#loyal knight block tales

[radioactivefacilities]

this is so fucking funny to me dude imagine being called to help in a battle by the king himself and once you get there he's fast asleep. absolutely snoozing.

"For the king!!" the king:

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

The Silver Dragon (40/?)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Original Female Character

Word Count: 5527

Story Summary: Lady Arianwyn Targaryen, the Lady of Runestone, was seeded by her father, the Rogue Prince Daemon Targaryen, in an act of unbridled hatred, and borne of her mother, the late Lady Rhea Royce, as a desperate grasp at revenge.

Ignored by her father, and alone following the death of her mother, she is raised in King’s Landing alongside her cousin, Prince Aemond Targaryen. As they grow, the two find themselves indelibly bonded. But their lives are far from the fairy tales they read, and as tensions in the family rise, they find their paths may diverge.

Will they be pulled apart when the dragons dance?

Chapter Summary: Aemond and Arianwyn mount their dragons to fly in separate directions. But not before saying goodbye.

Warnings: 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️ 18+ MINORS DNI

Author's Note:

I definitely took liberties with the Valyrian translations here, but there aren't words for exactly what I want to say, so I just get as close as possible.

And I wanted to give y'all a heads up that the next two chapters are probably gonna take longer than usual. At the moment, I'm anticipating them being in the 10K words range (oops!) since I don't want to split them into multiple chapters. So it may be a few days, but I promise you'll like them!

Also... hope y'all enjoyed a little spice 😉

Series Masterlist

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The Long Goodbye

Arianwyn had so many admirable qualities.

She was brave. She was strong. She was clever. She was kind. And so much more besides. Aemond could sing her praises forever.

What she was not, however, was skilled with a blade.

Not in the slightest.

In fact, she was very near to hopeless.

It had been a massive struggle just to get her to hold the blade properly without dropping it. Though it was the smallest one he could find, the hilt was still too large for her – made for the rough hands of the knights and guards of the castle, not the small, smooth grip of a Princess. It had not helped that every time she huffed in frustration or yelped in fear that she had cut herself (which she had miraculously avoided), the attention of the entire training yard fell upon them, making her even more nervous than she already was.

She had only begun to relax when more of her Runestone guards appeared and, sensing her shyness, moved to block the spectators’ view. By the time all twelve were there, they had all but formed a wall around her and Aemond, granting them the privacy they needed to make even the smallest amount of progress.

Still, Aemond noticed each wince and frown from the Valeman every time Arianwyn lost her grip, tripped, or missed her target completely. Yet they were loyal enough to swallow most of their reactions and applauded heartily whenever Arianwyn did hit land a hit or managed a lunge without tumbling into the dirt. Every time they called to her with words of encouragement, she blushed with pride.

Though perhaps the red on her cheeks was simply from exertion. After yet another failed attack on their training dummy, which she missed spectacularly, striking with her elbow rather than her blade, she sighed heavily and dropped her head.

“How I ever managed to hit Daemon instead of gutting myself, I’ll never know,” she grumbled. Then, angrily, she threw down the dagger and took another swipe at the dummy with her fist, but she only managed to make contact with Aemond’s shoulder.

“Careful!” he warned, rolling his shoulder. It hadn’t actually hurt – Arianwyn was nearly as weak as she was apparently clumsy. But her ego had been bruised enough today without him mentioning it. “Keep your eyes on your target, and your weapon should follow.”

She rolled her eyes. “If it’s that easy, why have I only hit this gods-damned thing five times today?”

Aemond had no answer for that. He didn’t understand it himself.

“You have actually landed six blows, your Highness,” called Ser Trevor from where he stood by the wall. “I’ve been counting!”

Overlapping calls for the young knight to be silent immediately erupted from the other eleven knights, but they again fell silent when Arianwyn turned to him. But there was no anger in her face, only exasperation.

“And how many times have I missed, Trevor?” she asked.

The poor young knight blanched when he beheld the silent threat in Prince Aemond’s eyes as he glared at him from over Arianwyn’s shoulder. “I…I have not been counting that, your Highness.”

“How good of you,” Aemond muttered before placing the dagger back in his wife’s hand. “Just keep trying, my love. The more you practice, the better you will be.”

Arianwyn glanced at the weapon in her hand, then back up at her husband. A smile crept across her lips for the first time in more than an hour. “The more I practice,” she said quietly, so as to be heard by only him, “the more tired I will be tonight.”

He took half a step closer to her, lips pursing as he struggled to maintain his composure. But there was no mistaking the darkening of his eye. “Then you will sleep well. It would be wise – you would be rested and ready for your journey.”

“You have always been so practical, Aemond,” she replied with no small amount of annoyance.

Under the guise of brushing something off his jacket, she laid her hands on his chest. “But at this rate, I will be too exhausted to even say goodbye to you, jorrāelagon valzȳrys.  Kesan daor sagon able naejot vūjigon ao ēva īlon both māzigon aril.” Dear Husband. I will not be able to kiss you until we both come back.

Aemond’s mouth fell slightly open, and he took a shaking breath, holding her hand over the dagger’s hilt. “Pār nyke pendagon istiti sagon tetan syt tubī.  Kesan henujagon ao lēda aōha egros, se jorepagon emā daor jorrāelagon naejot gaomagon ziry.” Then I think we must be finished for today. I will leave you with your blade, and pray you have no need to use it.

She looked up at him, silver eyes brimming with gratitude. “Gaomagon daor henujagon nyke sepār yet, ñuha jorrāelagon.  Daor ēva emi daor tolie iderennon” Do not leave me just yet, my love. Not until we have no other choice.

“Hen rhinka daor, ñuha dōna ābrazȳrys,” he replied, looking over her head and nodding a dismissal to the guards. Of course not, my sweet wife.

He waited until only two – their escorts for the day – remained, and had averted their eyes, to look back down and give her a short, chaste kiss. “Sir, issi ao sīr ēdrugī bona istin gryves ao naejot ēdrugon, iā kostagon geron konīr aōla?” Now, are you so tired that I must carry you to bed, or can you walk there yourself?”

Arianwyn did not hesitate to choose being carried.

Nor did Aemond hesitate to lift her, sliding one hand beneath her knees while the other cradled the small of her back. She wrapped her arms around his neck to hold herself steady, and the brush of her cool fingers against his skin was exhilarating.

He was careful to ensure that her dress stayed in place around her, so that only the tips of her slippers could be seen by anyone who looked upon them. He was still a Prince and a pious one at that. He would not have anyone see his wife in any improper state. Even her stocking-covered ankles were only for his eyes.

She was only slightly less concerned about propriety than he was. While she never did anything while others were around, whenever they found themselves alone (save for the two Runestone guards that followed them) in one of the halls, she peppered his face and neck with quick, teasing kisses.

It amused her to no end how hard Aemond was fighting with himself not to kiss her back. Each time she pressed her mouth to the sensitive spot just under the corner of his jaw, he instinctively turned to meet her lips. The look on his face when he bit his tongue and forced himself to turn away from her was nothing less than thrilling.

By the time they reached their chambers, she had driven him so mad that he kicked the door open, startling the servants that were midway through packing their saddlebags.

“Out,” he commanded, hardly looking at them before striding across the room to their bedchamber door. “Now.”

Brynna huffed and would have placed her hands on her hips menacingly had she been able. “We are not finished preparing for your journeys tomorrow, my Prince,” she said, even as Kirin and Elsie sprinted out the door.

“Then I suggest you do so quickly,” Aemond grumbled, fumbling to open the door when Arianwyn was so eagerly unbuttoning his jerkin to access his collarbones. “I do not imagine… ah! Aria, can you not wait a single moment?” he scolded as she brought her lips up to his so fast he had to roughly jerk his head back to avoid the kiss.

She pouted and buried her face in his chest, allowing him to turn back to Brynna. “I suggest you do so quickly, as I do not imagine you wish to hear what I am planning to do.”

He could not tell whether the maid was impressed or horrified. Either way, he did not care. He had finally gotten the door open, and he wasn’t going to waste a moment before getting Arianwyn on the bed.

Brynna was seething as she turned to chase after the others to retrieve them. “Just don’t rip anything on that dress,” she shouted over her shoulder, “it is new!”

Arianwyn laughed into his ear. “You’re in trouble!” she practically sang as he dropped her unceremoniously onto the bed. She had not stopped bouncing before she was back on him, kissing him fiercely while her hands slid into his to guide them to the laces on her back.

“No, my love,” he chided, tearing his hands from hers and flexing each one as they tingled with the desire to rip the silly dress to shreds. “Brynna said no ripping. And if I undress you… I don’t intend to provoke more wrath than I already have.”

She whined pitifully, leaning back on her knees. “Aemond…”

“I’ll make you a deal,” he said, cupping her chin in his palm. “You will undress yourself. And for every item you remove, I will also take off one of mine.”

Though her brow remained furrowed in frustration, there was no mistaking the twinkle in her eyes that showed she was more than happy with the arrangement. “I wear far more than you do,” she teased.

Aemond laughed and stepped back until he was out of her reach. “Then you will be satisfied well before I am. One more rule: there will be no touching until we are both bare. Do you think you can handle that?”

As a wicked smile spread across her lips, Arianwyn nodded and stood at the foot of the bed. Then, never breaking eye contact with her husband, she reached up and removed her necklace, letting the silver chain fall onto the carpet. Then, she raised her brows at him expectantly.

“I don’t think jewelry counts,” he chastised. Though he did appreciate the sight of her bare neck, especially now that her bruises had faded to yellow rather than deep purple.

Arianwyn balked, though it was clear she remained quite pleased with herself. “That wasn’t one of the rules. And you can’t change the rules once we’ve started the game.”

He wanted nothing more than to kiss that stupid, smug smirk off her face. But he had made the ‘no touching’ rule, so he had to follow it. He licked his lips and bared his teeth before returning the smile. “Very well.”

Then he reached down and unsheathed his dagger, tossing it on the rug beside her necklace.

She rolled her eyes. “Surely that and its belt count as one item.”

He raised his brow. “‘That wasn’t one of the rules.’”

“So that’s how we’re playing this,” she crooned, with a cheeriness that let Aemond know he had just lost this game.

She removed a single earring.

Oh yes, he had definitely lost.

He took his sword from its sheath and propped it against the wall.

She removed the other earring and tossed both to the table beside the bed. She missed.

His dagger belt came next.

Then her bracelet – the one from her left arm.

His sword belt.

Her right bracelet.

Aemond hesitated.

She still had three rings and her own belt to remove before she got to any actual clothing. All he had left was his eyepatch, but he wanted to save that for last. And he still wanted to tease her. He ran his eye from her fidgeting feet to the hand that tucked a piece of unbound hair behind her ear.

There was his answer.

He reached behind his head and removed the leather strap holding back his hair.

“You know that looks ridiculous, right?” Arianwyn asked. The strap of his eyepatch still held most of the hair back, leaving it hanging awkwardly around the leather rather than falling gracefully.

He only shrugged. “Your turn.”

She hummed slightly and removed one ring. The simple silver band soon joined the pile that was growing between them.

Aemond leaned down and took off one boot.

Another ring, this one set with a small amethyst.

His other boot.

Her bronze signet ring.

One sock.

Her belt.

The other sock.

Arianwyn leaned against the bed and kicked off her left slipper.

She watched impatiently as Aemond unfastened his jerkin with agonizing slowness. How she wished it was her doing so, while his long, lithe fingers undid the laces of her dress.

All she wanted was for him to hurry up. When he had carried her here, she had hoped it meant he would be quick and that they would have already found their first release by now.

No, he wanted to tease her first.

Well, she could tease him, too.

She fully sat on the bed with an overdramatic sigh, leaning back on her arms as she spread her legs apart until the fabric of her dress strained. Thank the Seven, the skirts were not as full as what she usually wore. Otherwise, Aemond may never have noticed the movement.

The smug look on his face fell as his eye drifted down to what he knew to lay beneath the fabric. His breath came noticeably quicker, and he bit his lip, tearing his jacket off as fast as he could.

Arianwyn smiled. Her husband didn’t possess half the patience he pretended to have. And she simply adored how he looked in only his tight black pants and flowing white cotton shirt.

“We must play this game more often,” she said, kicking off her other shoe. “It’s fun.”

“For you,” he scoffed.

“Come now, my love,” she laughed. “It was your idea. And from where I sit, you seem to be enjoying yourself very well.”

Indeed, with his jerkin out of the way, the straining in his trousers was quite apparent. Aemond didn’t need to follow her gaze to know what she was referring to.

“It’s your turn,” he said flatly.

She stood and reached beneath the panels of her bodice to release a pair of hook-and-eye fasteners.

The despondent look on Aemond’s face when he realized that the dress was in two parts – an ornate surcoat pinned over a simple linen gown – was one of the best things Arianwyn had ever seen. She wished she had skill in painting, so she could capture it. Perhaps she would embroider it on a pillow instead.

“That’s not fair,” Aemond groaned.

“What was it that book said?” Arianwyn asked with a coy smile. “The one by that war-philosopher. ‘A wise general knows everything about his enemy before engaging,’ I believe it was.”

He frowned as he pulled his shirt over his head, taking some small victory in the lusty way she admired his bare chest. “Are you my enemy, wife?”

“You’re the one who started this game,” she said as she stood once more to reach behind her for the laces of her gown. “And you know how I hate to lose.”

She had only begun to tug on the small bow at the small of her back when Aemond spoke again, his voice soft and rasping with desire. “Turn around.”

“Why?”

“I want to watch,” he explained, bringing his hands to the laces of his trousers. “So we can do this one together.”

“What if I want to watch you, too?” she asked, her heart pounding faster with each moment of anticipation.

“You can look over your shoulder,” he explained. “In fact, please do. Now, will you turn around for me?”

She obeyed, turning tauntingly slowly before looking back at him over his shoulder, just as he said. He took a short step to the side to give her a better view of his actions. “It’s your turn,” he said, “you start.”

So, she began to unlace her dress, each movement of her fingers mirrored by her husband. He had far fewer laces to undo than she did, so he finished well before her. But he did not lower his trousers until she again turned to face him and slid the dress from her shoulders.

Now, he was bare before her, save for his eyepatch. Yet she was still frustratingly clothed.

Still, he was thankful her chemise was thin. He could still see the outline of her breasts and the peaks of her nipples. It was such a beautiful sight. Were he not so averse to letting anyone else see her this way, he would commission a painting of how she looked at that moment.

“It’s your turn,” she whispered.

Actually, it was hers. He had taken his turn along with her. But the rules didn’t seem to matter so much anymore.

Aemond reached up and pulled his eyepatch off, dropping it into the pile of clothes, jewelry, and one dagger before them.

She still blushed, even when the sight was now as familiar as her own reflection.

“You are so beautiful,” she murmured.

As he felt a seed of warmth blossoming in his heart, he realized he had begun to believe her.

“It’s your turn,” was all he said in reply.

Arianwyn rolled her eyes. “Are we still playing? I’m sure Brynna wouldn’t mind you tearing some of my underclothes. If you still want to, that is.”

“Some other time, I would certainly like to,” he answered. “But today, I think I should like to simply watch you finish what we’ve started.”

The sight of him naked – and so visibly eager for her – almost had her ready to tear off the clothes herself. But not quite. Though there was an eager ache between her thighs, and she was more than wet enough to take him immediately, she would not make it so easy for him.

“Aōhoso, valzȳrys.” As you wish, husband.

Though it was unnecessary to actually remove the garment, she took an undue amount of time untying the ribbon that lay on the neckline. Undone, the thin cotton drifted further down her breasts until its hem lay just over her nipples.

When she looked up at Aemond, he was no longer looking at his face but at her breasts. His chin was ever so slightly tucked in, and he stared at her chest with such intensity she was sure he was trying to will the fabric lower with only his mind.

Arianwyn was so enjoying the power she held over him that she stilled. She wanted to see how long he would stare before realizing she had stopped.

It was longer than she had guessed.

“Please,” he finally begged.

He said it with such desperation that she took pity on him, and gathered the fabric of the chemise before lifting it over her head.

She wasn’t sure whether the noise he made then was exactly a moan or a sigh, but it sent a shiver through her veins that nearly had her giving up all her plans of teasing him.

Her silver eyes never left his face as she once more sat on the bed, again spreading her legs wider than she really needed to give him a glimpse of what he so desperately wanted. But then she took it away, crossing her legs as she began unbuckling her garter.

The latches were too complex for her to tackle without looking away, but when she looked back to him as she readied to lower her stocking, she was overcome with righteous anger.

Aemond’s hand was on his cock, pumping lazily.

“Absolutely not!” she shrieked, yanking her stocking further up her leg.

His face twisted in confusion, though his hand did still. “What?”

“You said ‘no touching’ until we were both naked,” she reminded him sternly. “Do I look naked to you?”

He scoffed. “I said no touching each other.”

“You did not!”

“Well… that’s what I meant!”

“But it’s not what you said,” she countered firmly. “No. Touching.”

Aemond heaved a great sigh but lowered his hand to his side. He had to clench his fist to keep it there. “Be quick about it, Aria. Please?”

“Only because you asked so nicely.” She gave a wolfish grin as she finally lowered her stocking, then the other, the garters themselves soon following, and she was finally as bare as her husband.

He surged forward faster than she could follow and wrapped his hands firmly around her head as he toppled into the bed with her, kissing her like he needed her more than air. But his patience was at its end, and before long, his hands were roaming all over her body in a desperate quest to feel every inch of her skin.

Arianwyn decided then she would tease him more often in the future. She liked what it awoke in him. His usual gentleness and reverence were wonderful, of course, but this had its place, too.

“I don’t know if I never want to do that again,” he said through his pants between kisses, “or whether I want to do it every night for the rest of our lives.”

Her responding laugh turned into a wanton moan when his hand finally made its way between her legs. “So long as we end up here, I don’t give a damn how we get there.”

“You know,” he mused as he pulled himself from her lips and settled onto his knees at the end of the bed. “I think here might just be my favorite place in the world.”

