#like this smith is good enough to be sending a sword To The Royal Family Of Hyrule

[the-fiction-witch]

You are not a Queen. You are The Queen. My Queen.

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Aegon Targaryen Couple - Aegon X Reader Reader - Alysanne Targaryen (Daughter of Rhaenyra, wife of Aegon) Rating - Sweet AF Word Count - 2437

The carriage bumped and bustled through the king's landing streets, the crack of the whip of the horses echoing in the mad rush. 

Alicent sat across the carriage in her impressive green dress, with golden chains and symbols of the faith of the seven. The crown she has always worn as queen nettled in her brown hair with her veil trailing down her back. She sighs and hardens herself for what must be done. 

Aegon sits dressed in his finery even if he shivered and he slightly cried trying to think of any way he could escape this fate. "Do you love me?" He asked his mother his voice plaid it like a joke but she didn't know the strength it took for him to utter those four words, and the deep tethers within him that those words and her answer would hold. 

"You imbecile," she shook her head, 

Her answer was enough of an answer for him to understand, but he felt compelled to speak once more, "Where is Alysanne?"

For a moment there was silence, and it spoke more than her words ever could, but after a time she speaks, "I send word for her but she could not be fetched. We couldn't wait."

He chuckled, "She is my wife." He glared, "We couldn't wait five minutes for her?" 

"every moment we wait risks the wrath of dragon stone."

"Yet you had time to change your dress?" he glared, 

"She would remain where she is safe, with the children." 

"So if Rhynera comes to burn the red keep we will all be in the dragon pit, except my wife who is in the red keep." 

"That is not what I intended-"

"Maybe not but its a helpful circumstance," 

"We should not speak of this," 

Aegon tried to protest but they arrived at the dragon pit, before anyone had much time to think Aegon was forced from the carriage and taken inside no matter his arguments.

The High Septom prepared the oils as the smallfolk were forced through the streets and ushered into the dragon pit until it was full, A small stage was set up with Alicent, Otto, Cristen, Helena and Aemond all waiting, preparing for this moment. 

Otto steps out to address the crowd, "King's Landing! Today is the saddest of days! Our beloved king, Viserys the peaceful... is dead!"

Muttering of shock comes from the crowd, 

"But it is also the most joyous of days!" he continues, "For as his spirit left us, he whispered his final wish that his firstborn son Aegon should succeed him"

more muttering but soon applause echos through the dragon pit, 

Members of the city watch rush the dragon pit pushing smallfolk as they do, they make a path to the stage half to keep smallfolk out, and half to keep aegon in. Horns ring out in royal tones as the armoured men raise their swords. 

Aegon does not wish to do this but he is forced out, so he takes slow and gradual steps a tear slipping from his eye as he begins the walk, the swords dropping behind him one by one, Each step makes him want to run, makes him want to fight his way out but with each one he is cementing his fate. 

His family's fate. 

His people's fate. 

His city's fate. 

His realm's fate.

He glances back and sees the swords are preventing his way, he really has no way back now. 

He holds 

"It is your good, great fortune to be here, to witness this. A new day for our city. A new day for our realm. a new king to lead us." 

He looks up and meets eyes with his mother a rage boiled inside him, that all this was her doing. 

When he climbed the steps she came and held his cheeks kissing his forehead, leading him by the hand to the Steptom of the faith of the seven. 

He looks to Otto who two gives him no choice he simply nods to him,

So Aegon kneels, 

silence rings out, 

"May the warrior give him courage, may the smith lend strength to his sword and shield, may the father defend him in his need, may the crone lift her shining lantern and shin his way to wisdom." the Septom says and with each anoints his head with oil, 

The crown is then taken from its pillow. The crown of Aegon the conqueror, sharp spikes of Valyrian steel with gems and jewels of finery. 

"The crown of the conqueror, past down through generations." Sir Criston takes the crown and places it on Aegons head even if the crown doesn't fit him right, "Let the seven bear witness, Aegon Targaryen is the true heir to the iron throne." 

For the first time in what feels like hours, Aegon lets out a breath, feeling the weight of the crown on his head, he gets to his feet and looks to everyone in attendance seeing how each bows to him,

"All hail his grace! Aegon second of his name, king of the Andals the Roynar and the First Men. Lord of the seven kingdoms and protector of the realm!" 

The bells toll out as cheers erupt for him, 

Aegon looks out to see the faces of all those who cheer, all those who look at him with joy, none of them know the death and destruction he brings. But even so, he can't help but feel a pride, and a swell of his ego as he takes Blackfyre from his belt and thrusts it into the air. For a moment he is swept up in his own family's pageantry and feels a joy to be king. 

But it doesn't last, as a rumble comes from below and suddenly dust and stone erupt up from the floor of the pit, people scream and try to run but there is no way to get away as the floor crumbles under their feet the red queen comes though the floor the dragon crushing smallfolk and killing hundreds in her wake otto tries to demand the doors to be opened but people are already dying, as Rhaenys sits on top of her dragon as the dust clears.

Alicent jumps in front of Aegon putting herself between the dragon and him,

The Red Queen screeched at everyone before turning and flying out and away into the sky. 

Aegon remains in the dragon pit, the pageantry of the moment long faded, the true death toll of his day hitting him, the weight of the sword in his hand and the crown on his head causing him to ache. He had such conflict in his heart, as he truly thought it all though. 

He never wanted this... and yet it was done. 

He never thought he was the heir... yet now the crown rests on his head.

His coronation... left hundreds dead. 

This moment... had surely begun a war that would tear apart his family, his realm, his house and all that he held dear. 

And in all of it, he stands alone, or so he thinks. 

Alysanne walks the up the stairs he walked up, her eyes looking only at him. Her gown is a body of green velvet, with silver threat lacing the bodice, black leather sleeves tight to her skin all the way to her wrists, a large skirt of green velvet with black flames embodied on the bottom, a long cape from her shoulders of a sheer black fabric cut like dragon wings. Her hands behind her back as she reaches the stage, she bows to him dipping her knees and lowering her head before her eyes meet his once more. 

His wife, in this moment, she is the light in this darkness. but there is so much sadness in him as he looks at her starlight eyes. 

"I am sorry Alysanne," He told her, 

"I hardly believed it to be true," she began, "Once word reached me." 

He felt unable to speak,

"Oh Aegon..." she said, "what have you let your mother do to you?"

Aegon looks at her with a mixture of guilt and shame, his throat tightens with emotion as he takes in her words. "I didn't have a choice,"

"I know." she nodded, "You are the king," She said almost not believing her own words,

He looks away, his mind filled with sorrow and anger, he is king, but he isn't happy. "This... already ways heavily on me... I cannot carry it alone." 

"If you are a king... I suppose that makes me a queen," 

He feels the weight lift a little, to know that she is beside him in this, "I am not a King. I am the king. You are not a queen. You are The queen. My Queen." he gives her an affectionate smile,

"so it would seem," A smile escapes her, but soon fails, "what- What is to happen to our children?" Her voice was full of fear,

Aegon's heart sinks as she asks, he knows his children are in danger, he feels already like he has failed them and his wife, he knows no matter what he can't protect them from this. "I do not know..."

"Forgive me, I should not sour your victory with my concerns."

"You should, concerns are now my most important matters." He told her, "I am sorry Alysanne, truly, I wanted to share this moment with you more than anyone. I am so sorry you were left behind,"

"... well, it's over now. it doesn't matter."

"It does. you are my queen and the fact you where not beside me for this moment... it breaks my heart."

"I admit... I am upset. that your mother had called this, not just for the politics and the show of the realm but... she wore her finest dress, her gold and her jewels, brought your family here, coronated you in front of thousands, gave you a crown, a sword, and the title of king... and I. Was left at the red keep with our children. Like a nursemaid." she explained, "I wish I could have been here is all..." 

He felt his blood boil that she felt this way, he took her hand and squeezed it, "I wish you could have been here, I wanted this to be for us. I wanted to take the crown with you by my side to take your own. I wanted our children to be here to witness the crown that may one day be theirs. and my mother robbed us of that... I am sorry, truly sorry. and I know I can never repay the injustice done to you." he explained, "You are my queen... and... you do not even have a crown." 

