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queenaryastark · 5 years ago

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George RR Martin: dragons are weapons of mass destruction, they're symbols of destruction and not of rebuilding, it's why the targaryens lost their power because their rule was built on fear and when the dragons died it only took a small spark to cause a rebellion, daenerys should read fire and blood so she can learn how not to use dragons daenerys herself: dragons plant no trees, If they are monsters than so am I Yall: i cant read suddenly i dont know

LMAO! I can’t even call that paraphrasing since this jumble of out of context gibberish completely misinterprets GRRM’s words and intent.

First off, no one said dragons weren’t weapons of mass destruction. Them being powerful weapons is pretty obvious. Them being weapons does not erase the violence and cruelty of characters who do not have them. The mass destruction the Starks and Lannisters have wrought against the Riverlands and Westerlands was done without the aid of dragons. So was the mass destruction the Greyjoys and Boltons wrought on the North. The Tyrells were able to commit mass murder by cutting off food supplies, which led to mass starvation, which was their specific intent.

Dragons are dangerous. Obviously. So are people, as George R. R. Martin goes out of his way to tell us in every chapter of his work. The man literally depicts Robb, Stannis, Balon, and Joffrey as equally as violent toward the common people and the land of Westeros. He even gives Dany this metaphoric image of the four of them:

“In one room, a beautiful woman sprawled naked on the floor while four little men crawled over her. They had rattish pointed faces and tiny pink hands, like the servitor who had brought her the glass of shade. One was pumping between her thighs. Another savaged her breasts, worrying at the nipples with his wet red mouth, tearing and chewing.” -- A Clash Of Kings

And that is far from the only time he frames them in an equally negative light given their level of mass destruction.

when the dragons died it only took a small spark to cause a rebellion, daenerys should read fire and blood so she can learn how not to use dragons

You think Dany should read Fire and Blood? I agree. I hope she gets a copy once she arrives to save Westeros from the warlords, opportunistic politicians, and the Others. Though you should probably try to find someone who can read it to you and explain what all the big words mean. If you look in that book, you will see that the Targaryens became extremely popular and loved. They decreased the amount of war and destruction, they streamlined the laws, they established roads, and they removed a couple of the abuses that were the norm. They were far from perfect. But in that imperfection, Dany could learn from them too.

As for a “small spark” causing a rebellion as soon as they didn’t have dragons... *sighs* If you don’t know about a topic, that’s fine. Not everyone can be an expert on every topic. But you Sansa stans (yes I know you’re a Sansa stan and you probably have that hideous image of ST with her trademark vacant expression and that ugly ferret crown as your icon) should actually fact check yourselves before trying and failing to present yourselves as an authority on anything. The last dragon died in 153 AC. The Targaryens were overthrown in 283 AC. Even before 153 AC, the dragons that lived either weren’t under their control, were pretty young, or were deformed. In other words, they continued to rule Westeros without dragons for a significant amount of time. In that time, not only did they rule, but they were able to bring Dorne into the realm peacefully.

Even the wars they had were far fewer than the amount of constant wars that happened while the kingdoms were separate. The Blackfyre Rebellions were sparked by Westerosi racism and xenophobia against the Dornish, as well as the greed and opportunism from the Andal/First Men supporters of the Blackfyre claimant. Notice how in those rebellions the people of Westeros supported either the Targaryens or the Targaryen blooded Blackfyres? No matter which side the lords took, they were supporting a Targaryen because they support that family. Like in real life civil wars, they just supported different members of that same royal line. It wasn’t because they feared them. They wanted their rule. They just wanted the rule of a specific claimant over another based on their own values or what they thought they could gain from a change in Targaryen leadership.

Even with the Baratheon rebellions, they were still Targaryen blooded claimants. With Lyonel Baratheon, he felt his family was insulted when an engagement between the crown prince and his daughter was broken so the prince could marry a peasant. This might seem like a “small spark”, but this would have been considered hugely offensive by the classist nobility. Note how this rebellion was resolved incredibly easily to the point where I don’t even think it warrants being labeled an actual rebellion. It seems more like it was set up for the next Baratheon rebellion since it resulted in that House gaining even more Targaryen blood than it already had. That’s the thing, the nobility wanted their children to marry Targaryens. Doesn’t sound very fearful, does it?

Robert’s Rebellion wasn’t set off by a “small spark”. The kidnapping and rape of the Lord of Winterfell’s daughter and the betrothed of the Lord of Storm’s End is not insignificant. It also didn’t set off the rebellion. The murders of multiple lords and their heirs is also not a small thing. It didn’t set off the rebellion either. What set it off was the combination of those two events with the demand for the executions of the new Lord of Winterfell and the Lord of Storm’s End. Those events taken separately are not small sparks and they certainly aren’t small when put together. It took something HUGE to make a big part of the realm turn on the Targaryens. Even still, the rebels were in the minority since most of the other regions either stayed out of the conflict waiting to see how it played out or stayed loyal to the Targaryens. If Tywin had continued to stay out of the conflict, the Rebellion could have lasted indefinitely with either side winning since the Crown’s forces outnumbered them and occupied the Stormlands.

You also seem to miss the fact that quite a few people in Westeros are still Targaryen Loyalists and want to restore them to the throne. You even miss the fact that Robert, Joffrey, and Tommen’s claim comes from their Targaryen blood.

So no, the Targaryen rule was not based purely on fear. They clearly retained loyalty and love without the benefit of dragons as weapons.

daenerys herself: dragons plant no trees, If they are monsters than so am I

It’s funny how you can try to quote the book while having no understanding of the passage you’re quoting. Here’s the paragraph you’re referring to:

Mother of dragons, Daenerys thought.Mother of monsters. What have I unleashed upon the world? A queen I am, but my throne is made of burned bones, and it rests on quicksand. Without dragons, how could she hope to hold Meereen, much less win back Westeros?I am the blood of the dragon, she thought.If they are monsters, so am I. -- ADWD

This takes place in Dany’s second chapter of A Dance With Dragons after she has captured and chained two of her dragons and failed to capture the third. Why is she trying to chain them? Because Drogon killed one (1) child. That’s right. Not only is Dany compensating the people for the sheep her dragons were eating. She has no tolerance for them killing innocents. The quote above is not her glorying in the destructive power of the dragons. Nor is she going around without an ounce of guilt for terrorizing, maiming, and murdering innocents the way Robb, Balon, Stannis, Joffrey, Tyrion, Cersei, and every other leader in Westeros does. That is what this passage is PROVING. Seriously, using the “If they are monsters, so am I” quote is proving that Dany has guilt over the life her dragon has taken and that she has taken steps to prevent that from happening again. Compare that to Tyrion’s complete lack of care when it comes to the mass murder his family is causing:

"A lordling down from the Trident, says your father's men burned his keep, raped his wife, and killed all his peasants."

"I believe they call that war." -- Tyrion, ACOK

While Dany is trying to preserve lives, the mass murdering leaders of Westeros see murder and rape as the norm and completely acceptable. Even the noble Robb Stark tried to move the carnage that he and Tywin were inflicting on the Riverlands into the Westerlands and was upset that his plan to do so was partly thwarted by Edmure. His issue wasn’t with the common people suffering and dying. He just wanted the suffering and dying to happen to the common people of the Westerlands (the ones who hadn’t been forced into service as arrow fodder by the Lannisters yet) instead. Yet, you’re trying to use Dany’s guilt at one (1) child being killed by her dragon as proof of...something?

As for Dany not planting trees, yes, she fears that’s something Targaryens can’t do. But the text shows that her ancestors could and did. Dany is also planting trees in ADWD and was in the process of making Vaes Tolorro bloom in ACOK before she was invited to Qarth. The Golden Company (who wants to put her and Aegon on the Iron Throne as a pair) are even upset because they think she’s only interested in planting trees in Meereen.

When analyzing a literary work you have to understand that what the characters fear and the guilt they feel are not signs of their permanent situations. They’re signs of their internal obstacles that will be overcome in their arcs. Dany fears her dragons and fears herself and fears that she won’t be able to achieve peace and positive societal growth. Its good that she fears these things because this shows she acknowledges these issues so they can be overcome. The current Westeros leadership don’t see the issue in their mass murdering, which is an issue all on it’s own.

Its alright if this series is above your comprehension level. There are books out there for you to read that are better suited for your capabilities, like Hop on Pop or Green Eggs and Ham. It’s probably best if you stick to those.

#this is why sansa stans shouldn't have access to keyboards #fandom wank #Anonymous

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milf-lover42 · 4 years ago

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Bellatrix and Azula are the same character, change my mind

As most people can tell, Bellatrix Lestrange is my all time favorite character. I might get new favorites every time I watch a new show, and they all share a general similarity (let’s face it… I have a type, and if you’re reading this here on tumblr dot com… you do too, don’t lie). However, no character has ever come close to beating Bellatrix for top spot. And then I watched A:TLA for the first time a few weeks ago. I didn’t watch it as a kid, I was just young enough (2003 babeyy) that I wasn’t watching tv when it was on. Azula is obviously my favorite from this show, and is also the only character to ever come close to Bellatrix’ spot in my heart. But thinking about this and all the headcanons that people have made for the Black family dynamic… it seems like a pretty straightforward connection. Azula is essentially just a young Bellatrix.

Almost all of these Black family headcanons have been taken from fanfictions I have read over the years, and so the credit goes to their respective authors. Many overlap so I cannot pinpoint each author to each one, and it has been a while since reading some of them. Most notable of these would be Glass Silence by Zarrene Moss. There are many more fantastic stories I have drawn from but I couldn’t remember every fanfiction I’ve read to pick out each detail. For all the Azula stuff, I am drawing from Hello Future Me’s video on Youtube “The Psychology of Azula | Avatar: The Last Airbender”. If you want to spend an hour watching that I highly recommend it. Basically none of this is mine, I’m just using the headcanons and research of others to tie Bellatrix to Azula.

Let’s start with their family dynamics. Bellatrix is the oldest of the Black sisters, and has no brother. Although not stated in canon, (because apparently she’s too minor a character to deserve a backstory) it is presumed that all the duties of a male heir fell to her in a way. Marry young and marry a rich pureblood, carry on the family name and power, and secure a high social standing. Pureblood society is extremely archaic, if the treatment of muggle-borns is anything to go by, so we can safely assume that they are a very patriarchal society. Cygnus and Druella Black almost certainly wanted a son to carry on their name, especially given Walburga and Orion had both Sirius and Regulus. We can also assume that they weren’t exactly the kindest parents. At best, Druella was a silent wife subjected to abuse from her husband and ultimately was unable to keep her children safe; at worst she actively joined Cygnus in abusing their children. Each of the sisters have a unique way of dealing with this.

Andromeda handled it by running away, completely rebelling. She fell in love with Ted Tonks, a muggle-born. I doubt this in itself was an act of rebellion, I think she simply realized how stupid blood supremacy was after speaking to him. Once she fell in love it’s clear she wanted to break away from her family so that she could marry him. Clearly her parents knew, and it’s likely she told them herself. Given Ted was a muggleborn I can’t imagine her parents reacting with a simple, “No he is beneath you, we forbid it.” They probably acted harshly in an attempt to make it stick in her head that the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black would not associate with m*dbloods. Either she ran away or was kicked out, but either way she stayed with Ted and didn’t listen to her parents.

Narcissa shut off and blocked all her emotions. Obviously as an adult she actively practices the same beliefs her parents did, but as a teenager I don’t see this as being who she was. As an adult she is very cold and unemotional. The only person she truly cares about is her son, Draco. She cares about Bella still, she just doesn’t show it because she wasn’t allowed to as a child. As for her feelings toward Lucius... it is unclear. Depending on where you stand, she either could have been forced into a marriage with him, or they were in love as teenagers and got lucky enough that their parents arranged for them to marry each other. My personal opinion is they were forced. I think Lucius was supposed to be married to Andy but when she ran away, the Blacks had to hold up their end of the deal with the Malfoy’s and so Narcissa was married off to him. She embodies the whole “Ice Queen” personality. In order to cope with the trauma and her unwanted marriage, she just blocked all emotion to keep herself sane, only showing it for Draco.

And then we come to Bellatrix. Bellatrix, who had too many expectations to live up to, so many roles to fill, and no positive reinforcement from parents who just abused her if she messed up. She felt everything. She was the oldest and cared greatly for her younger sisters, and probably did her best to take any of the abuse that was going to be given to Narcissa or Andromeda. She used herself as their shield because they were the most important thing to her. Even after joining Voldemort and going insane she makes it very clear how she feels about Narcissa. Bellatrix would follow Voldemort's orders to the ends of the Earth, but the second she is asked to trust Snape, she says that Voldemort has made an error in judgement. Cissa wants to go to him and ask him to keep Draco safe, but Bellatrix advises against this. Only when her sister is in potential danger does Bellatrix doubt her master. Even at the height of her insanity her sister is the most important thing to her. We can assume as a child she felt the same for Andy. In fact in my opinion she never really stopped caring about her until Azkaban, I think she pretended to hate her when she came out about Ted Tonks, but only did so so that Andy would run away and live her life with the man she loved. She was safer away from their parents anyway. It didn’t matter if Bellatrix thought negatively about muggle-borns; she just wanted her sister to be safe. After going insane however, she truly seems to hate Ted for being a muggle-born, and she kills their half-blood daughter Nymphadora.

In order to cope with the trauma of her childhood Bellatrix used all of those emotions as fuel for her magic. She is an incredibly powerful witch and is massively intelligent (although why she didn’t just use Legilimens on the Golden Trio will baffle me forever… it would have been so simple…). However because of this coping mechanism, she is driven insane. It’s not instant, in fact it probably took years (probably that stint in Azkaban, lads) for the insanity to fully develop and take hold. All of that exposure to Dementors would have forced her to relive the trauma of her childhood over and over, while taking away the happy memories of her sisters.