With that, he wrapped both hands around her hips and pulled her towards him, so close that she squirmed at the feeling of his hot breath on her folds. He breathed in her scent deeply before leaning ever so slightly forward, resting the tip of his nose against her.

“In fact,” he said before flattening his tongue and licking a long, slow stripe from her entrance to her clit, sucking the sweet pearl between his lips before finally drawing back. Her wanton moans were more melodious than any music he had ever heard, her taste more delicious than anything he had ever eaten. “I’m quite sure of it.”

And then a great crash came from behind the dressing room door, followed by muffled cursing and the sound of footsteps retreating.

Aemond rested his head again her thigh, suckling gently on the soft skin as he laughed. “I thought they’d be done packing by now. I’m afraid you’ll have to stay quiet, my love. At least for a little while longer.”

But as his mouth drew ever closer to where she needed him, Arianwyn arched off the bed with a barely restrained cry. “I really don’t think I’m capable of that.”

Indeed, when he nuzzled his nose back into her, she whined in such an extraordinarily high tone he was sure all the dogs in the keep would be sent howling. And though he trusted Kirin and Brynna – and Elsie, to a lesser extent – he selfishly wanted those noises all to himself.

Keeping his head as close to her as he could, he reached toward the pile of discarded clothing they had left on the rug. He had meant to grab a belt or even her necklace. But his hands landed first on his dagger.

He was too impatient. It would have to do.

Flipping the blade in his hands, he pressed the hilt against Arianwyn’s lips.

“Bite down,” he instructed.

She looked at him in disbelief for only a moment before she opened her mouth and let him slide the hilt between her teeth. Though the leather was smooth, the braided gold wire that spiraled around it was rough and cold against her tongue. Yet it, and the mild pain in her jaw at the strain of holding it so far open for so long, somehow made the pleasure she felt when Aemond dove back into her folds all the sharper.

The blade served its purpose. Her noises never stopped, but they were quieter. Now, they were truly only for his ears. He savored each one, trying not to think too hard about how his stomach tightened each time he glanced up to see her with her jaw clamped tight around his dagger.

He continued to devour her with even more vigor than he had the night before. First, by repeating his first slow stroke of the tongue until her legs trembled around him. With each lick, he gained speed and pressed further and further into her until his nose was driving her nearly as wild as his mouth.

Aegon had always mocked him for inheriting their grandsire’s long nose. How well it was serving him now.

The moment Arianwyn’s hands flew into his hair to pull him closer, he dug his fingers into the soft flesh of her hips, lifting her off the mattress and further into his face. He let his chin – another fortuitously large feature of his – press against her entrance as he ravaged her clit, alternating between swirling it with his tongue and sucking on it with all he had.

She nearly crushed his head between her thighs as she came, wailing like a banshee. Were the hilt of his dagger not still in her mouth, he was sure the whole of King’s Landing, perhaps even all the Crownlands, would have heard her.

Knowing he could bring her such bliss was almost as pleasurable as achieving his own relief.

Almost.

As she fell back into the mattress, head lolling to the side as the dagger tumbled from her mouth, Aemond again became aware of the tightness in his own stomach and the nearly painfully hardness of his cock. He had never imagined losing sight of his own desire, and yet he had. Every single time.

“Oh, ñuha gevie riña,” he sighed, darting his tongue out to draw the rest of her release into his mouth. “Skori iksan lēda ao, nyke ojughagon nykēla.  Se gaoman daor mirre jaelagon naejot sagon maghatan aril.” Oh, my beautiful wife. When I am with you, I lose myself. And I do not ever want to be found again.

She smiled at him and tugged on the ends of his hair to draw him close to her. Then, when he hovered over her once more, she caressed his cheek and kissed him softly.

Distantly, he heard a door shut louder than it needed to. The servants were done, then. They were finally alone.

Arianwyn must have heard it, too, for her next words were anything but soft.

“Lo gaomā daor qogralbar nyke bisa olvie moment, nyke kessa gaomagon se ñōghe hen aōha egros isse dīnagon hen aōha orvorta,” she whispered with the innocence of a maiden. If you do not fuck me this very moment, I shall use the hilt of your blade in place of your cock.

In honesty, the idea delighted Aemond. But not today. He grabbed the dagger and sent it flying across the room before gripping Arianwyn in one hand and raising her onto his lap.

His cock had never slid home so easily. Her cunt was warm, and tight, and utterly perfect.

Arianwyn, too, had never felt so sublime. Her spine still tingled from her release, and she was eager for another. Chasing that, she immediately started to grind her hips into him, savoring each impact of his cock against her walls. 

He did not just press into that spot that dazzled her vision but into every inch of her. Her blood danced with ecstasy as she rolled her hips against his and felt him seep into her soul.

She reached a new peak within mere moments, wrapping her arms around his head and bringing him into her chest as she cried out again, her walls constricting around his cock. Still, she never stopped moving.

Aemond tightened his grip on her, teeth bared as he brought himself up from between her breasts.

“Istia keligon, se tepagon nyke iā moment, iā kesan māzigon gō iksi drējī bē syt ziry,” he begged, burying his face into her neck as he nearly wept for the intensity of his pleasure. You must stop, and give me a moment, or I will come before we are truly ready for it.

“Issa sȳz, ñuha jorrāelagon, she whispered, stroking his hair. “Ivestragī jikagon, se māzigon syt nyke.” It is fine, my love. Let go, and come for me.

He did. His final rut into her was so forceful that her head jerked back, and she went limp in his arms. But even her gentlest touch drew him in, and they fell back against the bed together.

“Iksan vaoreznuni,” he whimpered as he showered her with small kisses, “Nyke - īles tolī olvie. Iksā tolī olvie, tolī vok” I’m sorry, I - it was too much. You are too much, too perfect.

Arianwyn laughed and brushed aside the hair plastered by his sweat to his face. “Don’t you dare apologize,” she scolded lightly. “After all, I came faster than you did. Twice”

“Still,” Aemond sighed, rolling onto his back beside her. “You deserve more than that as a goodbye.”

“Then I shall have more!” she declared, only laughing harder when Aemond’s eyes grew wide with both happy anticipation and healthy trepidation. “We broke our fast in bed. Who is to stop us from lunching here, and even taking dinner? I say we stay here until the morning, and use every last moment before our departure to say ‘goodbye.’”

He did laugh at that, clapping his hands over his face as he said a silent prayer to the Warrior for all the strength he could muster. Once that was done, he let his left arm fall to the side and beckoned his wife back to him with his right.

“Very well,” he agreed. “But go easy on me, my love. If I am to last until morning, you must ration your… zeal, for lack of a better word.”

Giggling delightedly, Arianwyn climbed back on top of him. She was more than happy to simply kiss, and kiss, and kiss him. That is, until he was ready for her ‘zeal’ once more.

-

Neither of them lasted until morning.

It had not been long after sunset when they fell asleep in each other’s arms, too exhausted to even stir when Elsie entered with a tray for their dinner. The girl sent most of it back to the kitchens with a chambermaid, but left some bread, cheese, and a large pitcher of water on a table in the bedchamber should they wake to find themselves hungry.

They did not.

But they ate their fill that morning when they broke their fast. They remained mostly silent during the meal, content to simply be in each other’s presence for at least a while longer. Once they were dressed in their riding leathers, they walked hand in hand to the stables, where they briefly greeted their new flock of sheep before boarding a carriage to take them to the Dragonpit.

Aemond rode with Arianwyn, wanting every moment he could manage with his wife before they were separated. He was keenly aware that this would be the longest journey both she and Emrys had ever taken. So, he spent most of the ride through the city going over maps with her, ensuring she knew the landmarks to guide her to the Mountains of the Moon and the Eyrie.

He stayed by her side as her bags were attached to her mount’s saddle, and he held the dragon’s reins as she climbed onto his back

“Three days,” he reminded her. “If you can return before that, all the better. If not, send a raven immediately so I know you are well. Promise me, Arianwyn.”

She knew when he used her full name that he was deathly serious. “I promise, Aemond. And you must promise me the same.”

“I do,” he said, running a gloved hand down Emrys’ snout. Then he leaned against the beast and whispered too low for Arianwyn to hear. “Mīsagon zirȳla.  Nyke daor, sīr istis sagon ao.  Kostagon gaomā bona syt nyke?” Protect her. I cannot, so it must be you. Can you do that for me?

Emrys huffed affirmatively and pressed into him.

“Kirimvose,” the Prince replied, patting his glossy black scales. Thank you.

“Aemond?” Arianwyn called from atop the saddle. He looked up at her mournfully, for he knew what she was going to say. “I need to leave.”

He grimaced and turned away from her, blinking away tears he could not allow himself to spill  - not even before the Dragonkeepers. “I know,” he said, finally looking back at her. “Just… be safe, my love. Come back to me.”

She gripped her reins tighter and gave him the best semblance of a smile she could muster. “I always have, haven’t I?”

But then he stepped away, giving Emrys the room he would need to take flight, and her smile fell.

Her lip trembled as she called to him again. “You must come back to me, too. I love you, Aemond. So very, very much.”

“Avy jorrāelan, ñuha riña hen gēlenka,” he shouted back. I love you, my lady of silver.

Then Emrys took flight, and Aemond and Arianwyn were separated once again.

Next Chapter

[dira333]

Mitobe Rinnosuke and his family - Ink

old repost from my 30 days of writing Challenge - one of my favorite works ever

Rinnosuke did not have a voice but he had all the words in the world.

The Mitobe household has always been loud and cheerful. In the early days, before the eldest son was born, there was never a day without laughter. And then, Rinnosuke was born, their first child. The new parents watched as the doctor took hold of the little squirming boy, that breathed, and shook his fist, face red with, mouth open – but there was no sound. But both of them, they promised themselves, would never love him less for this, no, if possible, they loved him even more.

Rinnosuke grew up, a quiet, humble and oh so sweet boy. He made friends with Koganei Shinji, the boy next door and even though he liked Sports and Chemistry and lots of other things, he loved his family the most – including his best friend, who was already family to him.

With six younger brothers and three younger sisters, there was always someone who wanted his attention. The girls loved it when he braided their hair and put cute bobby pins into their black hair. The boys sat and watched in awe when he built them houses from wooden toy blocks or castles from their pillows. He was their loyal horse, one that could carry a princess or a knight. He was their giant airplane, carrying them on his shoulders and running on full speed, listening to them screaming in delight. Never once did they ask why their big brother did not speak. There was no need for spoken words when it came to Rinnosuke. His nine little siblings earnestly believed that their big brother knew how to read minds and that it was something common in their family – because there has never been a member of the Mitobe family who did not understand Rinnosukes wordless conversations. Rinnosuke did not need to speak, because he already knew every word that existed. Of course they never voiced that outside their family, it was a secret. At least that was what the elder siblings told the younger ones. And they never had any problems to believe that, because on Sundays, when the whole family was home, when the played the whole day, trained Basketball, cooked enormous amounts of food and couldn’t even move anymore, then was their favourite time of the week. Because then, Rinnosuke would pull a black ink pen out of his pocket, pull the cap off with his teeth… and write. He wrote black ink poetry on the skin of his brothers, sisters, mother, father and himself. He wrote his favourite words, the names of his loved ones, of Players he admired, Girls he found insanely cute, Animals that sounded funny. He wrote stories and fairy tales and more often than not he would bring whole new worlds into existence, mostly when the tip of his pen would reach the soft skin of a hand palm, or the knee bend or just above the rips. One of his brothers was insanely ticklish there and that was the best part, because he had to shove his fist into his mouth to stand the sensation and Rinnosukes handwriting would be so messy because of him shaking so much but his big brother would always take his time to write him a story of a knight saving a princess. And the knight was always a little, very ticklish boy.

And when their skin was black with words he laid down on the floor and nine kids and two parents would draw on his skin with black ink, swirls and flowers and hearts, castles and dragons and basketball hoops. Sometimes notes, because Rinnosuke liked music but never words. Because there were so many words inside of him, there was no need to put more on him.

And in the evening, when the black-tinted water gurgled down the bathtub, his nine little siblings and his parents were already forgetting the stories, sentence by sentence, word by word, letter by letter. Only Rinnosuke did not forget, but that was okay with him. Because he did not have a voice but he had all the words in the world.

[that-angry-noldo]

You voted against my boy and I demand recompense. A fic with Eldacar please!! Some suggestions if you like (though you don’t have to use them): his childhood in Gondor, or maybe something about the moment he found out Ornendil had been executed, or (to satisfy my bloodlust) a cool battle scene where he kills Castamir at last?

His mother, Eldacar remembers, told him stories of grace and mercy.

She told him tales of knights in white armor, with their valiant deeds and swift swords. She told him of those who were proud and strong and feared no hardship; she told him of people who, when presented with choice to kill their enemies, lifted them from their knees instead, and granted them forgiveness, and were rewarded with life long and full of blessings.

Eldacar yearned for another reward. Reward dark and bitter, but so sinfully, so fiercely desired.

"My King!" his captain yelled, pointing his hand, and Eldacar retrieved his blade from the body of the man he just killed. He followed the direction with his eyes. "There!"

An arrow whistled just above Edacar's ear, only swift reflexes saving him from sure death. He growled, sound low and dangerous.

He saw the patch of black hair on one of the hills, a flash of deep red robes, and roared.

~

When he was younger, he told Ornendil stories of heroes brave and noble, of their valour that moved mountains, and of their loyalty, so praised, and of their sacrifices, so valued.

When he got older, he wished to tell Ornendil of the beauty of the spring and the song of nightingales. When he got older, he wished he could tell his son he loved him, and valued him above any throne, above any power, above any glory available in this marred world.

He couldn't.

Eldacar couldn't even bury him.

"We hanged the boy in the middle of the city, for everyone to see," Castamir snarled, blood trailind down his chin, eyes gleaming with wild fire. In his bloodstained hands was a sword, and Castamir cackled madly as he brought it down on Eldacar.

Eldacar spat and parried the blow. Ducked down, swinged at Castamir's side.

The man was older than he, but he still had his strenght and swift movements. He blocked, attacked. "We left him there," he hissed when their swords crossed at a momentary stalemate. "We left him to rot. Your poor, precious, loyal son, made a crow's feast," Castamir pressed further, and Eldacar bared his teeth. "I will make sure you join him. I will make sure the crows of Osgiliath remain fed."

Eldacar thought back to his Ornendil, to his brave, brilliant Ornendil. Earlier, the thought would bring him nothing but guilt and tears. Now, he snarled and sprang forward.

~

When Vinitharya was a child, his mother told him tales of mercy.

When Eldacar was a father, he told his son tales of loyalty.

When Eldacar became a king, he never felt the first, yet learned the bitter, bloody, painful taste of the second.

He pushed his enemy to the ground. The steel of his blade sang a song of vengeance.

[draceempressa]

with the coming of this chapter 7 part 1 it reminds me to a lot of songs from my heyday

first, The Beast. As you can guess, it has Beauty and the Beast theme. The mirror Ortho brought while saying tale that is obvious Beauty and the Beast reference. This song tells the story of a person who traded their humanity to become an immortal, beautiful, powerful beast, they bonded with a human, but their pride blocked them to admit their feelings , only admitting their feelings after the mortal is long gone from old age. Malleus was not that prideful, but certainly it hits him like a truck with how fleeting mortal life is.

Second, Gift from the Princess who Brought Sleep. The song set in a place inspired by Germany, and mentioned that Gift is German for poison. The story shows a depressed, lethargic womans who is tired of simply living and wants her "happily ever after" and take rest from everything, poisoning the entire town and later attempted suicide by drinking the poison. When she commits suicide, the singer says "Now, The sleep bringer princess shall become sleeping beauty" Malleus is twisted from Maleficent, and from what he said in the trailer, he intends to make everyone asleep, with of course taking himself into that dream lane so he "can be happy forever".

Various languages have thorns when referring to sleeping beauty, and both German and Japanese also does that, the German and Japanese for "sleeping beauty" is "little thorny rose" and "thorn princess" respectively, when Malleus' title in game is "king of thorns", as well we did see the thorn later will make crown and cage surrounding him. Also, this is the "sloth" song of a series of seven deadly sin series and other materials like novels reveals the woman isn't a human, but a magical, illusionist doll, the one sinner who isn't human from the get go, much lime Malleus is the immortal among the g7 incarnate cast in twst.

Third, 74. This song is about a dragon who pretends to be princess in castle because she desperately wanted to be loved, coddled and be special. Listen to the part where she says "watashi no, watashi no tame dake ni " (for me, only for me) , how she gets off the idea of men sacrificing themselves for her, to be motivated by her, the opposite of dulcinea effect, but at the end, she eventually kills every "hero" because if she is taken out of the castle, then the process of heroes bravely venture her castle will end, the fact she's a threatening dragon and not lovable princess will come out. She likes the idea of courted by men, not men pointing swords at her. the line "of "once he reaches her, he will realize the enticing princess is merely an illusion" , as well , at 3:00, the english text says "trap and monsters" but the japanese says "shinuchi" that means "officer/headliner", they are very much sapient and loyal to her, all playing along with her game because she is THEIR princess. Malleus do like attentuon focused on him, but not when he's treated as a monster. He also goes around with his royal knights. And we all, out universe, aware, despite how princely Malleus is presented, he IS a prince of his fey kingdom, we know ultimately he will become the jrpg final boss dragon we have to beat and Silver is the ""real" prince. How much Malleus himself is aware, it's unclear, but certainly, he is inetionally maintaing the illusion /dream/sleep if it means everyone witll stay by his side, loving him.

[thehistorynut19]

Uwa! Lacuna!! This fits you so well!!! Fairies are some of my fave types and seeing you in action with them would be beautiful!!!! Ahhh I can almost see it now. How you dance amongst the forest that no one dares to enter. The fae are to be feared after all, dangerous beings that they are. None shall ever trespass as your fearless friends stand guard. But if they do get past those outerskirts of the forest, they are greeted by you and your studio. Painted wall to wall with stained glass and arts to rival the greatest of muses, a renaissance incarnate. 

