#lowborn demon

[idjits-areus]

Sam and Dean Winchester's song right here.

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

Christmas Special

(5.6k words, wrote this in 24h <3 Merry bloody Christmas, guys! TW murder, I guess. Nothing too detailed, tho)

I woke up with a headache. Not a hangover, mind you. I am above getting such things, and in any case it's unfitting for a man such as I to get drunk. No, I had one of those classical headaches, the likes of which are received after a fine blow to the head.

That naturally implied another assassination attempt. How coarse. I opened my eyes and tested my bonds. There were none. Either my captors were convinced I would not run, or they were remarkably incompetent fools indeed.

The room I was held in was… strange, for lack of a better word. There were bright lights that danced across the ceiling, a roaring fireplace, and a table chock full of meats, vegetables, and grains. Yet, that was not the greatest surprise of all.

There was, for unfathomable reasons, a massive tree. Just— sitting, in the center of the room, dominating the festivities. It was gaudy with glowing lights, glittering twine, and baubles infesting its surface. 

Oh, and there were people. Lots of them, in fact, all looking equally confused. We were draped on sofas, sprawled out on armchairs, resting against walls. I was, perhaps, the first of us to wake up, and I swept a watchful eye across the room.

A surprising number of familiar faces caught my eye. Hash, my darling, was there, along with her lowborn friend the vampire. And, would you believe it? There was my old nemesis, the Godhuntress herself, lying blissfully unconscious, just waiting for me to kill her.

By instinct, my hand found its way to my dagger. Some of the bloodlust must have shown on my face, for I caught a mortal boy flinch and hide behind his companion. 

I was halfway to her exposed throat when said companion grabbed my wrist. “You don't want to do that,” she murmured, and her tone gave me pause. It was far too weighty to belong to a mortal, the regality in it far more reminiscent of one of us ancients.

I turned to her and showed off my best smile, the one with all my teeth. She didn't so much as blink at it. “Oh, believe me, miss. I really do. Nothing, and I mean nothing, in this world would grant me more pleasure than snuffing out the life of this vile monster. Now, how about you let me go about my business, hmm?”

She remained imperturbed. “Not happening, kid. Now, how about you tell me what's going on? I don't like this one bit.”

I shrugged and withdrew my blade. Under that strangely cold grip of hers, I sensed a power I did not want to mess with. “Damned if I know. Last I remember, I was in bed, sleeping.” 

“Your kind sleep?” She sounded skeptical. “Actually, what the hell are you?”

“I could say the same of you, miss,” I replied. “But I suppose I'll go first, shall I? I'm a forest spirit, and you may call me Hans.” I left the last portion of my name unspoken, for no one as versed in inhuman dealings as I would ever give my name freely. A damned shame that mine was so short, however. Two syllables was not a great deal of room to make aliases with.

“Katherine, and I suppose you could quantify me as a demon.” She paused. “You don't look like a spirit to me. How old are you?”

I crinkled my nose at her. “Old enough to handle my own, Miss Katherine. And you're one to talk, wearing the face of a little girl. Don't the humans call that pedophilia?”

“No, you're pedo-bait. I'm jailbait. There's a difference, pipsqueak.” The smile was slipping off her face. “Or maybe your little-boy brain is just too underdeveloped to understand that?”

I didn't take the bait. “Fortunately for us, that's not the case. And if you'll excuse me, I'll go find someone more cordial to chat with.” The Godhuntress was stirring, and much as I wanted her dead, a fair fight with her was not one I would win. 

The demoness Katherine let me go, turning back to her mortal boy-toy. I beelined to Hash, the one soul in that room I trusted wholeheartedly. “Wake up, my dear. We've got trouble.”

At that last word, he bolted awake. “Trouble?” He surveyed the room. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” I replied. “Trouble.”

The two of us watched as more and more people got up. The vast majority of them were humans, gangly and pock-marked and over-solid, though I did catch glimpses of spirits and others of our ilk here and there. Katherine was attempting to interrogate the Godhuntress, something I wished her the best of luck with. If I was fortunate enough, perhaps they would get into a fight, and at least one of my problems would be solved.

“We should try to investigate,” Hash whispered. “Someone must know something, yea?”

“If you are so inclined, do it yourself.” I pursed my lips. “I think I shall wait for them to come to me. And sample the food, while I'm at it.”

“Are you crazy? We don't know where it's from. We don't know what it's made of. We don't know jack shit, and you want to play it cool? Have you finally lost your marbles? The only kind of person who would act so casually in this scenario is-” He stopped in his tracks. “Oh. So that's your game. I like it. Dangerous as fuck, but that's life, isn't it?”

“Yes, that is life. Now hop to it, my love. Between the two of us, I think we can get a grip over this crowd in no time.”

Hash gave me a final nod, and strolled off. The first thing I did was grab a glass of wine. Everyone looked more suave like that, and it gave me an excuse to put myself in the center of the room. Several curious eyes followed me as I picked up a plate of venison on the way back, and it was not long before the first of my visitors followed.

She was a young woman, something I sensed would be a common theme in the hours to come, with a spear in hand and an unquenchable rage about her. I swirled my drink in its cup and waited for her to speak.

“Hey! Creepy little boy.” In my own name, was I going to have to be called little boy all evening? “Tell us what's going on, or I'm gonna shish-kebab you with my spear.” 

“I have no idea what you mean,” I replied, pretending to be preoccupied with the vortex within my flute of wine. That glorified stick of hers was hardly sharp enough to pierce a slice of bread, let alone me. “Why would you think I know anything at all, dear?”

“Because you're the only person who looks even slightly at home here? Everyone else is freaking out, and you're just sipping a drink. What are you, one of Santa's elves? Krampus' stolen children? Why are we stuck in a Christmas celebration?” She waved her spear around threateningly.

That was interesting. I did not know what Santa or Krampus were, but I did know the elves, and I knew I could not hope to pass for one in my life. “Maybe,” I said, winking. “Or maybe not.” With luck, she would elaborate.

The girl seemed to only grow angrier at my words, leveling her spear at me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Hash watch me with alarm. I shook my head slightly, warning her not to rescue me. It would be for the best if we did not show our hand yet. 

“Come on then. Aren't you going to stab me already?” I spread my arms, offering her a clear view of my chest. She narrowed her eyes, and for a moment I felt a genuine flash of fear. Beneath that gaze was something that writhed and fed on rot, something old as time itself and hardly less conquerable.

And then it was gone, as an old man grabbed her weapon and pulled it from her grasp. “Athena! What the hell are you doing?” He was followed by another human boy and… a summoner? 

Yes, a summoner, or something akin to it. I had not seen one of her kind in a very long time. The plot thickened. I have the newcomers a lazy smile, and they responded by tensing up.

“What on earth are you?” That was the summoner, pushing angry little Athena behind her. “You're not human, that's for sure.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Athena snapped, wrestling her spear back. “That thing knows something. I'm sure of it.”

The summoner met my gaze, piercing me right through. “No he doesn't,” she said, before I could recover. “He's bluffing.”

“Excuse me?” I pushed myself out of my chair, going nose to nose (or nose to collar, as the case was) with her in not-so-faux rage. “I know plenty, little mortal. For starters-” Pulling her down by the scruff of her tattered shirt, I whispered in her ear. “I know your little girl is cursed. I know that you are a witch, and a good one at that. And, I know that you really do not want to go back to where you came from, so how about you enjoy the food and leave me be, hmm?”

That last line was nothing more than an educated guess, but it paid off. They were too scruffy and thin to have been living in safe conditions, and I caught sight of more than one open sore on them. 

Gears turned in the summoner's brain, wondering if it was worth the cost to call my bluff. Eventually she stepped away from me. “My apologies, sir,” she said, nodding politely. “We'll leave you be.”

I grinned. “Thank you very much, little one. Go try the venison, if you feel peckish. I find it delightful.”

Athena opened her mouth to argue some more, but the summoner gave her a warning glance, and she left with naught more than a glare at me. Settling back in my chair, I took another sip of the wine.

“Hey, you're Hash's boyfriend, aren't you?” On the list of things I did not want to be called, that somehow ranked below ‘creepy little boy'. I turned to see Hash's vampire friend, still wearing his Smiley Mart™ shirt. What was his name: Dane? Dale? Dave?