Bellatrix was given a support system to break away from her family. Now it’s not a good or healthy one, but it is one nonetheless. After being treated so poorly by her parents, and forced into a marriage with Rodolphus, she needed freedom. When Tom Riddle comes along and praises her skill and offers her a spot as his best lieutenant? Of course she’s going to take that. Finally some recognition, and a good amount of safety. Not to mention missions and tasks given to her and others to her husband that mean she doesn’t have to be around him. Bellatrix was mistreated by her father and mother, but probably always wanted her father’s recognition. Her mother probably preferred Narcissa because she could be groomed into the perfect pureblood wife. Bellatrix latched onto Voldemort to gain recognition, praise, and power. But I can imagine as a teenager, having a complete breakdown at least once, especially after being told she’d be married off to Rodolphus. Demolishing her room with magic, windows breaking, personal items being thrown either by hand or by magic, and screaming and crying at the end. Very similar to Azula’s breakdown in her final scene.

Now we come to Princess Azula. She has an older brother, Zuko, but is always given the limelight. She receives a ceremonial headpiece that she is always seen wearing, but Zuko does not. He might be the boy, but he isn’t expected to take the crown. Azula is even named after her grandfather Azulon, who was Firelord. She was always expected to be the next Firelord over Zuko. Her future was never her own. She is a firebending prodigy, always showing off her skills, whereas Zuko falls behind. She is favored by her father Ozai for sure, but she is never truly praised. She is simply a means to an end to him. She was always expected to be the best. Although it isn’t shown in the TV series, in the A:TLA comics Ursa and Ozia’s relationship is depicted as abusive. He cuts her off from her family saying that he is all she will need.

There are theories as to whether or not Azula has a Machievellian personality type, or ASPD or NPD that could have been a root cause of her diminishing sanity, and after looking into those they seem very plausible. She lacks empathy, she emotionally manipulates everyone, and she has a messed up sense of right and wrong. Altruism just doesn’t make sense to her, and emotions are not genuine, simply stories made to get your way. Ursa rewards empathy, love and trust, which is why she clearly favors Zuko. But Ozai rewards power, cunning, and loyalty. They are complete opposites so it is not possible to please both of them. If she has any of these mental disorders it would be impossible to please her mother, so she focused on making her father proud. But Ozai never really shows any level of praise towards her, so she constantly tries to better herself. If she isn’t perfect, she’s failed.

At the end of A:TLA, Ozai forces her to stay behind in the Fire Nation. He says it’s because they need a Firelord because he will be leaving. Azula is disappointed to not partake in the final battle, but it’s what her father wants, so she obeys. However, he only leaves her so that he can become the supreme leader of everyone, or “Phoenix King”. Azula doesn’t really get a promotion, just a fancy name. In the finale, she is shown as her mental state quickly deteriorates. Her perfect image is gone, her hair is not up, her makeup undone, and she is paranoid that everyone is out to get her. This is the beginning of her breakdown. When she is unable to put her hair up by herself, she cuts her bangs. Her hair is all of a sudden asymmetrical, which is unheard of. She then starts to hallucinate. By the time she fights Zuko and Katara she is extremely unstable, and the fact that she can actually still bend is incredible, because it requires control of your emotions. She instead manages to use her emotions to fuel her bending. At the end when she is defeated, she finally breaks. Her bending is out of control, and she is left screaming and crying.

Azula never had anyone take her under their wing and give her the recognition she craved. Zuko had Iroh. Bellatrix had Voldemort. If Azula had been introduced to someone like Voldemort she would have gone down the same path as Bellatrix. Likewise, if Bellatrix hadn’t been introduced to Voldemort she would have ended up broken just like Azula. Their stories aren’t identical obviously, but there are some strong parallels that place them together, so I can see them as the same person with different outcomes to their story.

Does this stupidly long character analysis have any significant purpose? Nah, not at all. But like… I’m clearly right so… yeah.

#bellatrix black #bellatrix lestrange #azula #princess azula #azula deserved better #A:TLA #A:TLA azula #bellatrix black lestrange #druella black #cygnus black #narcissa malfoy #andromeda tonks #guys im not crazy i swear #i just feel passionately about these characters #bellamione

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disasterbialert · 4 years ago

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So, I finished The Untamed and ok ok I think I have collected most of my thoughts about it. (I’m late, so I guess these thoughts don’t really matter, but I wanted to put them somewhere and here seemed like the place.) SO here’s a post absolutely NO ONE WANTS and imma do it anyway cool cool.

Firstly: love. This entire show is about love. Obviously other things too ok I’m simplifying for the sake of my point. But importantly it is about love. The love for our families, found, made and blood. The love of soulmates, romantic and platonic. The love of humanity, of the people known and unknown, love for them purely because they are human and are therefore deserving of love. The love inherent in honour and duty, the sacrifices made for that love. Loving someone—bravely, in the face of every adversity, despite being told it’s wrong. Learning to be true to that love, learning to love faithfully, learning to love, to show love, to be loved.

Bless the tireless translators. Y’all. The work you do is often thankless but y’all are so valued. Thank you.

The music. I actually don’t have the words for this, I can only thank the composers and musicians for the gifts they have blessed us with. My heart my heart my heart.

The costumes, set, props and cinematography are all so exquisite. I’m not an expert in any of these fields but I can see the care and detail paid to each facet of this show. What an absolute visual joy. Stunning.

And now, the characters.

I’ll start with the ladies. They deserved so much more. We deserved to have more than just one by the end, but I understand this wasn’t their story (still hurts tho).

Jiang Yanli. Proof that kindness is powerful. Her heart holds entire worlds. She is not weak (don’t even try me I swear to the gods). She holds her family together. She takes care of her siblings. She feeds their bodies and their souls. WWX is right—JZX does not deserve her but that’s because nobody does. But Jiang Yanli deserves to be happy, therefore her marriage to the Flower Peacock is valid purely bc it makes her happy. She stands up for what’s right, she will not compromise her morals, she will defend her family to her last breath (and so she does💔). She does not harden herself, she does not have to. Her patience and kindness, her softness, her gentleness—things that are seen as weaknesses or inferiorities—are what put her above all around her. She is gracious, she is strong, she is loving, she is determined, she is brave. She deserved better.

Wen Qing. A queen. A powerhouse. The most brilliant mind. A lightning-quick and sharp-bladed tongue. She loves Wen Ning so much and her love is powerful, just as Jiang Yanli’s. Her dedication and devotion to her people, her true family, not just a name, is incredible, inspiring. Why? Because she’s not perfect. So she learns. She grows. She becomes herself. When she’s at the Burial Mounds, she essentially adopts WWX as another younger brother, caring for him because she knows he won’t care for himself, and she does so out of love and respect. But she never replaces Jiang Yanli. She is keenly aware of all she perceives WWX loses because he aids them. Hence the pivotal, crucial: I’m sorry and thank you. She walks to what she knows is her own death with her head held high and her hand in her brother’s, offering love and support and what protection she can to the end. She does not flinch. She does not bow. She fights with all of her and surrenders with grace not reflected by those she surrenders to. Honestly I could write an entire thesis on Wen Qing but I’ll cry too hard so I’ll just leave it here that she deserved better, she deserved to live, she deserved to be free.

Mian Mian. Mian motherfucking Mian. Here is a woman who stares injustice full in the face and says no fucking way, says over my dead body, says you and what army old man. Strips the robes of the hypocritical off her own damn body, throws them at the feet of a false god and walks out, back straight, head held high. She makes her own way in the world, carves out her own life, finds love and happiness and lives. She does not compromise. She does not bow. She fights and she wins and she is glorious. And she lives she lives she lives.

Yu ZiYuan. I may be in the minority here but that’s ok. No I don’t approve of her abuse, just gonna nip that one in the bud right out of the gate. Was she fair? No. Was she cruel? Yes. Was she an incredible fighter who fought for her family, for her home? Who showed raw courage and furious strength in the face of insurmountable odds? Who loved a man with her whole bitter heart, loved her children with that same fractured heart? Was clearly the subject of spiteful rumour and vicious gossip and did not let it defeat her? Refused to bow to anyone? I do not like her, do not like how her bitterness made her cruel. But seeing her wield her blade, take wound after wound, witness the death of her love, then take her own blade and rob the monsters invading her home of the satisfaction of taking her life, took her own life with her own hands because that’s how she did everything in her life so why the fuck wouldn’t she do it in death too, who crawled her way to the man she loved, laced their fingers together so he wouldn’t die alone, so they could both die held? How can I not respect her.

Ok. The lads.

Jiang Cheng is a man-child idiot with the emotional expression range of a loquat, an inferiority complex the size of the moon and self-worth issues going back farther than the Big Bang, and I love him, ok? He loves so hard and so much and it is heartwrenching that he cannot communicate that. Some of his best moments are actually in the background, which is both funny and terribly sad. His rage is at times ridiculous, at times frustrating, at times all he has left, his joy is bright but brief, his grief is devastating. Watching JY greet WWX after the 3 months in the Burial Mounds. The entire temple scene. Crying on his knees. We were to be the Heroes of Yunmeng. Take care. Fuck me right in my feelings ok.

Wen Ning is so fucking precious and I would die for him for all eternity. What an absolute gift his character is. I honestly can’t write much more about him because I’ll cry. But special mentions to his interactions with A-Yuan/Lan SiZhui and the incredible scene where he reveals to Jiang Cheng the truth about his/WWX’s golden core. Unparalleled emotional intensity. The equal parts tenderness and fierceness of his love is breathtaking.

And the loves.

Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen. There is a lot of tragedy in The Untamed. There is great sadness in the main plot line and even in the small side plots. The Ballad of Song Lan and Xian Xingchen (as it’s come to be known in my head) is for me the most devastating and poignant. They just wanted to do good, to wander the world together and do their part to make it a better and safer place. It’s noble, yes, but it’s also so human, so close to home. Because we all want that, to know that we can do some good before we leave this world. They do not want to be involved in the petty squabbles, the undignified and cruel vying for power and dominance. They simply want to live and be. The fact that both of their deaths are pointless, could have been avoided, are the faults of poor timing and terrible terrible luck and cruel turns fate is almost what makes it sadder. Xue Yang screams that XXC is not better than him, that his righteousness and the righteous way he has attempted to live his life is all for naught. And then he is immediately proven wrong—XXC’s heartbreak means he can’t become XY’s puppet. SL is free from XY’s control and avenges himself and XXC. Which is also somehow just as devastating. That XXC and SL were so close, so very close to being together, to living, to making it, but didn’t. Nothing grand or heroic about their deaths—just the unknown and unpredictable nature of life. There is no rhyme or reason, no big important plan, no fate or destiny. They both simply die as we all one day will. And it is their potential cut short, the love and life they could’ve had, that hurts the most. They are not Lan Zhan and Wei Ying: they do not get their second chance, their reunion, their happily ever after. The look shared between SL and LWJ—the shared grief, the recognition, the understanding—and LWJ’s brief and unelaborated-on comment to WWX ‘how fortunate’ speaks volumes. How fortunate you came back/I found you/that’s not us when it could’ve been. That final shot of SL walking away and the brief out-of-focus moment of XXC walking beside him—particularly when it’s echoed with the parallel of WWX and LWJ—chokes me every time.

Wei Ying and Lan Zhan. Soulmates in every sense of the word. Their song. Their bunnies. Their child. The years they were robbed of. The yearning. The pining. The loyalty. The growth. The love the love the love. The loss the loss the loss. Every Lan Zhan. Every Wei Ying. Every glance. Every soft breath. Every gentle touch. The tenderness. The intimacy. The quiet acceptance. Their love story is one of the ages and, on a personal note as a queer person, what a gift it is to see a queer love story like this. (even when censored as a bromance, which like I mean, they tried but the glances alone are +9000 gay pining but whatever and yes I am making a joke because I’m crying don’t look at me)

TL;DR: I am so thankful The Untamed/CQL/MDZS and all of its adaptations (the source material included obvs) exists. I am so thankful to the writers, translators, casts, crews, creators. I am thankful for the community of fans that exist that love it as I do, who share that love and passion—whether through passionate discussion, rich fanfic or mind-blowing fanart. I am thankful I live in a time where content like this exists and can be shared. I learned a whole lot and I’m so grateful there aren’t even words. Love y’all. I’m gonna go be soft now. 💙

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vrykoolart · 4 years ago

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Saint Seiya Question Game

Tagged by: @siberianxbreaks

-- Thank you for the tag, my friend! --

Remove my answers and put yours under the questions!

How did you find out about Saint Seiya?

My sister is actually a huge fan of Saint Seiya, so I found out about from her. We actually watched it when we were kids. I don’t have that vivid of a memory about it, but I do know the one I recall watching is the ADV dub. I remember how deep they made Hyoga’s voice and that’s it.

But my sister really loved it and I’d watch with her. One day, it kinda disappeared and because we live in the United States—y’all probably know what I mean— It was really hard to find it at all. So for years, my sister was trying to track it down and she dabbled into the other series related to it a little bit. It wasn’t until last year that we finally found it thanks to Netflix and we watched it all with our entire family. I saw the first season with the new dub and was immediately obsessed with it. I enjoyed every second of watching the whole thing. It kills me that we don’t have the Hades arc dubbed yet and I hope we get it soon.

I watched Lost Canvas, too, and loved it as well. Albafica made me love it and the El Cid’s episodes were really top notch for me. I love his voice. I love his character. I think he’s literally the coolest thing ever. I delved into the manga and I just love Lost Canvas. It has some weird stuff here and there, but I adore it. I hope one day we get a season three because it’s truly that good.

I just really love Saint Seiya & I’m so glad that it exists. Truly. I don’t remember having that much fun watching an anime since like watching Death Note, Soul Eater, Sgt. Frog, and like—Azumanga Daioh... all for different reasons, of course.