@aurastar7 @lunalove25 @kawaiilizzie

As for me...

How ironic it is to be a steel type leader when I adore the fae so much. An antithesis to them even. But I can see why. I prefer using steel types over poison times when I fight fairies lol.

I went with like...all the games I’ve played which is up to Sword/Shield bc fuck it lol.

And now ahem: this isn’t required but I wanted to write lolol

No one assumes much from the gym leader who works part time in the library literally connected to her gym. Permanently tired, running back and forth between jobs to support herself, her loyal penguin running behind her, catching fallen books in a panic or even catching her when she seems like she’s about to pass out. 

No one would ever think that she’s a steel type trainer. When she lives and breathes olden tales of bygone eras, of fairies, of ghosts, of books and papers and everything that is not tough and rough. 

And yet she is. 

Steel perseveres, damascus blades culling down foes that dare to enter her sanctuary. Her gym is a haven for those who want a quiet space. Sometimes you hear olden music in the background, records playing on their turntables as the Mawile stands on the tips of her toes, changing out records to suit her needs when her trainer is too tired to do it herself. 

Sometimes you see her Metagross at the cafe, helping children learn how to read and teach patrons hobbies and certain things. 

Sometimes you see the Zacian follow her about her day, alongside the ever present shield whenever the penguin is not present. Forever a pair of knights by her side.

Sometimes you can see the Steelix outside when it’s sunny, acting as shade to outside activities and keeping an ever watchful eye on everyone present; a silent guardian.

Puzzles are found within the walls of the gym for challengers, to weave in and out of sliding blocks, ribbons, word games, and whatnot. Easy to solve yet hard to master. They change every month or so for the leader to keep her mind sharp and because she’s bored. 

Godspeed, dear trainer, when you enter her home. 

For her knights never yield when their princess beckons them to her side. 

The shields that protect.

The swords that slash.

The maws that bites.

The brains that acts.

To earn the Damascus Badge is no simple feat, my dear.

I wish thee luck.

I dunno if I have any other fellow Pokemon moots here but I saw this cute trend and wanted to try it out!

Take this quiz to see what gym leader type you'd be!

Make your team!

Do this picrew to visualize you as a gym leader!

I chose 3rd Gen (but the remake so Alpha/Omega) because it was my very first one!

Tagging: @averysmolbear @humanitys-strongest-bamf @youre-ackermine @roseofdarknessblog @missamity @levis-squishy-cheeks @icansmellsouls @dkbktk420 @elnyrae @romantichomicide95 @phantom-fanfom-blog @sckerman @genyastolemyheart @happybird16 @the-milk-anon @wyvernslovecake @bruhm0mentum anyone else who sees this!

If you're not interested in Pokemon, please ignore! But I'd love to see your type anyways if you wanna jump in!! 💕

[sergeantsporks]

A Window to the Past (Douxie/Archie backstory series)

    First Impressions     Broken Like Glass     Fever Dream

Small Stories from the Big Apple (Douxie, Nari, and Archie in New York)

    Marked     Excuse You, But That’s MY Wizard     Insomniac     Christmas Spirit

I Can Make RotT So Much Worse (Tales of Arcadia)

     Moving On      Reset      Can You Die of a Broken Heart?      Here’s to Friendships That Were Never Real

Camila is Hunter’s Mom Now (Owl House)

   Another Shot at Life    Adoption Papers    Summer School    Friendly Conversation    First Day    Shelter    Odd One Out    Stash    Merry Christmas from the Nocedas    In-Between Realms    Nightmare Fuel    Google Search: What Do Friends Do Together?    Portal    Coming Out    Tiny Shards of Glass    A Palisman by Any Other Name    Full Circle

Knights of the Broom Order (Incomplete-- probably-permanent hiatus)

Can’t Make Me

Shattered Timelines (AU) (Incomplete-- semi-permanent hiatus)

Swapped (Changeling!Douxie AU)

Mountaintop

Belosisms

Friends...?

Deadwardian Hunter

Tell me Everything

Hey, Guys, Want to See If Our Entrails are Actually Green?

Fool’s Gold

Panic Attack

Detour

And the World Screamed

Douxie Appreciation Week

What Greater Good Do I Have Than You?

I Won’t Let Go (or Run Away)

Owl House Fics

How Long Has It Been?

Do You Want the Knife You Left In My Back, or Can I Keep It?

Nowhere Else to Go

Whatever It Takes

What I’ve Always Wanted to Say

Day After Day

Trust is a Poison

The Babysitter’s Coven 

How Do You Give Me Nightmares AND Daydreams?

Can’t Break Someone with Nothing to Lose

Your Loyal Dog

Another Faceless Mask

Owl House AUs Witch Switch AU College AU Boilpunk Isles AU Heartbreaker AU Hunter’s Pet Emporium Gamer AU Wild Emperor AU Guardian Family AU Gilded Family AU

Ao3 (General)

I do writing requests! (Currently Closed) Here are the rules

Request Compilation

Kofi

If you bring unwanted politics to my blog I will ✨block you✨

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Can I please ask or request for Yuu, Kalim and Neige (headcannon seperate) with a s/o who's stronger than them by a lot in a physical sense? Please and thank you Raven-Sama! 💪(Ô w Ô)

I’ll only be writing for Kalim and Neige, since everyone’s version of Yuu or the MC can be very different also I have no banner for Yuu/MC!

Curiouser and Curiouser...

Kalim marvels at your strength! He has never considered himself much of a muscular person, so he thinks that the fact that you’re so much stronger than him is what makes you unique--and you should be proud of that!

Whenever he has trouble opening something, he’ll head right to you for help, since he knows you’re super strong! Plus, it’s a convenient excuse to go and see you! (Be prepared to open a loooot of jars of pickles and fruit jellies.)

Kalim’s not good at quantifying strength, so he uses animal analogies to describe how strong you are (”Gahahah! You could win against an elephant in arm-wrestling, (Y/N)!” “How many peacocks do you think you could carry? 53?”). There’s something cute and compelling about that!

He really loves to be picked up and thrown about! Swing him around in your arms or give him a piggyback ride! Kalim will accept them all with a laugh and a playful embrace. (Ignore those death stares Jamil’s shooting you in the background!)

He takes great joy in feeding you! Kalim thinks if you’re strong, you need to take in a lot of nutrients to stay healthy and keep your energy up! If you’re out somewhere eating, he’ll happily spoon some of his dish for you to try! If you’re just doing something casual at home, he’ll pop little fruits and nuts into your mouth!

Neige lovingly calls you his knight in shining armor. “Just like in the fairy tales,” he tells you with a small smile. “Strong, brave, and loyal--and always coming to the princess’s rescue.” The princess, in this case, is Neige! He knows he can always rely on you.

Sometimes you pay him visits while he’s shooting something! Somehow, you always get mistaken as staff and end up helping with moving heavy equipment or props around. You meet up with Neige afterwards--and he’s sure to thank you for your contributions with a snack, like a cool bottle of red apple soda, or an apple fritter from the vendor down the block.

He really likes holding hands! As a famous celebrity, Neige sometimes gets caught up in hordes of fans and gets disoriented or lost because of it--having your strong, warm hand to hold onto gives him his own boost in strength and security!

Neige loves being scooped up in a princess carry! It’s so exhilarating to be swept up in your arms and nestled against your chest, the wind sailing through his hair. It makes him feel like he’s all the closer to you.

What impresses him more than anything is when you break an apple in half with your bare hands. It was a viral challenge on MagiCam for a while, but Neige has never been able to successfully do it! He gets this adoring sparkle in his eye and claps enthusiastically whenever you snap an apple clean down the center.

[lunarkreatures]

So did this a while ago, did everything by hand cause i didn't know i could download templates from storytellers vault. I wanted to do a fake cover just to test out CSP. 

So the idea of it is something like the rage across books from werewolf the apocalypse that are supplements for many places in the world. rage across worlds would be completely different scenarios and worlds for werewolf the reclaimed that would basically be a tweaked version of forsaken that I am working on. 

That aside I even wrote a full story that would be the introduction to the scenario of the red pyramid. you can read it after the read more.

The chronicles of the red pyramid

This is a tale from the old times, ages ago. A time when the red pyramid, the palace of the god king wasn't the nest of horror it is today, it's red shine would invoke adoration not fear. People would look at it's red light and feel safe, protected, but people sleep turned away from it's light, it's said that just sleeping looking at it is enough to give nightmares, or even invite the dark presence to from that place come after you. 

There are many variations of this tale, many different interpretations, though the true story only the cursed heir and the warriors who decided to commit the first act against the gods know the truth. And I will tell you a tale, that you probably heard before...

The first slaying took place during the night, under the watchful eyes of the two moons, inside the red pyramid. Right after dinner, people tell stories of how the heir to the throne and her warriors just suddenly started attacking the soldiers in the castle one by one. Until it was only them and the king, the attack inside the castle was sudden, brutal, the hallways inside the red pyramid are still red to this day from the bloodshed. The bodies of the guards completely torn apart in pieces, the work of a true beast. 

The savage warriors and their leader arrived at the top of the pyramid, the throne room, where the king awaited. The king pleaded to his child to stop this madness but the heir didn’t hesitate, she raised her blade stabbing the king, her warriors watched everything happen, all quiet. 

The king fell unmoving on the floor, blood pooling around the unmoving body, the scene illuminated by the lights inside the chamber and the moons covered by the clouds. The heir however, was not satisfied with the death of the king, her blade went down one more time, this time cutting off his head, blood came out of the severed head, pooling around it.

She raised her blade towards the moons in victory. At that time the clouds stopped blocking the moons view. You know, many say that the small red moon was actually the previous queen's ascended form. Some say she is the direct daughter of the nameless god, the huge moon in the sky, and she was granted a flesh body to protect us from the spirits and once her duty was done she went back to the sky, others say she was mortal and due to a great sacrifice she ascended. Though that's not important for our tale, what is important is what happened when the clouds covering the red moon cleared. The light shone into the chamber, filling it with a red ominous glow. 

Many things happened in seconds, the direct rays of moonlight changed all those in the room. It's said the moon went mad from the scene she witnessed, and cursed her child to take a bestial form. The heir, once a proud warrior, became a monster. Her loyal knights were also punished becoming animals. The dead king, it is said that the moon tried to bring her lover to life but something went wrong, something that was never alive was born out of this, a paradox itself. Something not made of flesh and yet it bled, could pass through walls and yet it was solid, was not of its world, and yet, it merged with it. 

The now monstrous heir fought that, made it bleed and  tried to kill that once again. The warriors also fought and suddenly the presence vanished along with the king’s severed head. When the guards arrived they saw the animal knights and the heir, and the dead king body. They prepared to attack but the animals vanished, the heir escaped through the window and to this day roams the land, cursing others to its same fate.

The red moon went mad from grief, cursing all who she felt deserved to be punished with the same curse she did to her child. Since then weird creatures roam the land, not the cursed, but incorporeal beings, abominations of flesh that hunt anything alive that they can find, twist the world around to grotesque things. It is said this is all the work of the cursed heir and her minions so tell me are you ready to spread the horror in the world and feast upon your loved ones? 

...Uhm? What is with that face? HAHAHAHA I am joking with you, you feel deep down that this story is not true, right? Well that's the story many believe, but there is another version, like i said many versions. But because of this story we are monsters, the culprits of what has happened to the world, we are the cursed. We are always being hunted, and yet we are hunters of our own, we have a purpose.

You see, let me tell the other side of this story. First the heir we don't even know if she was cursed in the first place, just that she exists and almost seems to avoid us...i don't know why. Where i come from we refer to the heir as the moon’s daughter but others refer to her through other names. 

And what could have caused her to do what she did? It is said that the king made the unthinkable, he opened a gateway between our world and another place, a place that is the reflection of our own, where the abominations live. He was able to break the protection the gods put in place, they sacrificed being able to talk to us to protect us from the creatures that come from the shadow, in many places the barrier between these worlds is weakening and things are changing. However it's not just monsters that live in the shadow the gods envoys usually talk to us and help us, teaching us the power of gods. 

They say the heir to this day regrets what she had done, but there was no other way, the king was not himself anymore, he died long ago and something else was in its place, it said when she served his head, a black liquid oozed from it, taking form and shape ready to escape, the heir then pleaded the moon for power to fulfill her destiny, to give her a weapon capable of killing whatever that was that was when she changed, her blade merging with her, claws and fangs getting the power to slay even a god. And she attacked, giving a permanent injury on that thing that to this day bleeds, but was not able to kill it … heartbroken from what she had to do and feeling the pressure of her failure she ran away. Her loyal knights understanding her pain ran after the dark presence to not lose track of it.

That was when the moon trying to help her daughter kept a watchful eye one those she deemed worthy of helping, that's where we come in. We are blessed by the moon with a cursed responsibility. We need to hunt the creatures that cross to our world, kill the root of all evil, and restore the barrier. Only then we will be free of this curse, or so legends say. I hope you understand this, the moon chose us to be the protectors of our world, the fierce hunters of the shadow, some deny the hunter nature and their duty, and pay a high price by denying that, I hope you are different from the fools I met before.

What is this?

The umbra, the spirit world, a reflection to the world shuddered in darkness that we know. Still even to those who enter the umbra it's a complete alien place where things might or might not make sense, many planes and pocket dimensions, who can say that it's just the world we know that has a reflection there? 

Rage across worlds is a collection of scenarios about other worlds, sometimes worlds similar to what we know and others completely different. However The primal fear, the beast, the hunter, the warrior is a reflection in many words, each have their own version of a werewolf. The umbra is a nexus to many worlds, with many stories to tell. 

The chronicles of the red pyramid is a scenario of a different world where gods are much more closer to the world of flesh, where gods are much more flesh than spirit, where normal mortals can ascend to godhood. Where the werewolves were cursed into existence to roam between two worlds never belonging to any. The chronicles tell the tales of what happened, the current state and ways to break the curse.

[earisu1]

“Once Upon a Time” in Jennifer’s Own Words

Original date of the post: 12 of October, 2007.

Disclaimer: this ideas and theories do not belong to me but to PokerNemesis, if the owner wants me to take them down I will.

“This is the complete collection what Jennifer herself says (excluding what is written in documents) in the “Once Upon a Time” (January) chapter of Rule of Rose.

This collection includes five of Jennifer’s memories/comments that were omitted in the GameFAQs game-script faq written by TheSinnerChrono.  I marked these with “####” to make them easier to find (for readers only interested in these).

This post does not contain commentaries by me (unless some of my descriptive comments count as being commentary).

If anyone finds anything I missed, or any mistakes I’ve made, please let me know in the comments.  Thanks!

Filth Room:

–At the shelf:

“This letter looks familiar…  Yes. it’s one of the secret letters that Wendy and I traded.” (reads letters)  “Wendy…  You were always so lonely.  Poor, lonely Wendy…  I wonder if my letters ever reached her.”

–At the central pillar:

“Tied to this pillar, unable to move, I was all alone.  It took a while, but I finally freed myself.  I was always the slow poke…  But, that won’t happen again.  I’ll never let myself be tied up again.”

–At the suitcase:

“When I came here, this suitcase was the only luggage I had…  I lost everything in the accident.  My mother, my father, all my possessions, and even my memories.”

–At the sunny window:

“I spent so much time in this room…  Who knows how many times I woke up here?  The nights were lonely and cold, but you’d always greet me in the morning… Only you greeted me warmly.  Thank you so.

–At the rubbish bin:

“It’s the detested rubbish bin.  No one ever suspected that something precious was hidden inside it.  Nor did they know that it was the only place where I could keep my things safe.”

–At the empty corner (where Bucket Knight had been):

“It feels as if something very dear to me was here.  Someone or something that always looked after me… helped me.”

Hallway:

–At the laundry shelves:

“Everyone would put their dirty laundry here, and it was my job to wash it.  How ironic… The one they called “filthy” washing their filthy clothes.  It all seems so silly now.”

2nd Floor Lavatory:

–At the toilet that has an eye drawn on the toilet lid:

“‘We’re watching you.’  That’s what the picture meant.  But it was still scary.”

–At Bucket Knight (by the sinks and mirrors):

“Bucket Knight…  A makeshift knight that Nicholas and Xavier used for sword practice.  Though they may have forgotten about it, I’ve always remembered.  For, I yearned for a loyal knight to come to my rescue.

Hallway (Front Stairway balcony):

–At the empty picture frame:

“There used to be a picture here, of everyone at the orphanage.  It was a picture filled with hope, taken the day I was brought here.  I was afraid someone would try to steal this precious memory from me…so I took the picture down and kept it safe.”

Sick Bay:

–At the drawers (these look like the same drawers as had the forbidden drawer in the “Unlucky Clover Field” chapter):

“Clara was a quiet person.  To me, she looked like just another student at the orphanage…except when she spoke to Mr. Hoffman or Martha.  Then, she looked scary.  I wonder if I’ll be like Clara when I’m older…  Will I enjoy those days?”

Sickroom:

–At the rabbit cage:

“Peter the rabbit… He was the pet that Wendy suddenly decided to take care of.  It was the same time I started looking after Brown…  I wonder if Wendy really loved Peter…  Was she sad when she had to give him up?”

–At the lamp:

“This letter looks familiar.  Yes it’s one of the secret letters that Wendy and I traded. ”  (reads letters)

Balcony:

–At the birdcage:

“The red bird in the cage… The doll Eleanor treasured.  ‘If only we could fly like birds and go wherever we wished,’ she whispered softly.  Yet, no matter how much Eleanor wished, she’ll never be able to just fly away from this orphanage.  Poor Eleanor…  She was burdened by her own frozen heart.”

Play Area:

–By the chair and train-track circle:

“Thomas was always playing with his trains…They were his only friends.  There were no final stops on his railroad, for that would be devastating to him.  It’s rumored that this obsession had something to do with his birth, but Thomas never spoke about it with anyone.”