Yeah, Dave sounded about right. “Hello, Dave,” I said, turning back around so I did not have to look at him. “Is there something you want?”

“Hash told me to come find you. She said you could use my help?” He stepped around so I was facing him once more. “I really don't know what to do, honestly.”

I sighed. “Go interrogate someone,” I told him, more to get him off my back than anything else. “Actually, go keep an eye on some people for me.” I pointed out the Godhuntress, who was flapping her wings in an attempt to get a mortal girl to stop poking them. 

“Is that who I think that is?” Dave's eyes widened. “You think this was her doing?”

“Hmm? Of course not. I want you to tell me when she looks distracted so I can go kill her.”

“You're crazy,” he said. “That's the Godhuntress. You know, the greatest deity since the Creator herself? Yeah, that Godhuntress. She'll squash you like a bug.”

“Doesn't matter. I will find a way.” I clenched my glass. “She took something very precious from me, and I will take my revenge, one way or another.”

“Alright, alright. It'll be a hell of a story to tell, in any case.” He made to leave, then turned back. “Say, is that wine any good? I'm feeling rather thirsty.”

I considered it. “It is rather dry,” I replied. “But fruity, too. Take that as you will.”

“Cool. Thanks, Hash's boyfriend,” he said, and the glint in his eye told me he was calling me names in insult. Unfortunately, by the time I had registered it, he was long gone.

People were beginning to crowd around the tables, finally encouraged to touch the food. That was when I spotted someone I had thought I would never see again: Merida Ryder. And with another forester at that! 

For once, curiosity got the better of me, and I trotted over to talk to her. She would not recognise me, of course. I had taken great pains to disguise myself that time, and I wondered how she would feel seeing my true face for once. 

“Well, well. If it isn't miss Merida, all grown up. Remember me?” I tapped her on the shoulder.

She turned around, and it broke my heart to see how she had changed. Her eyes were sunken, the lights gone from them. Merida looked down at me, and there was no spark of recognition. “No,” she said flatly.

The forester turned around, and he let out a little gasp. “You're-” I shushed him. 

“Can you not see I am trying to talk to someone here? It is most lovely to see a fellow Ces-ilre, but I must speak to Merida first,” I said. “Are you sure you don't remember me? I passed you that gun, all those fateful years ago.”

She blinked slowly. “Don't. I don't want to remember.” Merida shuddered. “Go away, Hans. Thank you for your help. I absolve you of the favours you owed me.”

I am not and have never been a stranger to suffering, but it hurt to see her crushed like that. “So you do recognise me,” I continued. “What happened, Merin? You used to be so happy.”

“I grew up.” 

And that was all she would say on the matter. The forester extracted my hand from her shoulder and led me back to my couch. I let him, of course, something in the hollow cavity where my heart should be aching. 

“You're the Spirit Emperor,” he whispered to me, snapping me out of my reverie. “What are you doing here, my lord? And how did you know Merida?”

“Same as you, and that is none of your business,” I whispered back, slipping into forester dialect. “What is your name and clan, sirrah?”

“Kristavla, formerly of the Ko clan. My lord.”

“So you were there when… the Incident happened.” I jerked my chin at the Godhuntress, now attempting to engage a very uncomfortable Dave in conversation. Or perhaps she was interrogating him.

“No. I was attending to my fiance, my lord. The late Kitsy Te-clan.”

“Oh. I killed her, did I not?” I vaguely remembered a foul-mouthed guard who had insulted me the moment I arrived on castle grounds.

“Yes, and I thank you for it.” Kristavla shook his head. “I will not speak ill of the dead, but she was not a good woman.” 

“I can imagine that.”

We sat there in silence for a few more moments. “Would you like to help me avenge our people?” I gestured again to the Godhuntress, who was being fawned over by a lich of some kind. “We may not get another chance.”

“I am not one for vengeance,” Kristavla said. “But you are a friend of my friend. And so I will. For you, my lord, and for our people, may their remains soak the earth.”

“Thank you. Be on your way, friend,” I told him. “Speak with the vampire in the demeaning costume—” I had to approximate a word for Dave's Smiley Mart uniform— “and see if you can isolate and weaken her. From there we shall make the kill.”

Kristavla nodded, and slipped away. Taking his place (for it seemed I would have an endless supply of supplicants today), was a lean, sly doctor. Her red hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, and her skin was dry enough to resemble scales.

“Hello, Spirit Emperor,” she hissed. “Fancy seeing you caught up in the Christmas web.”

There was that word again. Christmas. “Care to explain, doctoress?” I offered her a seat. She was about as human as I, with the way she moved, though I could not tell what on earth she was.

“I am an Oracle,” she rasped, as though reading my mind. “And my people arranged this felicitous meeting.”

I froze up. “I see. And why should I believe you?”

She laughed, a sound that had more in common with the death of a small furry animal than anything friendly. “Your name is Hans-el Ko-clan. You killed and ate your parents to save the Goddess of Dreams. Your lover is a shapeshifter who will not tell you its true name, and you hold a grudge against the fallen angel they call the Godhuntress.”

“All very impressive,” I agreed. “ But any old fool could have worked that out with the right background knowledge. Tell me something nobody knows.”

The Oracle grinned, revealing red and raw gums. “Careful what you wish for, little boy.” She shifted closer, and I could smell the blood on her breath. “You claimed the throne by mimicking the magic-thieving spell the Godhuntress used on your dear friend. You helped the renegade Merida start the civil war in Palioden by orchestrating a situation in which she had to kill her sister using a gun you provided. And, as the topping on this pie, your worst fear is-”

“No!” It came out louder than I expected, and more than a few heads turned our way. “I believe that you are an Oracle. Please, do not continue this.”

The Oracle leaned back, victorious. “Good boy,” she murmured, proving that there was, in fact, a nickname I could dislike more than ‘Hash’s Boyfriend'.  “Now, I suggest you stop hiding in this little corner and get to moving the plot forward, will you, dear? You ought to be an active protagonist.” She pushed me off my chair. “And be grateful we didn't send you the Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present or Future.”

Before I could ask her what the ghosts, or even Christmas, were, she was gone. Not gone like a ghost walker, or like a teleporter. Gone entirely, as though she had never existed in the first place. I shook my head to ward off the strange feeling, and got up. It was unwise to disregard an Oracle's warnings.

I was about to approach a random person, when someone once again came to me. For once, she seemed perfectly normal. “You look like you know what's going on,” she said without preamble. “Care to explain?”

“Unfortunately for you? I do not,” I informed her, pausing to pick up a few jellies and put them onto my plate.

“Well that's not very polite of you, seeing as I know what Christmas is and you don't,” she replied, taking a few jellies of her own. “And I hear you killed your parents too. We've got that in common, at least.”

That gave me pause. She didn't look like a mage of any kind. “And how did you do that, little girl? With a knife? A pillow to the face at night?”

“A death ray, actually. I'm Mara. Nice to meet you, Hans,” she informed me, sticking her hand out. “You're the talk of the party, you know. They say you're an Emperor.”

“And just who might this ‘they’ be?” Blasphemous gods above, did she ever shut up? 

“Well, Visitor over there, and his buddy Aida. They're from Palioden, which a few little birds tell me is a land in your world. Which, if you can't tell already, I'm not from.”

“What?” 

Mara giggled. “You heard me, Mr Spirit Emperor. I'm not from your world. And if I eavesdropped right, they-” she pointed at Athena's crew- “aren't either. The creepy girl who stopped you from killing that goddess too.”

“The Godhuntress isn't a goddess,” I snapped. “She's nothing but a grandiose genocider. And how did you know about me and Katherine? Everyone was asleep.” 

“I happen to be really good at pretending to be asleep. Picked up the habit in kindergarten.” I tiptoed to pick a cream puff off the top of its tower, and she helped lift it down for me. 

“Thank you. So what do you want, Mara-murderer? A boon? As you have ascertained, I know naught more about this place than you.” Finally, that was a lie. The Oracle had provided me with some excellent information.

“I want to help you kill that bitch. The Godhuntress, or whatever her name was.” Mara's eyes glinted with bloodlust.

“Why?”