Who’s your favorite character and why?

When I started watching the show again, it was Shun. He’s so adorable and his heart is so big. I love how sweet and strong he is. I have a soft spot for Shun honestly. The more I watched it, I really started to just adore all the Bronze Saints, too.

But another character I really adore is Cancer Deathmask. He’s so charismatic and fun. I really adore the voice they gave him in the Netflix English dub, too. He killed it. I just absolutely am in love with him. Yes, he committed several crimes. Yes, he has killed numerous people. Yes, his temple looks like a Mortal Kombat stage... but it truly builds character. He’s my husband and I think we’re all allowed to make as choices ever now and then.

Who’s your absolute hate-character and why?

Tatsumi. I hate how he never faced the consequences for anything he did. He literally abused those children—Ikki, more-so, and he sent him to Death Queen to DIE. He’s never shown signs to change really. They just treat him like a crack/comedy character and it irks me because he deserved to get beat for what he did at least. Wish he would have literally got tortured or fired. Anything at all, but they just prepare like nothing happen and he continues being an ass-wipe.

I don’t care for Kido either because even if he took Saori and raised her, he never did much to stop the countless abuse the children went under and knowing sent the children away to die. No, even in the manga, I don’t see it as a noble sacrifice to literally sacrifice most of your children to fulfill a destiny. Even if they were just sent away, he literally could have prevented Tatsumi from abusing them and raised Saori better. No matter how you look at it, he’s a shit person, too. Yes, he helped them become saints but the way he did it will never feel right to me. He separated Seiya from his sister and told him he’d only see her again if he became a saint, knowing full well he couldn’t even guarantee that. That emotional manipulation is toxic and cruel to do to a child—an in the manga—your own son. Like ew,,,,, I don’t like the children aspect in the manga, but with that considered still, he’s still a horrible person and I wish Saori would stop hailing him as a good guy.

Shippings you like and why you ship them?

Shaina/Seiya — In my heart, they are the canonical pairing. They really do protect each other and care deeply for one another. Seiya reacts strongly every time she gets hurt and Shaina is always doing her best to protect/defend him. They’re both strong in their own right and they both have a deeper connection to each other. Even when Shaina tried to hide her feelings because she felt there is no way they could be together and tried to kill him, you could tell she really couldn’t do it because she really cared about him. He really cares about her, too, which makes them so perfect for each other. They are each other’s strength and they push each other to become better & stronger

Marin/Aiolia — They’re really cute when they interact with each other and I’m pretty sure they’re an actual canon pair. They really care and confine in one another. I just honestly adore seeing them interact. They never really got to tell each other how they feel, but I’m sure they both know. I wish she would have gotten some more time with him because it’s kinda sad that she’s all alone now. ;;

Freya/Hägan —Hägan clearly loved her, but due to the strictness of loyalty in their culture, he couldn’t bring himself to betray Hilda. It upsets me what happened to them because they deserved to be happy. Poor Freya & Hägan. A lovely couple but terribly tragic. Hägan clearly misunderstood Hyoga & Freya’s relationship and must have thought that Freya loved him even in reality the only person she really loved was him and that is what breaks my heart. I was on the Freya and Hyoga train until Hägan showed up. Now, I can’t bring myself to ship them without feeling bad.

Hilda/Siegfried — Siegfried did everything for her and, in the end, he died because he believed in Hilda’s true vision. He wanted to doing nothing more than protect her and he died to help do so. It’s beautiful yet so tragic.

Hyoga/Eri — They’re just extremely cute together. I really loved their interactions. They deserve happiness and the entire world.

Ikki/Esmeralda — If you ignore that weird ass Shun thing, they’re cute. That should have never been a thing. I ignore it to hell and back but I do think they’re adorable and I feel for Ikki.

Shun/June — She only shows up once like why??? But they’re so adorable together. I wish we could see them both more, but unfortunately, she disappeared into the ether. I do believe she is perfect for Shun, tho.

Me/Deathmask — OTP. He’s my husband.

Shippings you don’t like/hate and why you dislike them?

Adult/Minor pairings.

Incest pairings.

Saori/Seiya — I don’t feel like Seiya likes her that way. I think Saori may like him. She’s always shown some special interest in him, but I’m sure Seiya cares about her more so as a goddess and friend than a love interest. Every time I see this ship, Seiya is acting weirdly out of character which really throws me off from the whole ship. Saori has shown to sometimes literally prioritize Seiya over everyone else when dropping Saga’s dead ass body to cradle him... It just rubs me the wrong way??? Seiya cares about her but he doesn’t react nearly as strongly about her as he does with Shaina. I don’t mind it being one-sided. She’s a girl and is allowed to have feelings, but I don’t really see her with anyone. I think she’ll probably grow out of it, but who knows. This ship is just really not my cup of tea.

Your favorite scene.

It’s hard to think of one, but the funniest scene is when they’re in Yomotsu Hirasaka. Deathmask is about to throw Shiryū into the pit, but then Shunrei’s prayers reach him and he gets so annoyed that he telepathically throws her off fucking a cliff. I don’t care. It’s comedy gold. I laughed so hard at that. Deathmask is truly a marvel.

Honorable mention: ❝ Maybe no else has a cloth made of ice that hasn't melted since before the time of... dinosaurs. Or... maybe no one else has powers like me, like the power over snow, ice, and even glaciers. In fact, you know what, Snake Eyes, maybe you should just think of me as your own personal Ice Age Dude! ❞

Your favorite Attack:

Hard question, so I’ll just name attacks I really like: Heaven Dancing Ring, Diamond Dust, Thunder Wave, Specter Punch, Phoenix Wing Ascent, Praesepe Hell Waves, Scarlet Needle Antares, Bloody Rose, Another Dimension, Wolf Cruelty Claw, Great Ardent Pressure, Greatest Caution, Dead End Symphony, and Imperial Phantasm Punch.

If you could decide for which god/goddess you fight, which one you prefer and why?

Athena. Despite liking Poseidon, Odin, Abel, & Poseidon, I like the army she commands the most.

If you could choose a Cloth. Which you would prefer?

Hard question again. I really like the Scorpio Cloth. The head piece is nice. I’m a sucker for the quack on the Cygnus Cloth and the Nemo on the Pisces Cloth, too. It’s honestly hard to choose one, specially if you count God Cloths, too. I did draw myself in the Ophiuchus cloth, so got the sake of this question, Ophiuchus Gold Cloth.

From which country you’re from?

America.

Your favorite season / sequel:

Sanctuary arc and the Asgard arc. Let’s get the money. Both do a fantastic job at world-building and I love them both equally. My favorite spin-off is The Lost Canvas.

#can't think of anyone to tag but here you go #saint seiya #vry's ramblings #forgive typos if there are any #i couldn't get the formatting writing on the phone #so some stuff might have been deleted

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writing-frenzy · 5 years ago

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Alternate Perceptions- AHiT Idea

So, after accidently smashing head first into A Hat in Time Fandom and all their good shit, I got ideas some that refuse to be written, and one of them I thought I note out. (heavily inspired by doodledrawsthings, seriously, there stuff is so good.)

So, welcome to Alternate Perceptions! We can have multiple POVs here, so lets have fun with this.

First up, we have Prince Luke, who is taking a break from Law School for the summer to spend time with his fiance, Vanessa. Everything is just fine swell, normal carefree days, when the Prince and Princess starts to hear about rumors about a look-a-like. Sure, he’s heard some things while at the University, one person even said he looked so weird with a smile on his face ?? but Luke didn’t really question or think long on it... at least until someone, a noble in fact, asks if the Prince has a brother?

Luke blinked in surprise at the question, Vanessa even paused as she considered the man.

“I do not believe so...” Luke answered slowly, even as carefully took in the now sweating noble. Vanessa, do you really need to stare so hard?

“Ah, I see; sorry, just met an older chap and some girls, his daughter and her friend I believe, and he looked incredibly like your father.” the man excused, even as Luke tried his best not to twitch.

His father, the former and now retired King of another kingdom close to Subcon, while now known for his loyalty and incredible love for his wife... was formerly a rather... free young man in his youth.

‘Hopefully not another claiming they are the rightful heir to the thrown, there is a reason Uncle is in charge.’ Luke smiled, even as he felt Vanessa hold his hand in hers. It was a well known trouble that occasionally popped up here and there, people claiming to have raised a Royal’s bastard or claiming to be such even after the tests failed.

(At least his father had been careful, if not smart in his youth.)

“I’ll probably have to send a letter to Uncle later about this, I’m sure he’ll appreciate the warning of someone coming.”

The thing is, no one ever pops up. Oh, apparently this potential headache did go to his Uncle’s Kingdom, but never went to the castle at all. In fact, from what he heard, the man and two girls ended up saving a square full of people from some sort of explosion in a plaza, accepting thanks and food from the happy citizens, but actually refusing to go a step closer to the castle.

(There is much to say from the citizens, those who managed to take a peek of the man who managed to keep a heavy cloak on even in all the chaos, only for it to get knocked off in accident by a rescued child.

With those features, glowing golden eyes and a heavy scowl, one would almost think they were looking at the Former King in his youth.)

That was... suspicious. If the Prince wasn’t assured that the perpetrator of the explosion was caught, he might have thought the man was involved somehow. but as it goes, more and more stories come out, about this unusual trio going around, helping out here and there, even unearthing corrupted nobles and becoming one of the most talked about subjects since the Subcon Duchess’s scandals.

And yet, it seems besides occasionally seen entering in Subcon Forest, this trio hasn’t actually stepped foot in Subcon itself.

Not until one unusual event.

Prince Luke gasped, for a good minute thankful for the harsh taskmaster his sword instructor was, insisting that the rest of the body needed to be just as trained as his hands and feet. Otherwise, carrying his beloved to safety might have been just that bit harder, what with all the finery her station required her to wear, though it was still a relief when he could finally set her down. But watching how the manor warped and twisted around them, the floor seeming to turn into actual lava, even ice in some places, the young royal couldn’t help but feel his stomach drop, even as him and the remaining nobles in the room clung to their last piece of safety in the ballroom that, that monster just transformed.

For a good minute, Luke just felt himself breathe, trying to calm down and think of a solution, only to be shocked when two children, just little girls at that, ran past him. He made to reach out to them, to maybe stop them, just about to call out to them, when he heard-

“My Prince, what are you thinking? We just barely escaped with our lives!” Vanessa exclaimed, holding on tight to the arm at his side.

“But those girls-”

“The kiddos will be fine; might want to worry about yourself more foool.” was cut in, the voice harsh and grim, but ever so familar in a way?. Turning as one, the nobles and Royals took in a heavily cloaked figure, golden lights the only thing one could see in the darkness of their hood.

“Snatcher! Do you think you can reach that lever over there? We’ll need that if we want to beat this guy and seal the rift!” one of the girls called out, the bow wearing one in fact.

“On it.” and with that, the other was moving, up and away from them (almost like they were running away it seemed).

With the trio coming in, they stop the being, and even return the place back to normal, much to everyone’s gratefulness.

But in all the confusion and chaos, the one called Snatcher and once Dad by the hat wearing girl, gets his cloak blown off, revealing their face to all.

Its.. it’s like looking in a twisted mirror in a way, because he sees in him the features of his father easily, it’s the same Luke had inherited, but where Luke has his mother’s smile and soft brown eyes to soften his features, you can see none of that in this Snatcher’s harden, tired face and glowing amber golden eyes.

The Eyes only Royal’s in Luke’s family can inherit. Eyes that show the Magic in their line, making them able to inherit the throne...

Things just got that much more complicated.

(Meanwhile, a Queen to be looks at this impostor, seeing this similar being to her perfect prince and inwardly seethes... and yet... Shows her sides she has never seen of her dear sweet Prince... It is a conflict of emotions she feels; does she want this man gone and buried, for twisting her beloved Prince’s image... or would he be a nice addition to the dungeons, for her to appreciate when her longing grows?)

Meanwhile, the Other POV we can have!

So, normal day for Snatcher and the kids, just chilling in the pillow pile, getting ready for another exploration on the planet... when some idiot a world over plays around with time pieces, accidentally piercing through to them, the only other time that so many time pieces were gathered in their world and planet. This unfortunately drags the three over there, meeting the idiot and their plan to get revenge on the kingdoms around them any means necessary.

So, their is some good news, bad news, and just oh good moon why.

Good news! It will not ruin their time line, their past has long since set, and they have no worries about messing with things here too much.

Bad news! If they happen to get too involve here in this world (i.e. forming magical bonds, eating magical food, using to much or many magical items that were created in this world) they risk never being able to go back home!

Oh good Moon Why News: it is a near perfect replica of Subcon Past, with Crazy Vanessa and a whipped Prince Luke running around, still ‘happy’ as it were. And they have to fix all these rifts in this world, along with stopping the head idiot in order to fix everything and go back to their own, meaning they will have to explore everywhere around them, Subcon and it’s terrible memories included.

Alternatly, this could also be called~

Snatcher’s no good, terrible, horrible, truly abhorring, detestable time in an Alternate Universe of Subcon and the Kingdoms around it.

The Snatch is not a happy camper, especially since he is now stuck in a meat suit. Luckily, he can use minor, low, low powered version of his powers. (now, I don’t know if he got transformed before or during all this, because both would be juicy, so I won’t say.) otherwise, Snatcher would be very tempted to listen to that dark little voice inside that says screw everything and one.

He is not smiling, there are no smiles to be found, and everyone who meets him doesn’t mistake him for the prince. (because I find the thought funny on just how different a person can look with a whole different outlook and expression on their face.) Ironically, he gets the cloak because he doesn’t want to be mistaken for the prince or be accused of being a body snatcher or something, only for it not to even be needed for that in the end, though he doesn’t know this for a good, long while. (To not be mistaken as a illegitimate child or possible lost royal heir on the other hand... yeah.)