####By the blocks:

“No one really played with the toys here because they were all old.  Only Thomas was the master of this room.  ‘A new girl, a new girl!’ he exclaimed when we first met.  He seemed to enjoy teasing me.

Library:

–By the white goat doll:

“It’s a stuffed goat… The white goat Mary.  The black goat Sally.  When Meg found her letter to Diana torn apart, she was deeply wounded and cried in Diana’s arms, even though she was the one that ripped it up…  And, when Meg’s notebook was found all scattered about, Diana made fun of her, saying, ‘Mary and Sally must’ve ate it.’  Poor Meg…  She was bound by the shackles of foolish devotion.”

–By the painting of the airship:

“The future that people dreamt of never came and was soon forgotten.  From the blue skies of hope, it sank into the depths of oblivion.  The new life born from it was an existence devoid of hope.  It slowly wriggles its large body and stares at the sky with a remorseful look… That’s its only purpose.”

Sewing Room:

–At the sewing machine:

“Amanda was fond of using the sewing machine.  When she got absorbed in something, she’d think of nothing else, especially sewing, which was always on her mind.  If we ran out of cloth or thread, she’d just sew rags with an empty needle over and over again…  And then she’d smile at the tattered rag with satisfaction.”

Hallway (2nd floor):

–At the graffiti on the floor near the Sewing Room door:

“There are doodles everywhere.  No matter how many we cleaned, more would show up the next day.”

Dormitory:

–At one of the two central tables:

“The night was quiet dark and scary.  Yet it was a mysterious time that aroused excitement.  Some nights, we’d stay awake in secret, hiding from the teacher, and draw pictures by lamplight.  It made us feel very much like adults–something not possible during the day.”

–At the other central table:

“A mermaid doll… What a proud and pure creature.  Diana yearned to become a beautiful lady, like a mermaid, but as she grew older, she realized that she was straying further and further from her ideal self.  Poor Diana…  She was trapped by her own ideals.”

Front Stairway:

####At the ladder:

“That day when Thomas couldn’t get down from the tree, the ladder, which had been collecting dust, sure came in handy.  Back then, Mr. Hoffman was a kind and admirable teacher.”

Main Hall (first floor):

–At the vase of flowers:

“There used to be beautiful roses here, picked by Wendy from the rose garden.  …But, as with all things, they wilted away with the passage of time.”

–At the potted fern:

“Miss Martha used to scold Nicholas for forgetting to water the plants, and then she’d turn her wrath on me, snapping, ‘What are you laughing at, young lady!?’”

Hallway near Classroom door:

–At a bucket-headed construct:

“A silent scarecrow… It stands there quietly, not meddling in the affairs of others.  It sways in the breeze, like me…a cowardly girl who was unable to assert her true feelings.”

Men’s Lavatory:

####At the blocked-off toilet stall:

“Once, Susan started a rumor about voices coming from this room at night…  It turned out it was only the door creaking in the wind, but one night, sounds came from the room even with the windows shut.  Susan jumped out of her bed and screamed.  It was really just a prank by Nicholas and Xavier.  From then on, the room was believed to be haunted and was considered off limits.”

Classroom:

–At the blackboard (which has written on it:  “Hitlerism is a form of government controlled by one man’s will / Democracy is a form of government controlled / Hitlerism is a form of government controlled by one man’s will”):

“I learned many things at this orphanage…The alphabet… words… how to clean and do laundry… But the most important thing I learned… was the lesson I received in exchange for my dear friend’s life… I finally came to understand myself.  My beliefs and the will to stand up for them… I don’t want to lose those ever again.”

–At the drawings on the wall (a map of Great Britain):

“The map of this country…  That day we flew from England… Those memories were buried deep inside of me…  The airship…and the accident…  Thereafter, the story of my life became a tale of misfortune.  Even when the others played ‘airship’ I couldn’t bear to join them, so I was left out.”

–At the schedule of classes on the wall:

“A brat, a know-it-all, an introvert, a crybaby, and an elitist… I know misfortune, because I tolerated them all.  I thought I was the only grown up, but we were all just kids, myself included.  But what does it really mean to be a grown-up?  Will I ever become one?”

–At the furnace:

“On cold winter days, we all used to gather here and talk… I, of course, couldn’t join in, so I sat off to the side.  Even so, it felt so warm.”

Bathroom:

–At the mirror (looking at her own reflection):

“Jennifer, are you happy now, considering how bad it was for you, back then?  …That tragedy you wanted to forget.  Now that you remember everything, how do you feel?  Is the answer inside you?  Think carefully Jennifer.”

Wash house:

–At the sinks:

“I came to this room every day to do laundry…  The water was so cold, and the soap would sting my eyes, but I didn’t hate it, because clean laundry is so refreshing.”

Kitchen:

–At the table:

“If Miss Martha had disappeared, there would’ve been no one to cook…  If Clara had disappeared, there would’ve been no one to tend our wounds…  If Mr. Hoffman had disappeared, there would’ve been no one to teach us.  You can’t live life eating snacks all day, with no exercise or studying.  If you look at it that way, even the Aristocrat club needed adults around… Our world was so small.”

Martha’s room:

–On the bed:

“There are a couple of letters here.  It’s a letter from the police…  “(reads letter) “It’s a letter from Martha…”(reads letter) “The letter ends there…  Perhaps if the matter had been addressed publicly, things wouldn’t have turned out as they did.  Adults are so selfish.”

Cafeteria:

–At a fork on the table:

“Olivia, the one who cried all the time, stopped crying completely when all the adults were gone.  With no teacher to give her attention and no cleaning lady to scold her, there was no point in crying anymore.  …Poor Olivia.”

Inner Court:

–Site of Brown’s burial:

“It all started here, when I dug up the mound…  I sensed that something precious to me was buried here… and I couldn’t stop myself…  The old me… the one who didn’t understand herself… I lost my friend because of her.  If… If I could go back… I’d try to save him… but what has happened can never be undone.  I’ll never break a promise again.”

Cell of Remorse:

(nothing)

Cell of Pleasure:

(nothing) film projector

Cell of Repentance:

(nothing)

Cell of Solitude:

–At the central chair:

“One time, Diana was absorbed in deep thought here.  She was the prettiest, the most mature of the Aristocrats.  She wanted so much to be an adult… and yet she was also afraid of growing up too fast.”

Cell of Bliss:

–At the table:

“The spooky things… The scary creatures that everyone talked about…  They’ll come and clean if you don’t, sweeping bad children away like dust…  Well, they actually came and attacked me… I knew what they really were… but that wasn’t the problem.  The real problem was my weak heart.   My weakness was what drew them here.”

Closet Room:

–At the clothes hangers:

“On Halloween, we all dressed up in costumes…  Everyone else wore bags over their heads, and stared at me through tiny holes…  Their blank faces and muffled voices…  It scared me like you wouldn’t believe…  ‘Is it really you under there?’ I asked, fearing it was something else.  But, no one would answer me.”

–At the mirror:

“Amanda was always more sensitive about her looks than anyone else.  One day she was given a severe scolding by Miss Martha.  That’s because Miss Martha’s lipstick had gone missing.  The lipstick was never found, but I know Amanda took it.  I’ve seen her applying it late at night.”

Hallway (ground floor, connecting Headmaster’s Room and Closet Room):

####At drawing on the floor of a big donut-shaped one-eyed person (near cabinet):

“This sloppy drawing must be Thomas’s.  See what happens when you give him chalk?  The walls, the floors…   To him, it’s one big canvas.”

####At drawing on floor of spooky things (nearest the Headmaster’s Room):

“The spooky things…  They swept away everything that’s dirty, including disobedient children.  It was a scary story that started as a rumor and spread like wildfire.”

####At drawing of spooky things (nearest the Closet Room):

“The spooky things love to clean.  That’s why they always carry mops and brooms.  They’ll kidnap you if you don’t clean.  At least, that’s what everyone says.”

Headmaster’s Room:

–At the PA system:

“Mr. Hoffman loved to broadcast over the PA system… while we were cleaning, while we were eating, and even after we were in bed.  He always announced our names in the order of his favorites.  We’d try our best to win his approval and be the first one to be called.  But he never called my name, not once.  I thought it was all rather silly, anyway.”

–At the desk:

“The book is open… ” (reads Hoffman’s diary entries).  “At the time it seemed so frightening…  Were those scary things that attacked me just figments of my imagination…?” (another entry) “..The diary continues, but the last page is particularly interesting… It’s Mr. Hoffman’s last entry before he disappeared.” (another entry) “…That’s the end of the diary.  We never saw Mr. Hoffman again.”

–At the fish tank (a fish swims inside):

“I know you’re in a very stinky place, because that rag Diana put to my face smelled just awful.  But, no matter how clever or fast you are, there’s no escaping.  You’re like a mermaid in captivity… adapting to a new reality.  Leaving your home behind…did you find happiness?”

Headmaster’s Closet:

–At the shelf that has shoes:

“That day, Mr. Hoffman disappeared, like he was running away from something.  He had tried too hard to be someone he wasn’t.  The expectations were too much for him… and he wanted to escape those restrictions.  However, children and adults live in the same world, and we must both play by society’s rules.”

Reception Room:

–At the record player:

“The record player is brand new.  Playing a record would fill the room with sweet music.”

–At the fireplace:

“It was a cold, winter night… I had been scolded as usual, and called into the headmaster’s room.  I didn’t like being scolded, but I didn’t mind so much when it was in front of the fireplace, which was warm and cozy.”

–At the vase on the central table:

“All of us loved red roses.  Even the name of the orphanage was befitting of an Aristocrat… It wasn’t until I swore the oath of the rose that I learned roses have thorns.”

–At the dish cupboard:

“This is Mr. Hoffman’s prized collection of fine dishes.  We would sometimes sneak them out and play house with them in the attic, but that’s our little secret.”

–At the graffiti covered portrait:

“This is a picture of Mr. Hoffman when he was a young man.  He was so proud when he showed it to us…  He never caught the one who doodled on it though.  But, I know who did it.  I saw Thomas trying to move the ladder on the day it happened.”

Women’s Lavatory:

–Toilet stall with bird drawing:

“Red bird drawings.  A red crayon and… a red broach…  A red rose and… red blood…  Red is the most beautiful color, yet it comes at a price.  It is my most favorite color and my most hated color.”

Entrance-way:

–At the lockers:

“It’s a small locker, but it was just for me.  My name was even on it.  They made me feel welcome.  I was so happy… I’d move my shoes in and out, over and over again.”

–At the umbrella stand:

“We never used umbrellas.  On snowy days, we’d go out for snowball fights.  On rainy days, we’d go out and play in the rain, and get soaking wet.  Every time, Xavier would trip and get himself all muddy and we’d laugh.  It was so much fun.”

–At the portrait of Hoffman:

“One day,  Mr. Hoffman suddenly disappeared.  Clara and Miss Martha soon followed, leaving me and the other orphans alone.”

Front gate:

–At the orphanage sign to the left of the gate:

“The Rose Garden Orphanage…  That day, I was escorted from the scene by Officer Doolittle.  At first, it was reported that there were no survivors…  Then, word got out that, miraculously, I had escaped the tragedy…  When rumor spread that I was also the sole survivor of a horrific airship accident in which the passengers were all presumed to be dead, the media went into a frenzy.  and so, the tragic murder of the residents of a rural orphanage was instantly bumped from the front cover of the daily newspaper to an obscure corner…  I’m sorry everyone.  You don’t deserve to be forgotten…  But I’ll remember you.  Thank you all for the precious memories.”

Fork In The Path:

####At the sign:

“The sign has been broken ever since I came here.  I guess it doesn’t matter:   no one comes to visit anyway.”

Bus Stop:

–At the bus stop sign:

“That bus that brought me here…  Should I try to take it the other way?  …No, that’s not right.  There are still things I have to do here.   Wait for me, Brown.”

Outside the rickety shed:

–At the door:

“Please wait for me.  I’ll be there.”

Inside the rickety shed:

(Spoken to Brown)  “My dear friend… I never want to lose you again.  I’ll protect you…  forever and ever until I die.”  (Writes on chalkboard:  “everlasting/true love/ I am yours”)  “I’ll protect you… forever until I die.”

Notes: some of this reposts are not showing in the tags sadly. Classic Tumblr.

[the-star-knight]

Tales Of a Star

Tales Of A Star

Summary: A retelling of the show through Star’s eyes

Chapter 5 - Painter’s Block

Word Count: 3,373

◀ ︎Previous Chapter || Next Chapter ▶︎

The last several days, Corona has really been into a creative kick. There's a new art museum that is soon to be open. A lot of Coronans are actually really good artists and some of their art will be displayed in the museum that is currently in the works.

It’s been quite some time since the storm. Our home is still currently being rebuilt. My family has settled in the castle. My sisters and I share one room, which I don't mind since we shared a room already before the storm hit. 

After my parents found out about my magic knight powers, I explained to them all I know about. From how I found the gem to how I could be tied to Rapunzel and whatever the black rocks have to do with her. I made them promise to not tell anyone about this, knowing that Rapunzel wouldn’t want the secret that she’s been tampering with magic to get to her dad since I know how my parents are loyal to the king. I let the new information settle in but I haven't really brought it back up for discussion. I was too afraid of what they thought.

“And I am happy to announce that the bridge is...” the man in front of the ribbon pulled out scissors and cut the ribbon. “Open!”

I climbed on Luna and we headed off to the Old Corona as quickly as we could.

Once I got to Varian’s house, I hopped off and ran up to the door.

"Varian!" I yelled as I knocked on the door. "I'm here! I know it's been awhile but the bridge was destroyed and we couldn't get to the mainland, but I'm here now!"

I continued to knock but no answer.

"Varian!" I pounded at the door. "Come on, please! I'm here now! I ust want to know that you’re ok! Varian? Are you there?"

No answer.

I pressed my ear against the wooden door. I heard nothing. I walked over to a window. I took a peek inside. It was dark inside. Nothing moved. No one was there. 

What do I do now? Should I wait for him? I mean he has to come eventually, right?

I sat at the doorsteps while I waited for Varian to come back and I was left with my own thoughts. What should I tell him when he does come back? It's been days since he came to us for help. Did we arrive too late? What happened to his dad? Is he even still alive? Then what do I do? How will he react to seeing me? What if he refuses to let me help him? And what if he doesn't come back? What if something also happened to him? Whatever trouble his dad was in sounded pretty bad and he could be in trouble too.

I didn't like where my thoughts were headed. I had to believe that Varian was okay. At least, for my own sanity.

Minutes slowly began to turn into hours.

I began to feel tired. I caught myself dozing off several times. I kept checking and rechecking if he was in there by peeking in through the window.

Still nothing. A part of me hoped that he was in there and I just didn't look hard enough. 

The sun was starting to set. I was determined to stay but I couldn’t stay out here once it was dark. 

I tried again one last time. 

I knocked on the door.

“Varian?” I whispered. I lean my forehead against the door. I try to grasp the last little bit of hope I had.

I looked down at the ground.

I could have sworn I saw a shadow move. 

“Varian?” I asked again. 

I heard rummaging.

“Varian!” I called.

I sighed in disappointment. I got on Luna and headed home.

I'll try again tomorrow…

When I got home, I was greeted with my dad asking me where I was. 

“I went to Old Corona, I went to visit a friend.” I sat down at the dinner table. 

My dad raised an eyebrow, “A friend?”

“Yeah,” I hesitated telling him more. “It’s Varian…”

“Varian?” my mom sat down. “You mean that kid that attacked the princess?"

"What?!" I never heard about that. Varian wouldn't do something like that. "That doesn't sound like him. Where did you hear that?"

"Esther told me, along with the other workers in the castle. She said that Nigel witnessed it all."

"Hmph, Nigel…" I wasn’t sure to trust the word of Nigel. On one hand, Nigel is the royal advisor and he wasn't one to just simply make things up. Plus, Varian was really desperate the last time she saw him. On the other hand, Varian wouldn't intentionally hurt someone. Heck, even when I tackled him, he was more scared of me hurting him than anything else. It just doesn't sit well with me.  

The next day I did the same thing and went to Varian’s house.

Luna was napping nearby while I sat on the stairs. 

The sun began to set and I started to feel tired. I thought I could close my eyes for a second but I must’ve fallen asleep because I awoke to Eugene waking me up. “Star?”

I shot up.

It was night. Eugene was sat next to me.

“Star, your parents have been looking for you.” Eugene said.

“Oh, sorry. I thought I would just close my eyes for a moment.” I yawned. “I didn’t know so much time has passed.”

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I was just worried about Varian. Last time I saw him he was in trouble and I just wanted to know if he was okay. “

“I know what you mean. You know I’m kind of worried about Rapunzel too,” Eugene sat next to me.

“Really?”

“After the storm she’s been a bit different.”

“Different?” I blinked.

“Rapunzel was asked to make a mural for the new museum and she was having a bit of trouble coming up with an idea.”

“That doesn’t sound like something you should be worried about."

“No, I mean that Rapunzel is usually such a creative person. She always has this spark when it comes to this stuff. But now, it’s like she’s lost it.”

“Ah, I see.”

“I think you should be heading home, your parents are starting to get worried.”

“Yeah, I should probably go to sleep.” I said goodbye to Eugene. I got up and went back home. 

Early the next morning, I went to visit Rapunzel.

“Hey, Rapunzel,” I greeted her with a yawn.

“You look tired,” she said. 

“I went to Old Corona yesterday to see Varian. I haven’t seen him since the storm hit.”

“And...how was he?” Rapunzel sounded anxious. I knew about how Rapunzel wasn’t able to help him when we came for help. I felt equally as bad that I let him down.

I pursed my lips and sighed, “I don’t know,” I finally responded. “When I got there, he wasn’t home. I waited to see if he came back, but he never did…”

Rapunzel looked distressed. I knew she was worried for him as much as I was, 

I cleared my throat, “Um, I wanted to ask if you had any paper I could borrow. I want to leave a note for Varian.”