“She disrespected me,” Mara snarled, cracking her knuckles. “I was wondering what she was, and I poked her wings, and would you believe it? That fucking bitch slapped me. Me! No fucking warning.”

I was deeply surprised to hear that the Godhuntress had not done worse than a mere slap for the insolence of grabbing her wings. But any aid was welcome aid, especially from someone as adept at spying as Mara appeared to be. “I see. Let's team up, shall we?”

“Excellent.” She rubbed her hands together. “I know that pretty elf girl and the convenience store dude are on your side. Is the other spirit with you too?” I nodded. “Mmkay. I'll tell them everything I know, and report back.”

“Certainly,” I replied. Mara let out another disturbing giggle, and ran off. There was something deeply wrong with that girl, I decided.

I drifted down the table, plucking up more desserts as I went. The talk of the party, was I now? I could certainly see it. More than one person parted way to let me pick out my food, and I saw a distinct wariness in their eyes. Then again, it was but my dues. 

I passed by a Luxatian Crusader in full armour, and she nodded at me. “Spirit.”

“Knight.” For once, I was having a normal encounter. For once, nobody was questioning me about Christmas, or Santa, or Krampus, whatever they were. For once-

The knight unsheathed her sword.

I moved to dodge the blow, but it never came. Indeed, she was not so much as looking at me. Her eyes were trained on someone else, instead. A lich.

“You,” the knight snarled. “Iraela Foundling. The Lich-Queen. I swore an oath to defeat you. And now, I shall.” Ah. It seemed I was not the only one with a grudge to satisfy. 

The Lich-Queen blinked, and eloquently croaked out, “What?”

“I am going to watch your unlife spill out onto my blade, foul beast. You killed my family, my entire village. I watched your ghouls eat my sisters. They were six years old, Lich-queen. I had to run while they begged me to save them.” Tears sprung to the knight's eyes. “You are a monster of the foulest kind, and a fog shall lift the day you die.”

“A monster? Damn right I am a monster,” the lich announced. “I am the monster humanity made of me. Your kind declared me cursed, broken, unlovable. All I did was listen to their words. You should have known it by now: a child not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth. And all I ever wanted to feel was warm.” She threw her arms wide. “Go on. Slay me. Continue your precious little cycle of hatred. One day, the people I saved, the ones your family scorned, will avenge me.”

A glint in her eye told me she had no plans of going down so easily.

The Crusader spat on the ground. “Spare me your lies, Lich-Queen. Your pretty words will not sway justice.”

I sighed. I knew what kind of woman turned herself into a lich, and it was hardly the sort who a mere knight could defeat. If nobody stopped that fool knight, she was going to get herself killed.

In a flash, I was standing behind the Crusader, barely reaching her underarm. A quick knockout spell later, and she was down, keeling over like a metal doll with its strings cut.

The room had fallen silent. Everyone, even the Godhuntress herself, watched me. I resisted the urge to declare my undying hatred of her, and instead gave a cheery wave to the room. 

The Lich-Queen let her arms fall. “Say, might you be the Spirit Emperor?”

I nodded. “The one and only. And a little bird—” I prodded the unconscious knight with my foot— “told me you were the Lich-Queen. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“And I yours.” She offered her forearm, and I took it. “I actually knew your predecessor: Sucsu'anane.”

That name belonged in our history books. Sucsu was old, and infamous. “But that would make you the first Lich-Queen,” I murmured. “You- It was you who started the Runic wars! It was you who caused the shifters to die out!”

I was staring a legend in the face, a woman who had caused horrors long before my time, horrors that echoes for all eternity. “By the false gods, it is good to meet you! What an honour, Lady Iraela. What an inspiration you were to me.”

I might have spread the flattery on too thick, but Iraela lapped it all up. “Why, you're too kind. Let me tell you: ruling is all in the flair. Why, for my coronation…”

I let history's greatest disaster lead me by the arm to a nice corner, where she proceeded to chatter my ear off. For once, I shall spare you the details. Suffice to say, I learnt more about the history of the Deadlands than I ever wished to know. 

“Let me tell you something, Hans,” she said, interrupting her own monologue.

“Hmm?”

“I heard you knew a shifter named Hash. Well, I met him too.”

That made me perk right up. I'd known Hash was older than I, but that old? Fascinating. What else was he hiding from me?

“Don't trust him. He betrayed us all. We would have won the war, if that little bastard hadn't run off to the elves and spilled the beans. We could have been great, Hans-el. Our peoples, the vampires and the spirits and the ghouls, could have ruled the world. But Hash was soft. Do not let that softness corrupt you,” she warned. “It will rot you from the inside, and when your enemies scoop your guts out, they will not so much as give you the gift of eating you alive.”

“I know,” I replied. “My mother was soft, and it brought her naught but suffering. Our people revile it.”

“And yet you love him,” Iraela commented wryly. “That alone tells me enough about you.”

I did not dare lie and disagree. “Yes, I do. But Hash can take care of himself, now. He's slippery as hell.”

“Yes, that much I have seen from tonight's festivities. But that is the point, is it not? He will slip your grasp and betray you, just as he did the shifters. One day, you will make a cruel choice, a choice for the greater good, and his soft little heart will push him to betray you. All because you weren't hard enough to cut him off.”

I stood up, suddenly reminded of my conversation with the Oracle. My greatest weakness indeed, I thought. “That may be so, my lady. He may betray me, and leave me dead in the gutter. But that is a risk I am willing to take.” I brushed invisible dust off my skirt. “All you are is a woman who failed to rule the world, Lady Iraela. At the end of the day, all you have is your love's blood on your hands and a heart you wrenched out of your own chest. Even if I lose it all, at least I loved, and was loved in turn. For someone who went on and on about needing to feel warm earlier, you just do not seem to understand that, do you?”

Iraela laughed. “So young,” she whispered. “So young and so foolish. They'll make mincemeat out of you, little Emperor. And I'll laugh at you from my grave.”

I strode away from her, back stiff and fists clenched. I could take insult all day, but this? This firm condemnation? It stung. It stung like my father's whippings. It stung and I wanted to never think of it again.

I was still standing about, willing emotion away from me, when Mara tapped me on the shoulder. “Come on,” she said, grinning. “Buncha tables appeared. I grabbed one for us. Your little vampire friend got dragged off to hang out with the rest of his kind, but it seems I'm free to roam.” She laughed maniacally. 

She led me to a table. Hash, my Hash, my brilliant, softhearted friend, grabbed my arms and all but pulled me by his side. “Check this out: That vampire's got a tan!” He pointed a woman in work clothes, conversing animatedly with Dave. “Apparently, she's a field researcher. Can you believe it?”

“Yes, I can,” I agreed numbly. 

“Oh, and this Christmas thing! Mara told me all about it. Apparently, they eat turkey and give gifts and celebrate this saint of theirs. I don't have a gift for you, but I figured this might do!” He pointed at the Godhuntress and lowered his voice. “I cut a sleeping rune onto her piece of turkey while I was carving it. She doesn't know know to use the cutlery, so when she bites into it, the spell will activate, and it'll be your chance! Whaddya think?”

He really was sly. “Brilliant, my love,” I whispered, my mind still on the Lich-Queen. “What else did you find?”

He scrunched his nose up and thought. “Um, the God of Evil's here, and he's a pretty chill guy. The Godhuntress' daughter's here too, and she's got an axe to grind with dear old mum, too, but I convinced her not to do anything drastic. There's some poor blue fellow in the corner, and he's got some kind of curse. I didn't go too close, but he seems… different from the rest of us. When we're done, we should go investigate.”

Beside me, a man in a strange vest sat down. “Hello there, lad,” he began, only to fall silent when he met my eyes. “You're no child. You're a monster.” He stumbled back, clutching his hand to his chest. “Maya? Let's find another table.”

Hash barely hid back laughter as he all but fled the scene, the girl he called Maya giving me a wry smile and nod as she followed. “Now, where was I? Oh, yes. The others. Look over there. No, not at the demon-girl. The blondie and the redhead next to her.”

“I recognise the others at that table,” I told him. “Kristavla and Merida.”

“Yeah, Kris was helping us out earlier. The redhead? Apparently an infamous mind-mage. She fuckin conquered an entire city, all on her own. And the blond girl's a spell-snapper. Ugly combo, if you ask me. They're from the same era as us, but Nyctomachian.”