(The girls are doing their best to help how they can, providing distractions and just being themselves, getting a now rare smile out of the glowing eyed man before them.

It... it really helps)

Also, at one point, I want both Bow and Hat to just go yeet with Snatcher or vice versa, something all three trouble makers agreed to do if needed. Also, Snatcher Carrying one girl over his shoulder while the other under his arm as they run from something is a need as well.

(And maybe, in a moment of panic, of triggers and shaking, where Snatcher finds he can’t move, the two girls get protective, using a cheat or natural strength, they end up carrying their purple dad somewhere he can stress and panic in piece.)

Just, we can see the perceptions of everyone around us, with all these outside points of view, and we can really explore all the fun and tears to be had... welp, it’s at least fun to think about.

(also, interaction between Prince and Snatcher, with Snatcher having no worries of affecting the timeline... are fun to think on as well...)

#A Hat in Time #AHiT #Hat Kid #Snatcher ahit #Bow ahit #Prince ahit #Queen Vanessa #A Hat in Time AU #AHiT AU

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ofaphrvdite · 5 years ago

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silence ! raise the royal standard, for the bastard princess of rajasthan, LEELA JHAWAR, has arrived. being 26 years old, she is out of line to the throne. many around the court call her the hellion, by virtue of her being brazen and nonconformist, while also being perverse and turbulent. — played by naomi scott.

- THE BASICS.

full name: leela chandani jhawar name meaning: leela ‘play’, chandani ‘moonlit’ known in history as: the bastard of rajasthan, the moonlit princess, the crowned serpent date of birth: july 29th, 1641/1994 age: twenty six star sign: leo profession: influencer (modern verse) / bastard princess of rajasthan (royal verse) loyalty: house jhawar, rajasthan, the coalition alignment: chaotic neutral mbti: estp spoken languages: hindi, advanced marathi, advanced english, intermediate ottoman turkish (royal verse) / english, intermediate french (modern verse) mother’s name: lady marie victoire von arenberg father’s name: raghunatha jhawar siblings, if any: padma jhawar, vijaya jhawar, manikya jhawar, raya jhawar height: 5’6” hair colour: black eye colour: brown

- BACKSTORY / MODERN VERSE.

born to a real estate tycoon and his second, swimsuit illustrated model, wife, leela hadn’t wanted for much in her childhood. she was the youngest of five and doted on by all her family including her half-siblings. until the age of seventeen, she knew nothing but happiness. she was spoiled and never learned how to fend for herself beyond wrapping people round her little finger and getting what she wanted with as little effort as possible.

so when her father’s fortune fell through and they lost everything, life got a little bit harder for the heiress who had never worked a day in her life. suddenly she was expected to work to help provide for the family, and she needed skills that she did not possess. college was off the agenda, she had literally nothing beyond her bank account that she was passionate about. so she started off selling clothes, organising the wardrobes of the people she used to call friends. slowly she built up a client portfolio and she was bringing in money for home, but not enough for her to keep up with her luxurious tastes.

eventually leela began to post on instagram. outfits of the day, workouts, skincare. she started racking up sponsors and soon realised that the more together her life looked, the more views and money she got. if she posted a selfie from her dull bedroom mirror, she might get a few hundred likes, a thousand at most. if she took the same picture in the bathroom of an upscale restaurant and tagged it then she would garner ten times the amount. even if she hadn’t eaten there. who needed to know that?

over the next few months she grew her instagram following and made the natural transition to youtube. she began to vlog her day, post meals she wasn’t eating full of sponsored supplements she wasn’t taking. she would post doctored photographs of her holidays in the maldives that never happened, just sunbathing in her back garden. when she went anywhere, it was because she was invited there as an honoured guest. little lies that would dress up her feed, give her the life she craved but didn’t have. as the money began to roll in, the lies needed to be upped.

leela’s life is mostly a lie. she does now possess a fraction of the money she used to have, enough that she can afford some of the luxuries she pretends are her own. rather than posting a photo of the rented gucci dress, it now hangs in her wardrobe. a proud testament to her supposed hard work. it’s a dishonest career that could be toppled with just one youtube expose commentary. but she was careful to cover her tracks, there’s no way she’s going back to the other life. whilst her siblings settled into quiet careers, leela was intent on keeping her star shining bright.

as she climbs higher, she only gets herself deeper into the lie. the friends she has made on her way up all assume her pockets are as well lined as their own and leela has to keep up. every holiday they plan, or weekend away in cabo, she must attend or risk losing the reputation she has cultivated. but whilst she has money, it’s not nearly enough to cover the costs of her made up life. the debts are beginning to pile up and very soon she’s going to have to pay them off or cut ties with the life altogether and risk public humiliation - but even that isn’t enough to slow the swipe of her credit card.

her weekends are always the same. she parties until the early hours and returns to her empty flat. literally empty, she only has the bare minimum flat pack furniture to fill out, because every cent of her earnings goes on the materialistic purchases she needs to stay afloat. the parties are always the same, and she always drinks too much. barely ever does she really enjoy them, but it’s an image she must keep up. who wants to a follow an instagram page that stays in on a friday night watching tv?

her family have expressed their worry on multiple occasions, that have only made the stubborn self-proclaimed social media star to push them away. she doesn’t want to hear about all she’s doing wrong, that it’s not too late to really make something of herself instead of wasting all her time and potential on people who will desert her when her bank account depletes. leela knows full well that she’s the family fuck up, so why should she bother trying to change that now? either she’ll soar, or she’ll crash to the ground in a ball of flames. but at least she’ll look good doing it. at least she’ll be remembered.

- BACK STORY / ROYAL VERSE.

the netherlands, despite being her place of birth, is known only to leela through sailors stories and distant memories - ones that may be no more than a product of an overactive child's imagination. her mother had been of noble blood once upon a time, wed to a high up ambassador tasked with securing trade through india. the lady marie was a renowned beauty in her home, one leela’s father had found impossible to ignore. their affair had been secret dalliances, whispered promises when he was just a prince about to ascend. when her mother returned to the netherlands, it had only been just long enough to realise she was pregnant, to carry the child to term, and to flee to the arms of the man she loved. she remained in rajasthan as his proud mistress.

her life as a bastard would no doubt have been a miserable one in europe, with the eyes of scandalised nobles on her. but the halls of rambagh palace were filled with warmth, the young leela’s laughter imbuing the walls with joy and shielding her from others disdain. her summers were spent boating on the man sagar lake, and then evenings in the hidden depths of jal mahal. despite her status, she was never made to feel less. even at dinners, when her title saw that she must sit at the back for feasts to save guests the embarrassment of sharing a meal with a natural born daughter, she was sought out as the life of the party. the back of the hall always roaring with laughter as leela delighted them all with tales of her adventures and jokes at her siblings expense. she may have been born destined for low birth, but she was born loved. cherished by her father for her wild spirit, and treasured by her mother for being her only child. the two women were indeed very similar, both ambitious but keen above all else to lead a life of their choosing. decided by no one but themselves. perhaps that was why leela was her father’s favourite.

her childhood was as perfect as one could have asked for. almost pristine if not for the large black burn that would mar her for life. at sixteen, an evening in the cellars of jal mahal had gone horribly awry. with her siblings around her she had her first taste of wine, and all reason between the five of them had gone out the window soon after. leela had left to retrieve another bottle when she’d run into one of the noble guests staying with them. bastards were a product of lust, and their offspring assumed to be wanton too. the man had said as such when he had gripped her arm tightly. if her brother had not come looking... the man had been executed, and she had turned into her mother when the axe had swung. to this day, she avoids small spaces and dreads the feeling of someone lurking over her. she would be in control, she would have the advantage, or she would have nothing from them.

leela relishes in being a bastard, for she has all the royal benefits of her four siblings, but near none of the responsibility. whilst they must smile and preen for foreign visitors, leela can go where she wishes. no escort need follow the bastard of rajasthan, their moonlit princess they so adored free to wander the city and mix with commoners and merchants alike. it is for that very reason that her father saw an opportunity for his kingdom, and a use for the wandering leela. a bastard she may be, but everyone needed a place.

as she grew, leela’s friendly banter turned quickly to flirtation and she soon learned she had inherited more from her mother than just her beauty. the bastard soon grasped that her looks could be used for her own advantage, and manipulating the men of the court became her favourite sport. with one flash of her smile, men and women alike would bend to her every whim and that had been her first taste of true power. her father instructed her to use her charming talents to extract secrets from tight lipped nobles, the merchants in the city and the peasants he ruled over. leela was not royal, nor was she common, she was on a plane of her very own. the lowest trusted her and accepted her as one of them, whilst the highest saw her as nothing but a useless nuisance - evidence of their ruler’s indiscretions. secrets were easy to garner for the unseen, and leela was difficult to deny. the whispers she had fed back to her father have stopped many a disaster before they even had the chance to take root.

but they took their toll on her too. leela can charm whoever she wants but always for a purpose. making bonds, forging friendships? this she has never mastered. always a fleeting enigma in another’s life. for that she suffers in quiet loneliness. she has the love of her family, but not much else. she’s never learned how to keep a hold of something for good. she loves her freedom, and has traded any stability in her life for it.

though she swans about the halls in red satin dresses and trusted brown leather boots, it is not just her seductive charm that she takes pride in. rajasthan is known for war, for it’s soldiers that were unmatched but for the warriors of old. she was no different. unlike the noble ladies, she was able to train from a young age and soon grew to be an excellent warrior of her own. though she will never be able to join the men at any front, she ought not to be crossed in combat either. with a sword she is light as a dancer, a breeze on a ships sail. many men have gambled their chances, and lost their bets and dignity soon after. often she trains with the men at the waterfront, enjoying the wind in her hair as swords ring around her. in another life, she might have boarded one of those ships and sailed the seas as an infamous pirate queen.

life didn’t change much for her when the war broke out. in fact, it didn’t change much for rajasthan at all. for a while they stayed out of europe’s messy business, not caring for a sultan that washed up dead on some beach. eventually, their powerful cavalry was sought out by the ottoman empire and they were drawn into the fight to aid the coalition. still, leela went about unchanged. the battles were not brought to their home, only men were sent away to prove their glory in a fight. life was all rosy for the bastard princess, until a certain kingdom came begging.

the marathas had allied themselves with the entente, with trade promises that had fallen through and leaving them with empty pockets. the two kingdoms had always been in petty dispute with the other, never really coming to blows but the tension had always been there. a war waiting to break out if neither side were careful. the marathas were still a great kingdom, well known and revered. it was not a fight leela’s father wanted to engage in, and so an agreement was drawn up. they would fill their empty coiffers in exchange for their alliance with the coalition. to seal the deal, leela was offered as a bride for the prince and a betrothal was arranged. a bastards hand for a prince was slap in the face, and they all knew it, but the marathas had little room to negotiate.

unsurprisingly, leela was not one to bow to authority. in fact, had she not been the daughter of a king she would be the one to rise against him, to rebel against the monarchy’s imposed rule. but such is not the case, so she finds other ways to flout the powers that be. ignoring the courtly graces everyone knew she had, purposely misusing titles and mocking the nobles who sneered at her. leela is overconfident, impudent and refuses to listen to anyone about what she can and cannot do. she is prone to chaos, revelling in it more often than not. she is quarrelsome, sometimes just for her own pleasure as she lacks any knowledge of consequence.

her very touch means chaos, and trouble follows her every smile. the serpent is chanted proudly by the people that adore her, for she is a woman who would drag a man to their grave given the chance, and slithered her way into the hearts of many. leela is bold, and relishes the adventure that her life has given her. she cares very little for anything. as far as she's concerned, she has all she could ever want.

leela is not pleased with the loss of her freedom, and her pending title of queen should raj ever make it to the throne. nor is she keen on the cocky prince, but she is thrilled that her hand is proving an embarrassment for him. they’ve both been sent to versailles to represent their separate lands, but leela only sees this as a chance to enjoy herself and see more of the world. her father has reminded her that she is there to be the face of rajasthan on the world stage, but that’s all semantics. after years of doing whatever she wished, she is not like to change now even if she may end up outranking all her siblings in the end. a nasty twist of fate for the woman who’d always been impossible to forget but never wished to be caged.

#! * INTRODUCTIONS.#! * INTRODUCTION / leela.#does this suck? mb so #but its done!!#modern rly was half assed i cant lie #tw assault mention #sorta??

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sharkbeneaththelotus · 5 years ago

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Genie!Tony

The bottle, being a corner of spacetime coiled around a wish, is simultaneously miniscule and actualy quite spacious. Tony wished a chain into his handle early on, and now the poor shmucks who pick him up can't loose him down the back of the tent anymore. Being passed around families, unused because he got too creative with his wish granting, is one thing, but spending a hundred years in a sand dune is the true meaning of boring.

He'd run out of brass first, since Dummy was made of it, and then he'd had to get creative and make things out of the sand that trickled in through the lamp's spout. Butterfingers was considerably more beautiful than Dummy, so THEN he'd had to go back and give Dummy enough etchings and filagree to keep a sultan happy.

Of course, JARVIS was above such considerations, possibly because just as he was getting the magicule conductivity fine tuned on his etched mainframe, Tony had been found again.

Thus began another hundred or so years of being the silent power handed down between kings. They'd been decent sorts, wishing for simple things like good rainfall, and the cure to crop blights, so Tony hadn't twisted a wish in a long time when the dynasty ended.

Then he was picked up by Stane, and ohhh that had it's fun. Sure, kill my masters I've been watching over for a hundred years, SURE.

The first wish was:

"I wish to be an all powerful king!"

So Tony had snapped his fingers and made the entire nation incapable of making a decision without Stanes input. The line hit the city walls before the sun was up.