"I do." she said, as she revealed her other hand, "She gave me this when they arrived back to the red keep." she said and in her hand sat a small tiara of gold and green. No larger than a hair clip, and for a moment he remembers the crown his mother had worn today a large headband of gold and emeralds His own wife. His queen. Was tossed a crown, Without even being given a coronation. "I... I hardly wish to wear it at all... seems... foolish," 

Aegon stares at the tiny tiara and feels an intense surge of anger at the treatment his wife has received. It is a reminder of her insignificance in his mother's eyes, and it hurts him deeply. But he doesn't want her to be sad, he wants her to be proud of her new station. He looks at her, her face filled with a mixture of anger and sadness, and he doesn't want her to feel that way. He wants to make her happy and to make her feel wanted and accepted. "Wear it." He says, firm but gentle. His voice is a command, but also an appeal. He wants her to wear this crown, to let the world know that she is his wife and his Queen and that he is proud of her. He wants everyone to know that she is the Queen, no matter what his mother says or does. 

"There's no point..."

"Here," He takes her by the hand and tugs her with him to stand in front of the banners, he takes the small tiara from her and smiles, he gives it a clean on his shirt to make sure no fingerprints are on it before he does is most epic and dramatic voice for her, "May the warrior give her courage, may the smith lend strength to her sword and shield, may the father defend her in her need, may the crone lift her shining lantern and shin her way to wisdom. May the mother be an ever-sweet light in her life, may the maiden keep her safe, and may the stranger's visits be few," He explained, "The crown of ... uhh... the most beautiful of queens," he makes up as this crown had no name, 

she chuckles at him and he gently but sweetly presses the tiara into her hair, crowning her as his queen, his hands run down her hair and he kisses her lips softly, 

"Let the seven bear witness, Alysanne Targaryen queen of the seven kingdoms." he proclaimed, "All hail her grace! Alysanne Targaryen, queen of the Andals the Roynar and the First Men. lady of the seven kingdoms, protector of the realm, beloved bride and mother. My queen. My sweet queen," he cooed, 

"Thank you Aegon," she smiled, 

"You're welcome, and I promise you. You shall have a crown more worthy of your beauty and title." He smiled, 

"I think we have more pressing matters than a crown Aegon," she said,

"True," He nodded as his heart sank, "... you said once, not long after our children were born, that perhaps it would be best to cut or losses, to fly to Dragonstone with the children to meet with your mother, to cleave to your mother and beg for her mercy." 

she shook her head, "... it's too late for that Aegon, no matter what side we are on. Blood will be spilt, and the only way to keep our children alive is to be on a side of our own." 

He nodded and briefly smiled, "You took to talking queen fast," He chuckled, 

She smiled, "Aegon darling, I have been talking and acting like a queen for as long as I can remember. Our family ensured that. Come. The children wish to see their new king, and we have much to do." she explained taking his arm, he nodded and squeezed her hand happily walking with her even if the two were beyond scared of what now was to be done. 

[pocketramblr]

ok genuinely tho why does a human smith from a forest-isolated ranch outside of this kingdom have a “long connection” with a group of freak vigilantes inside of hyrule, including a former royal tutor and an absolute hero lore nerd. rusl what the hell is your backstory.

[succulentsunrise]

Where the Fire Lilies Grow

Content: SFW!

It took me a while, but it’s here! The first meeting of Tani and Mereo 🥰 I hope you guys like it!

Note: I am using the manga’s timeline, where as far as I’ve understood, the Royal Knights are gathered and sent out during the same day.

Tag list: @thoughtfullyrainynightmare, @lyranova ❤️

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Chapter 5: Petunias & Peril

“So, I love you because the entire universe conspired to help me find you.” Paulo Coelho

Three days had passed since the Royal Knights Examination. Tani had headed to her parents right after it had ended, and had stayed there for the whole time. Her family had happily welcomed her. Her parents, Kinra and Gawi, were childhood sweethearts, having bonded over strong work ethics and love for gardening. Tani’s mother was never still: whether it was gardening, working, cleaning or knitting, she was always doing something with her hands. Gawi, Tani’s father, was a talkative and cheerful man out of work, and grim and quiet while mining. Helee, her younger sister, had inherited their mother’s need to be constantly doing something, but instead of gardening, she crafted things. As iron was her attribute, like it was their mother’s, she found great joy in smithing and working with metals. It had been a while since Tani had been home. There were many questions, but she avoided telling why she had come to visit. Instead, she kept in contact with her friends, having told them to forward her any letters that arrived in her name. Icree had promised to keep an eye out, and so Tani had nervously waited every day for any news.

On the third day, while Tani’s family was working, the fateful letter arrived - but it was not an invitation to the Royal Knights. It was a letter written by Icree, telling her that Fragil had been chosen. No letter had arrived for Tani. She slowly put the letter on the table, not wanting to look at it. Irrationally, it took her less than a minute to pick it up and read through it again. A sinking feeling in her stomach brought tears alongside it. Tani wiped them quickly away and got up,  desperately trying to find something to do that would stop her from thinking too much. She tried several things: cleaning, reading, looking at the letter again. Nothing worked. Eventually she wandered to the small garden that her parents kept. Determined to push her frustration and sorrow somewhere, she began picking weeds from the garden. It was simple, something she knew how to do. It allowed her to let out her frustration in peace. She just wanted to be distracted from her failure. Her powers had not impressed anyone. She had not impressed anyone. Maybe if she had had a better team - maybe if she had not needed to use all her mana - maybe she would have succeeded. Tani inhaled sharply and wiped her nose. She wanted to go and be part of the strike team, to protect Clover Kingdom. She wanted to be sure that she could tell the scared citizens that the threat would have been at least minimized in some capacity. She wanted to take action. Sitting still had never been a talent in her family. Tani picked at the flowers for quite some time before rising her head to look around her. The sun was slowly moving behind the horizon, colouring the sky in shades of red and orange. Somewhere in the streets, children were running and playing together. People passed by in peace, talking to each other. It was comforting. Tani’s tense posture relaxed a little as her gaze passed over them. Even if she wasn’t chosen, she���d stay ready to protect this place. These people. She would keep them safe. Her gaze moved to the potted petunias that were drooping. Mother had probably watered them too much again. The bright petals were beautiful, but the collection of brown leaves and stems were worrying. Tani moved her fingers over the stems, gently healing and nurturing the flower. Its dying parts were reborn with magic, restored to their previous glory. It was something her magic excelled in.

A sudden exclamation caught Tani’s attention. Rising her gaze from the flowers, she saw something move in the sky. Blinding lights had appeared all above the town, if not further, in the shape of swords. They were everywhere. For that split second, they seemed to just hang there, defying gravity. Then, they began to fall. Time seemed to stop for Tani. Her heart was caught up in her throat at the sight. People stared above them in wonder. There was no time to react. There was no time to run or become properly scared. The swords’ descent was incredibly fast. Tani could barely begin lifting her arm before the light reached her. Then - nothing. The swords above her, ready to plunge and slaughter, had stopped mere inches away from her. Slowly, almost mechanically, the light began to retract. Another glyph of magic in the sky seemed to be sucking them back in, forcing them to repeat their previous trajectories in reverse. Tani’s magic caught up finally to the motion of her arm, creating a wall of ivy where she stood, way too late to protect her if the lights hadn’t been dispersed. Her heart was beating fast - she felt like the only thing she could hear were the cries of the children and the rush of her own blood. Hastily, stumbling over her own feet, she left the ivy out there in the garden, rushing to the entrance of the house. There she grabbed her broom and hurried out, giving the sky a quick glance. The sun was still setting. If not for the commotion in the streets, the view would have been as peaceful as before. There was no sign of the swords or any other magic. Tani quickly mounted her broom and rose to the air. Her hands shook violently. She had no time to consider what had happened - she had to get back to her squad and figure out what orders they had. She needed to figure out what had happened. The wind felt good against her face, even as the broom trembled with her usually careful magic now in turmoil. The fear that had settled in the bottom of her stomach was not leaving. She did not know anyone who used light magic. She had a feeling like she had forgotten something - something important. She couldn’t remember what it was. Perhaps someone at the Azure Deer would have answers.