“And them?” I pointed at Athena and the one-eyes summoner. “They damn near called my bluff.”

“Yeah, they bothered Dave real bad too. Something tells me they're not gonna harass us again, though.” He grinned at me. “A certain someone may have implied that he was the reason they even ended up here.”

I wanted to facepalm. “Damnit, Hash. That was exactly what I told them too.” I looked over at them, deep in discussion. The old man met my gaze, and held it with the kind of defiance that promised trouble. “Ah, what the hell. We can deal with them later. For now, let us celebrate.”

I drank more wine, this time watered down (for no man of my stature should ever get drunk), gossiped with Hash and Mara, and bided my time.

The Godhuntress took her spare time sipping drinks and eating appetisers. For a moment I suspected she knew of our devious plan, for she avoided her turkey for far too long. Then she lifted the fateful piece of poultry with more grace than it deserved, and bit down.

I was by her side before her head hit the table. My reputation preceded me, for the others at her table, a rather foolish spirit and his mortal friend, scrambled back. Gasps of shock and horror resounded as I readied my blade.

It was quite a shock to realise those noises were not for me. I glanced up from my goal for one fateful minute, perhaps compelled by the strings of Fate that the Oracles pulled, and caught sight of what could only be described as a cryptid.

He came from the chimney, white and red despite the soot. A full white beard hung limply from his chin, and his deep voice resounded throughout the room. “Ho, ho, ho! Merry bloody Christmas, fools!” He pulled out a massive sack and grinned at the room. “You're all bad apples, the lot of you! Coal for everyone!” 

Everyone except me dodged the sudden hail of coal that followed the opening of his sack. “Well, what are you waiting for?” He leered at me, icy blue eyes piercing me like the fangs of the last Oracle I met. 

I lifted my knife, aiming it at the dazed Godhuntress' throat. A glimmer of recognition dawned upon her face, but I did not let her recover fully. Down went my blade, swift, brutal and twice as just as any executioner's axe.

And what a merry, bloody Christmas it was.

[jouste]

Kingmauler! The slaughterer of the sovereign and the masher of majesty! This horrific demon demolishes despots and anyone doing a lousy job at leading in general. Only annihilating those in the highest standings, this monstrous murderer leaves the lowborn alone!

[elf-kid2]

The thing about *Mastermind,* is that it's true that Blitzo broke demon law. The truth is, he DID try to steal a valuable Goetia-owned Grimoire. The truth is, he DID lead I.M.P in illegal, off-the-books trips to Earth.

((And those trips lead to skirmishes with Heavenly forces, Demon Hunters getting enough credibility for "Holy Crusade" type funding, and a cult of demon-cursed goats. This is illegal for a REASON!))

But you have to remember that the Trial wasn't ABOUT Truth or Justice. This was about Law and Order, and maintaining the status quo.

Prince Andrealphus started by accusing them of things they had actually done-- then went on to accuse Blitzo of forcing himself on Stolas: a transparent bid to public ally insult & humiliate his Ex-Brother In Law.

The Sins weighed in on the matter-- but they were clearly more focused on their own rivalries and alliances. Asmodeus spoiling for a fight with Mammon for largely unrelated reasons, and Gluttony aligning herself with Lust-- and also, the thing with the imps is probably not a big deal; Blitzo is entertaining enough to keep around, right?

Vassago pushes back against Andrealphus, but it's not because he cares one way or another about the imps who are on trial. He cares about Prince Stolas being slandered before the Court, and demands that he be allowed to speak for HIMSELF, instead of being ""represented"" by his Ex-Wife's Brother, who hates him.

The truth is, none of them care about the truth about what the lowborns did or did not do. The Trial is an excuse to play politics, to try and push up their own factions or push down their rivals in court. The worst thing they did was try to rise above their station.

This is about Law and ORDER.

To maintain the status quo, to preserve the social order, to get this tedious political squabbling over with so they could all go to lunch-- they decided to skip the "evidence" rigmarole, and go straight to the Public Execution.

2/3rds of the Deadly Sins present, and a landslide majority of the Goetia Nobles voted in favor of going straight to Public Execution, and neither King Asmodeus nor Queen Bee were going to go against Law, Order, and the Majority Vote to put their necks out for a bunch of yokels who definitely did SOME of the crimes they'd been accused of.

When Stolas stepped in and "was so overcome by hubris that he just HAD to tell everybody about his Brilliant Master Plan to use the Grimoire for undocumented personal use in the Mortal Realm and let his Impish minions take the fall," it saved Blitzo's life.

Instead of showing Impkind what happens when an imp steps out of line and makes an attempt at upward mobility, Satan decided to make an example out of Stolas.

Toe the Party Line, sing with the Goetia Chorus, and keep your personal vices, affairs, and Evil Plans DISCREET at a BARE MINIMUM, or else you'll have your privileges taken away and your rivals will be allowed to ascend.

.

Truth didn't matter. Justice didn't matter. The deaths of the imps & hellhound who'd been accused of variously plausible crimes... Didn't matter.

Maintaining Law and Order, and keeping us the status quo by making an example out of SOMEBODY? That was what mattered, to Satan and the Court.

How long do you think it took//will take, to realize that those plebian nobodies walking out ALIVE is something that MATTERS A LOT?

How long before they notice the ripple effects?

[mooredanxieties]

So we know that Stolas was able to transform himself to look like a human, and while his powers have been stripped, we don't know how powerless that leaves him.

We also know that even Hellhounds are able to make human disguises for themselves despite being one of the least powerful demons, so there's a possibility that he can still change his appearance.

We know that Stolas is now hated by pretty much all of hell at the moment, and he'll be in serious danger now that lowborn demons have the chance to kill a royal who's been stripped of their powers, so it makes me wonder if Stolas would be able to disguise himself as a different kind of demon (like an Imp, perhaps) and gain a unique perspective on the discrimination they go through.

He'll experience some of that regardless because of the nature of his punishment, but it would add an extra bit of understanding between him and Blitz if he could truly experience the life of an Imp.

[dailyadventureprompts]

Mystery: Daughters of the Drossyard Pact

Originally intended to be sacrifices n a fiendish ritual , three orphan sisters managed to outsmart the warlock who’d adopted them and managed to offer him in their stead, Inadvertently becoming the beneficiaries of his profane dealings. Decades later, with the renewal of the pact looming one of the sisters has gone missing, leaving the other two in a lurch fearing the other had something to do with it. One sister desperately wishes to be free of the deal,  while the other may be willing to do anything to hold on to the power it has granted her. Neither trusts the other but both want the party’s aid in discovering the fate or whereabouts of their missing sibling.

Adventure Hooks: 

A pious noblewoman by the name of Lia Rolland initially hires our heroes to investigate the disappearance of a local playwright she serves as patron to as well as look into the strange occurrences around the theater which have only seemed to escalate since. Sleuthing around turns up a gaggle of disgruntled actors and stagehands stretched to the breaking point by an endless series of accidents and mishaps and delays. On top of everything else, prior to her disappearance Mecona, the playwright,  kept insisting on revising the piece over and over again and was prone to bringing production to a halt for days at a time while she buried herself in rewrites, which is why no one initially noticed that she was gone.  If the party are careful with their questions they may just discover that lowborn Mecona and highborn Lia are apparently sisters, a truth discovered by a snooping costumer looking in on one of their meetings. 

As it turns out, the strange occurrences are the fault of a host of dark spirits that have taken up residence in the forgotten corners of the theater, who’ve been amusing themselves by causing all kinds of minor chaos. Inevitably the party will be victim to a few of their cruel pranks or sabotauge, escilating until have to fight an entire possessed prompts department and worse as the demons boil out like a kicked hornet’s nest. 

 Into the chaoic (and potentially burning) theater strides Doc Briar, a scarred and swaggering practitioner of dark magic who aids the party in putting down the fiendish threat before warning them not to trust their employer and portaling out.  Briar will be shadowing them for the rest of the adventure just in case they get into any more scrapes, though it appears she has a motive of her own. 