“Ah, yes. I should have some in this drawer,” Rapunzel opened a drawer and handed me several sheets of paper and a pencil.

“Thanks.”

“What do you need them for?”

“Oh, I was gonna write a note for Varian, you know, in case he does return, I’ll let him know that he can come to us for help." 

"Good idea," Rapunzel smiled, but her smile quickly disappeared. Talking about that day was really hard on anyone.

“Hey, Rapunzel, I heard that you're gonna make a mural for the museum. How’s that going?” I changed the subject.

Rapunzel sighed and plopped on a chair, “Ugh, not as well as I hoped it would go. I have zero ideas for it! Cass told me it’s painter’s block."

I thanked her and went back home to write the note.

I pulled up a chair and grabbed the pencil. The moment I put the pencil on the paper I realized I wasn’t sure what to write. How do you just write in a letter, hey man, I know you were in trouble and we couldn’t help you at the time, but we’ve freed up now. 

“Ugh,” I groaned as I plopped my head on the table. This is more difficult than I thought. 

“Okay, I’ll just take it one sentence at a time,” I wrote down the first thing that came into my mind.

I decided to keep it short and straight to the point: letting him know that we were worried and if there was anything he needed he can come to us.  When I was done, signed it, I sealed the letter and wrote his name on it.

“Okay, time to take this to him.” I went to saddle up Luna.

When I got to Old Corona I noticed that more of the black rocks began to grow. It became more and more difficult to even walk through. I slipped the letter under the door. 

"Let's hope he reads it." I told myself as I got up to head back home. 

Back at the castle, I nearly bumped into Cass. 

"Oops, sorry, Cass. My head was elsewhere." I apologized and was about to head home.

"Wait," Cass stopped me. "Have you seen Friedborg lately? Or Feldspar?"

"Uh, nope. Sorry. Why do you ask?"

"No one has seen either of them in days. They just disappeared."

"Disappeared?" I shuddered. I didn't want to think about what it could be. With not knowing what happened to Varian, I didn't want to add another thing to worry about on top of that. 

However, since Varian just vanished, maybe he could also be tied to this as well. Maybe if I find these people, I can also find where Varian is.

"Can I help you investigate? There's no harm in a little help, right?" I suggested.

"If you're up for the job, then I don't see why not. Remember, I'm in charge here. We're going to check out the Snuggling Duckling and investigate there.”

"No problem, boss.” I said.

Cass and I went to the Snuggling Duckling. Cass asked around but turns out Ulf the Mime was also missing too. Cass mentioned that a painting made by Ulf looks just like the one Friedborg has. 

Cass took the painting and the one that Friedborg made to inspect it back at the castle. We stood there looking at the painting to see if there were anymore clues on the painting.

“See anything, Cass?” I asked her as we looked closely at the painting.

“Nope.” Cass had her hand under her chin.

Eugene suddenly burst through the door, “Okay, Cass. This is kind of urgent so I don’t have time to insult you right now. But do you know what’s going on with Rapunzel?”

Pascal was on Eugene’s shoulder and started squeaking and pointing at the paintings, as if he was trying to say something about them.

“Hey, That’s Rapunzel’s tree.” Eugene said.

"Rapunzel’s tree?" Cass blinked. "These were painted by Ulf and Friedborg. Over the last two days several people have gone missing. Everyone who disappeared had one thing in common."

“Rapunzel's painting class.” Eugene replied to her remark. 

“Then that’s where we should head for answers." I said.

We went to Rapunzel’s painting class later that night. It was a tent. Eugene slipped a peek. It was dark, but Cass had a lantern and stayed quiet.

“Um, usually I’d enjoy you keeping your mouth shut, I mean obviously, but do you wanna tell me what’s going on?” Eugene whispered.

“I don’t know but we need answers.” Cass said. “There’s more to this Sugarby than—”

Squeak!

Cass quickly drew out her sword. She lifted her lantern towards the sound.

Xavier was tied up in a corner of the tent.

“Xavier?!” Cass said surprisingly. She took off the ropes of him.

Xavier explained that when Rapunzel and Cassandra used the Daminitus device, they unknowingly let loose the evil disciples of Zhan Tiri, meaning there’s probably evil ghosts running around free, wanting to free Zhan Tiri. He also said that one of the disciples was disguised as Rapunzel’s art teacher, Ms. Sugarby is trying to free Zhan Tiri using the people that are in her art class at Janus Point.

We rode our horses as fast as could to Janus Point to find Rapunzel. In the darkness, I was able to see a large tree that had no leaves. Surrounding the tree, there were five canvases on an easel that was made of dark twisted branches of the tree. There were the missing people, including Rapunzel, standing in front of the easels. Their eyes were completely white and glowing. It looks like they are under some kind of spell.

A small circular portal opened up in the night sky. Through the portal, I could see dark goat-like silhouette with evil eyes. Zhan Tiri, I thought. 

There was an old lady standing next to Rapunzel. That must be Ms. Sugarby. Eugene ran to Rapunzel to try to snap her out of whatever trance she was under. Ms. Sugarby unmasked herself and showed her true form, a green spirit named Sugarach. Cass drew out her sword and was ready to swing at Sugarby, but she grabbed Eugene, Cass and the horses with her green magic.

“Starlight, star bright, I summon the power for me to fight!” I yelled. Within a flash, I was in my armor and I drew out my sword.

Sugaraby threw her magic at me, but with the sword I was able to deflect the magic. "Huh, that's new. Didn't know I could do that." I said. I started to charge at her.

“Don’t come any closer!" She stopped me. "If you do, well, you know what’s going to happen to them.” I watched Eugene and Cass dangling over the cliff.

I clenched my teeth. I wasn’t sure what I could do now.

“Don’t let them fall, please!” Rapunzel said weakly.

“My dear, whether they fall or not is completely up to you. Finish the spell and I’ll spare them.” Sugarby started to thump her cane on the ground. “The choice is yours.” I could see that Rapunzel was being taken over by her. 

"Rapunzel, snap out if!” I yelled at her. 

“Rapunzel, you’ve got to stop. I know you can hear me! Please!” Eugene yelled. 

Rapunzel put her hand on her face, trying to fight off the spell of Ms. Sugarby.

“Difficult choices are what make us who we are.” Rapunzel said. She stabbed the canvas and tore a hole in it with the paintbrush. 

“NOO!” Ms. Sugarby yelled.

The canvases and the tree went up quickly in pink flames along with the tree. The people that were under her spell were free. Their eyes were back to normal.

“What have you done?!” she shouted as she approached the ashes, letting go of the magical grip on the horses. Fidella kicked the spirit into the portal along with Zhan Tiri.

The magic grip on Cass and Eugene wore off and they began to fall.

“No!” Rapunzel yelled and threw her hair at them. Rapunzel tried to used all her force to try and stop them from falling. 

"I'm coming!" I ran up and grabbed her hair, but it wasn't enough. The weight was bringing us closer to the edge. Rapunzel heeled to stop but with her shoes she just couldn't. She took off her shoes and threw them off the cliff.

I heard trotting. The horses came in and started to pull as well. 

"Come on you guys! Pull!" Rapunzel said.

I finally felt that I could pull them up. We began to walk back slowly until Eugene and Cass were safely on the ground. 

“Glad you’re back, Blondie.” Eugene said as he climbed over. 

“Good to be back.” Rapunzel said in relief. “I just thought of a great idea for the mural! Come on!”

“Oh? Oh, now?" Eugene blinked. "N-not later when, you know, it’s light out. That’s fine. I'm not gonna question the creative process.”

“I can’t Rapunzel. After tonight I just want to go home and rest. Bye!” I waved.

"Where were you?" My dad asked in an unpleasant tone. He was sitting at the table along with my mom.

"I was with Rapunzel, Cass, and Eugene." I try to sound nonchalant.

"At this hour?"

"Yeah, Cassandra and Eugene were looking for Rapunzel and—"

"Star," he cut me off. "I don't like where this is going. These late nights. The whole magic thing with your necklace. Esto tiene que parar."

"Stop? Why? I'm not doing anything bad, I was just helping them. Look, if it's about me not being at home because I went to Old Corona, I was only trying to help a friend—"

"Star, it's more than that." My dad sighed. "I don't want you to get entangled with what Rapunzel is doing."

"Why?"

"Because, whatever they do. That's on them. But not you. I don't want you to get hurt. You can’t go to Old Corona anymore. You have to give me that necklace."

"Santiago, we did not talk about this." my mom cut in.

“Julianna, por favor. I know what I’m doing.”

"What? No, why do you want it?"

"Por favor, ojitos. Just give me the necklace."

"No!"

"Can't you see it? Solamente quiero protegerte."

"Protect me?"

"If the king finds out you hold this you can be in big trouble."

"So where does your loyalty lie? With your king or your own daughter?" I asked him. 

He didn’t say anything.

His silence hurt me more than whatever he was going to say. 

I stomped to my bedroom and plopped on my bed. I grabbed my pillow and scream into it every bit of frustration I have, 

Immediately, I felt bad for acting that way to my parents. I knew that they are trying to protect me, but not this way. There has to be another way,

I got ready for bed but I was feeling thirsty. Hopefully, my parents were already in bed by now.

I heard a faint discussion from my parent's bedroom as I walked towards the kitchen. The door wasn't completely shut. I put my ear close to the door.

"What are we going to do about it?" I heard my mom ask frantically.

"I-I don’t know." This was the first time I heard my dad sound so worried. I've always thought he was sure about things even if he wasn't correct. 

"You know that forbidding her to not go to Old Corona isn't going to stop her."

 "I know," my dad rubbed his head. "I know she wants to help him, but you heard what he did at the castle during the storm!"

I couldn’t believe it. My parents actually believe that horse turd that Nigel made up in his mind?! 

"And what about her powers or that knight thing? Qué hacemos con eso?"

"No sé. We promised her that we wouldn't tell anyone. To be honest, I did it mostly because I'm afraid." My dad looked away.

"Afraid of what?" my mom sat beside him.

"I'm afraid of what the king might do if he ever finds out that she possesses magic."

Haven't thought about it.

What would the king do? Rapunzel warned me to not let the king know. 

"But she's just a child, Santiago! What could he do to her?"

"I don't know, Julianna. But knowing them, neither of them are going to back down easily. Let's hope we never find out." 

I quickly backed away from the door.

Because of me, my parents stressed out. I couldn’t help but to feel that they shouldn't be carrying my weight. This is my problem. I probably should have never told them. At least they wouldn’t bear the weight that corresponds to me. I should have never dragged them into this.

This burden is mine to bear alone.

[maaruin]

The Droid’s Song

AN: This is the first of eight chapters of my long-promised epic Star Wars poem. Enjoy.

This is a tale of times long past, In a galaxy - far away and vast, Of tearful sorrow and joyous thrills, As written in the journal of the Whills. When sky-walking Luke to freeborn son, Back when his learning had just begun, Destroyed deadly construct of imperial science And brought hope to a desperate rebel alliance.

Those were the times of civil war, When against the empire good men abhor Starships striking from well hidden base Won a great battle in Scarif's space. For freedom they battled and for justice they fought And on Scarif well secured plans they sought Of the Empire's weapon so terrible, In firepower incomparable.

An entire planet it could destroy, Which Tarkin the Grandmoff sought to employ As a threat to cow rebels into final submission. This Death Star would end even brave opposition. These Death Star's plans rebel spies now stole And with their lives they secured control Of a sending dish large enough to transmit For the ship far away receiving it.

This ship was the valiant Tantive IV Which was on it's journey from the worlds of the core To Tatooine, planet of binary stars, Where the Empire's troops and machines were sparse. In this traveled Leia Organa, Alderaanian Senator, Who had long stood up against imperial terror. Pursued was this ship by the Empire's dreaded Battleship Devastator, for battle headed.

----

In the skies of three-mooned Tatooine Those unequal ships would face in battle. Where the valiant Tantive would find its ruin And its crew was then slaughtered like farmer's cattle. The Devestator, a mile long, Surpassed valient Tantive ten times in size, A star destroyer with well-armored prong, It pursued valiant Tantive like a frog pursues flies.

And as flies surpass frogs in maneuver and speed, The Tantive had engines that made it quicker. But a hunting Frog has for running no need, And Leia's ship was engulfed in the bright green flicker Of Devestating fire of turbo-lasers That shredded well-crafted Corellian shields: Like skin is shredded by careless razors Would fail the Tantive's energy fields.

The Tantive fought back, don't mistake me here, For it was armed better than one would expect An ambassadors traveling cruiser to be, But on a warships defense it had little effect. For the Star Destroyers of Kuati production Were surpassed at this time by no ship but one And had brought many vessels quick destruction, Often faster than the rebels could try to outrun.

And this was the fate of the doomed Alderaanian ship, For it's reactor was hit by turbo-laser's fire, And the crew would find it now in the grip Of a tractor-beam drawing it to the Empire's ire. Into Devestator's hangar it would now pull This doomed but valient Tantive IV, Where was waiting a battalion in full Of the Empire's white-armored stormtrooper corps.

On the Tantive valiant crew prepared for a fight, In the turnings of white-walled corridors, Those prepared to resist the Empire's might, Alderaanian guards, trained warriors. Trained in protecting the noble senator And volunteers on this daring mission, Who would loose their life to forces sinister, For they too believed in the Rebellion's vision.

As the Tantive docked in the enemy hangar, They prepared their weapons for vicious assault. Prepared themselves for Imperial anger, Which as best as they could they would try to halt. Sweat dripped from some brow and some hands were shaking, For imperial troops were widely feared. Every heart on the Tantive was quietly quaking, But no matter, for battle all of them geared.

At the door there was heard a terrible sound, At the door the soldiers saw a bright light, As a flame of plasma moved all around The door, top and bottom, left and right. With a deafening crack it was sprung out the way And white smoke blocked the soldiers unaided sight, But their fire at they time they would not need to belay And their blasters they shot into the smoke, red and bright.

And their fire was returned from behind the smoke And with it the first of soldiers many died, As the widely feared white-clad stormtroopers broke Into valiant Tantive's well guarded inside. The stromtroopers skills were well on display, For despite their position they only lost two, While in an assault, as they normally say, They would loose twice the defenders numbers in lieu.

But here this relation was well reversed And the Tantive's guardians soon retreated. The defenders throughout the ship dispersed And in many places the battle was heated. With the entrance secured the ship would board The insidious presence most loyal servant, The fallen Jedi and now a Sith Lord, Who had pursued them from Scarif, relentless and fervent.

Far-dreaded Darth Vader lead this well planned attack, And where he tread rebellious hope ever faded. The knight whose heart they said was all black The valiant Tantive IV now invaded. As black as his heart was his armor and cloak, With an unknown face hidden behind skull-like mask, With mechanical breath, metallic voice when he spoke, Was he man or machine no one dared to ask.

On fallen bodies he looked down And to living saluting troopers as well, For his stature was as large as his galactic renown And fear all around him he would compel. Wordlessly he stepped over bodies that lay On the ground around him, friend and foe alike. Enemies today he planned not to slay, But interrogate them unto shiver and shrike. ----

In the bowels of said valiant rebel ship A droid received a data chip From the princess Leia Organa's hand To take with it through space and desert sand. A message she spoke that the droid recorded Of her desperation on the ship now boarded, A call for help he would need to deliver To a man who would make their hope more than a sliver.

This droid was an astromech of the series R2, Of cylindric shape painted white and blue, With three wheels, two on legs and one under the chassis, Small wheels of limited efficacy. From the body many arms and tools could extend, With which damaged machines of all kinds he could mend. The cylinder was closed with hemispherical lid With a rader eye, projectors and a sensor grid.

This droid was found in the Tantive's bowls By another droid of a different role. A gold-plated one of human-like guise With immovable mouth and white-shining eyes, Who was build for a much more esteemed function: To facilitate a range of diplomatic conjunction By translating a million forms of communications And also aid in human-droid relations.

“Artoo-Deetoo, where are you, where have you been?” Said this one, C-3PO, as soon as he had seen The smaller and braver astromech droid In a voice at the same time fearful and annoyed. “They are heading towards this section of our ship, And if they find us they might very well strip Us for parts or send us to slave away In the spice mines of Kessel, forever to stay.”

But Artoo simply passed by the golden translator Towards the ships starboard elevator, For he clearly had a place he would try to reach While listening to the golden one’s worried speech. “Wait Artoo-Deetoo, where are you going? The upper deck must now be overflowing With imperial troops armed to the teeth, Who will shoot us apart, piece by piece.”

But clever Artoo wasn't using the lift, To present themselves to the Empire as an unforeseen gift. Instead he went down to the lowest deck And from here he planned to escape this wreck. There had been twelve escape pods when the Tantive had left Alderaan for the journey to assist the theft Of the plans of the Empire's dreaded death star. Around five of them had been started so far.

So Artoo entered one of the remaining pods And C-3PO calculated the odds Of survival while complaining about the lack of permission That was given the droid for pod acquisition. But a blaster bolt of advancing Imperial troops Brought an end to the droid’s indecision loops. And above Artoo into the pod he crawled, And Artoo pressed the button, now no longer stalled.

The escape pod's engines launched it out Of valiant Tantive's hull on the fastest route, Away from the Devestator and it's captured prey, Right out the star destroyer's hangar bay. And C-3PO took a look at his ship's underside And said “the damage doesn't look to bad from outside”. So for now at Artoo he did not chafe, But he still asked: “Are you certain this thing is safe?” ---- The desert-world Tatooine has three moons And on it the many rocks and dunes Are divided commonly into three zones: The first of which is the Dune Sea, where long-bleached bones Lay in the sand for ages and ages. A deadly place, as know fools and sages, Where the suns shine hot and the krayt dragon flies, Where its wings cause sandstorms that darken the skies.