When Tani landed on the front courtyard of the headquarters, the sun had already fallen behind the mountains. There was an eerie light coming from beyond the horizon, paler than any sunlight. Perhaps whoever created those swords of light before was now there, fighting someone else than the kingdom. It was wishful thinking. A loud sound of breaking stone and clattering from inside the building made her twitch. Tani abandoned the broom where it was and began running inside. It sounded like there was trouble even here. Her legs felt shaky still. As she approached, she could only hear a pained scream from inside, as if someone was suffering immensely. The strange thing was - it did not stop. It was constant, grief-stricken wail. There were no breaks for breath, no sobs, nothing. The moment Tani stepped inside, it assaulted her ears with its piercing shrillness. She managed to wonder how she hadn’t heard it better in the courtyard, before another barely audible impact cut her thought short. It came from the direction of the mess hall. Tani hurried there, rising her hands over her ears. The screaming became louder and louder the closer she got. Through the door to the hall, she could see two bodies lying near a wall, crumpled to the ground. She was about to rush to their side, but the origin of the piercing noise entered her view as she stepped properly into the mess hall. In the middle of the space stood a girl with long, purple hair floating freely, out of its usual ponytail. Her soft, dark eyes were filled with disgust and contempt. Two red, tattoo-like lines were drawn from her eyes to her cheeks, as if tears. Her mouth was open in a horrendous, almost desperate scream. Blood was splattered on her face and clothes, most likely from her own injuries. All around the girl were thrown around bodies of magic knights. Only three were left standing: Francis, Icree and Luka. They were protected by a large, golden sculpture of a pheasant that had unfurled its wings to protect them. Orange and black butterflies were fluttering above them. All three of them were holding hands over their ears. Tani tried to shout to them, but her voice was drowned out. The noise was quite frankly giving her a headache and nausea. Even as she tried to take a step towards them, her vision wobbled.

“Stop it, Kliodna!”, she shouted, futilely.

The girl’s cold eyes turned to her. There was such hate in them - it made the girl not look like herself. Then, she stopped. Tani could see that she was out of breath from the shouting, her panting loud and pained in the sudden silence. Then, rather quickly, she started to advance towards Tani.

“Tani, be careful!” Francis shouted, and a wall of water appeared between her and the girl.

“Don’t!” Icree’s voice cut sharply, stress and annoyance clear in it.

The purple-haired girl opened her mouth again, the grimoire in front of her opening to another page.

“「Shockwave」,” her hoarse voice whispered with transparent malice.

Tani’s grimoire flew open in front of her, as she attempted to counter it, but she wasn’t quick enough. She could hear the scream begin again, starting to manipulate and force Francis’ water wall towards her with violent force  - and then, a swarm of monarch butterflies wrapped around her and protected her.

“「Ginkgo’s Embrace」,” Tani shouted, holding her ears.

The strong roots of the ginkgo tree wrapped around her own legs, holding her in place even as the scream created waves that threatened to send her flying. Behind the girl, the sculpted pheasant divided into two jackals. Luka’s magic was elegant as always, but he looked battered. The purple-haired girl turned her head instantly, picking up on his mana. The butterflies that had swarmed around Tani flew back to their caster, Icree, as the screaming stopped again.

“You humans,” the girl said suddenly, her voice grovely and angry. “You think you have the right to fight for survival, when you didn’t give us the chance.”

“Kliodna, what are you talking about?” Tani asked, her heart still racing from the danger she had been in. “Why are you fighting us?”

Icree did not wait for an answer. She cast another spell behind them, rising to air with large butterfly-like wings. Tani knew that this spell of hers was often used in countering other types of magic. Icree was most likely planning to try to mitigate the effects of the next scream. Luka’s jackals began running towards the girl, hunting their prey. Tani started to carefully mask her mana, hoping to be able to bind the girl without hurting her while the other two had her attention. To do so, Tani would have to catch her by surprise. If she was allowed to scream for long, the fight would turn ugly for all of them.

“I hate all of you,” the girl continued, her voice raising. “I hate you, I hate you, I HATE YOU!”

The last word turned into a loud screech again, as if she was letting out decades of hate and grief. The sculpted jackals, bouncing towards her, were shattered in an instant. Another wave of sound washed over all of them, pushing even Icree with her wings further away. Only Tani stayed near, her roots stable and enduring. It wasn’t necessarily a good thing, however. She was too close - the scream caused immediate dizziness to her, gnawing at her concentration and consciousness. As she pressed her fingers against her ears, she could see Icree force her way through the waves of sound. Small flakes of mana began falling from her wings, as Icree’s spell activated, dampening the effect of the screech. Tani acted quickly. The roots slithered from her own legs to the girl’s, climbing and twisting around her body to form a thin tree. It covered the girl completely, wrapping around her tighter than the spell usually did. Its thin, fan-like leaves moved only slightly in the newfound silence. The four of them looked at each other in brief relief.

“It’s not Kliodna,” Francis said quickly, getting up from where he had fallen. “She said so, at least. Said she was an elf.”

“We’re not sure what happened, exactly, other than that she began glowing suddenly,” Luka added, worry plastered over his face. “It wasn’t long after the advisor to the King sent us a warning.”

“A warning?” Tani asked, pressing her hand against the tree’s trunk.

She could feel the girl struggling against it. Though it had constricted whoever was in Kliodna’s body, the spell would not allow harm to come to her. Eventually, she’d break out.

“We were told to follow our captain’s instructions,” Luka continued. “The Wizard King is apparently fighting the leader of the terrorists.”

Francis moved to check on their fellow squadmates. There were several of them, flung all around the mess hall.

“It sounds like we are under attack,” Tani commented worriedly, slowly starting to move away from her tree to help Francis.

“We’ll need to knock her unconscious,” Icree declared, landing next to her. “We’ll bind her, take care of our wounded, and head to the capital. If there’s any disturbances on the way, we’ll take care of them.”

A groan followed her words, and the group turned to look at its source. Francis was helping up a brunette man to stand, his water magic swirling around their head.

“Shouldn’t we look around if anyone else nearby has been affected?” Eric asked with a pained voice.

“If you can wake up someone else still, we could divide into two groups,” Icree began, but was interrupted by Tani.

“Guys, the bind won’t hold for long.”

The sturdy tree had begun creaking and groaning as the girl was about to break free, her muffled voice starting to emerge again. A sculpted jackal appeared suddenly nearby the tree, ready to pounce.

“Don’t hurt her,” Tani pleaded quietly, but Luka shook his head.

“I can’t knock her out without a little bit of pain.”

Tani let the tree fall away and watched as the man’s nimble sculpture rammed against the girl, not giving her time to begin her magic again. The hit was strong. The young girl fell to the ground, unconscious. Luka’s jackal wrapped around her, turning into stone shackles. Kliodna looked more like herself without all that anger in her eyes. Tani felt a sting of guilt. They’d have to figure out what to do with her, but for now, they had to make sure the kingdom wasn’t in danger. Tani leaned down to examine the girl’s wounds, making sure that her life wasn’t in danger. She could see Francis also moving from person to person, checking their injuries and healing those that required it. A lot of them were still knocked out, but some were waking up due to his magic. Tani joined the efforts quickly. Most people seemed to have been hurt by the loud sounds or an impact with a wall. It would take a while to learn if Kliodna had caused lasting injuries. After everyone had been tended to, Icree, Tani and Luka left for the capital. Eric and Francis would help others to come to, as well as check the perimeter for further threats.

The flight to the capital was silent. Darkness had fallen a long time ago, and now there wasn’t even a light in the horizon. They were all tense and wary. Luka muttered something under his breath, and beautiful bird sculptures appeared to fly by him. He often used them for reconnaissance, as he could see through their eyes. They all flew to different directions, spreading across the capital. The flashes of light and mana were visible to them all, but most seemed to be already engaged by magic knights. Tani tried to seek out people that weren’t being protected yet.

“There’s a hole in the gate,” Luka said suddenly, his posture tensing.

“In the gate?” Tani repeated.

“In the castle gate. Someone has invaded the Clover Castle.”

Icree looked at him, shocked.

“Is no one else there?” she asked quickly, setting a course towards the castle.

“I only saw a glimpse. Someone is fighting next to the gate, but I couldn’t see who,” Luka answered, following her lead. “The bird got crushed.”

A sudden eeriness filled the air around them. Almost out of nowhere, a floating rock seemed to have appeared in their vision. In its face had been created house-like structures with openings, and its bottom seemed to have been fully carved out. It shone with unnatural, pale light, as it sailed far away from them. Tani saw the same uncertainty in the other two’s eyes. The amount of mana all around them was enormous.