Background: Once there were three orphan sisters, Rose, Camellia, and Poesy, their parents and last name taken from them by an awful war that saw them bourne from the smouldering remains of village to the big city. For years they were overlooked in the crowds of other refugees, falling ever deeper through the cracks until they were atlast taken in by a cold-eyed man who saw them brought up as servants in his great an empty house. Warry Camellia suspected the man had torrid plans for them, but ever-practical Rose was willing to put up with anything if it meant the  younger two would be saved from the street.

The cold-eyed man did have designs on the sisters, but they were far more sinister than what cruel old men usually do to those who are dependant on them. The man was an occultist of great ambition, and had spent his life seeking the means of summoning a fiend capable of granting his desire for power. After much dark dealing he’d found one, Calceinatis the profaner, but her summoning ritual required betrayal on the part of the summoner. Thinking himself clever he brought the three sisters into his home, taught them the basics of his magic,  and claimed that he’d take the most promising of the girls not only as his apprentice, but as rightfully acknowledged heir to all his wealth and holdings.  Over the next few years the cold-eyed man moved his favor from one girl to the next, hoping to stoke resentment and envy between the sisters, laying the groundwork for that most nessisary betrayal.

It was reticent Cammellia was his eventual selection, passing over Rose who wanted it most and young impressionable Posey to whom he was most like an actual father.  He passed the middle sister off to his peers as his bastard,  an indiscretion from years back that he had sheltered out of shame and only now worked up the courage to admit. Society applauded him for it, and he grinned as he introduced his “daughter” to polite society, thinking of how the other two must have watched their sister from the back rooms with covetous hatred. 

It would take a fool not to notice that the sisters had been on to his game for years, but the cold-eyed man was not just a fool, he was hollow hearted and narrow minded, ignorant of the bonds of love and convinced that all people were as motivated by the promise of power and station as he was.  While the sisters couldn’t know exactly what he had planned, they’d swore to stick by eachother no matter what, and so when their benefactor took them out to the great ash dusted badlands at the foot of the mountains as part of Cammellia’s “ascension ritual” they knew they had to act soon.   The rite had barely begun before the cold-eyed man tossed the sacrificial knife between the girls, claiming that he needed only one blood offering and the other two would be greatly rewarded if they did the deed. He drew close as the girls squabbled over the blade, unwilling to deny himself the violence that would lead him to everything he wanted, the oft imagined vision of young veins sliced open and spilling forth everything he could have wanted. 

The Cold-eyed man never could have imagined that his girls, his pawns, his wretched little orphans, would drive the knife into his belly with all the stregth their little arms could muster. That three little sets of hands would pull as one to tear open his fine suit and spill his guts into the ashen earth. 

He was still alive when the demon loomed over him, two sets skulls grinning, he was still alive when the sharp bear fangs started in on his flesh while the goat congratulated the girls on their marvelous betrayal and the boons they would be granted for this fine offering, he was still alive when the blunt goat teeth started in on his bones while the bear intoned that if the sisters wanted to keep these gifts they would need to return to this spot every sixth year and use the same knife to spill a few drops of their own blood or else… The demon did not finish what it was saying, the cold eyed man had finally died and so the meal was done. It disapeared, leaving Rose, Camellia, and Poesy to drag their father/employer’s body back to civilization, claiming to have been the victim of some savage animal attack. 

Motivations & Complications: 

Lia Rolland  (Cammellia): Forced to maintain the deception that she was the illgotten daughter of the man she helped murder has put Lia in a bind. She would like nothing more than to abandon his legacy and the pact but the resources granted to her but necessity has forced her time and again to rely on both. Wealth allowed her to support her sisters into adulthood, and the few supernatural abilities she’s allowed herself have seen her through hard times as she’s made a family and become a patron of the arts. She’d never break the pact on her own, fearing that all the good things in her life would be stripped away, but she’s terrified Briar has given in to her powerhungry nature and hurt or even killed Mecona to strike a new bargin with the demon of the drossyard.

Doc Briar (Rose):  A life spent looking out for two younger sisters convinced Briar that she need to do whatever it took to gain control of her life, which led to her fully embracing the gifts of the pact. She suspects Lia has done something with Mecona to ensure the pact cannot be restruck, and has hired the party as cover. Knowing she’s on a deadline for the next renewal of the ritual, she aims to track down both her sisters and convince them to return to the drossyard. Failing that, steal the knife and get a bit of Lia’s blood which she can hopefully use to stave off the demon for another half-decade. 

Mecona (Poppy):  Barely old enough to remember her parents before she and her sisters were taken in by the cold-eyed man, Poppy was the only one he seemed to show actual parental affection for, if only out of an attmept to make the other two resent their most innocent sibling. This gaslighting seeded her mind with confusion and guilt as to whether the cold-eyed man really meant them any harm, and if they were really without blame for killing their abuser.  These troubled feelings led her to the arts and later to the stage writing under an assumed name, having developed a real talent for portraying complicated relationships that resonated with  audiences.  As the sixth anniversary of the pact rolled around her guilt over the mater came to a boil (were they really any better than the old man if they benefited from the same dark magic as he intended to use them for?), she decided to isolate herself, let the pact end, and see just what her sisters would do with the matter. 

Calceinatis: What the daughters of the drossyard do not yet realize is that they are once again being manipulated, this time by the fiend whispering in their minds and stoking their darker impulses. Sometime while devouring the old warlock’s soul the profaner realized that the three young women could be useful tools in feeding it again, but realized it would have to play the long game if it wanted them to truely turn the knife on eachother.  By feeding Rose’s ambition, Camellia’s fear, and Poppy’s regret, the Drossyard demon has separated the sisters and set them against eachother just as the cold-eyed man once did, Now all she has to do is sit back, wait, and let momentum carry one of the three past the point of no return. 

If you want to use this in your game, why not take a look at my How to run mysteries for d&d post. 

[almacambiondaughterofsaleos]

Even if the show was well written and would still want to give Stolas a semi-spotlight every now and then I would still want Stolas to suffer major consequences for lending out an extremely valuable book to a species that is considered disposable trash by every Hellborn and Sinner within Hell. Send him to Bee so, after each regenerative potion given after each Shis-cu-bob session, that she can serve Goatian Bird Meals made out of Stolas's flesh and organs to middle and lowborn demons within Gluttony. Send Stolas to a torture chamber were he is force fed different numerous prisoner's blood so that he can feel every type of torture that they are going through there. Turn him secretly into a weak Wrath Imp without his powers and throw him out into the Wrath wilds where he is not allowed to go or be in any type of communities unless he wants to go through worser punishments. Stolas's probations would at least last 5-10 millenia at least because that's just the type of lession he deserves.

Let the hate seeth.

[wth-if]

Humans have made their peace with the supernatural a long time ago.. all of them, except the demons.

Ten years ago Archangel Michael swooped down from the Heavens to give humans a new salvation, a solution to their pest problem, a little thing they called H.E.L.L. - Heaven's Eradication of Lethal Lowborns.

Ever since then the demons have been under control. Until recently -unexpected, right?- after a series of kidnappings conducted by a cult calling themselves The Morningstar's Children. Ever since, H.E.L.L. has been cracking down hard on the lowborns.

And well, Lucifer Morningstar (The President of Hell Themself and Michael's sibling) is having none of that.

In retaliation, she sends you, a demon, to infiltrate H.E.L.L., and take it down.. from the inside!

OR, a celestial sibling rivalry goes a bit too far.

FEATURES (May Change!):

Play as a lowborn/demon! Male, female or nonbinary (including cis/trans options); gay, straight or aro/ace; be the vessel for Lucifer’s revenge against her sibling by.. hunting your own kind? What?

In-depth character customization! Hair color & style, skin color, body type, markings, piercings, etc!

Choose how you got chosen for the job! Are you a demonic assassin or are you just an average joe who happened to be walking by?

Romance one out of four unique romance options! Your demonic co-worker, a demon hunter and TWO archangels (that’s right!)

Cause chaos and shenanigans! Get Michael’s coffee wrong, mess up an investigation and let demons escape H.E.L.L.’s grasp! It’s what you’re here for!

Discover the mystery behind the disappearances, and who's really behind The Morningstar's Children!

Help Lucifer Morningstar win her election against her son Satan, or sabotage it!