The second wish was for wealth, in heaping piles, which Tony didn't even have to twist: the price of gold plummeted, leaving the city paved in it, but Stane unable to buy bread nor wine.

Cackling and full of righteous fury, Tony waited for the third with with glee.

The country crumbled, citizens packing up their riches and becoming gold merchants that spread from the city in a glittering stream as they sought better pastures.

Stane, superficially rich, and nominally powerful, despaired and changed his tactics, wishing instead to be immortalised as the greatest man of an era.

Tony, his smoke dark and eyes hidden behind the blue sparks of his magic, agreed.

Obadiah Stane became a marble statue, immortal, and a single inch taller than the next tallest man of the age.

Satisfied by this, Tony broke his chain from the statues neck and fell back into the lamp as it tumbled across the crimson rug, expecting he would be left in peace for at least a while.

Stane had not been quiet about his use of the genie, the people of the city knew well how Tony had ravaged the once powerful man, so when he was picked up, it was to be put in a glass case, unsummoned but with a delightful view of the other treasures left in the city.

Who had become sultan was unknown, and what stories had been written of him, he could not dicern. He waited in loud contemplation, teaching JARVIS to play the pipes, and Dummy to etch magicule circuits.

One of these pursuits went better than the other, alas.

By the time he was summoned again, he was in the hands of a mother.

He billowed forth from the lamp, filling the room with midnight blue smoke and towering over the trembling, red-eyes woman who had snuck into the treasure room in dead of night.

She trembled, but her feet were set square and firm, and her eyes shone with a leonine violence, a loyalty, that Tony immediately approved of.

Speaking from near the vaulted ceiling, the light of his magic casting her shadow jagged and shrunken, he asked the Question.

She gritted her teeth, and breathed deep. "My son is dying! Please, save him! Save him and I will face any consequence I deserve!"

This was not a wish, but it was something Tony felt his heart lighten to hear. He could do this, and do it without consequences.

"Do you wish it, Sarah Rogers? This one small thing?"

"I do. Only this, his life, for a normal life--"

He shrank down to look her in the eye, the great and terrible light fading until he could see her in the more pleasant light of the candle she had brought.

She was true. Determined and unselfish. He reached out and touched her arm, eyes soft and smiling gently.

"Then this is your first wish. For Steve Rogers to live a healthy, normal life. Say it."

She swallowed, their eyes locked in a powerful moment, and nodded. "I wish for Steve to live a healthy, normal life."

The world breathed in, and shifted somewhere out of sight. Tony smiled, and released her, pleased. "Done. You need not fear consequences, it's a good wish."

She shivered and nodded, looking down at his lamp, clutched delicately in her hands. "I should put you back..."

"With two wishes remaining? No, no, wear me, let me see the city, until you are once again in need. The lamp will only follow you, bring me too you, in any case."

She breathed deep and put the chain over her head. It repaired itself and Tony watched it settle against her Asclepian snakes. He nodded, mostly to himself, and begun to fade into smoke.

"I'll be listening, Sarah Rogers. Two more wishes."

He returned to the lamp, to his tiny, spacious workshop and it's single opaline window out onto the world, and he watched the city go by as she returned home.

There, in a small bed, her son was sitting up and eating bread and honey, smiling from ear to ear, and Tony closed the shutter on his porthole to give them their privacy.

XxxxxxxxxX

Very few genie bearers had ever died with wishes remaining.

Sarah Rogers was his first.

Tony, clutched in Steve's fist, listened to the ceremony with fat tears in his eyes.

He would have healed the city for her, but she had never called him again. He would have made her well, for Steve's sake, but she hadn't needed him, and while Steve may have cried, he hadn't gone against her wishes.

A pure death, with two wishes remaining. Tony shuffled them sadly into Steve's three wishes, a silent inheritance that he wouldn't ever mention.

XxxxxxxxxX

Steve wore his lamp diligently, and one day years later, with a fine cloth, cleaned it. Tony, bored by the day in Steve's home with no one but the great muscular lump to listen to, took this as 'close enough' and frothed out of the lamp.

Smoke billowed over the floor and under the furniture, blue and thick as five-fathom ocean. Tony rose from the waves in a swirl of brighter, denser magic and regarded the tiny house with interest. Distorted glimpses through the opal lid of his lamp did not do the place justice; it was even more shabby and loved than he had appreciated.

Steve, frozen in place with a look of knowing self-recrimination, looked momentarily small. Tony adjusted his own size accordingly and kicked his smoke into a tidy bundle that he sat on, perched comfortably.

"So! Three wishes, great cosmic power, etcetera, etcetera. You interested?"

Steve gaped. "You saved me when I was little, didn't you? I always though mom was ...no, well, I believed her, but..."

Tony waved through the air, leaving a smoky picture of Sarah in the treasure room behind his hand. "She was very noble, she deserved her happiness."

Steve looked away, and resumed cleaning the lamp, wrapping a stick in the cleaning cloth and working it into one of the tiny hinges the held the opal lid. It tickled distantly.

"She... we all know what you're capable of doing to someone."

"Stane was a monstrosity, I won't make out that I'm sorry," Tony told him, watching his hands carefully.

"No, it was justice. A selfish man." He paused, twisting the edge of the cloth. "I won't make a wish, genie. I... I wouldn't know what to wish for."

Tony looked back up, and saw something burning behind Steve's eyes. Something confused, conflicted.

They sat in silence. Tony undid and redid the plait in his hair, moving the beads back into their proper place. Steve said nothing further and the light in his eyes calmed, mysteriously.

"There, you are all polished, I'll stop bothering you now."

Tony's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Really appreciate it, nice to look ones best. I'll just... Head back inside shall I?"

Steve smiled, awkward, but then hesitated as he held the lamp out, pulling it back towards himself. "Would you-- would you like something to eat? Do you eat? I could leave offerings at the shrine--"

Tony followed Steve's gesture. "So that's why the view never changes anymore! Yes yes, I eat, please do not feel obliged, nor would you need to leave more than a taste, but that... That would be lovely."

XxxxxxxxxX

So Steve left him offerings of whatever delicious thing he had found that day, and though it wasn't as good as being worn, Tony was delighted. Steve went out of his way to make sure there was something different and new most weeks, and cleaned the tiny lamp every Saturday morning.

Tony took the excuse to emerge, offer wishes in a vague desultory way, then ask Steve precisely what the man was doing to that poor coin, or what the new food had been.

The coin, which Steve worked on with a jewelers hammer every Saturday after cleaning the lamp, was steadily becoming a pure gold bowl. Steve said it would be perfect for offerings for Tony, but that Tony would have to wait until the engraving was finished before he got to use it.

They did run into a minor problem, in that the bowl had no foot and would wobble like an upturned turtle, but Tony leant a hand to the metalworking and soon they had it fixed.

"How is the price of gold these days?" Tony mused, lying on his smoke with a bundle of mint leaves on his chest. They smelled delightful.

"Steadily returning to normal. People still travel with it though, and come back with stories of amazing places. It'll be worth replacing the gutters with lead soon, but we aren't bothering just yet."

Tony 'hmmm'ed. "One must be dreadfully careful when granting wishes, you know, so that the consequences are righteous. That much gold-- if Hatt'an hadn't been up in the mountains, I would have just dropped the gold on his awful bald head and had done with it."

Steve choked on a laugh and tilted the coin bowl for Tony to inspect. "I'm glad you are smarter than you look then, I wouldn't want to be invaded just for a soft, useless metal like gold."

"Here, if it's so worthless, why are you making my offering bowl from it?!" Tony objected. The bowls foot looked fine though, so he pushed it back to Steve.

"Because true worth isn't measured in hardness or utility, there is so much more to the world than that." He flipped the delicate, thinly hammered metal over, to show the engraving on the inner surface.

A nymph danced in a curl of lines that could be wind, or water, or sand, her hair and clothes blending into the twist with a seamless elegance.

Sarah.

"Sometimes, it's the very softness, and uselessness of something that makes it beautiful."

Tony felt himself pinned in place by eyes just as fierce and honest as Sarah Rogers' had been, twenty years ago.

"Oh." Tony blinked back water, his throat tight.

"I'm not going to make a wish, Tony. Not for myself."

"But you'll let me save the city, right? If something happens..."

They were very close by that point, Tony's smoke mingling around Steve's feet.

"Of course, Tony. I'll keep my wishes safe, and we'll keep the city safe, quiet and secret."

Tony blinked and broke out into a wide smile, happiness fizzing up from his belly. "I think you're beautiful too, you know," he said, setting his palm on Steve's chest, since they were close enough. "Like bright iron, fresh from the forge."

Steve smiled brilliantly. "Are you saying I'm useful, mister genie? I'm honoured."

Tony sniffed in mock affront, turning up his nose but stepping ever closer to compensate. "Someone has to carry my lamp, I can hardly be expected to--"

Steve leaned in and cut him off with a gentle, lingering kiss. Warmth spread through Tony's magic, turning his smoke the colour of shallow, warm ocean over golden sand.

"I will carry you to the end of tomorrow and back, if you'll have me, Tony."

"Then please, take me where you will, Steve; I can't think of anyone better for the job."

#tony stark #steve rogers #sarah rogers #genie au #ancient history au #vilain Obadiah Stane #blame discord

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brimstonestardust-blog · 6 years ago

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alright, doing them both in one ;;

i’m brand, your local disaster, and i go by they/them pronouns for anyone who cares. my babes beau and dominique are gonna hit the dash as soon as i reply to some starters in the tags, so read up on them and hit me up if you want to work out some plots for them. i’ll also drop some wcs in this intro too if you wanna fill ‘em!!!

ladies first because i love dominique more anyways, so ;;

full name: dominique anastasia dupuis

birthday: february twelfth, 1990 ( twenty eight )

title: genesis department agent

hometown: paris, france

fc: ana de armas

dominique’s mother died during childbirth and her father dipped out not long after, not prepared to be a father at all. so dom was raised by her aunt, sasha. her mom and her aunt were twins and came from an old, french family with more money than they’d ever know what to do with. her father was cuban and quite the opposite. a drifter in his prime, he fell in love with dominique’s mother when he was a penniless artist in paris and after abandoning his child, found a career in the government no less, serving as a french ambassador. but it’s cool, dom’s not bitter or anything bc it’s not like she hasn’t been successful as well. her aunt, sasha, supplemented her enormous trust fund (doubled by her sister’s death) by making her name for herself as one of the generation’s greatest painters, selling her original works for thousands of euros and knock off original antiques for millions. her illegal work was kept secret from dom wile she grew up, of course, but dom never cared where the money came from. she just enjoyed the spoils of her privilege with a smile on her face as she did so. this bitch literally grew up in the penthouse of the shangri-la because sasha dupius didn’t want to sign a lease bc she didn’t like commitment and shit. like, that’s how much money these fucking people have. anyways, tho-- dom grew up with absolutely no rules or boundaries. her aunt expected her to excel at things and she did, but only through gentle guidance and loving support. her aunt’s alcoholism and criminal background aside, she was a perfect parent, if not a little distant because she’d never planned on having children of her own. in school, dominique was an average student. imaginative and adventurous, she focused less on her grades and schoolwork and more on her fleeting hobbies and interests. her aunt’s work, painting and selling, took her all around the world and dominique was happy to follow her globe trotting guardian from country to country. her love of travel outweighed her focus on academics, but she was hardly stupid -- her intelligence just made itself known in different areas. when she finished her primary schooling, her aunt let her in on her other life. sasha never liked lying to the girl, but she didn’t want dom exposed to her life of crime at a young age. dom’s indifferent reaction to the dishonest business grew into a willingness to help and she shipped off to university, double majoring in linguistics and cultural studies in effort to bridge the gap in her aunt’s business untouched because of the cultural and language barrier. by the time she graduated college, she was deeply invested in her aunt’s counterfeit business, selling nearly identical fake classics to people overseas that shipped them out even more for higher profit. it was dom’s thirst for knowledge that caught the circle’s attention. every untapped culture that she wanted her aunt in business with, she researched and immersed herself in until she was absolutely flushed with information. and she absolutely loved it. which is why she jumped at the opportunity to join an unofficial espionage organization tasked with collecting intelligence on absolutely everything in the world. as a genesis agent, she’s constantly immersed and openly in love with her job and the work it entails. she’s bubbly and outgoing in between being totally and 100% into her work. she loves travelling for work, she loves collecting information for the genesis project, and she loves being special ops certified. it makes her feel mildly like a badass. she’s just a ball of sunshine overall and i’m hype to play her.

wanted connections: mentor, best friends, sparring partners, fellow tourist, gym buddies, ex lovers, friends with benefits, etc.