“What is that?” she asked with a shaky voice.

Today’s events were starting to catch up with her. She had promised to protect people from this, but could they really stand up against such a widespread attack?

“I don’t--I don’t know,” Icree answered, her eyes wide. “Let’s follow it for now. Perhaps we can--perhaps--we can do something when whoever is in that thing is outside of it.”

“It’s going towards the castle. There’s more of them likely there,” Luka reminded, calling his remaining birds to him. “The mana is interfering with my spell. I can’t see properly.”

“We are Magic Knights. We must protect them.”

“We must also protect the common people!” Tani interjected, looking below them, where battles continued. “We don’t have to pick the biggest target.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Icree confessed, her hands shaking. “I’m hoping that whoever is fighting at the castle will be able to tell us where we are needed.

“We can see where we are needed: right here!” Tani argued.

All around them were destroyed buildings, fleeing citizens and bodies of magic knights. If they went down there, they could help people evacuate and protect them. However, Tani recognized that look in Icree’s eyes - she had made her decision, and there was no turning it. It wasn’t a selfless decision. Icree’s family was visiting the Vermillions, and there was a possibility they were still there.

“Look!” Icree shouted suddenly, pointing towards the moving rock.

Further away, a silvery bird was rushing towards it. No, not quite silvery. The Captain of the Silver Eagles, Nozel Silva, was known for his mercury attribute. The bird - eagle, in fact - was known for anyone who had seen him cast his magic. The three of them began to follow in silent agreement. Captain Nozel Silva had been part of the Royal Knights that had gone to strike at the base. He would know what they should do, and where their own captain was. His silver eagle was a bit faster than their brooms, but hopefully they’d be able to catch up in time.

Luck was not on their side, however. Even as the three of them rushed to catch up with the Captain of Silver Eagles, he seemed to be rushing to defend his home. When Icree, Luka and Tani finally landed, all they could see were the tailcoats of six people dividing between the three main royal houses inside the castle. Tani could recognize the Captains of Black Bulls and Green Mantis’, as well as the Vice-Captain of Coral Peacocks among them.

“We are too late,” Icree cursed.

She was tense, as if she was considering running after them. Yet, her gaze lingered in the bodies around them, moving back towards the lower parts of the mountain.

“The castle is secured, I think,” Luka said silently. “Lord Silva is certainly going to take care of anything that is inside there.”

Tani looked around them. Most of the bodies belonged to the Golden Dawn, but they all had those same red marks as Kliodna had had. Had they all been taken over as well? One body was different, set aside to rest against a wall. Her eyes widened. Red hair, matted with sticky, blackened blood, was framing a bloodied and beaten face. The white cape was tattered and torn, showing multiple wounds and bruises. Tani leaped the few steps she had to take to get to the woman’s side. Captain Mereoleona looked like she had gone through hell. Her eyes were barely open, as if held so by willpower alone, but there was no life in her empty gaze. Carefully, with shaking hands, Tani set out to examine her injuries. She had to remove the cloak from her to properly see the extent of her injuries. Luckily, someone else seemed to have healed them to some extent.

“「Ginkgo’s Embrace」,” she whispered, watching the gentle roots hug the woman’s form.

Originally, the spell had been a recovery spell. Tani had modified it into a binding spell as well with hard work. Nowadays, it doubled as both.

“Tani! Let’s go help--” Icree called out, but stopped in her tracks as she saw who Tani was taking care of.

“You go, I’ll follow you soon,” Tani replied, giving a brief smile to her teammates. “You’re descending to the city, right?”

“Yeah,” Icree confirmed, her eyes lingering on the unconscious captain. “Will she--you--be alright?”

Tani nodded.

“You just go ahead.”

A sculpted bird landed on Tani’s shoulder, and with that, Luka and Icree flew away on their brooms. She’d be able to find them with the help of the bird - or know that they were in trouble. For now, she concentrated on helping the lady in front of her to regain consciousness. This was not exactly the first meeting that she had planned. The sounds of battle from nearby made Tani twitch a little. It was clear that something huge had happened in the royal mansions. As she looked back to Lady Vermillion, she found the sharp blue eyes looking back at her. The gaze was still slightly unfocused, but it was much faster recovery than Tani had expected.

“Who are you?” the Captain’s weak voice growled.

“My name is Tani Chartreuse, 5th Class Intermediate Knight of the Azure Deer, ma’am,” Tani stated quickly, standing up straight and giving a small bow. “The roots are not to hold you down, but to boost your body’s natural regeneration.”

The Captain looked at her as if evaluating her with her blank gaze. Slowly, with every passing minute, clarity seemed to return to the woman. As she opened her mouth to speak, one of the sharp canines poked out. It was in a way adorable. Tani found a small warmth rising to her cheeks - this was not the time to be staring at someone much higher ranked than herself.

“Where are the others?” the Captain asked, adjusting her position.

“The others?”

“Royal Knights.”

“We--I saw Lord Silva enter the castle, ma’am,” Tani answered. “With him were five others--I believe Captain Sukehiro and Captain Jack, at least.”

The woman made an effort to get up, but the roots held her still. Once more, the small canine poked out, as the Captain’s brows furrowed. Tani changed her weight to another leg nervously.

“What do you know of the situation?” the Captain questioned next.

“Not much, ma’am,” she admitted uncertainly. “We were attacked by one of our own, who claimed to be an--an elf. We don’t know what it means.”

“They have been taken over, that’s it,” the Captain remarked. “You managed to defeat them?”

“Yes. They are bound back at our headquarters.”

“And?”

“And--? And we don’t know much of the situation. The Azure Deer is helping those near our headquarters and in the capital.”

“Useless,” the Captain scoffed under her breath.

“Excuse me?” Tani asked challengingly before she could control herself.

“The information is useless. Something is happening over there--”

Captain Mereoleona stopped suddenly, her gaze fixed to the castle. Tani turned to look there as well - but there was no castle to speak of. There was something dark, taking a caricature shape of the previous castle. Someone was clearly fighting between the castle and the floating rock. She heard a grunt, as the Captain once more attempted to move.

“You’ll be on the way in this fight,” Lady Mereoleona told frankly. “Go join your team and help them.”

Tani looked at the roots that still bound the lady gently.

“Your wounds--”

“Shut up.”

“Ma’am, I think I am justified in worrying for a captain that cannot break such a weak spell as mine.”

“Who said I couldn’t?” Captain Mereoleona challenged with a wicked smile, fires bursting from her body.

The tree and bark burnt in an instant, Tani’s spell disappearing from her. There was something inhumanely powerful in the woman. Her wounds were severe, and Tani’s magic was too slow to treat them this quickly. Yet she was standing, passionate fire in her eyes, ready to act.

“I can sense some elves coming this way, so you better leave, Tani Chartreuse,” the Captain of Crimson Lion Kings said with a smile. “Elves, and someone else.”

Tani shot her a quizzical look, not sure what to make of it. Still, she didn’t have her own captain to listen to, so she simply saluted to show she had understood the order. The bird on her shoulder took to the air, as she grabbed her own broom and masked her mana. The fires behind her intensified, as if a beacon to lure out the elves.

Tani could not help but feel a small joy in the Captain remembering her name, at least. Perhaps, if she was accepted to that special training of the Crimson Lion Kings, she could speak more with the fascinating Mereoleona Vermillion.

[thephant0mime]

Dragon Age Origins Fanfiction

So recently, I’ve looked at the first fanfiction I’ve written three years ago as I’m struck with a case of low motivation to continue my current projects. I’m currently struggling with making my writing immersive but the problem is, I have a weird reaction to that. A beta reader once told me to write it through my character’s senses because my current writing is not making readers connect with the character. Problem is, when I try to write as if I’m in my characters’ head, it feels weirdly violating, Like I’m committing mind rape to them. Probably because I write my characters as If they’re real, and I just give them the plot for them to react to it and I to record what they do with it. My characters rarely end up as I intended at first. So this immersion thing really messes up our dynamic and it’s affecting my current works to the point I’ve stopped writing altogether.

Anyway, I read my old finished fanfiction again and while I think it’s not as good as I thought then, it also surprised me. I’ve forgotten some of the old jokes and it made me laugh both because I enjoy it and surprised that I’ve actually wrote those funny things. Then an idea to solve my current problem appeared in my head and I’m testing it out to see if it works.