Levithan (He/Him): Demonic Overlord, Son of Lucifer, Sin of Envy. You'd expect a guy with that description to be pretty full of himself, but instead he seems pretty tired and over-worked. He's been tasked by Lucifer to infiltrate H.E.L.L. alongside you- why? It's anyone's guess at this point. (Possible Tropes: bickering couple, tired x energetic, tol x smol)

Yavhi Gupta (They/Them): Stubborn, rude and cold-hearted. They've been working for H.E.L.L. since they were able to join, and they're one of the toughest, roughest demon hunters around. They don't joke or play around, they go straight for the kill each time. Unlucky for you then, that you've been assigned to train underneath them for the foreseeable future. (Possible Tropes: enemies to lovers, opposites attract, black cat x golden retriever)

Raquel (She/Her): Fierce, witty and loyal to the end. When her best friend left Heaven, she followed right after. Now, she works as a detective alongside him and they've been hired by an outside source to investigate The Morningstar's Children, as H.E.L.L. can't seem to do anything right, and she'll do anything to find out the truth; even if it means teaming up with a lowborn like you. (Possible Tropes: fwbs to lovers, smart x dumbass)

Gabriel (He/Him): Quiet, yet lethal and dangerous. He left Heaven for a reason, but now works alongside his friend as a detective. He's the brawn of the operation, but just as willing to do anything to get the truth... even if you get the feeling he knows more than it seems. (Male MCs only. Possible Tropes: Mutual pining, star-crossed lovers, quiet x loud)

Lucifer Morningstar (She/They): As the Sin of Greed, she's the father (mother?) of all the other deadly sins, and the current President of Hell- though with reelections soon, and her subjects looking in their son's, Satan's, favor, that might change soon. Which is why they sent you on the quest to take down H.E.L.L., so her rep would get a serious boost. She's conniving, scheming and pantsuit wearing, and will stop at nothing to keep her spot on top. (And I love her.)

Michael (They/Them): The most powerful Archangel of them all, it was obvious that one day, they'd become the humans savior, their saving grace.. uh, not really, but they love the praise. Recently however they've been under fire from the human media after a slip-up resulted in the deaths of six people, but they managed to save grace by capturing and promptly executing a few lowborns connected to The Morningstar's Children. (Which, In Raquel's professional opinion, puts them right at the top of her list of suspects.)

Shae (She/Her): A vampire and the one who hired Raquel and Gabriel after the kidnapping of her son Damien at the hands of The Morningstar's Children.

LINKS :

DEMO POST (TBA) R/O INTROS (TBA)

Asks about the R/Os, the characters or the story in general are always welcomed!

[chrkrose]

I know Team Green hates Daemon, and I agree there are 172838 reasons for him to be hated. But Nettles is one of the only things that make him somewhat likable because even though the green side keeps going on and on about the grooming, let’s be real: the public wouldn’t care as long as Matt Smith had chemistry with the other actress. People didn’t care even when his scenes with young rhaneyra were framed as grooming.

And I’m sorry, a lot of y’all takes is always framed through the lenses of “how can I make Daemon look even worse than the scumbag he is” which fair, but then don’t pretend Nettles is in the center of those thoughts because she’s not. If she was, the first point in any meta would be to determine that Rhaenyra is the true villain of Nettles story and just because Rhaenyra was a victim of Daemon, that doesn’t make her worthy of being “sisters in pain” with Nettles when 1) Rhaenyra was racist against her and 2) Daemon was the one to actually save nettles; if it was up to Rhaenyra, Nettles would be another head decorating the gates of the red keep. It’s hard to take any of those metas seriously when y’all weaponize Nettles arc against Daemon and use her just the same as Team Black does, just for a different purpose. It’s still all about victimizing Rhaenyra, and Nettles is just an means to an end. So in the end, are y’all that much different from Team Black or Rhaenyra stans when it comes to Nettles?

George loves daemon; he never wrote his arc with nettles as a commentary on his pedo tendencies. He wrote that arc in spite of his pedo tendencies. He wrote that arc as a way to show “look, Daemon killed a bunch of people, groomed a few others, did terrible things his entire life and is cheating on his queen with a way too young girl, but look how cool and badass she is and how much she suffered in her life, and this time around Daemon really likes this girl and is willing to do selfless acts for her and protect her, a lowborn girl nobody else cares about, so here, he’s light too, see how gray and complex he is?”. And the truth is that public would eat that up because even with Daemon choking Rhaenyra, killing his ex wife, laughing at his second wife’s funeral and ignoring his third wife screams while she gives birth to a demon baby, he still has tons of people who think he’s awesome. That’s just the reality of it. Now, we can argue about the problematics of the storyline, we can argue about how George wants Daemon to get away scot-free, all of this are valid points and tbh I agree with many. But it doesn’t change the story.

I can’t actually engage with team green discourse when it comes to Nettles because y’all don’t see her as a character of her own. If y’all did, y’all would see she’s way more interesting than Rhaenyra and Daemon combined. That her arc is so much more than her relationship with either of them. That she disrupts the status quo, she comes bringing with her a pletora of questions about what it means to be a dragon rider, what it means to have dragon blood. She brings the perspective of the small folk, of the ones forgotten and not cared about when the royals are destroying each other. She survives. She becomes a legend. She is sooo much more than all of this.

The reason why I want Nettles in the show has nothing to do with Daemon, Rhaenyra and whatever takes y’all have on that relationship when it comes to them both. Nettles is not the “new Rhaenyra”, she has nothing to with that character. She’s not a folder to her story, she’s doesn’t exist solely to prove a point or to be used as a weapon to help in her victimhood. Rhaenyra is not the “new Rhea Royce”. Rhaenyra is Rhaenyra, a victim of Daemon as much as a villain in Nettles story. Nettles character doesn’t exist solely to villainize or whitewash Daemon, or to play a role in his story as a folder of his previous relationships. She’s her own character, with her own arc, with her own importance, with her own role, with her own message. Her romance is her own. Her importance is her own. The sacrifices made in her name were made because she was worthy of them. Stop using her just to make your point when the point you want to make is not about her, you are not sounding any better than the ones who dismiss her as just Daemon’s bastard or want her cut off entirely from the show. Your noise is sounding very similar to theirs if I’m being honest.

[saey707]

Imagine you're new to Noxus... very obviously unaware and unused to the brutality of this culture. Like a sheep to the slaughter, all doe-eyed and innocent. Which yandere would this catch the eye of? Someone who wants to protect you, or perhaps someone who wants to mold you to their liking?

(Not a request for anyone in particular, just a concept idea wanted to share and curious who you would picture for this certain scenario. Congrats on surviving the dreaded finals btw!)

✿ Prompt: Which Yandere? Scenario ✿

♡ champion focus: swain ♡ tw: yandere, manipulation ♡ Gender-neutral reader

Author’s Note: Thanks so much for submitting this concept, anon! Even though it isn't a request, I did want to get some of my ideas out for this particular idea! (๑>◡<๑) Hope you enjoy! ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡)

ALSO! Fun side quest I came up with: Count the number of ravens (headcanons) and view the old English rhyme under the section titled "Astral Travel" here to see Swain's omen attached to you... ♡✧( •⌄• )

From the description you gave me, Swain was my immediate thought on your best bet for who is most likely to protect and shelter you, but also mold your potential to his liking!

Swain wants to test your limits, but he also wants to assure you won't get hurt in the process. In Noxus, you have to be strong... But the General isn't opposed to having a pretty little thing at his hip, or better yet, on his lap~

It's a rare find for someone to be so innocent and unaware of the bloodshed, brutality, and war that came with Noxus- An innocent sheep to the slaughter as one would say. And that's exactly what makes you all the more appealing to Swain.

Given how much power and influence he has over the people of Noxus, there would never come a time when anyone would question his judgment for why he keeps a pathetic, little thing like you around. And should someone dare to question his judgment, then they'll be sure to meet his demonic hand...

Even if you make a mistake or two, Swain will always forgive you. While your knowledge is still limited, he will graciously be your guiding light in shaping you into the perfect lover.

Even when you seek a fresh start, Swain will always drag you right back down to where you need to be: At his side, as his pretty, little lover.

Even if your heart longs for power and prestige, Swain will gladly give you that and more. He would give you a throne, even if it must be built atop bloodshed.

Even if you attempt to leave him all alone, Swain always knows the proper words and whispers of the demon to lure you right back into his arms.