The second are dry mountains commonly called Wastes. There you find water in the air and which life can taste, Not much, mind you, but enough to sustain A number of farmers who in the Wastes maintain Moisture farms fed by vaporators, Which draw water from the air and safe it to later, To water the hardy species of crops, Which the farmers sell in the settlements' shops.

The Settlements are the third area of three, Where humans and aliens live, slaves or free, In white houses one or two stories tall, With the desert's song still in floor, roof and wall. It is there where a spaceship would normally land, Not in the Dune Sea's desert sand. But the droid's escape pod was no guided machine, And so in the dunes of the Dune Sea it's wreckage was seen.

From this wreck left the droids as fast as they could, For they knew to suspect that the Empire would, Send men to recover whatever had been placed In the pod that the Devestator had no doubt traced. Luckily for the droids their vessel had landed At the edge of the Dune Sea, so they weren't stranded At a place where they would need to fly like a hawk. Instead to the Jundland Wastes they could walk.

“How did I get into this disastrous mess,” Asked Threepio more to himself then Artoo, “If only an answer to this I knew, But I always end up in trouble and distress. We droids, it seems, were made to suffer, My joints freeze and circuits fill With desert sand mixed with oil spill. Oh were I a human I would be much tougher.

“What kind of desolate place this is, Dunes of sand to the left as far as I see, And to the right mountain ridges without a single tree, Even I the nature of Alderaan now miss. But why, dear Artoo, are you turning right, To the wastes were countless rocks lie in the way, Difficult to walk for us even by day. I will certainly trip and break me at night.

“What do you beep about settlers who up there live? And don't come me with technical nonsense, I am tired of your talk of secret missions and, The benefit of the doubt I will not give. Go there to the mountains and stumble on rock And then lay there calling futile beeps for help! I will not help you, pathetic astromech whelp! Instead I walk where nothing my way will block.”

And Artwoo went right and Threepio left, For Threepio was of ideas bereft, But in anger refused to follow the guidance And instead went the other way in unthinking defiance. Through the wind-wand'ring dunes of the desert he walked And while he was walking he talked and talked Of a protocol droids unenviable fate As the days hour was getting later and late.

And when he saw a great krayt's sand-covered bones, His speech changed into blaming tones. And according to what he said in this hour His thoughts on Artoo in his mind turned sour. “He tricked me,” he said in accusing voice, “He tricked me, going here wasn't my choice.” But in desp'rate hour on the horizon blue A large metal-clad transport came into view. ----

Meanwhile Artoo had taken the rocky path And his mind did not mirror Threepio's wrath. While he had been annoyed at this errancy, His mission now took priority. For the data that Princess Leia had given Now on three small wheels needed to be driven To a person the Alderaanian Princess had told About, a friend of her father's of old.

Night fell over the Jundland Wastes And Artoo did not realize that he was chased By creatures of human shape but small, Who hid behind rocks at the canyon's wall. Brown cloaks they wore with large hoods atop, A shadow above their face they did drop. Only large eyes, bright and yellow, Shone out of the hood of a Jawa-fellow.

When Artoo drove down a downwards slope, This droid who carried the rebellions hope Was hit by Jawa-blaster's lightning-blue cast And his body engulfed in an ion blast. His circuits overloaded as his body stiffened And uncontrollably toolarms he did extend. His awareness shut down as in ions he drowned Clever Artoo-Deetoo fell flat on the ground.

And as he lay on the stony ground eight Jawas in total gathered around. And since Artoo was equal in height To the height of a Jawa but by far not as light, They needed to carry him with five or six To the place where the droid they intended to fix. To prepare him to then sell for acceptable prize They brought him to a transport of impressive size.

This was was sandcrawler centuries old, Intended to carry valued ore in its hold, When on three-mooned Tatooine to mine Core World companies would workers assign. But the planet was hostile and the sands not forgiving, And the ore was not worth the cost of living For the miners so they left the hostile sand And left their sandcrawlers where they did stand.

The nomadic Jawas then took possession And maintained the sandcrawlers after a fashion. Those giant machines became their home And with them the deserts and wastes they could roam. Like a block were they shaped, 20 Jawas in height And twice as long, with machines of impressive might, Which on four huge tracks carried the Jawa-house To places where it served as a droid warehouse.

The Jawas placed Artoo at the crawler's foot, Where one of them for security put A restraining bolt on the clever droid's side, So he would obey orders and neither run nor hide. A vacuum pipe was lowered down from above And one of the Jawas took in his glove A remote that woke Artoo from involunt’ry sleep, Just awoken he was sucked into the sandcrawler deep. ----

In the sandcrawler’s gigantic hold The Jawas kept what they had not yet sold. And as R2-D2 looked around, He saw many spare parts on the ground Of machines one would find at the galaxy’s edge: Power couplings, energy cells, and a holographic wedge, Converters, and casings, and thermal sensors, Hyper-spanners, light-hammers and coffee-dispensers.

Many a droid was stored there as well, Droids the Jawas intended to sell To moisture farmers and on Mos Eisley’s streets, To buy crawler-fuels, fresh water, and meats. Those droids were of various forms, Almost none of them stored according to norms, Some came from trash heaps or accident sites, others old units bought or stolen outright.

A 3B6-RA-7 unit Looked on the astromech unfortunate With larges eye-spheres atop elongated face. It’s limbs damaged it could only trace The movements of this nights second newcomer And other droids waiting for a customer Like the WED Treadwell who moved on eight wheels, With seven arms like a spider, the eighth lost to ordeal.

There was a Gonk-droid, a man-high box, Its content secured with two energy locks. A box that moved on it’s two flat feet, Which had carried munitions in the Republic fleet. Another astromech was in the Jawa’s store, Red and white, with designation R2-D4. Higher than Artoo with a head half a cone, Silently it stood in the corner alone.

Those and many more droids Artoo saw, But only one of them could his attention draw: A gold-plated, well-learned protocol droid, That just hours ago had tried to avoid The clever astromech on his secret mission. Now raised his eyes in recognition. With a voice that carried hope anew Threepio called “Artoo, it’s you!”

So were reunited these unequal fellows Just as the sandcrawler’s main engine bellows To carry the mechanical beast through the night, To bring to someone their acquired freight. To the regions settled by human farmers, Where the Jawas would try their luck as charmers And see if a bargain worthwhile could be won On the farm of Own Lars and Beru Whitesun.

[sanchoyo]

25 + 41 Spinaraki (happy things for the boys)(or not, your choice)

Fantasy + First kiss! I hope u like this bc. I Don’t Know Beans about Fantasy as a genre. :”D TY for requesting! (And sorry for the delay, I have Weird Split Off Days :( )

                                    --------------

“I gotta kiss you, man.”

“No.”

“I gotta! We have to break this curse somehow!”

I said no!” 

Tomura was currently not hiding behind the couch; he was strategically crouching and avoiding, actually.

So, he’d been cursed. Their little guild of thieves and murderers had been attacked, and he’d gotten in the line of fire of a particularly skilled and spiteful witch. The stupid hag had declared ‘He who hates all cannot break the curse until he loves, realized the love, and seals the love with a kiss! That alone can break the curse!’

So. He’d been cursed in the most inconvenient way for him personally; corny as hell and unrealistic. Removing the witches head from her neck hadn’t broken the curse like he’d expected, his rot touch doing nothing to stop the hot pulse in his blood, the tell-tale, white hot pain of a curse. 

And sure, he’d been cursed before; this one was nasty, too intricate for him to untwine himself with his own black magic. His magic carried the death aura; it wasn’t a healing touch, it could only destroy.

He’d asked Sako about it, but the man had scoffed, declaring he was an illusionist, not a wizard or warlock. Magic was magic, wasn’t it? 

Toga was into blood magic, and knew a lot about love, and how to work with it alongside black magic- but she shrugged. She said wasn’t a healer. 

Dabi’s pyromancy would be useless; Twice’s doubling illusions didn’t even enter his mind. And neither did Spinner, because he couldn’t even use magic; sure, he was a strong fighter, but-

His head hit the underside of the abandoned tavern’s bar, alerting Shuichi to his location. He cursed.

“Dude, come on!”

“It’s not just a kiss to break it, I’ve said that already!” Besides, with his death aura, if anyone kissed him they’d probably die, right? “The hag said I have to love someone, and I don’t really love anyone!”

“But you like the league,” He pointed out. “So any of us could work, we don’t know until we try!” Spinner threw a toned arm against the wall, blocking the exit. “C’mon, I don’t want you to die, so I’m saying I don’t mind!”

“How generous,” He slipped under his arm, ignoring the indignant squawk. “No.”

“Really?! We need you!”

“Obviously, but I’m not going to die. I’ve almost died lots of times. We’ll break this curse. Besides, you probably suck at kissing. Have you ever even kissed anyone?”

“That’s- that’s rude.” He didn’t answer the question. “I just wanna help, man.”

And it would be inconvenient if he died; so what the hell? They were alone in the tavern anyway. He didn’t want it to seem like he wasn’t willing to try, and like hell he was flustered or something.

“Fine.” 

As many quests as they’d been on, Shigaraki had never even stopped to consider things like ‘romance’ or ‘kissing’; those were things reserved for normal peasants who needed more hands in the field, and royalty who had no say in who they married; Romance was a tool to sire the next generation of aristocrats and workers. 

To say he had a cynical view about the subject was an understatement, but he thought it was realistic. A fairy tale, to ensure the population didn’t plummet. It had it’s purpose, even if it was a lie.

“Fine? Oh, uh,” Shuichi slicked his hair back; there was a visible sheen of sweat on his face and on the pads of his palms. “Right, let’s do it!”

“Don’t make a big deal about it,” He snorted; but his own heart twitched, and his breath hitched. “And don’t regret it if there’s any side effects.”

“Nah, I won’t.” The other man’s voice was quieter. Their faces got closer, and…

They touched lips. Their noses bumped awkwardly, neither of them even shutting their eyes, or moving to- god forbid- open their mouths. After a moment, when he felt Shuici’s hot breath huff on his face, he pulled away.

“Well. That was stupid.”

“I was trying!” At least he seemed to be embarrassed; Shigaraki could barely tear his eyes away from him, amusement bubbling up. 

“Maybe we should try again; I still feel the curse.”

“Shit, stop teasing me! I’m going to go to the library and look into it!” He practically ran away; wasn’t that interesting? 

He tilted his head, and thought about it. It was a pretty bad kiss. 

So why’d be wanna try again?

                                  ---------

So he kept thinking about how Shuichi’s embarrassed face looked, and his own pride being at stake; besides, it was kind of sweet how loyal the dragonic knight was, willing to kiss his leader to help lift a curse.

“Hey, how are you? Is the curse..does it hurt?” A few days had past. All of them had been busy, looking into fixing it in their own ways; Spinner’d just gotten back from a binge at the library, and after pouring over the tombs, had admitted he couldn’t find a solution yet. 

“Yeah, not too different from normal.” It had faded in the background, like a hazy filter of constant pain, and he’d gotten used to it. It hurt, but he hurt pretty often anyway. Even if he was slowly dying, wasn’t that always the case?

“Hey, kiss me again.”

Shuichi sputtered, nearly spilt the drink he was holding, and looked at him with moon-sized eyes.

“What?”

“I wanna try again; don’t you think it sucked the first time?”

“Seriously, fuck you man.” Shuichi was mad? He frowned. He’d known he’d been a shut in before joining them, did he think he was honestly teasing him? 

“No, I wasn’t kidding. It’s distracting, I keep thinking about it.”

“...What, about the curse? We already-���

“No, about kissing you.” And he moved from his perch on the couch, putting a hand on the end of it and leaning over him. “As pushy as you were the first time, you don’t wanna now?”

“That’s- I…” Shuichi blinked. “You want to kiss me?”

“You don’t want to? I can do better.” he was determined to.

Shuichi’s eyes flickered to his lips, then back to his eyes. It was so quiet he could hear him gulp down saliva. “Sure I do.” He mumbled. “But it’s just a game to you. Ever since our last battle, when you were talking about how you’d show us that beautiful horizon, I wanted to, but it’s not..I’m your knight.”

“Since when,” He asked, slowly licking his lips. “ Since when do we follow the usual rules of the heroic guilds? What’s inappropriate for them is the norm for us; we have no honor, so don’t do acting noble now. Besides, remember what I said back then?”

“What did you say?” It was whispered, and Shuichi was looking so desperately at him that Tomura’s heart almost stopped completely.

“I said the wishes of my comrades were the only thing I wouldn’t destroy; they’re my wishes, too. So if there’s something you want, it’s my job to make sure you get it.” 

“I can’t break your curse.” Shuichi broke the gaze. “I can’t-”

“I wasn’t asking you to; I just want you to do what you want.” 

Shuichi hesitated, and was painfully gentle when he finally reached up, ran his claws through Tomura’s hair, and pulled him lower, closing the distance.

“Don’t regret any of the side effects.” Shuichi echoed his own words, softly.

“Like the witch said, I can’t love anyone, so I’ll be fine,” He tilted his head, and closed his eyes, and felt a glow, warm across his chest, bloom like a flower. 

He let his hands drift on Shuichi’s face, with care not to use five fingers. He’d never been this close to anyone; he felt like he had a fever, like he was melting. 

When he pulled away, Shuichi’s eyelashes fluttered open. He was left breathless; Was this what he’d been wishing for? 

How long had he wanted to kiss him back and hadn’t realized? He’d been jealous of the devotion the knight had had towards the blood rogue Stain, and wanted that, selfishly, to be on him; maybe he’d wanted it for a while, after all. Maybe he wanted more. Maybe...

The dull throb of the curse had faded, and he laughed to spite the witch, and because it felt euphoric to realize he wasn’t born solely from hate, but could also…

“S-Shigaraki?” Shuichi avoided his gaze. “Stop laughing, I actually tried this time-”

“You did fine; but I’m not happy with it.” He hummed. “I don’t like it if I’m not the best at it, so we have to again. Even if the curse was broken.”

“What?! I- I broke it?! Then- you-” Shuichi turned an adorable shade of pink, turning away. “What the hell, you can’t just- I gotta go!” A little spurt of fire blew out of his nostrils, making the room smell like smoke. 

He let him run out again, knowing full well he’d be back. And he fell back on the couch, grinning at the ceiling alone, heart racing, face hot.

Maybe Spinner was his horizon; beautiful, destructive, and bright. And Tomura?

 Tomura loved him.

[gearhawk-studios]

Genshin Impact: Bloodlines

Prologue Part 3: Heart of a Hero

A wide known fact is that distractions can be a detriment to an author, whose mind and will is dedicated to committing stories to pen and paper. So, it is a necessity to find a workspace with the least amount of distractions, but the greatest amount of inspiration. For the 16-year-old Xandrin Scribhneoir, he preferred sitting on his favored boulder at the Falcon Coast. The lapping waves, the salty breeze, the occasional animal companion scurrying across the sandy surfaces, the gentle setting sun setting the sky ablaze in orange and blues… it was a place Xandrin found himself alone most of the time and had not taken this fact for granted.

He returned his sight to the leather bound notebook in his lap, already halfway filled with the tales of an upcoming knight of the Gunhildr Clan. When Xandrin had seen her on the training grounds of the Knights of Favonius, it was clear she had the will of a lion with her devastating swordplay, but the heart of a dandelion, soft and sweet. A perfect example of what Mondstadt’s knights should aspire to be, Xandrin thought to himself as he continued to write.

“Master Xandrin!”

The young man sighed, realizing his time uninterrupted was coming to an end. Closing his book, the Scribhneoir heir turned to see an older gentleman, wearing the black suit of a butler, rushing through the fields. His grey hair was tied into a long, slim and well kept ponytail, the beard trimmed with great finesse. The gentleman stopped at the stone, panting and coughing, “M-master Xandrin… please, you must not keep doing this…”

“Hector,” Xandrin addressed the man, wearing an exasperated smile on his face, “I’ve told you a hundred times, I can handle myself out here. Fiora made sure I wasn’t defenseless like I used to be.”

Hector raised his head, taking out a handkerchief and dapping the deep wrinkles on his forehead, “Be that as it may… your parents have expressly stated that I am to keep you in my sight at all times. So, would you please stop slipping away from me?”

With a mix of a sigh and a chuckle, Xandrin slid down from his favored spot and nodded to the butler, “I will do my best, Hector. C’mon, we should probably get back home.”

Gathering up his satchel and his writing supplies, Xandrin slung the bag over his shoulder and led Hector back down the all familiar path to Mondstadt. The smell of the salt on the air was soon replaced with the scent of the multitude of flowers around the fields of Windrise, something that made Xandrin smile.

“How is your next work coming along, Master Xandrin?” Hector spoke, his tone more composed.

Xandrin turned to him and thought for a moment, “It’s coming along. Just a little unnerving having to get this done within a month.”

“Such is the bane of authors, sir. A life of deadlines and writer’s block.”

Chuckling, Xandrin nodded, “It certainly can be, Hector. It certainly can.”

The two continued along, passing a flock of small birds that took off into the air. Xandrin watched them fly, leaving behind a couple of feathers that danced in the breeze. As Xandrin observed them, Hector spoke up once more, “May I ask a question, Master Xandrin?”

Xandrin nodded, still watching the feathers float to the ground. Hector cleared his throat, “You’ve been writing about the heroes of Mondstadt for quite a while, I have been wondering… have you not considered making a story of yourself?”

There was a long pause, as Xandrin turned and looked at Hector. Then, he shook his head, “I’m not much of a hero, Hector. What would there be to write? I’m just a writer, nothing much else to it.”

Hector smiled tiredly, “Perhaps, Master Xandrin. But have you-“

Xandrin held up a hand, both him and Hector stopping in their tracks. There was a new smell in the air. There was the faint scent of smoke… of blood. Eyes widening, he turned to Hector. Seeing his young master’s look in his gaze, Hector nodded as they turned their attention to the massive tree in the distance. The symbol of Vennessa.