This is only an excerpt, but I’m planning a rework of my old fic for publication soon. It’s about the Fifth Blight and narrated by Philliam, A Bard wrote it like an interview style/non-fiction book. The old fic in question: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13074672/chapters/29909850

Chapter 2

Paragons are the elite of dwarven society and their symbol of dwarven excellence. They are the equivalent of gods in our society, for dwarves worship their ancestors and they consider paragons a living Ancestor, carrying the wisdom and will of the departed ones. They can be drawn from any caste, even the casteless, which is the only way one can change their caste upward. The house of one of our heroes was descended from such a Paragon.

The Noble House of Aeducan was founded when their ancestor became a Paragon for leading the dwarves against the darkspawn during the Fifth Blight and saved their race. Currently, they were the ruling, royal house of Orzammar, of which our hero belongs. 

Now he would have told his tale from when he was recruited into the wardens, but that would not give us an idea of his character. Coaxing him to start during his time in Orzammar before his recruitment was difficult, as I understood it was painful for him to recount those events the most, but I managed it, as you shall see.

Thorin Aeducan’s story:

I am Thorin Aeducan, the second child of King Endrin Aeducan. I have two brothers; Trian was the eldest and the heir apparent and Bhelen the youngest. We grew up close as only boys do, until our coming of age where we went to our separate ways; Trian to train under our father to succeed him and me and Bhelen off to the army and lead them against the eternal threat of darkspawn. Fighting in the Deep Roads wasn’t much to Bhelen’s liking and went off to live like a pampered prince in the Diamond Quarter. I, meanwhile, see no better life than among those who fight and shed bled with each other.

Probably the first sign I had that everything would change for me occurred on the day I was ordered back by my Father to the city to honor my work in the Deep Roads. It started harmless enough, in my room at the palace, as Gorim assisted me in dressing up for the feast. I donned the antique armor of my grandfather which was more showy than practical. The burnished metal was too bright, the metal too thin and the shape too bulky. Looking at my reflection, I could see I was uncomfortable in it. My body was accustomed to my regular armor, which I think was molded from spending too much time fighting it grew callused to make them fit. While not-ill fitting, the ceremonial armor I was wearing was sending danger signals in my mind which I could not shake as Gorim laughing softly behind me, in the same spirit as if he just caught me wearing my grandmother’s gowns.

“Not to your taste, my lord?” he asked, dressed decently in armor that was as not as pretentious as the one I was wearing. His grin made even his wide face wider and his whole face was effusive as the light from the torch was caught in his simply styled, but neat, copper hair.

I looked away from my reflection to his smiling face as he held a matching antique sword in his hand. Then I looked down on myself. “This belongs in the Shaperate,” I said, as I readjust the straps of the gauntlet again.

“Hardly, my lord. If you’re concerned about it breaking apart due to age, then worry not. It was crafted by excellent smiths whose skill is still unsurpassed by anyone alive. It would certainly withstand some bit of walking.”

I groaned. “Not that. It just feels…wrong. This,” I pointed in the mirror at the shoulder guard, which was comically large enough to use as a shield, “isn’t something I’d think to be good to wear. How am I supposed to move in this thing?”

“That was the point. It’s meant to catch attention as fast as possible,” Gorim said, stepping closer to my side. “Its size was supposed to show the breadth of your strength and power and make everyone looking at you fall in awe. Which is perfect for the feast your father threw for you. We can’t have our celebrant looking unremarkable now can’t we?”

I shook my head at their silliness. My regular armors were perfectly fine.

“Now, do you wish to wear your shield to the feast?”

“Yes. Let me see them as the warrior I am and not some dressed-up spoiled prince,” I said as I gestured at my reflection. The shield on my back might calm me enough not to notice what I was wearing in time for the party. A shield saved me plenty of times in the Deep Roads when I sometimes lose my grip on my sword, and nothing was more comforting by the feel of it on my back.

“That would surely tell the nobles that you are a warrior if they hadn’t known already,” Gorim snarked. I shrugged that off. Gorim was more jesting of his lord than other seconds but I don’t mind it. No one was more faithful and more trustworthy than he.

Gorim stopped grinning at last and his tone was serious when he spoke again. “Moving on to the business at hand, the king expects you to make an appearance at the feast, but there’s no rush. The noble family heads will spend hours boring your father with petitions and petty grievances.”

“And you’re suggesting we do something else?”

“Well, as part of the celebrations, permits have been auctioned off to members of the Merchant Caste who wished to sell wares in the Diamond Quarter. Lord Harrowmont has also opened up the Provings for young warriors to test their mettle before the upcoming battle.”

I considered it. Though I would have liked to watch the Provings, it just served in the past for lesser nobles to push their petitions by chatting with me, hoping I’d pass it to my father’s ears. Though I discouraged them at every turn, still they persist so I never enjoyed watching at all.

“The Proving sounds appealing but I’d rather not meet other nobles until it’s time. Let’s go have a look at the Diamond Quarter.”

Gorim bowed. “As you wish, my lord. The day is ours until the feast.”

I cast one look at my room. It was sparsely furnished and decorated, for I rarely use it but today, it was filled with gifts from my friends, other noble houses, commoners whose names I do not know and even from my men who I left in the Deep Roads. Even though they could not leave their post as I did, they still managed to send gifts to me. We sneaked out the palace, bypassing the hall where my father was entertaining his subjects and emerged onto the Diamond Quarter. I huff with satisfaction as I saw the city laid out, sparkling like a well cut jewel. The Diamond Quarter was laid out with two wings on each side and the proving ground jutting out in the middle while the lava flowing below lit bathed everything in warm light. Our ancestors have hewn the rock of this cavern to make our home; in sharp lines, hard walls, and strong pillars.

Every day, the city grows in beauty and I cannot be prouder.

“Shall we take a look at the stalls, my lord?” Gorim gently prompted me.

I smiled at him to excuse my lapse. “Of course.”

We walked down the steps towards the ground at the left of the palace, which was filled with stalls selling all kinds of dwarven crafts in honor of the Proving today. As soon as I appeared, everyone acknowledged my presence through the gradual lessening of their talk.

The previously spacious ground was now filled to bursting with stalls selling every kind of merchandise from the city and the surface. A shop selling dwarven weapons and armor was placed next to one selling human-made trinkets. Behind a rack of smithing tools was a cabinet filled with surfacer curiosities.  And tables with sumptuous food from the surface. Bottles of wine and beer known to people.

We dwarves mostly produce what we need, but we could never beat the surfacers in terms of food and cloth. They have simply far more variety up there and I briefly wondered how they could have it. From what Duncan told me, the surface was wide open, with no ceiling, and seemed to stretch from side to side, seemingly without end, so they had more crops than I could count with my fingers. Though Duncan never lied to me, I always thought what he said about the surface as ridiculous. An infinite space like that; however did it not manage to break up and fall apart?

Currently, I was looking at a display of surfacer cloths with the owner standing attentively at my side. I have little use for it as I’m rarely out of armor, save for leather and cotton, but the stall owner has many interesting types displayed today.

 “A bolt for your lady, my lord?” he inquired. “We have all manner of cloths she will surely love: wool and velvet from Ferelden, silk from Orlais, cotton, and linen from the Free marches. If you would like something more special, we have embroidered bolts at the back in silver and gold thread. We also have ones appliqued with gems. Just let me get to it.”

I smiled at his insinuation of a mistress. Before I could speak, Gorim spoke. “You are too familiar, merchant,” he scolded the shopkeeper. “This is your prince who you’re talking to and you ought to pay him more respect.”

“It’s alright, Gorim,” I said as the merchant began to cower and mutter his apologies. I smiled wider to reassure him. “No harm done.”

The merchant started to stammer. “Apologies my lord. I wanted to please you so badly that I-”

“It’s alright. I took no offense.”

He nearly fell to his knees. “Oh, thank you, my lord.”

I drew back my hand at the silk bolt I was looking at. “Let me assure you; Your attention to me has pleased me enough that, if I were to be fortunate enough to have a wife, I surely would look for you to recommend to me an appropriate gift for her.”