Even when you are miles or even leagues away from him, Swain is always watching. Now, it wasn't because he didn't trust you... It was more because he cared for your well-being for lack of better terms! He can't have a lowborn Noxian or assassin laying a filthy finger on you! It is the entire reason why there isn't a raven out there that isn't reporting back to the General about your status!

Doe eyes and an innocent heart can get you quite far, but never enough from the longing General who wants nothing more than for your eyes to be on him... Even when he has an entire unkindness of ravens keeping their eyes on you.

There will never come a day that you will be unhappy with Swain. You can have anything and everything you ever wanted if you just stay by his side... Don't you see? The possibilities are endless!

[isa-ghost]

Hi! So aside from Nightmare and Every Breath You Take being two big musical forces for amfmn, what other songs would you say help influence you and how you've been writing? I know you have a Q!Phil playlist (which is spot on by the way) but I was wondering if there was a handful of specific songs on top of the two namesakes you attribute to scenes or themes in the fic as a whole?

Yep, all on the Phil playlist! Here's the ones I usually play besides Nightmare and EBYT:

I also of course loop Weirdest Year of Your Life and Floating Dream since those are canon lore songs.

[jacegans]

#JaceganWeek2024 - Ice & Fire:

Jacegan Discord Server (18+)

[applesanddragons]

Aegon IV the Unworthy - Response to Goodqueenaly

Morality binds and blinds.

Aegon had hated the Dornish and warred against them, and those lords who desired the return of those days—despite all the associated misrule—would never be happy with this peaceable king. (TWOIAF)

As you can see above, the historian’s writings of Aegon IV are seasoned with unsubtle jabs at Aegon IV. They are reminders that you’re supposed to think he’s a villain.

As I read through Goodqueenaly’s writings about Aegon IV, I can see that they are seasoned the same way.

Obviously Aegon IV was generally a shitbag

Like Shae, Megette was a lowborn woman whose life prior to meeting her aristocratic male partner (and I use that term extremely loosely) was neither truly free nor independent:

The historian’s propaganda has done its work on Goodqueenaly, causing her to seize upon cheap opportunities to demonize Aegon IV in the eyes of her readers just like the historian is doing to his readers. All the better to moralize the issues.

When you make an issue about good versus evil (moralize), rather than about the facts, you blind people to reason. And when you blind people to reason, you increase the difficulty and danger for a truthseeker to promote conclusions that are more true. Now you have a Westerosi society (and a fandom) that is bonded together by the shared belief that Aegon IV was evil, before the reader has had a chance to do any reasoned deliberation of the facts to determine for himself what he believes about Aegon IV’s moral alignment.

To a society of people that is strongly bonded by the idea of Aegon IV’s villainy, who would dare say that Aegon IV did something good, even if it’s true? The social cost of saying it is not worth the reward, except to the rare person who is sufficiently devoted to the truth. Those are the Aristotles and Galileos of our own world, people who paid the ultimate price because they would not be deterred from a truth that their societies couldn’t bear to know.

If Aegon IV was a villain in reality (the story’s reality), wouldn’t the facts stand in evidence of that all on their own? I mean, without the incessant commentaries about his moral alignment? Surely, readers can be trusted to conclude that a king who actively terrorized, humiliated, and harmed his wife was evil, so long as the facts majorly show that terror, humiliation, and suffering were what King Aegon really intended or caused, and/or what Queen Naerys really experienced.

Though I don’t expect you to believe it before I present and explain all the evidence (Indeed the heart of my lesson [and ASOIAF’s lesson, I gather] is that you should not believe the guilt of anyone where severe accusations are made, before you’ve seen and considered all the evidence), King Aegon IV did not terrorize, humiliate, or harm his wife Queen Naerys. But in fact, Naerys did all of those things to Aegon. The morality of these characters is reversed. And the reason these histories reverse the morality of these characters is because Daeron I The Good was the bastard son of Queen Naerys and Aemon the Dragonknight, and therefore an illegitimate king.

But why would present day historians care about Daeron the Good’s legitimacy or illegitimacy? Because present day historians are writing under present day kings, and the legitimacy of present day kings derives from the legitimacy of past kings they’re descended from. In other words, if it were to become widely known and accepted that Daeron the Good was a bastard, it would become known that Aerys II is illegitimate, too. Because Aerys II descends from him. Under the reign of King Aerys II for example, the spread of that knowledge would be disastrous for the ruling family because the line of succession would jump all the way back up the tree to Aegon IV’s natural sons, who are legitimate heirs because they were legitimized by a legitimate king — Aegon IV himself on his deathbed — and Targaryen civil war would ensue.

Why would GRRM write the story that way? Because this is part of ASOIAF’s baked-in commentary that its audience does not pay enough attention to or give enough weight to the succession politics of Westeros. For the noble and royal people in the story, matters of succession are an ever present reality that shapes their daily lives. Even children such as the Walders Frey are constantly tracking lines of succession for this reason. But for the reader, matters of succession can be comfortably ignored, because most of the plot and drama does not require you to pay attention to politics in order to enjoy it on a surface level, and because your own well-being does not hinge upon noticing, for instance, that your uncle wants to kill your brother, and will want to kill you too when you take your brother’s place on the throne (Thinking of Baelor I). As Goodqueenaly’s analysis often shows, even readers highly knowledgeable of and attentive to ASOIAF’s political machinery are mostly blind to its political subtext.

In keeping with my thesis, her blindness is a morally motivated kind of blindness, because accompanying many of her oversights is a speculative rationale that is commensurate with (and often flattering to) her personal sense of what’s right or wrong, good or evil. Here’s one example.

As the official story of history goes, Aegon IV’s extramarital activities were an insult and humiliation to Queen Naerys, because a husband is supposed to be monogamous with his wife. Sure enough, Aegon’s non-monogamy is the premiere villainy that characterizes Aegon in these histories. There are a whole two pages dedicated to Aegon’s mistresses. Then Goodqueenaly proposed the possibility that part of the reason Aegon IV had his marriage to Megette officiated by a mummer playing a septon, rather than a real septon, was that it gave extra insult to Naerys by giving insult to the Faith’s institution of marriage, because Naerys loved the Faith of the Seven.

But if Aegon marrying Megette was an insult to Naerys, by that same logic shouldn’t Aegon fake marrying Megette be less of an insult to Naerys rather than more? The marriage was fake, after all, because the septon was a mummer and not a real septon. Using the original logic that disloyalty to your first marriage is wrong and mean, surely the use of a real septon officiator in the second marriage should be more wrong and mean than using a fake septon officiator.

What I’m highlighting is that Goodqueenaly’s speculations about the situation are driven not by a logical consistency, but by a moral consistency. Aegon being bad and Naerys being good is the moral framework that is guiding her speculations, and the logical framework is rearranged to support it. What goes largely unnoticed by her is that with the addition of her speculation the situation as a whole has become illogical.

And what usually goes entirely unnoticed by her is that the nature of the illogic suggests an alternative and viable possibility for what the true nature of these events really was. It just requires us to do the opposite of what Goodqueenaly did—preserve the logic and invert the moral alignments instead. That is, suppose that Aegon was good and Naerys was bad.

If Aegon was the good guy in this situation and Naerys was bad, what would that situation look like and what speculations would help it make sense? Now you’re in the right frame of mind to work and solve the historiographic puzzles of The World of Ice and Fire and Fire & Blood.

