I have no idea on what post- I think it was like an addition in response to a comment or something like that. Edit: I  found it here) about how his biggest mistake in it all was the proposal. And that one is a little trickier to deal with. 

I think that while the initial decision to lie was about not trusting himself, this one has only a small element of that. So why did Oliver make the decision to propose when that’s kind of a really dumb move? 

1- Felicity asked him to. Now, clearly, Felicity didn’t know the issues and the reasons why he shouldn’t have and all that. But nonetheless she did pretty much come to him and say “you should propose”. So there’s this element of pressure and temptation. He wants to marry her, she saying she wants to marry him, he’s just spent the episode in fear of losing her (not in a her leaving sense. in a ‘murdered by a supervillain’ sense) and wants to bring her closer, he wants to do what he can to make her happy especially in light of what just happened and what’s about to happen (kidnapping and then paralysis) he wants to give her everything he has to reassure her and that happens to be marriage at this moment. And again we have a little bit Oliver not trusting his own judgment- he had decided not to propose yet. He mentions only the changes that occurred with the move back to Star City, but William could well be a part of it that he couldn’t mention. But his judgment isn’t good enough, and Felicity is standing there telling him “let’s do this” and he caves. 

2- Oliver doesn’t view lies the same way others do, including Felicity. I’ve talked at length about his before here. Basically Oliver doesn’t view lies as inherently wrong, even to people he cares about. Truth and lies are tools to Oliver and he can express his love with both. So there’s an element of Oliver that knows he shouldn’t lie to Felicity about this, but there’s also another side that sees the lie as a functional necessity with little to no reflection on his relationship with Felicity. It’s the same mindset that has allowed him to start relationships with people who don’t know he’s the Arrow- he’s lying to them yes but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care about them, it has nothing to do with them. So Oliver is at times going to operate without the sense of “this lie between us should prevent me from doing this thing”. Because in a very real sense it doesn’t matter to him in the same way it would matter to other people. So Oliver’s beliefs make the gravity of the proposal less. 

3-  Oliver tells Felicity that he thought that eventually Samantha would let him tell about William and he could bring Felicity in. And on the one hand this makes me say more strongly, he definitely should have waited on the proposal for this eventuality. On the other hand, it seems that Oliver saw it as an issue that would resolve itself with time and that didn’t need to be paid the same consideration it would otherwise have needed. This problem is temporary so I don’t need to change my behavior because of it. (The other, separate option is that Oliver had this thought in his mind as a justification, but deep down didn’t believe it. Because he didn’t trust himself and thus didn’t believe in his own worth, he never thought Samantha would fully let him in to William’s life. And because of that, he felt he couldn’t put his life and his relationships on hold waiting for something that would never come.)

EDIT: The proposal is also a part of the somewhat wonky season 4 characterization. Season 4 Oliver is suddenly very happy, upbeat, positive, supposedly very emotionally healthy. And it just doesn’t fit within his larger arc, especially considering right up until the very end of season 3 he was planning a suicide mission.  Season 4 is Oliver trying to heal but covering up and ignoring his issues. and being affirmed in that every step of the way. The issues are all still there but Oliver is smiling and pretending to thrive in domestic life as if his ptsd is not still very much a part of him. And everyone just accepts that he’s healthy now and seems to like him better for it. It seems to work. So Oliver addresses the William issue in the same way. He pretends the lie isn’t there, pretends his relationship with Felicity has no issues and just focuses on the positives. Which leads him to propose and leads him to move up the wedding. And leads to it all coming crashing down that much harder when the time comes. (sidenote: this facade is why season 5 was all about digging deep and rooting out the issues where they first began)

None of this is to say that Oliver proposing was the right thing to do. I agree that the proposal was his biggest mistake in the events. These things are just why it happened. Why a smart man would act with so little forethought. Why a caring man would show so little caution.  And I don’t think lack of love, respect or trust for Felicity plays any part in it. 

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