beau, on the other hand, is a piece of shit ;;

full name: beau edward braxton

birthday: august 18, 1988 ( thirty )

title: law enforcement liaison (fbi)

hometown: san francisco, california

fc: theo james

beau braxton never has and likely never will fall into the category of ‘good person.’ throughout the course of his childhood, beau was constantly ill and when he learned that his physical health situation would garner sympathy from the adults and children in his life alike, he took that fact and ran with it, exploiting the sympathy of others to get what he wanted. he was three years old when he was diagnosed with transient hypogammaglobulinemia of infancy. although the immunodeficiency disorder resolved itself by the time he was seven, the damage to his immune system had been done and little beau found himself prone to contracting a myriad of common illnesses like the mumps, influenza, and worst of all for the young boy–meningitis. all of these illnesses, while they were treatable and common enough, were hell on beau after so long of being sick. until he was in his mid teens, every minor symptom seemed to rattle him to his core. the fevers and headaches were unbearable, the nausea and lack of appetite left him feeling malnourished, and the lethargy and constant fatigue had him exhausted and in bed for days at a time. while meningitis typically only lasts a week or so, beau was always struck with illness after illness and when he wasn’t at his pediatricians, he was at home in bed, and for that reason, he was home schooled all the way throughout high school, even after he started to take a turn for the better. his mother, who came from an old oil family and provided her son with a string of nannies and teachers that had an incredible turn over rate (both due to beau’s terrible attitude and an unwillingness to care so closely for a sick child) and whatever monetary and material allowances the child might have wanted, was out of the picture more than she was in it, although they lived under the same roof. beau grew up feeling his mother’s quiet and seething resentment despite the fact she was never present, knowing that olivia braxton blamed him for his father, mark’s, leaving when he was four. not everyone could handle such a difficult, sickly child. by the time he was seventeen, he was as healthy as he was going to be. he was still a target for trivial illnesses like the common cold, but these bouts of sickness no longer had him bedridden. he was up and moving and ready to experience the world he’d been missing while he was tied down by his compromised immune system. san fran was out, and he head to berkeley for college, where he met his college girlfriend, juniper bernthal. one would expect a child plagued by illness after illness to develop an appreciation for life, but beau always convinced himself that he didn’t care to live or die. he didn’t care about anything and the appreciation he was supposed to have nurtured into greed and irritability. everything he ever did, he did to reap the benefits for himself, rather than for the good of anyone else. his decision to go off to college and major in political science made him look like a noble man, but he was doing it for no more than the money he knew it’d bring in. the government was the end all be all, after all, so he knew he needed to be in the government. right out of college, he moved to washington, d.c., where he interned at the fbi. it was somewhere between his internship and his bid to train for special ops that the circle recruited him to be a liaison. knowing then that there was an organization more powerful than the unites states government, he felt he had no choice but to continue going up. if being a liaison at the circle meant a pay raise and a reason to feel like he was more important than his fellow fbi agents, he knew he’d take the offer again and again. he has very little true loyalty for the circle, but he likes his job. being a secret agent is pretty rad and he likes the perks that come with the title, so he doesn’t do much to risk his job. he’s also rekindles a romance with his old college girlfriend, juniper, after learning that she and her sister nell were employed by the circle as well. he’s not into the relationship at all, but it’s nice to have someone to call a partner, even if he’s constantly treating her like shit.

wanted connections: secret fling/affair, best friends, sparring partners, gym buddies, mentor, fellow fbi agents, etc.

#circle: intro

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swanslieutenant · 7 years ago

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If the Stars Align - Chapter XI

Summary: The Musketeers AU. Danger lurks around every corner in the French court and as a Musketeer in service of the royal family, Killian’s duty is to protect them from any and all threats. As his relationship with Queen Emma develops into something more than just friendship, threats against the queen escalate and put everything they hold dear into jeopardy.

Rating: M

Content warning for the story: violence, mature themes, minor character death.

Art by @hook-and-star-ink , @acaptainswaneternity and @seastarved. Follow this to check all the pieces currently published and give them some love!

Catch Up on tumblr: ch1, ch2, ch3, ch4, ch5, ch6, ch7, ch8, ch9, ch10

AO3: ch11

In the weeks after Emma returns to Paris, life returns to a normal, if somewhat uneasy, lull. Emma feels like she’s always looking over her shoulder, expecting a man to charge at her with a sword or see this elusive Regina, but there are no more threats or attacks, daily monotony returning instead.

The plans to go to the wedding were sufficiently derailed by the attack, and Henry returned to Paris after the attack and has been stuck to Emma’s hip like a moth to light ever since. The news of the attack frightened him terribly, and he’s decided the only way Emma will be safe is to not let her out of his sight.

He’s currently sat on her bed, swinging his legs back and forth, reading a fairy tale book Mary Margaret gave him months ago. Emma watches him fondly in the mirror as Mary Margaret braids her hair into a crown, angled just so she can still see her son. His nose is so close to the page she’s sure he’ll get an ink stain, and she chuckles.

“What’s the story today, Henry?”

“Snow White and the Seven Dwarves,” he replies without looking up.

“That’s a good one,” Emma comments, wincing as Mary Margaret pulls her hair particularly tight and glances at the clock across the room. “But don’t forget you’ve got your lessons in an hour. You know how cross your tutors get when you’re late.”

Henry looks up at that, his eyes turning wide and pleading. “Can’t I skip my lessons today, Mother?”

She frowns. “Why?”

“For Father’s garden party this afternoon. The Musketeers are coming, right?”

Emma’s heart does that silly skip that’s started to happen whenever the Musketeers are mentioned, and she has to force her voice calm as she asks, “What does that have to with skipping lessons? You see the Musketeers all the time.”

Though that’s not quite true. Since her return from the convent, Neal’s been peculiar about having them around. He yelled himself hoarse at the Musketeers when they returned, somehow blaming them for the ambush, and sent them away from the Louvre without a word of praise or thanks for saving Emma’s life.

After that, Emma had yelled at Neal until her throat was hoarse – it had only been because of the Musketeers that she was still alive, but he refused to budge from his position. They’d argued for hours, resulting in Neal storming away and Emma refusing to speak to him for days, and since then, the Musketeers have become a sore point of contention between them. Neal thinks trouble follows them everywhere they go, from the Bastille to the road to Nantes, and has preferred to use the Cardinal’s Red Guards as protection instead, whereas Emma would rather die than use those spies as her guards.

But, she’s had no choice these past few weeks. The Musketeers have been sent on various errands throughout Paris, essentially banished from the Louvre, and Emma hasn’t seen them in days, not since a brief look at Captain Humbert and Lancelot when they visited the palace the other day.

But today, Henry’s right. Neal is hosting a garden party for some of the army generals, visiting Paris to offer updates from the war front, and the Musketeers will be the guards on duty today, not the Red Guards. Several of the Musketeers served in the French army before joining the Musketeers and Emma knows the generals prefer the blue cloaked guardians over the red.

Their presence today is one of the reasons she’s even agreed to attend the party. She hasn’t had a chance to talk to Killian since the return to the palace, and it surprises her how much she misses him. With spending time in the Louvre, where mostly everyone shoots her suspicious looks or outright ignores her most of the time, it’s easy to miss Killian’s warmth and kindness, the way he listens and believes in her when hardly anyone else does, and his actual desire to be around her.

Henry lets out a dramatic sigh, flopping back onto the bed, and Emma’s attention snaps back to him.

“But I haven’t seen the Musketeers in weeks. And Father said I could start to actually learn some sword fighting, and they’re the best. All the teachers Father will hire will let me win, but the Musketeers won’t. And besides ...” he trails off, pausing for a moment of quiet contemplation, his whining mood draining into something more serious as he stares up at the ceiling. “They treat me as if I’m normal. I like that.”

Emma’s heart clenches; Henry spends most of his time with his mother and tutors and a storybook. He doesn’t have any friends his own age; the only children he interacts with are the children of nobles whose parents want them to get in good with the future king. He’s quiet and sweet, her boy, and she hates people see only his title instead of who he is as a person.

She knows exactly how the Musketeers are capable of making people feel the complete opposite.

“You can skip your lessons today, Henry.”

When Killian first started as a Musketeer several years ago now, he wondered how any work got done in this country, with the constant balls and garden parties and hunts. He soon realized that is where the work is done, in the shaded awnings and glittering ballrooms and conversations had over wine and cheese. Policies are decided over lunch, laws written and signed in the time it takes for the band to flip their sheet music, taxes and tariffs determined during teatime.

Today is his first day back at the Louvre in weeks. He’s been desperate to see Emma again – selfishly, of course, but also because they need to talk. Their one night is burned into his mind, a stolen moment in the face of certain death, and he doesn’t know where they stand now that they’ve evaded Death for the time being.

In the garden, his eyes immediately fall on Emma when she arrives with Mary Margaret and Henry. He makes a move towards them, but Robin cuts in, sending him off to the other end of the garden with crossed arms and pointed eyes. That of course, frustrates him, but it’s not as if he can say anything about with the entire court here.

He trudges over to the ministers, and realizes that was a bigger mistake, as the topic of discussion is the war with England. France is losing terribly, losing men and territory with every new update from the front, and to the French, it’s as if every Englishman on the face of the planet is to blame. Killian has heard all the talk before, but it’s hard to not to shift uncomfortably each time a minister declares his hatred of the English.

One of the generals gesticulates about what he’d like to do with the English sailors they’ve captured so far, drawing his finger across his neck, and Killian looks away, swallowing deeply. He has no loyalty to the English anymore, but the French wouldn’t care about that if they knew about his past. All they’d see is a former English lieutenant and treat him exactly like those captured sailors, throats slit and dumped in a shallow grave.

Then, distracting him from his dark thoughts, Henry comes bouncing up to him. He has a pair of wooden swords clasped in his hands, a wide grin on his face.

“Sir Jones, will you fence with me?”

Killian looks across to where the king is seated with his court, deep in discussion, oblivious to anything but themselves. Henry’s not been allowed to practice or play around with the Musketeers before – not, at least, in view of the king – and the young boy sees his hesitation.

“My father says it’s alright, I asked him yesterday. Please?”

Killian remains quiet, tying to decide what is proper here – listening to the ten-year old’s tale or the orders from the king. But then the ministers burst into laughter, levelling insults back and forth about what they’re going to do to one particularly defiant English sailor, and Killian turns back to Henry, hand out for the swords.

“Alright. Let’s go.”

They move to a wider area of the lawn, far enough away from the rest of the court to give them lots of room to practice. Killian bends down to Henry’s height and holds out one of the swords to him, expression serious.

“It’s a great honour to carry a sword, even a wooden one. You hold the power of life and death in your hands with a weapon such as this. You always have to be thinking of that.”

Henry nods seriously and accepts the sword. Killian rises, surveying Henry’s stance and grip on the sword, and he knows they’ve got some work to do.

“You’ve got a good grip there but hold it like this,” he says, twisting Henry’s fingers around the hilt to the perfect position. “Right hand under the guard, left above the pommel. There, you’ve got it.”

Killian steps back to pick up his own wooden sword, and Henry pipes up with a question: “When did you know you wanted to be a Musketeer, Sir Jones?”

Across the lawn, some of the ministers laugh again, the sound making the hair on the back of Killian’s neck rise, and he tries not to grimace. He’d never tell his real reasons to a ten-year-old child, especially not one who will be the king of France one day.

“I was searching for a new adventure,” he replies simply. He glances down at Henry’s grip, which has loosened in the time it took Killian to get his sword and Henry to ask his question, and he shakes his head with a chuckle. “Now, look there, your left hand needs to be tight there on the hilt, right? One strong hit from an enemy and the sword can go flying from your hands if you’re not holding tight enough.”

Killian directs Henry into the proper stance, his left foot behind his right, standing lightly on the balls of his feet and ready to strike. But before he can tell Henry to take a swing at him, Henry interrupts again.

“What did you do before you were a Musketeer?”

“I – uh...” He hesitates, but then decides to go with the truth, or at least as much of as he can get away with. “I was a sailor.”

Henry’s eyes widen, and he releases the sword, letting it drop and hang at his side. “A sailor? Like a pirate?”

The word pirate stings, but Killian laughs, hoping Henry doesn’t hear the bitter edge to it. “No. Just a normal sailor.”

Henry is still impressed. “Will you be coming with us to Bordeaux this winter? Because there’s lots of water there, and maybe you could teach me how to sail!”

Killian is taken aback. It’s been years since he’s been on a ship, not since his last voyage to France, and he hasn’t pictured himself on a ship ever again. He still dreams of the rocking waves, the sharp smell of salt, the hot sea sun burning down on him for hours on end, and though the sea will always be in his blood, life in Paris keeps him busy. There’s never been a chance to get to the water again, but when he thinks of going out onto the waves, teaching Henry what he himself was taught at his age, he realizes just how much he’s missed it.

“Of course I’ll teach you. But first we need to work on your swordsmanship, aye? Every good sailor needs to know how to fight.”

Henry grins, slipping back into the fighting stance, and their lesson continues.

Across the lush green lawn from where Henry and Killian are fencing is the rest of the royal court. Most of the court is around Neal and his ministers, talking furiously about the latest developments in the war, while Emma and Mary Margaret are lounging on some wicker chairs across the small pavilion, not involved in the conversation at all.

Which is fine with Emma. The news of the war is not good (it’s never good) and each idea suggested by the ministers is more idiotic than the next. When the war had first been declared, she’d offered her help, as after all, she’s the one who grew up in a civil war, but her input had been swiftly dismissed.

No offense, Your Majesty, but what could you know about war?

Leave this to the experts.

Don’t you have some ball to throw or party to plan?

Though those comments make Emma’s blood boil and make her want to declare herself a soldier for the English so she can knock some sense into the French, she’s taken a step back from offering her help. Let them do what they think is best, bury themselves in their own graves, and maybe then they’ll come crawling to her.

One day, like Killian said, she’ll get to build her France.

Instead of fuming, Emma’s decided to watch Killian and Henry across the lawn. She noticed him right away when she stepped out into the garden, but Robin (of course) sent him off in the other direction, so she’s settled on watching them from afar.

Killian is standing beside Henry, demonstrating a stance Emma recognizes as one he taught her too. She wishes she could get up and join them instead of sitting here. If the Musketeers weren’t already such a sore point with Neal, Emma probably would get up and join her son and Killian, even with all the ministers and servants about. But she’s cautious of causing any trouble for the Musketeers, lest Neal find a reason to banish them from the grounds again, and she doesn’t want to take that away from Henry.

(Or herself.)

Or, apparently, Mary Margaret.

“I’m glad to see the Musketeers back here,” she says, shading her eyes from the bright sun, watching David across the pavilion where he’s guarding the king.

Emma smirks, unable to stop herself. “I bet Sir Nolan is pleased about that too.” Mary Margaret whips around, flushing bright red, and Emma laughs at the look on her face. “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.”