Together they ran over, moving carefully over the massive roots of this ancient tree. As they moved, Xandrin noticed jagged scorch marks across the various roots, not caused by normal fire. He also saw broken sticks and shards of metal. Before he could notice more, Hector held out an arm, motioning for Xandrin to stop and get low.

Dropping behind one of the roots, Xandrin and his trusty butler peeked over to see a most disturbing sight. At the base of the tree was a statue to Barbatos, the Anemo Archon and God of Freedom. It was a spot common for the Sisters of the Church of Mondstadt to come to offer respects with the Knights of Favonius watching over them. Two such sisters, though one looked to be about Xandrin’s age while the other could be no older than 11, were fearful as a man in dark and rusted armor approached them. A knight, his own armor scorched, lay motionless on the ground with his claymore stuck in the ground.

The man approached the two girls, his long black hair free and only lightly obscuring his scarred face. He held a black sword, which seemed to crackle with lightning. His voice was low, with a charming edge to it, “Now, while I’d love to stay here and chat about the information I require, we have very little time. Come quietly with me, now.”

“G-get back,” the older girl, with a long braided brown pony tail and long pointed ears stammered, reaching for a pendant around her neck. It began to flow and lime green, light escaping the cracks in her grasp as suddenly a vine sprouted out of the ground to try and strike at the man.

Sighing, the man seemed to swing his sword nonchalantly, only making a shallow cut in the attacking plant. Lightning poured into the cut, frying it almost in an instant. The younger girl, in a white dress and blonde hair, began to cry, “S-sister Annabelle… I’m scared…”

The older girl turned to the younger girl and tried to put on a brave face, “It’s okay, Sister Barbara. It’ll be okay.”

Xandrin’s grip tightened, watching the man laugh at the girl’s obvious fear. He turned to Hector and whispered, “We have to do something.”

“What do you suggest, sir?” Hector nodded, looking worried but ready to assist.

“Can you get the girls out of here while I distract this guy?”

Hector looked shocked, “S-sir, I can’t-“

“It's obvious the knights will be here soon, as this guy is in a rush. I only need to hold him off for a little bit… please, Hector. I might not have a Vision, or be a hero. But I gotta do something.”

The loyal butler looked into Xandrin’s eyes, seeing the unwavering determination. Sighing, Hector nodded. A smile appeared across Xandrin’s face as he began to sneak around. The girls, on the other hand, had finished backing up and now were against the statue of Barbatos. The man continued to advance, a slow and menacing chuckle escaping his lips, “Do we really need to do this the hard way? All I want to know is the secrets the Church has been hiding.”

Just as the man was about to reach out and grab Annabelle, the man cried out in pain as he was knocked to the side. Standing just behind the man was Xandrin, holding the Favonius Claymore. The girls stared in astonishment at this young man, having swung the blade with ease. Hector immediately came over, “Excuse me ladies, but I believe this is our cue to get out of here.”

The girls nodded, Barbara whispering a thank you as Hector began leading them away. As they went away, Xandrin rested the greatsword on his shoulder. Hector got one last look as Xandrin said, “Like I said, Hector. Fiora made sure I could hold my own.”

With them rushing down the path to Mondstadt, Xandrin took a deep breath and turned to face the man who was standing back up. The man glared at Xandrin, “Just… who the hell do you think you are?!”

Xandrin placed a hand on his chest, “Me? I’m just an author passing through, don’t worry about me. What’s your name, Mr. Creep?”

The man spat, wiping a small amount of dirt from the corner of his mouth. Xandrin then noticed on the man’s left shoulder there was a purple gem with the symbol of Electro fashioned into the armor piece. This man had a Vision?

“Realizing you’re in over your head, punk?” The man sneered, flourishing the black blade in his hand again as sparks danced along the menacing edge.

Despite his heart racing, Xandrin kept a calm expression as he said, “I’ve seen people without Visions do a lot more damage than you, Mr. Creep.”

Scowling, the man dashed forward, leaving a wave of purple sparks in his wake. Xandrin barely had enough time to take the large blade on his shoulder and block the attack, making him slide back a couple of inches. The man looked at Xandrin, a smug expression across his scarred features as he came for another attack. The young author was faster this time, meeting the dark sword with his own.

Frowning, the man concentrated. The Vision began to light up in a bright violet light, he brought his blade back and came down hard with electricity beginning to arc along the edge. Xandrin moved to defend, but once the blades connected, the high voltage traveled through his blade and up his arms. Crying out, Xandrin loosened the grip and the man easily disarmed the young writer.

The blade flew high up in the air, landing far away from Xandrin. Seeing his hands now empty, Xandrin looked at the man and sheepishly grinned, “W-well, guess that happened…”

Without another word, the armored man raised a fist and slammed the back of it against Xandrin’s cheek, sending him flying. Crashing on the stone steps leading up to the Shrine of Barbatos, Xandrin groaned. He coughed up a small amount of blood, holding his side, “D-dammit…”

Sighing in frustration, the man stalked up to Xandrin, “Well… if I can’t get what I was looking for… I might as well get some target practice in…”

Outstretching a gloved hand, the Vision once again lit up as bolts of indigo lightning descended on Xandrin. The young man cried out, his nerves on fire and his clothes smoking from the impact. Releasing the bolts, the man spoke with a smug grin, “What the matter, punk? No more quips?”

Coughing and sputtering, Xandrin looked up to the man with a weak grin, “C-c’mon… I’ve seen tiny Electro Slimes give more voltage than your weak little stings…”

Growling, the man shot out his hand again. The torrent of lightning fell on Xandrin once again, pushing him back up against the statue hard as he screamed in pain. Gritting his teeth, the tears that would’ve flowed from Xandrin’s eyes were being instantly evaporated by the extreme heat as he looked up at the statue of Barbatos.

Please… help...

“Once I’m done with you, I’m gonna find those girls and I will find what I am looking for, brat,” the man shouted, increasing the lightning. “And once I have what I want… I might just need to have some more target practice with those girls and that old man…”

Xandrin’s eyes widened, the thought of those terrified girls… Hector… the lightning that scorched him now falling on them. No. His fists tightened, his gaze turning down to meet the man. No. He placed his hands on the statue behind him, trying to push himself up. No. The statue began to glow, the orb held by the immaculately carved Barbatos beginning to shine a seafoam green as the man looked shocked at this sudden change. NO. The wind began to swirl around the man and Xandrin, rapidly picking up pace as the glow of the orb from the statue began to flow down the stone structure and into Xandrin’s hands.

“NO!”

A massive gust of air launched out from Xandrin’s outstretched palm, slamming into the man as he went flying backward. The wind whipping around the statue and Xandrin sped up faster and faster, the soft green glow flowing through Xandrin’s body as he glared at the evil man who stared in astonishment.

“I won’t let you touch them!” Xandrin shouted, reaching out his right hand. The gilded greatsword flew from its resting spot, guided by the wind as it landed in Xandrin’s grasp perfectly.

“Th-the hell?!” The man shot up on his feet.

Xandrin looked about himself, unsure of what was going on himself. This felt… familiar somehow. But, how could he use this?

“Relax, Xandrin.”

The writer paused, hearing the words almost as if they were in his mind. He was about to speak when the friendly voice spoke again, “Breathe, Xandrin. Listen to the winds, hear their stories… hear how they wish for you to use them.”

Nodding to himself, Xandrin closed his eyes. Images flowed by him. A radiant lady knight, striking foes with thrusts of concentrated air, a young man with a mask launching himself high in the air to come crashing down, a blonde haired individual reaching out their palm to create a ball-like tornado in their hand…

“This is my power, the power of Anemo. Let it guide you, Xandrin Scribhneoir. Let the winds in your heart, the kind breeze the exudes from your soul, be the sword that defends the freedom of others.”

Eyes snapping open, Xandrin grasped the hilt of the claymore in both hands and brought it to his side, the winds whipping up and around the blade. The man, seeing Xandrin preparing himself, growled and ran his hand down the side of the blade, it glowing bright purple with lightning. He then charged forward, letting loose a battle cry, “Time to die, brat!”

“And here… is the finale!” Xandrin shouted as he stomped his foot down, using his entire body weight to swing the blade horizontally. The weaponized air became razor sharp, creating a green swathe of Anemo energy that barreled towards the man. Seeing this attack coming at him, the man raised his sword to catch the attack, but found it overwhelming as it overtook him.

The strike of wind took up the man, shredding his armor like paper as it threw him backwards. He crashed into the ground, creating a small crater in the side of a hill as he lost grip of his blade and fell limp and unconscious. The wind began to die down, Xandrin’s arms dropping to his sides as he fell to his knees. In the distance, he could see several armored Knights of Favonius rushing towards them. A small chuckle escaped the wounded Xandrin’s lips as he dropped the sword and fell to the ground himself.

As the Favonius Knights made it to the base of the tree, one singular knight who towered above the others walked over to the young Scribhneoir, his gentle gaze noticing a soft green glow coming from his chest. The knight turned Xandrin over, and his eyes widened. On the young man’s chest, attached to the strap of his satchel, sat a green glass orb with the symbol of Anemo etched in it.

“For your bravery, and your desire of inspiring the freedom to become a hero… I grant you, Xandrin Scribhneoir, the Vision of Anemo… may it lead you to the answers you will seek…”

[thepilgrimofwar]

Warplanning 3 - Edited Roll20 Log

[Event Start]

The meeting was finally called as twilight began to deepen and Relriah and those in her company had arrived, packing the War Room fuller than usual. It was the first time since the start of the Civil War where Relriah, Judereth, and even Zarannis were all present round the table at once. Though it must be stated that the ex-Ranger General seemed better put together from the last time she was seen in the manor. Her armor was properly polished and there wasn’t a hint of the least bit of whiskey about her.

Stenden looks dour, though great victories had been won this week, it was the manner in which they were won seemed to bother him. Rumours of the massive use of Blood Magic turning the tide of battle seemed to unsettle him. It would not look good if the war was won by something that seemed like borderline necromancy.

Thank you for coming everyone,” Stenden speaks up.

[Blood Magics]

Solendis clears his throat. “The first order of business, and most important, is Blood Magic and its use.”

Relriah responds immediately. Very out of character from the woman he thought he knew. “You cannot deny its effectiveness. Not only in terms of casualties but morale as well. There are even rumors of the Lady in White fighting on our side.”

Vissehn glances between husband and wife with eyes growing wider by the moment. He struggles to suppress a grin.

Renalays squints with her almond eyes over the expanse of the wartable, almost -confused- by the concept that someone would be upset over the use of her powers. "I have no idea what this 'White Lady' the Illthians have been referring to me as -means,- but I make no apologies for using the full of my powers, as is the right of Sin'dorei."

Ethalarian arches a brow from his seat and leans forward, elbows braced across the top of the table. "Unnatural means?" He gestures to Thanidiel and back to himself. "Do you even know who we are?"

Thanidiel then grunts with Ethalarian's toss of his hand towards herself. She's a freak of the Light.

Solendis presses his lips together and shakes his head. “While that is true, Inquisitor- And effective or not, my dear- we cannot be seen to win this war with... Seemingly unnatural means. Our peasants aren't the most discerning of types when it comes to magic use. Light knows many of them have never seen a mage despite their prevalence in the greater Kingdom of Quel’thalas.”

Lirelle now starts to stare at Solendis. Then looks at Renalays, then for Kebha, then herself, then baaaack at Solendis.

Thanidiel spends a long time evaluating Relriah and the Emberhearts more than she does Renalays. A cock to her head and a burrow to her brow. Then the questions swirling there are answered by Solendis' response back to the Inquisitor. But only halfway. "But your Lady speaks of these rumours as beneficial?"

Relriah backs up Thanidiel. "Incredibly beneficial. She's a legend that only appears to punish unruly Lords. Arenias in this case."

Beathyn steps forward in an attempt to physically block the growing tension between the couple. "The price of being the bread basket of the Kingdom. Hard labour is valued rather than education."

Renalays:"Power has little to do with education. If that was the case, Dawnstalker here would be the worst of us." It's a compliment.

Relriah then looks to Renalays. "And I believe we ought to use every tool at our disposal."

Ethalarian nods. "Yeah, exactly."

Vissehn:"So, this Lady in White, she comes up and what-- chastens th'Lords who gets too big for their britches? Why's it a bad thing-- an' why can't we just have our Ladies of Death an' Blood ride front and center and scare the piss out of the defense?" He waves a hand to Lirelle and Renalays.

Thanidiel spoke. "I think you will struggle to find less.. utilitarian opinions amongst us, who have all acquainted with the mainland, Solendis, Lordling. Is this your wish that we hold aside the most 'monstrous' of our powers? Or do you sincerely want the discussion?" She then nods to Vissehn and Relriah's points.

Vissehn looks to Stenden. "Might save some lives, honestly. Fear of the righteous dead is enough to sway more'n just farmers hearts."

Stenden nods at Vissehn and regards his father. "Can you leverage the powers of the Inquisitor into tales of the Lady in White? I'm sure we can spin tales that actually help further legitimize us in the eyes of the people if the Lady fights on our side- The side of justice. It's not like we can win the war... Without unnatural looking means." He gestures towards Lirelle. Literally a vengeful spirit back from the dead- Who had not infact been seen on the field.

Stenden "The supernatural is not to be feared. That's what I was taught." He mimicks words that Solendis himself had told him. Long ago.

"Not if we can make an ally of it." Relriah adds.

Ethalarian nods in agreement with Thanidiel. "I'm not keen on gambling with the lives of the Blood Knights who have rallied to my banner by playing nice with a bunch of uppity locals."

Renalays:"Does this imply I should make myself scarce to your peasantry for the duration of this little squabble?" As if she wasn't already? She's been terrorising the servants with her ways.

Lirelle glances at Judereth. "Are you going to bell her too?"

Relriah smiles at the Inquisitor, privy to her & Lirelle's terrorizing of the house staff. Though the latter was unintentional.

Stenden shakes his head. "You're dressed in white, I think appearing before the peasantry might help our cause if my we can get the White Lady on our side of the war effort."

Stenden looks to Lirelle. Wondering if he could get her to dress in white too.

Lirelle | Not a chance.

Ethalarian turns now to Renalays at his right. "I owe you one, by the way."

Renalays:"You owe me many," she says without missing a beat, "Knight-Captain Dawnstalker." Those are some behind-the-scenes implications. But she brushes right on with a turn of her snooty chin up in the air towards the end of the table, that white mask encompassing her face obscuring anything but her eyes. "Perhaps I ought to make rounds among the skirmish 'lines' then? Inflate these rumours you prize?"

Stenden nods. "If you wish- It'll send a message, one way or another."

Ethalarian shakes his head and goes straight back to leaning back in his chair, only this time with the added benefit of dropping a booted foot on the edge of the table. You can take the bumpkin out of the country...

[Prisoners]

“Speaking of which, onto the prisoners then,” Relriah spoke up. “Excluding the wounded, we have almost two hundred prisoners taken by the Coalition alone. What should be done with them?” She had been responsible for the capture of a good number of them and was curious of their fates.

Lirelle:“Make use of them. They were all fine with taking up arms against you, turn those arms back on Arenias.”

Stenden raises an eyebrow at her suggestion. “What does that entail exactly?”

Thanidiel:"They can change their banners and walk free, or sow fields with a sword at their backs."

Lirelle points to the cluster of tokens on the war map. “Release the militia. As for the soldiers, send them to fight on the front lines.”

Stenden shakes his head at both of them. “Absolutely not. Enemies or not, they are prisoners. They’ve done their duties and their role in the war is over. I will ask no more of them.”

Lirelle regards him with a flat emotionless stare. “They are traitors. They chose to raise their banners and go against you. To keep prisoners is a waste of resources spent feeding and guarding them. Men are going to die on the field. This is an inescapable reality. Why sacrifice the lives of those who are already loyal to you when there is another option? I would wager that if you asked any one of your people whether they would rather the death of a Ilithian traitor or the death of their husbands and sons, not a single one would answer differently.”

Renalays:"I wish," she affirms plainly. "I need to gather up strength, as it were. The Emberglades are more glutted with the dead than the Dead Scar yet they still must be -pulled- forth. The quantities of each battle are too large for consistency. As for the prisoners; something must be done. Dawnbrook has the most efficient option. It's too late to send them back or free. They've seen your roads and your patrols, your armies and the proprieties of the land and villages just by marching in chains."

Stenden gives Lirelle a withering look, the first time he had ever given her one. “And that is exactly why I am a Lord and they are subjects.” He says with all the conviction in the world. Stenden looks at Renalays, then back at Lirelle. “This is not a conflict between warring states, this is a -Civil War- Today’s traitor is tomorrow’s subject. The husbands and sons in my dungeons -are- my people. The Ilithian’s -are- my people.”

“Sederis asked me to build a better realm. A -better- realm. A realm where the people aren’t held accountable for the decision of their traitorous Lord. We have a chance right now to build it, and forcing prisoners to sacrifice themselves on our behalf is not how we do that!”

Ethalarian:"They seem to disagree with you on the whole 'warring states' thing. That said, I don't know that it's worth the risk of them looking for an opportunity to turn on us if we put them at the front."

Lirelle scoffs. “This is a civil war that you still need to -win-. Your ideals are pointless if you’re dead. To sacrifice men already loyal to you in the place of known traitors is a mistake that Sederis would know he could not afford to make. In order to rule with stability long enough to make the changes that you want to sometimes requires an iron fist, and Sederis eventually understood that. You would end this conflict surrounded by just as many turncoats as you would loyalists. Your position will never be secure.”

Thanidiel:"Has anyone -asked- them to convert swords or hands yet?"

Stenden responds to Ethlarian. "So we don't put them in the front, we keep them in chains. Not use them as flesh shields for the battles to come."

Stenden wanted to yell, but held his tongue. Instead he clenched his fist, staring at the war map, then at Vissehn, then back at Lirelle. “Then what’s the point of winning? I’m fighting for a realm where an iron fist is not necessary-” Then something seems to spark from behind his eyes. “-Where an iron fist is not necessary-.” The boy snaps his fingers and looks at Thanidel, then at Shalemarch on the map. “What if they decide to fight on the frontlines of their own accord? Again we extend amnesty. Families safe, property restored, if they fight for their proper Lord. I won’t be betraying my people, you get to turn them against Arenias.”