He stammered effusively his thanks and with a nod, I and Gorim went to the next stall, which was selling something to my taste

“Greetings, my lord Aeducan,” the weapon seller called to me as we stepped in front of his goods. “I am so honored to have you visit my booths.” He stopped and looked as if he was about to say something. When I turned to look at his wares, he spoke, lowering his voice. “If you would excuse me, I have a…preposition but I dare not approach any further.”

I stared at his face in surprise. Gorim stepped closer and looked at the merchant likewise but with narrowed eyes. “Yet you dare now?”

“It’s alright,” I said to Gorim. “I’ll hear him out.”

Gorim nodded at me and turned back to the merchant. “Very well then. Speak.”

The merchant made himself smaller as he glanced around us. “Sorry. So nervous. I have a dagger made. For…you. As a gift for your first command. I, uh, sent a messenger to deliver the dagger to you but Prince Trian threw him out. I don’t know what offense he caused, but I had him beaten severely.”

Gorim and I glanced at each other. We both saw we had no idea why Trian would stop people from giving gifts to me. It was none of his business.

“I’m sure Trian has his reasons,” I said carefully.

He nodded, seemingly to accept my explanation. “Would you like to look at the dagger?”

“Of course.”

He smiled with extreme elation. “Oh, thank you, my lord. A thousand thanks to you. Here…” he bent down to retrieve a box on a drawer. He opened it, showing it to us. Inside nestled an extremely beautiful dagger on dark purple velvet. It was triangular-shaped, with the grip covered in druffalo leather. The guard was embossed with intricate designs and the blade shone dark like obsidian, I knew the blade was silverite just extremely polished to look like the glass. It was not merely decorative a fragile beauty belying its deadliness. 

I was silent in admiration. From what I can see, I have no complaints about its craftmanship.

“That’s an amazing piece merchant,” Gorim said, not quite keeping his awe out of his voice.

“You do me much honor ser,” the merchant replied, abashed. “The blade has been crafted over a period of two years by masters of every art. I wish to bless my lord’s first command and hope that someday, when he rules, he will wear it.”

I and Gorim went still as we both understood that the merchant was proposing treason. Dangerous words to speak aloud in the middle of the public market. If his messenger was just as careless as he, then Trian throwing him out was no mystery. 

“Trian is heir,” I reminded him gently, hoping that only his enthusiasm had led him to speak treason. “He will rule when my father your king returns to the Stone.”

“If the Assembly wills it,” he said, looking upward in the sign of our Ancestors. “Forgive me ser but whispers say that the second child of King Endrin will be chosen.”

“The whispers are wrong,” I said more strongly to impress in him his danger. “What they propose is treason and you would do well not to speak that aloud.”

The merchant paled.

“I was born a prince and I shall die a prince,” I added. “I have no wish to take the throne as long as Trian is alive to claim it. Pass it on to those who whispered to you and never speak of this again, for your own safety and those around you.”

The merchant bowed low. “Of course. Thank you my lord for warning me. But,” he looked with pain at the dagger in his hands, “what shall I do with this?”

The wise thing to do was to throw it in the lava but as I saw the way he looked at it as if it was his child, I reconsidered. We dwarves don’t treat our craftmanship lightly.

“I’ll take the dagger. I’ll wear it with pride when Trian ascends the throne.”

The merchant looked at me as if I’d just saved his family. I glanced at Gorim and he immediately held out his hands to take it from his hands. The merchant handed it over with reverent care, taking one final look at it, then turned to me, with tears in his eyes. “Thank you. You bring uncountable honor to me.”

I nodded my goodbye and we walked away from the stall. As soon as we’re out of earshot of the merchant, Gorim remarked. “What he meant is this will bring you uncountable gold to him if you wear that piece in public.”

I smiled at his cynicism. “Gorim, be kind to the poor man. He nearly lost his life today.”

“All for a bit of gold,” he answered and shook the package in his arms lightly. “Whispers, indeed. This is a princely gift. If Trian recognizes it, though, it may send the wrong message.” He then gave me a sideways look and added in a low voice, “Or the right one, depending on your view.”

I stopped walking to stare at him in shock. “Gorim, are you sincerely proposing…”

Gorim glanced around us and made his voice low, which, from the chatter of the people around us, would make his words intelligible to anyone but me. “My lord, you should know, though your humility prevents you so, that most people would want you to take your Father’s place instead of Prince Trian.”

I stared at him for a long while and I didn’t know I was holding my breath until it was forced out of me in coughing disbelief. “This is just a steaming pile of brontoshit.”

“I am not jesting, my lord. The army loves you, and the people too in the same way that they do. And the nobles would rather deal with you than with Prince Trian with his volatile temper.”

“Spawn’s balls, Gorim! I am not gonna take my brother’s birthright. My brother, who I love.”

Gorim clamped his lips tight as I looked at him with disbelief that he would dare say something extremely painful to me. “What kind of man do you think I am to think that I would do that?” I asked softly.

Gorim kept silent, looking at the ground in shame.

“Let’s speak no more of it,” I said with finality and we went to other stalls in silence.

While we peruse the next stall in a somber mood than the one we started in, we did not expect to run so early onto the one we were arguing about.

“Atrast vala, big brother. How surprising to run into you out among the common folk,” said a chirping voice to my left.

I turned around and found my younger brother, Bhelen. Despite his greeting, his pale face looked harried and the light blue eyes had no luster. It always was the case when he was with our elder brother, Trian, who was standing next to him, looking like his overgrown version. In contrast, Trian narrowed his eyes when he saw me and gave a deep huff, sending the braids in his light-colored beard to flutter. His face was set in hard lines of disapproval.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Gorim whipped the gift swiftly but deftly at his side, away from the view of my brothers, instead of holding it in front. I glanced at Bhelen quickly, who looked slightly guilty when he met my gaze then back to Trian. I knew immediately Bhelen used me as a distraction to our elder brother. Because Trian looked like he’s about to chew someone out.

“Especially since duty requires you to attend our father the king. Have you little respect for him to disregard his wishes on a day set for you?” he asked sharply at me.

Knew it. Before I can say anything, Gorim spoke up. “Lord Harrowmont assured me we wouldn’t be needed for hours at least-”

“Silence! If I want the opinion of my sibling’s second, I will ask for it,” Trian barked, cutting him off.

Gorim mumbled “Yes Your highness” and stepped back.

My brows drew together in reproof at Trian and I said, “Don’t speak to him like that.”

Trian raised his in surprise at my words then drew together in irritation. “I’ll speak to the lower houses and castes as they should be spoken to,” he said snittily.  

Stone, I love my brother but he makes it hard to be loyal.

“Now do as I say,” he added.

I gritted my teeth. “I will go at my leisure,” I said in a measured tone.

Trian stared at me with a shocked face for one moment, as if I’d sprouted another head, then he went red with rage. He stepped closer to me until we were face to face. “If I am king, you will never be allowed to act like that to me again,” he growled, keeping his eyes on me to make me cower. But I stared back hard without flinching, even as a crowd formed around us. Nothing Trian can do to me will scare me after what I’ve endured in the Deep Roads.

“Come, Bhelen,” he said finally, snapping his fingers. Bhelen looked at me, sheepishly, then followed like a dog to our brother’s retreating back. The crowd around us parted out of the way for them, then looked back at me uncertainly.

“It’s just a quarrel with brothers,” Gorim said to them, smiling. “Everyone back to business.” As we watch the crowd disperse reluctantly, Gorim turned to me and said “That was fun. Nothing like being talked down by the next king.”

“He had better not be like that when he is king. The nobles won’t stand a tyrant,” I said, looking on until the heads of my brothers were lost among the crowd.

“Oh? What has your brother done now?”

I turned at the speaker and was pleased with what I’ve found. Finally, a person I like to talk to. “Nerav. Stone met,” I greeted and bowed to a woman dressed fashionably in silk and sable.

Lady Nerav, daughter of Lord Helmi. Also my betrothed.

I’ve seen her many times dressed in a smith’s apron with soot on her face and looked mostly at home with that, but she had no problem being decked out in her best for an occasion.

I gave a look at Gorim to give us some privacy and he retreated to a respectful distance. Then I gestured at her if she would take a stroll with me. She accepted with a smile on her full cheeks and we headed leisurely away from the stalls. Immediately, she asked me about Trian.

I sighed. “He has been throwing his weight again. Reminding each and every noble that he is the firstborn Aeducan, as if they didn’t know already,” I said.