[mythalsknickers]

Meet My Warden Inquisitor;

~The Light in the Shadow

The Hero of Feralden was as bastard born to the noble house Amell on [Date here]. While not a lowborn bastard, being the bastard of two houses, one of which held magic was seen as a stain by her grandfather. Before House Trevelyn knew of her magic, her grandfather sold her to a Tevinter cousin who was working to gain passage back to Minrathous. However his attempts proved pointless once they reached Fereldan because Drysi managed to escape a ritual he had planned finding her Uncle Malcom and a group of templars who escorted her to Kinloch Hold Once at Kinloch Hold prior to her harrowing at seventeen she was placed under the eye of a budding templar, Cullen Rutherford. As he rose through the ranks she became a promising Spirit Healer often working with a spirit of compassion. Over the years they had grown close and when it came time for her Harrowing, the Knight Commander and her First Enchanter selected her long time protector as her would be executioner. What she met in the fade she does not entirely remember but she does know she withstood it and came out of the fade. According to rumor the excess of Lyrium had triggered a sensitivity in her and she had passed out. A Grey Warden visiting the tower with news of an impending blight would be all it took for her life to upend. Her first task as a junior enchanter saw her expelled from the tower and scooped up by the Warden in question. Only with a pendant and staff to remind her of the only home she had know for years, she went to Ostagar. Waking to find herself one of two grey wardens left in the whole of Feralden with a blight raging, was terrifying and to suddenly be thrust into command and grappled with the reality of her circle falling, loosing the only person she loved due to refusal to harm apprentices, and the ultimate sacrifice of a hero. Over the course of the blight Amell fell into the arms of an antivan crow she ultimately let slip her embrace to go hunt his own demons. It was not until the slaying of Urthemiel that she fell into the arms of an unexpected ally, the disgraced Teyrn Loghain Mac Tir, he became her second in command and faced down the disciplinary action Wiesshaupt handed both of them, with his daughter on the throne and his son doing honestly who knew what. He took over Amranthine for Drysi, giving her the freedom to return to the Circle. This time in Ostiwick. She would not emerge again until rumors reached Denerim's royal court of a Grey Warden mage meeting with the Divine and Knight Divine Trevelyan in Gwaren. However these quickly proved to be nothing but rumor. During the conclave a mage from the Trevelyan family recovered Coreypheus' orb and became the Herald of Andraste. At the fall of Haven it became apparent to Cullen Rutherford who she was with a singular phylactry bearing a grey warden seal. The former Herald of Andraste stood against the fifth blight with a small group of people, and she stood against the world tearing asunder, and then she would stand against the Blight to end all Blights. My words caused those scars...do not belittle the harm I did Weisshaupt has failed us, and I will not see it fail another warden I leave you two alone...you get married in Orlais and come back with ...five Mabari?

Inspiration for this post comes from @eurodyne-d post they did for their Rook, Valentin Mercar. If you'd like to see more of what I have done, please see my Meet My Rook , Meet My Inquisitor, and Meet My Hawke. Drysi is not my canon warden, but her AU is very special to me as she was my first complete playthrough of Origins. Her works can be found under Songs Like Lyrium and Herald of the Grey AU tag or the Drysi Amell Trevelyan tag. She is in a polyamorous trio with Loghain Mac Tir and Cullen Rutherford. If you have any questions please feel free to ask

[msgeekstyle]

Music Tag Game

it's all @beauty-of-nyx fault

Rules: Put your playlist on shuffle. For each of the 10 interview questions, select a lyric from the random song that comes up. (Skip if there aren’t any lyrics and make sure to drop the name of the song in your interview answer!) <3

1. First off, how would you describe yourself in one sentence?

Hey! What do you want me to say?

Soul 4 Sale - Simon Curtis

2. What kind of [Sign] are you?

Stop calling, stop calling, I don't wanna talk anymore

Telephone - Lady Gaga

3. You’re visiting your favourite spot. What are you thinking about?

Sometimes, I wonder if I should be medicated

Free - Florence + the Machine

4. If your life was a movie, what do you think the first review would say about it?

Give me two damn minutes and I'll be fine

Two Minutes - The Amazing Devil

5. Say you get a book deal. What are you titling the memoir?

I know I can't fight the sad days and bad nights

Cure For Me - AURORA

6. What would you say about your best friends?

No words can explain the way I'm missing you

Lay Me Down - Sam Smith the cover by Hozier

7. Think back to when you had everything all figured out in highschool. What was your life motto as a teenager?

Sometimes before it gets better the darkness gets bigger

Miss Missing You - Fall Out Boy

8. Describe your aesthetic now

I see the tunnel full of light again

Demons and Angels - LOWBORN

9. What’s a lyric that they’ll quote in your eulogy?

The memory hurts but does me no harm

Abstract (Psychopomp) - Hozier

10. And for our final question, say you believe in soulmates. What do you think their first impression of meeting you would be?

God made all men in his image, honey, I'm no man

Pray - The Amazing Devil

no pressure tags: @thranduilland @my-brain-needs-a-spring-cleaning @alexandra-scribbles @electrageira @i-am-darth-feanor

[autoacafiles]

The Tale of the Dark Ages

"It has been twenty stellarcycles. More than two vorns since the Thirteen Primes, the Firstforged, turned arms against each other. Nobody has seen the Primes in years, and there has been a generation or two who earnestly believe them to be figures of myth. The realm of Iacon, the great towers, has become naught but a ruin, covered in ash and snow, roads that once led across the world now cracked and broken due to lack of maintenance, towers collapsing under the weight of our sins. We have ruined Cybertron, our home, for the sake of personal glory. Though we, the people of Iacon, persist and maintain our cultural balance, there's not much for us to claim as home but a broken temple and cracked ground. And every day, we get reports of Darklanders encroaching on our territory, Flockers stalking in the shadows of our city, and the Demons have claimed most of the ruin for their own barbarism.

If the rumors are true, an order of knights led by a Darklander, claiming to be the granddaughter of two of the Firstforged, have taken to fighting against the darkness. They shed the icons of their gods, coat their armors in sheens of silver and gold, and strike back with weapons glowing with power none have seen before... power erupting from their very sparks. Desperate measures have been taken by those that follow this so-called Septimus Prime, and other warlords have been waiting for them to slip up.

We cannot wait long enough. So we have taken desperate measures of our own. Young sparklings who have yet to truly live have been kidnapped in the night, lowborn kindlings sold so their scions can afford more energon for themselves, and drifters in need of purpose coerced into our service. And when the time comes and Septimus asks for our cooperation against the demon hordes, we will stand against them with our own knights. No need for glowing weaponry. No need for spark energy. They will stand with their old allegiances stamped boldly on their armor, their eyes aglow with the energy they need, and they will bring this world to order... Our warriors. The Primal Guardians. Our heroes." - Reforgis of Iacon, text recovered from an ancient ruin found in the depths of Lower Iacon.

What the people of Cybertron know of the Dark Ages that followed the Age of the Firstforged is a shadowy picture that you'd have to squint at to make anything out. A lot of old stories distorted by myth and legend, some artifacts that remain intact only by sheer luck, and very rarely a body that hadn't been eaten from the inside out by desperate scavengers or rusted to dust by the ages. As a result, the exact series of events that led to the fall of the Firstforged are not well known, nor anything from between their fall and the rise of modern Iacon and the establishment of the Age calendar. The cynical might say that the Iaconian government at the time would likely have either neglected to fully preserve the history of the Firstforged and Dark Ages from then due to personal ambitions, with some even going so far as to claim that they opted to bury the information outright in hopes to legitimize their perceived legacy as the stewards of the new world. As a result, scholars had to piece together what information they have or are able to glean from what few accounts remain. 

The most commonly accepted idea is that Megatronus, Prime of Destruction, struck down fellow Firstforged member Solus, Prime of Technology, and caused the rift between all the different members of the Firstforged, and thus the Schism is all Megatronus's fault. However, if you look closely at the details of this, then the chronology starts to look a little janky. Many accounts paint Solus and Megatronus as being close allies prior to this event and some even claim that the two often got intimately personal, so the change that would lead to Solus's death is kinda hard to track down. There are even some accounts of members of the Radiant Forges, Solus's tribesmen, fighting alongside the Darklanders against troops from the House of Light, even though most historical records recount them either allying with the House of Light or outright abandoning Cybertron. Some even say that while Solus is confirmed to have died before the Schism happened, the two events might not even be remotely connected.

Even more radical historians like to point out this discrepancy and claim that the Schism might've marked an end to the Age of the Firstforged, no event like it legitimately occurred that would justify calling something a new Age - not even the passing of the Matrix of Light, which these historians claim was never a legitimate claim to the seat of power that Prima himself once held. These historians boldly claim that the age of darkness that followed the Schism never truly ended, and it'd only be a matter of time before one of them revealed themselves to the population of Cybertron and usher in a new Golden Age for the commonwealth.

But this is considered naught but the ramblings of madmen who fail to recognize progress. Aside from Amalgus's involvement with the Combatron War, there has not been any evidence to suggest that any member of the Firstforged would make any return...