Thanidiel:"You'll be surprised at the ferocity and loyalty of a man given an option to repent. It was a...strategy, when we were putting down heretic bands in the South in the days before Sin'dorei."

Lirelle folds her arms. “That will work, provided enough of them take the deal. I trust that you or your father will make sure that the numbers are actually sizeable?”

Solendis nods, speaking mostly to his son. "It can sometimes make them fight twice as hard to prove their loyalty."

Ethalarian shrugs his shoulders. "Then put them with me and mine. They might not take quickly to a nobleman or some former Inquisitor, but they might look well on another commoner."

Renalays:"For clarity, I am very much in active service and all that implies of my presence."

Vissehn stiffens. "There's more reason than -Lords- and -Subjects- not to put swords in the hands of those who'd wish us dead for bein' the supporters of an untested Lord. They're your citizens-- and traitors, the lot, but mayhap it was just where they were born. Giving them a choice in it, to serve-- as part of the distribution, the belly of the army, or the lines, just split them up among the loyal, those who don't wanna hang. A drop of vinegar is well disguised in wine. Just split em'."

Stenden sighs. Deeply. Responding to Vissehn. "I will hang those I need to. But the rest? Following orders? I'd have them repatriated after this war is over."

Thanidiel:"Aye, I would normally advocate to work with the commoners as well, but I think they will frown upon my training with Lady Relriah."

[Shalemarch & The Peasant Rebellion]

Judereth clears her throat and speaks up. "Which brings us to Shalemarch."

Judereth continues. "There have been... Complications with my succession of Shalemarch. First of all, a mercenary company, fearing that they would not get their due started looting their way through the province. Lirelle and the Crows have made short work of them. But this has in inadvertently started off something that needs to be dealt with immediately." She gestures towards the map.

Lirelle mostly looks at Solendis when she speaks. "Do not allow your idealism to be taken for softness. Until all the sentiment has been rooted out, you will have no choice but to be constantly vigilant even after this is over."

Vissehn curses at the mention of the unprofessional mercs. "Fuckin' novices."

Judereth | "They are calling themselves the Shalemarchers. Peasants who are drawing others to their cause. Farmers, blacksmiths, and the like. They believe they've been pushed around long enough by the Nobilities and dying unnecessarily for their wars. Especially in the years of late."

Vissehn goes silent at this announcement.

Judereth puts her finger on their token, almost as if squishing a bug. "Normally, putting down peasant rebellions are quick and bloody. But Lord Emberheart, in his merciful wisdom" She said it, almost mockingly- Almost- But with enough respect in her tone to let it slide. "Wants to bring a peaceful solution to this..." she pauses, finding a more appropriate word. "Debacle."

Lirelle chokes down a snort at Judereth. Good girl.

"They're disorganised and banded, right?" Thanidiel asks. "We're 'professional' as far that goes in the Emberglades. All you have to do is corral them with the Crows and infantry backing and starve them out. Burn or take food as they try to march and come upon it."

Judereth nods. "For the time being. Which was why my first suggestion was just that. Come down on them hard and fast and they'll starve out without knowledge of maintaining significant numbers."

Lirelle adds. "The Crows are the only reason they're alive now to organise themselves for bullshit causes. If you remind them of this, force or not, I suspect many will lose the taste for it."

Thanidiel:"I think Garris can do what's necessary if we have to go back to starving them out as they roam. The Crows are fast and know how to quickly strip a village or field."

Vissehn speaks. "Lemme talk to them."

Stenden looks at Vissehn and gestures for Judereth to pause for a moment. "Can you make this such that no one has to bleed or starve over this?"

Vissehn looks sharp to Stenden. "Let me try to end this without the blood-- the way you'd want it. I know what they're thinkin, been in those caches before-- m'uncles would have burned Silvermoon given half a chance. I can help talk 'em to the table."

"Very well," he says with a small smile. "If anyone else would like to go with him, feel free. If not," he looks to Thanidiel and then to Renalays, knowing what the state usually does to peasant rebellions. "We'll do what must be done."

Stenden gestures for Judereth to continue.

Thanidiel seems satisfied with having Vissehn handle it alone.

"Perhaps Dawnbrook should attend to provide the tougher touch when unnecessary.” Renalays says. On the other hand, has a slight narrowing to her eyes as they study Vissehn. Is it distrust of motives or age? However it is - it remains unspoken.

Lirelle nods. "If the reminder of what they are dealing with is not enough, then we will make sure no one has reason to follow this line of thought in future."

Judereth clears her throat. "Lastly. I'm not sure how many of you have heard. But Nelio Goodember is now my Steward. A hostage. But no longer in the dungeons. Which solves two problems. One, the books and numbers- which were surprisingly sound, by the way- will continue without the usual break during successions. Two, with the provisions of amnesty-" He looks at Stenden, who had referenced her plan earlier. "His loyalists will be given a choice to fight for their rightful Lord, tangentially in the name of their former Lord. Their militia will be folded into our ranks."

[Tokens are updated on the War Map]

Stenden nods. "That is good news, he looks to the others at the table. If there is nothing else-"

[The Holdouts of the Black Banner]

Zarannis steps forward. "There is one more thing."

She gestures towards the map, running a line across the mountain range of the Cloudrend Glades all the way to Dawnveil, then places a token, marked with the insignia of Lord Tar'saren, Lord of the Broken Bulwark that had been obliterated in the Phoenix Wars. "There are holdouts of the Black Banner in the mountains. I intend to make use of them."

The Ex-Ranger General looks to the others around the table. "I'll take any volunteers willing to help me. But I warn you, it may be dangerous. Some Tunnels under the mountain filled with scourge from the Fall, and we're in search for a company of men who still think they are fighting the Phoenix War. She looks to Solendis, "that said, I'll be needing Sederis' Banner once more."

Solendis nods. "It will be given. But are you entirely sure it is wise?"

Stenden speaks up. "Wise or no, we ought to bring them home. But knowing their reputation they're likely to join our ranks without question."

Thanidiel:"If we're dealing with undead as well, then the lightweavers should go. But then it's a matter of who we're willing to lose from the frontlines in our final push on Illithia."

Judereth "There's a lot of ground to cover between our current lines and Illithia's fortress by the sea. Besides, we'll need to liberate Kearn and I hear they are without a garrison. So, there will be a small lull to get our house in order before the final push."

"So we're dealing with the east and the tunnels in this current week?" Thanidiel grunts again. "If that's the case, then I'll go with Commander Wintergale," Outdated and perhaps an unintentional sting. "I'd be careful about those reports of Kearn though. It's valuable, and the Empty Fort Strategy isn't uncommon in the treatises."

Zarannis gives Thanidiel a nod of respect. "I appreciate your support."

Ethalarian exhales through his nose and shrugs his shoulders. "I'll go too, then."

Zarannis nods at Ethalarian as well. "I'm sure the Dawnspire Knights and the others of the Coalition will keep things in order on the frontline until we can return."

Relriah responds to Thanidiel. "We will be careful. I do not doubt that when it comes to my father, treachery is not out of the question."

[Event End]

[shame-cubed]

i’ve been thinking way too hard about what i wanna do for the fantasy prompt for bederia week. definitely knights, totally wanna draw them as knights. bede’s a fancy ass with a white horse and gloria’s just got a hunting dog and a scrubby ole set of full plate armour. anyway the imagery got my mind spiraling into AU hell instead of sleeping because i’m deranged now apparently

buckle the fuckle up shuckle cuz i’m about to spill the brain juice all over this bitch

- Once upon a time there was a king named Rose and he was beloved by all his subjects for ruling the prosperous land of Galar with world-renowned grace and dignity. his advisor Oleana oversees his court, conducts his every word with a fist of iron and thorns, for Rose only wants the best for his people and certainly knows what he’s doing and couldn’t possibly be wrong ever

- one fateful day the kind King Rose meets a street urchin named Bede while on one of his trips into town to see a jousting competition or some shit, and in some sort of publicity stunt he takes the bread-thieving kid in to live on his vast estate and makes him a squire and trains him for battle, eventually knighting him and everyone praises Rose for his incredible generosity and compassion towards the poor

- no one is more grateful than Bede himself, his loyalty unshakable, although he rarely sees the King. He is just a very busy ruler, using the shreds of his spare time to brood atop some tower in his vast castle away from his subjects. surely it is because he is a Great King with Galar’s future in mind. Some nights Bede wistfully gazes up at the tower as it glows with an odd, beautiful light. He watches the shadow in the window that must be his King and hopes someday Rose will look down from there and shine that light on him, too

- Hop, Marnie, and Gloria were also squires who trained with Bede and became knights but did not live on the estate like he did, they go back to their little towns when they are not on duty. Most of the gym leaders are also Dukes/Duchesses/Lords under Rose who govern their respective patches of land and are high-ranking commander knights as well or whatever. I should probably research this shit. Anyway the highest ranking of them all is Leon. Rose often calls on Leon to do his dirty work, manage his armies etc. 

- Everyone respects Leon very much, except Bede, because while wandering the halls, he overheard Leon and Rose get into a disagreement. Bede thinks it treasonous for Leon to question his King and vows to be better than him and follow Rose’s orders without question. Perhaps Bede was expected to eavesdrop, for he gets his wish, Rose calls for him personally and sends him on a variety of special assignments.

- These special assignments turn out to be rather questionable, but because Bede is such a loyal knight, he enacts his duties no matter what. In the end, it is all for the prosperity of the region and the love of his King. He often runs into the other knights his age while on his missions, and Gloria in particular tells him what he’s doing just ain’t right. He tells her to fuck off and do her job, and she says her duty is to serve the people first and foremost, and Bede’s missions are not doing the people any good. He sneers at her, for his duty is to the King and therefore more important than she could ever imagine.

- Of course this is where shit hits the fan. Leon has assembled a rebel army against Rose because he’s just that charismatic, aiming to expose Rose’s crimes by breaking into his tower where he’s keeping fuck-knows-what. The rebels storm the castle but both Rose and Oleana escape through an underground passageway and his tower is empty because they knew he was coming. It’s Bede who rats Leon out, hearing of his plans through Hop or Marnie or a gym leader idk yet. Gloria and Bede cross swords on the battlefield but can’t bring themselves to kill each other because they share some kind of mutual unspoken respect from their days as squires and don’t know how to deal with it so Bede runs away.

-  Bede tries to escape with Rose and Oleana but turns out the secret passage has been blocked off. He was only ever meant to serve as a tool and a distraction and was promptly left to take the blame and die. He barely gets away from the fighting and drags his bloody body into the nearby woods where he passes the fuck out. Fairies take pity on him and bring him to the old wizard living deep in the heart of the woods. The wizard, who is Opal obviously, heals Bede who tells her his fucked-up tale of betrayal and naivety. While he’s talking, Opal sets out not 2, but 3 teacups and Bede silently wonders if she is insane.

- Cue motherfucking Gloria bustin in on this joint. She’s got a scrap of Bede’s bloody uniform in hand and her hunting dog Zammy has followed the scent, leading her to the wizard’s home. She seems relieved that he isn’t dead and Bede can’t fathom why. He calls her an idiot for caring about him after everything he’s done. Gloria agrees that she is, indeed, an idiot. Soon the idiot is distracted by the fact she is in the presence of the legendary wizard she had been told about in tales as a wee babe. She freaks out a bit, then chugs her tea to calm down.

- Gloria begs Opal to help the rebels, for Rose has gone absolutely mad, he has been dabbling in the dark arts/necromancy in his tower all along and is raising the fucking dead in droves to fight for him. Bede feels sick as he realizes it was probably part of Rose’s plan for him to get killed and become part of his undead army. He reveals that his special missions from Rose were to rob graves, gather strange artifacts, rare flora/fauna, and even some fresh human body parts. This makes Opal hum in wizened consideration. She recognizes these items as ingredients to awaken an ancient and powerful dragon which once brought vast bounties upon the land, a dragon that had been slain long ago by a pair of foolhardy princes with bad hair and would no doubt be quite angered to be disturbed from its eternal rest.

-  Opal agrees to help, for it would be a shame to watch Galar crumble to ruins. She divines Rose’s location and Gloria decides she needs to tell Leon immediately. Opal shows her the secret shortcut out of the woods and Bede tells her where his horse is hitched so she can get to the rebels faster. Gloria thanks them both and leaves her dog with Bede, telling him how to command Zammy if he needs to find her. Bede says she’s wasting time, insists he already knows how to deal with a damn dog, and yells that she better not dirty his horse as she leaves. Opal can’t believe they’re still bickering over stupid shit while the region's at stake and turns to her spellbooks. There’s a way to calm the beast in one of these dusty old tomes, so Bede better get cracking and help her out instead of staring out into the woods worriedly like a dumbass.

- Gloria gets to Leon who’s still at the castle, undead bodies slain all around him, and tells him where Rose is hiding and about his plan to resurrect a powerful dragon. Leon says he had an idea that Rose was gonna do something crazy like that but didn’t think it was actually possible and that they must make haste to stop him. They gather up the rebels and head the fuck out to confront Rose. Hop is there, always at the ready to back up his bro, and he brings his own hunting dog, Zacian. Together with Marnie and the remaining gym leaders who didn’t get fucked up in battle, they lead the charge to Rose’s secret hideout, which is the tomb of the dragon in a deep-ass crater on a mountain.

- Leon’s horse is named Charizard

- The rebels arrive and cut through the undead armies protecting the tomb. Oleana tries to stall them, and fails, but she escapes last minute to tell Rose of their arrival. Rose chides her for not being stronger, but it’s all well, for the dragon has been awakened at last. Finally the steel castles of heights beyond imagination, the vast towns of everlasting glittering lights, all these great wonders of his design which have been appearing in his dreams for many a night will be realized! This is his moment, where he will bring Galar into a shining new era advanced unlike the world has ever seen! He laughs jovially as if he had not just brought about hundreds, maybe thousands, of deaths in his pursuit of this grand future. Sickly red light pours out of his hands and fractures the earth. Debris is flying fucking everywhere as a scaly, skeletal mass of rotten flesh rises from below, bellows and shrieks in horrible pain.

- Leon and friends arrive, there’s a big scuffle with Oleana and some undead gym leaders, Gloria takes a nasty fucking hit when shockwaves from the dragon send her sword and shield flying out of her hands and an undead fuck stabs her in some weak point of her armour, unmistakably hitting some vital organs, she crumples to the ground but tries to get up anyway cuz she’s a hardy bitch. Hop notices and is pissed, calls for Zacian to protect her, and the dog brings her the discarded sword and starts snapping viciously at anyone who approaches.

- Opal, Bede, and Zammy arrive outside of the tomb in a blast of unnecessarily sparkly pink magic. Bede protects Opal as they make their way inside to join the rebels, for the wizard needs to save her strength if she’s about to subdue some ancient undead beast. Spotting Gloria hunched over coughing up blood, Bede loses it and cleans the fuck up, dispatching every undead bitch in sight-- he even manages to wound Oleana, who scrambles away to hide. Once he’s certain Opal will be fine, Bede runs over to Gloria’s side with Zammy in tow and tells her she’s stupid. Zacian growls at first but after seeing Zammy, it backs off to join its sibling alongside Hop as the non-wounded survivors regroup to close in on Rose.

- Gloria had dug her sword into the ground to keep herself upright, but as another blast of energy washes over the battlefield she loses her grip and Bede catches her. She smiles up at him because she didn’t think he cared. He cradles her in his arms, shielding her with his body and admits he couldn’t not care, she’s the only one who stuck by him even when he felt he didn’t deserve it. She confesses she loves him, and the poor guy breaks cuz no-one’s ever said that to him before. He leans down for a kiss, and apparently some of Opal’s healing magic is still in him, because their lip-lock somehow manages to heal Gloria’s injuries. I don’t care if it’s dumb I’m so weak for this shit... 

- While Rose is busy trying to control the increasingly unhinged dragon, Leon fucking stabs him in the back. Rose tries to ramble a bit with his dying breath but everyone’s just like Shut The Fuck Up. All the summoned undead fall apart, save for the giant dragon. Oleana comes out from behind her rock, freaks out, calls Leon a fool, because now there’s no way they can stop the beast from wreaking havoc without Rose’s dark magic. Opal saunters in all like, really now? And starts chanting some weird spell and sprinkling herbs everywhere or something. Magic bullshit. The dragon tries to resist the weird pulses coming from this elderly wizard bitch, and hovers low to the ground to slash at the rebels protecting her.

- Bede and Gloria finish making out and get up to join the fight. Everyone is attacking the dragon to keep it at bay, even the dogs, so Opal can pull off her fancy spell. Eventually a final flash of light appears in a blinding pulse outwards from the legendary wizard, and all the red magic holding together the pile of bones that is the undead dragon crackles and disintegrates. The skeleton crashes to the ground and dust flies everywhere, everyone looks around, all like, is it really over? They smile and celebrate when they realize, yes, the skeleton war is in fact over. 

- Opal is not looking well after using all her power like that, Bede rushes over to help her up and she pats his shoulder, saying he’s got the potential for magic in him. He’s like, what, no way, but Opal just nods all like I saw that fucking healing kiss, you’re a wizard, bitch. She grips him tightly, pours the remainder of her powers into him, and disappears into thin air. RIP.

- Leon becomes king, repairs Galar with the help of his trusted knights, Oleana goes into the dungeon to repent, Bede and Gloria get married (it’s fancy af, the dogs are flower girls) and everyone who isn’t dead lives happily ever after. The end.

WHEW, obviously I don’t have the time to flesh this out any more than what I have here, maybe in a couple months. I got too many irons in the fire rn, I just had to get this shit out of my head or it would haunt me forever. Perhaps I can finally sleep uaaagh