She nodded sagely. “As he should, since the election is coming up. He must be anxious.”

“Yes, skittish as a nug in a dwarven kitchen. I just wish he doesn’t shat on us all while he’s at it.”

She laughed. “Oh Thorin, you were always my favorite.”

“Oh? I had competition?” I teased.

“Plenty. But before you, there’s just no comparison.”

“Good to know. Embarrassing, otherwise. Not looking forward to talking to your father why you chose me and not the others.”

“Oh, don’t worry about my father. I think he loves you more than I do.”

“Hmm. I like my chances. At least I wouldn’t expect him on our wedding day threatening to disembowel me if I did anything funny to you.”

“If you did anything funny to me, I think he’d still adore you.”

I chuckled. This was why I was going to marry her. She had a sensible head on her shoulders and share the same humor as I. We had been friends since childhood and when his father dropped hints that it was time for him to marry, I never hesitated to ask her.

We arrived near the railing overlooking the flowing lava. She leaned on it, the warm light shining on her face and on her dark hair like a halo, and I thought she grew up very beautifully. She is the only woman I’ve spent more time with and I wondered why marrying her never entered my head until she told me one day that I had the right of first refusal for her hand. For many years, she said.

“About the wedding, I want to talk to you about something and you’re not going to like it,” I said.

She turned to me still with that charming, teasing look on her face. “Oh? Is this the part where we tell each other’s dirty secrets? Like you always leave your clothes on the floor so I should expect to pick it up after you forever?”

“Save it when we’re married. This is more pressing.”

She stopped her teasing and waited.

I took a breath before announcing it. “We’re going to postpone the wedding.”

“What?” she yelled, as I expected. I wasn’t aware of the preparations for our wedding but I knew enough that she had worked long on it.

“At least until Trian is crowned. I didn’t like the look I got from him when I announced our engagement.” He looked like he was about to kill me then my bethroted. My brother wasn’t a particular favorite with the nobles, and seeing me, his younger brother, being the toast of Orzammar in alliance with one of the strongest noble houses, must have turned his mood sour.

When we were children, we were thick as thieves and Trian wasn’t this volatile back then. Now that we’re grown, he looked at everyone with suspicion and acted as if everyone was in conspiracy against him all the time. Even his family. And I had no idea why we’ve come to this.

“So we’re not getting married because your brother looked you wrong?” Nerav mocked, drawing her arms across her chest as she pouted.

“Don’t be like that,” I said to her. “We’re still getting married, just later. I don’t want to get married while Trian is in a foul mood. He might crash the cake.”

“Poor cake. I think I should tell the baker to make it from granite.”

“Yeah, tell him to come to me. I think I could find plenty of that in the Deep Roads.”

We shared a laugh, as we always do.

Nerav seemed to be pacified enough about her work being postponed and spoke with the same cheer as before she knew about it. “So, I have work to do, telling everyone the wedding is delayed. And what would the handsome groom do?”

“I’m going back to the Deep Roads, at least, until the election is over. I find I like hearing more of my men’s snoring than Trian’s tirades.”

“So I’m going to play the part of the pining lover?”

“Yes, you do that marvelously, the way you polish your ax.”

She laughed for a while then grew serious. She looked at me with slyness in her eyes. “Don’t you think he has other reasons for being …testy?”

“Like what?”

“Like there having a stronger contender for the throne?”

“There’s no one else who has a stronger claim than he has. Lord Harromont may try, but he’s too loyal to my father. The other noble houses may, but they don’t come close to my family in terms of prestige and honor.”

“Maybe it doesn’t have to be from another house. Maybe it comes from someone who had the esteem of both the noble and warrior caste by his fearless campaigns against the darkspawn.”

I sighed, a deep rumble. “Ancestors, not you too.”

She cocked her head quizzically. “Not me too?”

I glanced at Gorim. She followed it and turned back to me, understanding on her face.

I rubbed at my temple. “What idiot pushed my name forward?”

“It’s been talked about by everyone. If you were just born first, the deshyrs would accept you as king without a murmur.”

“Well, I’m not the firstborn. Trian is. And I would never go for the throne. Not while Trian lives.”

She nodded, looking down, hiding her face from me, and pressing her lips together. I could sense she thought I was just being stubborn and so annoyed at me.

“Besides, I’m not that fond of sitting on my ass all day listening to nobles argue about who owed money to whom,” I added, turning the conversation light as before.

“Well said,” she said flatly as she raised her head and turned away to continue looking around the city.

I gave a sidelong glance at her. “And don’t you want to be Queen?”

She smiled at me. “Well no, I’m not that fond of being Queen, nudging my husband the King awake while the nobles argue about who owed money to whom.”

I laughed. “So there it is; my dirty little secret. You’re going to marry an unambitious man. There’s still time to get out of the wedding if you have second thoughts,” I teased.

“The second thoughts that I have is the color of my wedding dress but the rest of it,” she leaned close and kissed my cheek, “I have no doubts.”

[tarithenurse]

In defense of Asgard (9/?)

Wordcount: 2400

Warnings: blood, gore, violence, language

Gets “Keep reading” because of length. Still need to get around to linking to past chapters (sigh). Just a few chapters more, guys!

Loki’s PoV

Looking up at the sky, Loki cannot supress the shiver of a thrill. Up there, the chaos has started and it’s spreading towards the horizon as wave after wave of Sovereign omnicrafts put the first line of defense to the test. That’s where he ought to be, not on the surface of Asgard, waiting and watching. Not leaving all the fun to the Xandarians and Ravagers.

“You will get your chance, brother.” From his place, Thor smiles knowingly, before kicking off hard from the ground to get airborne and join the battle up above, because even he’s bursting to swing his axe.

All around them are groups of battle-clad warriors. Most are wearing the armour of the Einherjar, which makes the civilians stand out even if they too are sporting fitting attires and clutching perfectly honed swords and axes, both armours and weapons are personal choices, left to each individual in much the same way as it is for the Warriors Three, Heimdall and the royal family. Compared to all of these, the dozen Valkyries are hard to spot against the snow.

Whispered conversation makes the prince look to his right, where [Y/N] and Sif are standing, but their voices are too low for him to hear what they say, and all he can do is judge their facial expressions and body language that make it look like the Inhuman is…giving advice? As she turns, their eyes meet before [Y/N] lowers her glance to watch where she steps on the way back to his side.

“What was that about?” Loki tries his best to make it sound casual.

A tiny smile tugs at the corners of his wife’s mouth. “Just the last details before the storm hits.”

She does not look at him, instead she looks to the sky where the lightnings and distant explosions tell a story on their own. Each flare of fire warns of a coming rumble, distant and ominous. A warning shout from Heimdall drags their attention close to the horizon, to the edge of the aerial battle where a formation of lights shows a new attempt from the Sovereign at reaching the ground. The spaceship is piloted expertly (expecting anything else would have been foolish) and dodges the defensive fire from several turrets while it sweeps lower, straight towards the waiting Asgardians.

“Kamikaze?” [Y/N]’s voice is laced with worry, and her body’s poised to jump out of the way.

Loki has no idea what she means, but she explains quickly with her eyes fixed on the vessel speeding towards them. The answer presents itself as the enemy ship veers off, showing gaping openings through which something or someone could have been released.

“AtteeeentiON!” Tyr bellows from his spot next to Heimdall in a nearby tower.

The retreating vessel is finally shot down over one of the fields, but its mission has been accomplished. Loki had wondered why the Sovereign would attack at night, but now he had the answer: dropping troops under the cover of darkness makes it harder for the defenders to identify the exact position and numbers. As if to rub it in, new lights appear in the distance, weaving past the bursts of the blueish glare from the turrets. A new order from Tyr spurs the ranged units to release a volley, and by the sound of it, they manage to hit someone. Once more the projectiles fly.

Then the street fills with the golden-skinned forces, that methodically and viciously set to work on anyone they can find. If they had hoped to find the inhabitants in a state of panic, then they would be sorely disappointed as they instead come face to face with pissed off and well-trained warriors. Leaping into the fray, Loki reexperiences the satisfactory feeling of metal slicing through armour and flesh. Pulling his spear out of the now lifeless body, there’s no fear in his heart when he scans the writhing crowd and he’s already planning the next 20 movements.