Mary Margaret leans back into her chair, only looking slightly reassured. Her cheeks are pink, and she fiddles absently with an edge of her skirt, eyes darting over to David. “Yes, well. David and I ... that’s complicated.”

There’s a twinge in Emma’s chest, that hitting a little too close to home for her, and she feels bad for teasing Mary Margaret. She opens her mouth to apologize, but before she can say anything, Killian and Henry come towards her, Henry leading the way with a wide grin.

He’s waving his sword in the air wildly and he shouts, “Mother, Mother! Sir Jones taught me this move, want to see?”

He demonstrates it without waiting for an answer, jumping into stance and taking a swing at Killian, who isn’t expecting it. Killian blocks the hit, but has to concede a step, and Henry lets out a cheer.

“I think you need a new challenger,” Killian says with a laugh, and he nudges Henry forward. “Sir Nolan could use a good whack on the back of the knees.”

Henry giggles, and sneaks up towards David where he’s standing behind the king, appearing bored out of his mind. He doesn’t notice Henry’s light steps until it’s too late. Henry hits him hard with the wooden sword on his legs, and David lets out a yelp of pain.

All the courtiers who witness it burst out laughing, as do Emma and Killian. David whirls around, surprise and fury across his face. That quickly dissipates when he sees Henry nearly, doubled over with laughter, leaning on his wooden sword for support, and he rests his arms on his hips, giving Henry a mock stern look.

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to hit a man when he’s not expecting it?”

“Sir Jones told me to do the opposite.”

David shoots Killian a dark look, and he smiles widely back at him.

“Well,” David says, with a tight grin, eyes glaring daggers at Killian, “he is gonna pay for that later. Now, come on, let’s see what he’s taught you.”

David and Henry move back to where he and Killian had practiced earlier, David taking the wooden sword from Killian with a shove to his shoulder as they pass. Killian looks to Emma quickly, but makes a move to take over David’s spot.

Emma scrambles to her feet before he gets to far, calling out, “Will you accompany me on a walk, Sir Jones?”

He nods, and Emma’s careful to keep a distance between them as they head off. Emma can almost feel Robin’s eyes on them, burning in annoyance, but as much as she knows she can’t do anything (like link her arms with Killian’s as she so wants to) with everyone around, Robin can’t either.

“How are you healing?” she asks as they walk towards the edge of the gardens, to where a little maze has been erected from the hedge.

“Good.” He moves his arm in a circular motion, with not a grimace. “All healed up. How about you?”

Emma mimics his motion. “All better.”

She glances behind them then. Without the Musketeers around, she hasn’t been able to ask anyone for updates on the search for Regina.

“Any news on Regina?”

Killian shakes his head, jaw tightening. “No. We’ve been following any lead, but there’s nothing. She’s like a ghost.”

Emma nods, though her stomach tightens with dread. The convent attack reappears in her dreams every night, the images twisted and violent, and everyday Regina is free is a day where there could be another attack.

She smiles tightly at Killian, shoving the thoughts away. “Well, I know you’ll find her soon.”

In the little maze, Emma runs her fingers over the top of the hedge as they fall into silence. Even though they’re alone now, there’s a lingering tension between them that she doesn’t like. Killian keeps his distance respectful, as always, but he’s tenser than before, a step further away, and it makes Emma’s heart sink.

The first time she’s seen him in weeks, and this is how he acts.

She understands, of course, that he’s trying to keep distance between them, that he’s all too aware of the consequences of what could happen if anyone were to discover what happened at the convent. But this could be the last time she sees him for a while if Neal throws another fit, and she doesn’t want this awkwardness and tension to fester anymore than it has.

“Please don’t pull away from me, Killian,” Emma whispers, resting her hand on his arm and he stiffens. “Not – not because we survived the convent and now we’re back in the real world.”

He regards her seriously, eyes guarded, but he doesn’t remove her hand. “It will hurt you if anyone finds out.”

Emma doesn’t need anyone to tell her that; “I know what will happen,” she snaps and Killian flinches. That’s the opposite of what she wanted, and she takes a deep breath. She’s never been very good at expressing her emotions, and with Killian’s serious expression and tense stance, her tongue feels like it’s been tied in knots.

“I didn’t – that’s not – Killian, listen.” She shakes her head, trying to gather her thoughts. “I’ve lost a lot of people in my life,” she says finally, thinking of the parents she never knew, the only family she ever had left behind in Denmark, the lost love with Neal. “And I can’t lose you too.”

His expression changes instantly, eyes softening, and he lays his hand over hers on his arm. “You won’t lose me, Emma. Ever.”

She smiles, a heavy weight she hadn’t even realized she was carrying on her shoulders evaporating. “Good.”

A loud chorus of laughter reaches them, carrying over from the other side of the lawn, shattering the moment. They both take a step backwards, Emma shoving her hands into the pockets of her dress, and she clears her throat.

“Perhaps we can go see the swans before you leave.”

Killian smiles. “I would like that.”

Emma’s true to her promise, and before the Musketeers leave that afternoon, she asks Killian to come to the swans with her. Henry comes along, so it’s not a private walk like it was around the maze, but Killian enjoys spending time with the young boy too.

The swans are sleepy, lounging around and not doing anything. They stay there for several minutes, watching the swans in silence. It’s peaceful, a drastic change from the angry ministers and generals, and Killian would be content to watch them all the rest of the day. But Henry’s attention soon wavers, and he wants to return to fence some more.

He skips ahead of them as they walk back, calling out to Robin to get the wooden swords, and Killian walks back at Emma’s side.

Their arms brush, something so simple and casual, but still too close for a Musketeer to stand. Emma creates more distance between them as they come closer to the rest of the court, sending him a sad smile, and he feels a rush of resentment at the situation. He doesn’t want to have to stay away from Emma, in case anyone see him stand too close or smile widely and draw the wrong (right) conclusion. That was his reasoning before her confession about not wanting to lose him, but she’s right – pulling back will hurt the both of them. But staying close to her is dangerous for them both and one way or another, this may end up killing him.

They return to the rest of the group, where the generals are still talking about the English sailors. Killian stiffens as they pass them, and Emma notices.

“Don’t listen to them,” she whispers, brushing her hand over his arm, glaring at the generals. “They’re brutes.”

Emma smiles at him before she returns to her seat, drawn into a conversation by Mary Margaret right away. Killian turns around, and nearly runs right into Cardinal Gold. He starts to apologize, but his blood chills at the look on Gold’s face. He’s watching Emma with narrowed eyes, and his eyes flick over to Killian, brow furrowed as if he’s trying to figure out a difficult puzzle.

A bad feeling settles in Killian’s stomach, and he tries to keeps his face neutral as he bows to step out of Gold’s way. “My apologies, Your Grace.”

The cardinal smiles, a cold leer that makes goosebumps appear on Killian’s skin, that bad feeling spreading to cover him head to toe. The cardinal’s eyes flick to Killian’s chest, where the swan necklace has slipped out from his vest during the play fight with Henry. It’s gleaming in the sunlight, swan crest evident, and Killian curses internally, clenching his hand into a fist to resist the urge to tuck the necklace away.

Gold’s eyes return to Killian’s face, that leer widening. “It’s not a problem at all, Musketeer. I was just observing.”

He walks away, and somehow the warm day seems infinitely colder.

Down in the La Marais district of Paris, near the homes of the wealthiest and most affluent Parisians on the Rive Droite, the heat of the day has faded into a cool, breezy summer eve. Occupants of the rich homes are out strolling by the Seine, couples linked arm in arm, young children running ahead of parents with giggles and laughs of delight.

A woman no one knows by sight is amongst them, but the Parisians pay her no extra notice. After all, in her elegant amber dress, black hair hidden under a heavily embroidered hood with jewelled necklaces clanging over her chest with every step, Regina fits right in with the neighborhood.

She strolls along on the cobblestoned street, smiling pleasantly in greeting to passersby, even pausing herself every so often to admire the newly constructed townhouses on the Île Saint-Louis across the river. In Paris’ newest neighborhood, the district set to outmatch even La Marais in elegance and class, the serious stone façades and darkened tile roofs call to her, beckon her to venture just across the bridge to explore them further.

After all, if everything goes to plan next week, she’ll hardly have to wait at all until she can call one of those home. Her own personal kingdom.

She leaves the rich Parisians to their river strolls, ducking into the cramped streets and tight buildings. A block away, she emerges onto a wide street and makes for the large Hôtel de Sens on one of the corners. It is coloured the same as the new townhouses across the river, white stone with a darkened roof, but designed more like a medieval castle, with towers and spires and an arched iron gate.

The guards, in their scarlet uniforms, nod at her as she approaches, swinging open the gate without a word, and she strides right up to the front door. A young woman, pretty with blue eyes and auburn hair, opens the old, creaking door after Regina knocks. She begins a welcome, but Regina steps forward, shoving by her and right into the foyer of the grand building.

The maid, spluttering, trails after her. “Excuse me, madame, what are you –”

“Fetch your master,” Regina orders, removing her soft calfskin gloves, tucking them into a pocket of her dress. The maid doesn’t move, staring at Regina as if expecting an explanation, and Regina lets out a huff of irritation.

“Are your ears full of wax, girl? Go on, get him. He is expecting me.”

She crosses her arms, unmoving. “Your name, madame?”

“No names, dear. He’ll know me. Scurry on.”

Though the maid doesn’t look convinced, she turns and disappears down one of the numerous hallways. Regina has to wait more than a few minutes before the maid remerges, beckoning Regina to follow her.

“He will see you in his study, milady.”

Regina follows the maid down a richly decorated hallway, lined with biblical paintings and tapestries. Though it looks like a house fitting for a man devoted to his God, the man waiting for Regina at the end of the hall is more demon than saint.

The office is dimly lit, the curtains drawn against the twilight sky, but the man seated behind the ornate desk is recognizable in any light.

Cardinal Gold.

He’s still ensconced in his heavy crimson clerical robes from a day at court and doesn’t rise from his desk, nor even lift his head from whatever papers he’s reading.

“Thank you, Belle,” he says, waving away the maid absently. “Close the door behind you.”

Regina drops into a chair in front of the desk as Belle closes the door. Her large skirts blow out around her, sending a puff of air that ruffles Gold’s papers and earns her a sigh of annoyance.

“You’re late,” he says as a greeting.

She shrugs. “You gave me short notice.”

He sighs again, and finally looks up from the papers. “I came across something interesting at the palace today, and I want you to keep an eye on it for me.”

“What is it?”

“The Musketeers.”

Regina straightens, keeping her face neutral. As far as she knows, Gold doesn’t know anything about her past with the Musketeers, and she’d like to keep it that way. She keeps her voice cool and asks, feigning disinterest, “On them? Why?”

“Because of the queen. When she returned from the convent and the king sent the Musketeers away, I’ve never seen her get that angry. She throws fits about everything from being left out of council meetings to her son’s lessons but this fight ... there was something more going on than just not having her precious Musketeers around. Today, at the party for the generals, I got my answer as to why.” He pauses, a cold, thoughtful expression crossing his face. “There’s one in particular I want you to watch.”

“Which one?” she asks suspiciously.

“Killian Jones.”

That name means little to Regina. Other than Robin, she’s ignored the rest of the Musketeers, and Gold describes him at her blank look – dark hair, blue eyes, slight accent. There’s only one she can think he means: the one who rode next to Robin at the coronation parade, the one who grabbed Robin on the wall at the convent to stop him coming after her.

“Okay,” she says, slowly, “I can watch him. But why? If everything goes as planned next week –”

Gold laughs coldly, and Regina falls silent, goosebumps rising on the back of her neck at the sound. She may be a heartless monster herself, but even she’s affected by the true inhumanity of Cardinal Gold.

“With you, dear Regina, that’s no guarantee. You’ve failed me twice now. The Bastille, on the way to Nantes. I am merely exploring our options if you fail me again.”

Regina bristles, and she glares at him. “That is not my fault. The Musketeers are –”

“Yes, yes, the Musketeers. That’s my point, dearie. They’ll defend the queen to the death, so should you fail again, I need a contingency plan.” He smiles, cold and dark, a shadowy demon hidden in his eyes, and he continues, “And you watching Killian Jones and Queen Emma is that plan.”

#cs ff #csbb #captain swan #captain swan big bang #cs mc ff #fic: if the stars align

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sanerontheinside · 8 years ago

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Meta Post 1: Fool of a Sith

devilangel657 replied to your post “Revenge of the Fifth”

Question! If the trade feds were technically on sidious command and they killed qui gon originally by association, why does dooku join them if they killed his former padawan?

Solid question, 10/10

Confused me for a moment there, I wasn’t sure whether you were asking about canon or the fic or the au I currently live in. This isn’t 100% meta, even, just my interpretation, or character notes for future use. @obaewankenope, @deadcatwithaflamethrower, @aidava, look at this mess. if you want. I meta’d again. Second meta post is on the Trade Federation, coming soon. uuum. also tagging @kyberpunk, @poplitealqueen, @lilyrose225writes, @maawi, @eclipsemidnight, and @stonefreeak.

(tl;dr: because he thought that would be the best way to destroy them.)

Dooku trained the most accomplished lineage of diplomats the Jedi Order had. He was often assigned missions that kept him away from the Temple for long periods of time, the same way we later see the Jinn-Kenobi team frequently away from the Temple. That must have been incredibly isolating for Padawan Qui, but on the other hand he was also apprenticed to one of the most skilled diplomats in the Order—his training was without fault.

The Council did what it would do with any skilled team: it passed them the most difficult assignments. Now, consider: the Senate provides the Order with information about some planet or other needing help. That message is relayed through at least two stopping points: locally, to the planet’s representative, and from there to the sector’s Senator or one of their aides. Each person involved in this chain has their own political agenda, and the Council can never rely on them for accurate intel. Basically, some of the most difficult cases are the ones where the team is, effectively, going in blind.