…

Reader’s PoV

It’s impossible to use ranged weapons anymore, so [Y/N] has switched to spear. It’s a weapon she has become fond off after many sparring sessions with Loki, especially because it makes it possible to keep a safe distance from anyone trying to kill her, which, of course, is always a bonus. Another one is the option to not gore the enemy all the time but knock them out or trip them up for someone else to kill them instead. Having fought several battles [Y/N]’s no stranger to taking lives, but that doesn’t mean she has to like it. Crouching to avoid a shot from a Sovereign (who don’t give a damn about friendly fire, as long as they hit something, it seems) she swings the spear in a low arc before tugging it back towards herself to successfully hamstring a feisty soldier that’s heading for the exposed back belonging to Fandral. Then she twists the spear around and jerks it into the gut of the foe behind her before finally getting back on her feet.

Each strike she and others deal echoes in [Y/N]’s body, but she doesn’t dare to shut off to the world. Any time an Asgardian is hurt, she has to be ready to find them and heal them…and she’s made Sif a special promise too. The queen loves a good battle as much as the next Asgardian, and she’s refused to tell Thor about the pregnancy out of fear that he’ll forbid her from participating as a means to keep both her and the unborn child free. Of course, Sif’s a brilliant fighter, but it’s more than just a direct hit that could endanger the child this early on. If anything were to happen, then maybe [Y/N] can prevent the queen from aborting spontaneously.

[Y/N] slams the butt of the weapon into the base of a golden skull, effectively dazing what could have been the admiral’s identical twin, and she uses the lack of resistance to kick him over before slicing a few strategic places. He’ll be dead, before recovering from the blow to the head. Somewhere just at the edge of her senses, Loki’s dancing in and out between the people fighting, turning violence into an art.

Shit. A sharp pain nearly triggers the Inhuman’s up-chuck reflex, and she scans the crowd to identify if she has to worry about who just got lethally wounded. After all, there’s no reason to waste the energy on a Sovereign, because only someone like the High Priestess would be taken as a prisoner of war while her subjects will be killed one way or another. The injured isn’t a foe, but the smith’s apprentice. Having favoured a large, long-shafted hammer and no shield, his attacks have been slow and his means of parrying even worse. Now he’s slumped against the wall with a face that’s slashed and his guts hanging out of a gaping wound across the left side. By sheer luck, [Y/N] has a relatively free path to him (only having to push one attacker away, sending the golden woman stumbling in front of Volstagg), and he’s still conscious when she kneels beside him.

“Just breathe,” the healer soothes, while pushing the shredded armour and clothes away, “you’re going to be fine.”

The man (big kid, he’s not old enough to fight in a war) is breathing through clenched teeth and his face is ashen from both pain and blood loss. Still he tries to put up a brave face. Looking through the glowing particles that only [Y/N] can see, it’s obvious to her that the injury is deep.

“Princess [Y/N].” What might have been an attempt at bowing is stopped because of the pain. “No need to worry about –“

“That’s my decision.” [Y/N] grunts, her fingers pressing inside the wound to easier heal the damage to the intestines. A sudden drop in his heartrate and the sense of his body ‘deflating’ makes her pause to shake him. “Hey! Wake up!” The kid has passed out, but a spike of adrenalin gets him back to the world of the living (and awake). “Stay with me. What’s your name?”

“Arvid, my lady.”

The name brings back memories of another Asgardian, but as [Y/N] works and the kids offers details about his life, the chance of it being the same person dwindles and becomes a madman’s hope. Soon, both wounds are healed sufficiently to allow the apprentice to either keep fighting or seek shelter somewhere else, and the nurse pulls him up off the ground. Before they get to let go of each other’s wrist, something catches [Y/N]’s attention.

15, 17, 20. “Incoming from south!”

Her yell barely reaches above the din, meaning that only a handful of the defenders hear her. Grabbing the spear with both hands, she turns to face the fresh onslaught and has to throw herself out of the way to avoid a blast from a phaser gun. While down on ground level, [Y/N] does her best to hit as many ankles and knees as possible before regaining her feet and coming to an upright position. Somehow, she’s made it into the middle of the squad, and she works ferociously to keep them somewhat at bay, even if these seem to have learned not to fire when friendlies are in range. Using her legs interchangeably as counterweight and pivoting point, [Y/N] keeps the long weapon in motion to assure the greatest force behind any impact whether it’s a stab or a slicing arc. Now and then she needs to use the blunt end when they come from several sides at once.

The crunching feeling that travels through the shaft is both satisfactory and gross because she knows that several teeth are now rattling around in the victim’s mouth, but there’s no time to dwell on it, and instead the woman thrusts forward in the hopes of reaching the unprotected armpit. Bloody hell. Her entire arm is numb for a few seconds as the result of an impact that has disarmed her, sending the spear clattering away over the large dark stones. [Y/N]’s already dodging the next incoming blow while reaching for one of the long daggers strapped to her thigh. Fuck. She isn’t quick enough to avoid a hard kick that makes a few ribs crack dangerously, and the only reason she doesn’t fall hard on the ground is because strong arms (dressed in a marine blue uniform) wrap around her waist and throat.

“You’re her,” a voice hisses in [Y/N]’s ear, “you’re the bitch that destroyed the Pride.”

The cruiser? The Inhuman can see the smirks of the few Sovereigns who have noticed her precarious situation. Thankfully no one seems to be bothered, not even as her hands clasp firmly onto the wrists of aggressor, who’s illustrating a textbook-perfect chokehold.

“Maybe you should’ve taken the hint.”

Holy flamingo, this is good! The world around her becomes blurred, as the glowing cells in the person behind her are snuffed out. It’s a little pocket of bliss just for [Y/N]. Full of energy and strength, that she can steal, leaving the former owner with nothing to keep him standing, and the blessed connection is broken as he falls dead to the ground. A pleasant shiver rolls through [Y/N], making her smile as she stoops to pick up the spear again. Only one Sovereign, a woman, has noticed what happened and is now standing, staring at the unnatural defender without caring about her surroundings. Next instant, she’s lying on the ground with the head cut clean off by Sif who sends [Y/N] a dazzling smile before hurdling towards the next enemy.

Forcing herself to focus, the Midgardian gets back to work, making her way towards one of the civilians who’s managed to break a leg somehow. It takes a while to get there, but eventually she’s sitting right before him, preparing to set the bone as soon as the nerves have stopped sensing pain. Now. With a yank and a twist, [Y/N] gets the tibia realigned and can now start to fuse the bone. While busy, the Asgardian is keeping any golden assholes far away by exhibit a series of perfect aims with a phaser gun.

“Thank you, your highness.” They both get to their feet and the man immediately prioritizes bowing.

Not now, you idiot! “Yeah yeah, you’re welcome. Now go kick some ass.”

Undoubtedly puzzled by the order, the warrior-on-occasion heads back into the battle, leaving [Y/N] to see where else she’s needed. They’re all good. Although her friends are tired and are sporting small scrapes, bruises or laceration, there’s no one in serious need of help, and it leaves [Y/N] free to seek out her next target.

Asgardians are tough. Even untrained, they are much stronger and faster than any human, and it’s only the Inhuman genomes that makes it possible for [Y/N] to keep up with them. In fact, most other races are hopelessly outmatched when face to face with anyone from this endangered species. Not the Sovereign, though. Frustratingly, the generations of genetic manipulation and engineering has created a race that, although horribly flawed through mutations, is physically impressive and more perfectly capable of standing their ground in a one-on-one…if they hadn’t been too proud to accept that other people might be excellent as well which in turn makes them underestimate their adversaries. Pride is, quite literally, what makes the Sovereign vulnerable.

A burst of lightning causes a large explosion high in the sky and makes [Y/N] glance up from the fresh corpse at her feet, and when she lowers her gaze, she finds herself at the wrong end of a gun. Looking past it, she sees the mad eyes that match the skin and sleek hair perfectly. With a silent curse, the Midgardian realizes that she doesn’t have time to free the spear from the chest it’s stuck in, so she’ll have to figure out something else. Recognizing the early signs of muscles contracting, she starts to move before the finger curls around the trigger. It’s like watching everything in slow motion from a bird’s perspective. The tan woman’s attempting to duck past the firearm, pushing hard at the elbow of the gold-skinned invader, but the flash from the barrel is already visible and it flares cold and yellow as the beam rips through skin and severs a tuft of hair.

…