Other cases include, but are not limited to: points of conflict, brewing revolutions, coups, etc. Some of these missions are better handled by at least three teams, but the Order doesn’t have the manpower to spare. Basically, it’s all a mess.

I could almost bet Dooku was jaded even before he took his first Padawan. Consider: we know him to be from a noble family, and that is often seen as the reasoning behind his focus on networking among the powerful. Personally, I imagine Qui-Gon’s easy friendships with local pirates and questionable types stood them in good stead very often; but Dooku believed that the way to create a lasting change was to convince the powerful that such a change would be in their interest.

This is double-edged, of course, because while Dooku is not necessarily wrong, he is relatively blind to the full extent of the strife of lower classes. Meanwhile Qui-Gon accidentally blunders into revolutions wherever he goes; it’s a byproduct of the Order being poorly-informed of the local sociopolitical climate, and Qui-Gon’s own curiosity and drive to see justice done.

Manipulating Dooku

Years later, Darth Plagueis—posing as Hego Damask II, Magister of the InterGalactic Banking Clan—is quietly pulling strings in the Outer-Rim territories and manipulating trade disputes and agreements. For instance: two worlds, Celanon and Serenno, were at a dispute over transit taxes for the use of the Hydian Way hyperspace lane. Celanon was building a hyperwave transceiver—basically, a transceiver that used hyperspace to connect to the HoloNet. Because of the amount of infrastructure required for the thing to work, they had to replan the local hyperspace lanes that ships could pass through. For this reason, they decided to charge transit taxes for ships entering their space—which included Serenno.

Damask’s (Plagueis’s) plan was fairly simple: he hoped that mediation between Serenno and Celanon would fail, and then Damask Holdings would withdraw funding for building the hyperwave transceiver. Said construction would have been of benefit to the less wealthy planets in that corner of space. The moment negotiations broke down, those worlds would blame the wealthy Serenno and Celanon for it.

Damask made the error of approaching Qui-Gon Jinn during a recess in the meeting. Jinn, ever one to call the situation exactly as he saw it, ‘accused Damask Holdings of fomenting discontent in the Outer Rim in the name of profit.’ [x - see subsection Serenno: Meeting Dooku and Sifo-Dyas] Not only was that a bit blunt, but it was also exactly right. You can imagine, no Sith Lord working on enacting his Grand Plan, the Return of the Line of Bane, would be particularly excited to have an opponent who could see right through all their careful smokescreens.

Damask also took the opportunity to chat with Dooku and Sifo-Dyas. Dooku was by then well aware of corruption in the Senate, and was quite vocal about it. Sifo-Dyas was more restrained. Unfortunately, talking to Sith is universally understood to be a bad idea. Plagueis walked away from that conversation knowing that to destroy the Jedi, he had to exploit their loyalty to the Republic, to make them appear the enemies of peace rather than guardians.

At the root of Damask’s interest was the fact that Dooku, while he might have thought himself one man working against the tide, had actually done a great deal of good in the Outer Rim territories, and even foiled a number of the Sith’s plans in the process. [x - see subsection Darth Tyranus is Born]

Part of the tragedy of Dooku’s Fall is that he could see a glaring problem, and had no idea that he was already doing a great deal to fix it. That blindness, and a great deal of hubris, really. Hubris in thinking that he could build a utopia from scratch—rebuild the Republic without corruption, rebuild the Order without the faults he’d seen in it.

Dooku’s greatest disappointment was Galidraan, and Galidraan was a Sith-manipulated mess. [x]

The Governor of Galidraan rigged up a complicated scheme that was supposed to rid him both of an insurrection from his colonists and of the True Mandalorians—all of this while hiding a splinter group of the Death Watch (Viszla) on his world. The resulting scheme was designed by Sidious, of course.

So, step one: the Governor calls the True Mandalorians for help dealing with his minor insurrection, and offers to give them Pre Viszla’s location. The True Mandalorians agree and show up, setting up camp locally.

Step two: the Governor of Galidraan has the Death Watch pose as the True Mandalorians and attack the colonists.

Step three: the Governor calls the Senate in a panic begging for assistance from the Jedi Order—help, help, the Mandalorians are killing my people!

Step four: Dooku and a small team show up and surround the Mandalorian camp. Pressed for time (think of the dying colonists!), unable to verify, but possibly just the slightest bit suspicious (the Mandalorians are warriors, not butchers… surely?) the Jedi order the camp to surrender. The Mandalorians, having done nothing wrong up until this moment, open fire and resist.

Aftermath

Dooku had called for reinforcements. His hand was forced before they arrived. He and his small group were vastly outnumbered. What could have been resolved over a pot of tea instead ended in the slaughter of three hundred.

Now, on the one hand, the facts that Dooku had told him he didn’t have time for a pot of tea. On the other hand, even if we were to assume that he’d done everything right when making that decision, and still failed, that must have stung. It must have been, also, incredibly hard to face up to the fact that he’d done his best in a situation where he’d been set up for failure, and yet the Senate was forever going to use that horrible incident against the Order. The very same Senate that had sent him there without a real understanding of the situation, on the word of the Governor. The Order that had not been circumspect and simply said that Judicial would be manpower enough.

Even Chancellor Valorum would later refer to the Yinchorri Uprising as ‘another Galidraan’, and use it as an example for why the Jedi could not serve as the Republic ‘police force’. [x - see subsection Aftermath] On the one hand, it would’ve been nice if the Senate had allowed Valorum to actually declare, by law, that the Jedi were never to be sent out anywhere again for anything other than peaceful negotiations. On the other hand, a reminder of that kind of disastrous failure would have tailed Dooku for the rest of his time in the Order.

No matter whether Galidraan was his fault (an arguable point, and I’m not familiar with the book or comics), he would have still felt guilt over that disaster. He also never faced it: In Jedi vs. Sith: The Essential Guide to the Force by Ryder Wyndham, Dooku—by then Darth Tyranus is quoted as saying,

"Even though I knew that the Senate was corrupt, the Council was fallible, and Jedi training methods far from perfect, I remained with the Jedi Order for twelve years after Galidraan. Why? Because I still believed that I could accomplish some good as a Jedi. I thought I could bring about some positive changes, right certain wrongs, and do better than maintain the status quo. In short, I was an utter fool."

Dooku is willing to blame everyone else—the Senate, the Council, down to Jedi training methods. Never himself. He Knows Best, after all. Proud man, and the mightier his fall for it.

Naboo

To Dooku, Qui-Gon’s death on Naboo was just another indication of the Senate’s and Order’s ineptitude. Palpatine was only too happy to tell him the story of how his brave Padawan fell during the Battle of Naboo (even going so far as to show him a recording of the generator’s security feed, according to the comics). [x - see subsection Darth Tyranus is Born] Dooku had publicly criticised the Order and the Senate already, but this was all Palpatine needed to lure him over to the Dark Side:

[Dooku] "I declined to be a member of the Council in order to devote myself to diplomacy, and look how that has turned out. The Republic is sliding deeper into chaos." [Palpatine] "You're one man against a galaxy full of scoundrels." [Dooku] "One man should be able to make a difference if he is powerful enough."

How kind, how understanding Palpatine always was.

I imagine, even knowing that he was dealing with Sith, Dooku would never once have doubted his ability to outwit, outmaneuver those who had given him power. He would use Palpatine as Palpatine had intended to use him, and then he would destroy the Sith. He would destroy the Trade Federation, and the Banking Clans, and the Commerce Guild, and all those pesky monopolies that had been so influential in the fall of the Republic.

Once Palpatine had given him power, he proceeded to strip away Dooku’s every last connection to the Order. Every last thing that had grounded him vanished. Sifo-Dyas was killed the moment his usefulness ran out, though Dooku preserved his body in cryostasis. [I’ve meta’d here before] Somewhere in the midst of ten years of running errands for Sidious, Dooku realised that he could not win without help. He tried, he really did try, to turn to Obi-Wan for help on Geonosis.

But Dooku would never have turned to him on his own. He would never have asked for help, because no one was quite as good as he. When Obi-Wan proved to be resourceful, clever, and exactly the sort of nutcase who’d get himself into trouble the way Jinn would have, caught, and still defiant—that’s when Dooku decided to take a chance. But, alas, he walked into the cell without a plan, and what should have been a delicate manipulation to get Obi-Wan to believe him and then help him—completely blew up in his face.*

They had no common ground. Dooku had never spoken to him. He’d barely maintained contact with Qui-Gon after his Knighting, apparently, and left the Order after Obi-Wan’s. Obi-Wan had no reason to trust him, no reason to believe a word that came out of Dooku’s mouth. Unfortunate, that: the moment Obi-Wan understood Darth Tyranus had not been lying, his Grandmaster was long dead, the Jedi had been slaughtered, and Sidious had made the Republic into an Empire.

*[By the way, Dooku’s scene with Obi-Wan in AotC doesn’t strike me as one artful diplomat manipulating another. It sounds desperate, and for someone who’s supposed to be so good with words, the segue into ‘Qui-Gon always spoke very highly of you’ was rather blunt. But, as @meabhair pointed out, Lucas wrote choppy dialogue, so I suppose we can’t entirely blame the Count.]

Also, as an aside: in Silent enim leges inter arma (the frankenau), Dooku’s Turn and shocked realisation that he’s in over his head happen earlier—before Naboo. Details are still a bit hazy, but as you can see, there’s plenty to work with.

#devilangel657 #forgive me for I have meta'd #Master Dooku #silent enim leges inter arma #the frankenau #a collection of thoughts for later use #saner chats #character sketch

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quoratopstories · 8 years ago

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What is the most pernicious and persistent myth about The Lord of the Rings that is believed by people who have seen Peter Jackson's movies but haven't read the books?

I don't know about "the most pernicious and persistent myth" but there are four which I found particularly annoying. Gandalf's weakness (though don't get me wrong Ian McKellan was perfect for the part), the changing of characters in order to create imperfection, the "need" for strong female characters, and the eagles being the fifth army.

Gandalf's weakness (and others' strength)

Gandalf's weakness in the movies is completely unnecessary and blown out of proportion. Not only is he portrayed as weaker than Saruman (when Tolkien stated many times that Gandalf THE GREY was stronger than Saruman) but Tolkien sometimes estimated him to be on the same power level as Sauron himself. There was likely no great fight between Gandalf and Saruman, and even if there had been Saruman would have been able to ambush Gandalf and Gandalf likely would not have fought back. When Gandalf fought the Balrog, it was to prevent it from taking the ring of power which was only a few hundred feet from it. When Saruman captured Gandalf, Gandalf likely could not justify breaking his order not to meet force with force, especially when he allowed himself to be captured by the necromancer centuries prior. Andrea Livo's answer to Who is stronger, Gandalf or Saruman? Andrea Livo's answer to How does Sauron's power compare to that of Gandalf? Andrea Livo's answer to If Gandalf ultimately gave in to temptation, what would he be capable of. What would he do if he took the one ring for himself?

But even if we ignore those two statements, Gandalf is portrayed as being weaker than the Witch King (a mere human) as well as weaker than Galadriel. Galadriel did indeed overthrow the evil of Dol Guldur but this was when Sauron was not present and it's defense was in the care of Kamul, second in command of the Nazgul. Of course she could overcome a human sorcerer, even one centuries old. Banishing Sauron, as she did in the movies, is an entirely different matter. Tolkien himself noted that neither Galadriel nor Elrond could overcome Sauron in a one on one fight even with the power of the ring. He even went so far as to state that ONLY Gandalf could hope to overcome Sauron if he had claimed the ring as his own. It should be noted here that a lot of Galadriel's wisdom and magic came from her time learning under Melian the Maia. Gandalf is described as being the wisest of the Maiar, which would also make him wiser than Melian, Galadriel's teacher.

Gandalf is also portrayed as being answerable to Galadriel. Galadriel was one of the leaders of the Noldor who rebelled against the Valar. Gandalf time and again throughout the books displays his loyalty to the Valar (even when it places his friends in jeopardy). He would not be answerable to an elf who rebelled against his bosses.

Don't even get me started on the "love" between Gandalf and Galadriel. The elves never even considered adultery. Their relationships were the perfect Catholic marriage. While I don't mind creative license, I do mind altering the fundamental intentions of the author.

Gandalf is an angel of Eru Iluvatar, the wisest of the Maiar, one of the strongest Maiar (he was (approximately) to Sauron what Manwe was to Morgoth), and has been around since before creation. And yet he is portrayed as weak and even ignorant in comparison to the other "wise" characters in the movies.

Characters that were made "more realistic".

One of my favorite things about the Lord of the Rings and several of Tolkien's other works was the fact that it clearly outlined black from white. While some people call this being unrealistic, I find that it is merely added to the overall feeling of fantasy. That being said there are many characters which dance close to the line between good and evil: Boromir, Gollum, and Feanor to name a few. Tolkien's tale was one of good people doing the right thing, of fighting "for the right without question or pause. To being willing to march into hell for a heavenly cause" (The Impossible Dream). It was never intended to be realistic any more than Beowulf or King Arthur. I loved how noble Aragorn was in the books, and how he knew he needed to wait until the right time to be king (none of that "I don't wanna" that we see in the movies). I loved the fact that Faramir was mentally stronger than any other man and rejected the temptation of the ring without a second thought. I loved how Gandalf could inspire everyone to find it within themselves to stand up to evil. How Denethor was actually a good ruler who had been standing in the face of defeat and extinction for far too long. And I loved how Frodo and Sam withstood a test that even a man could not pass instead of them being almost childlike and making it to Mordor purely by chance and not by strength of will. All of these changes in the movies detracted from the overall feel of Lord of the Rings.

If you want ambiguous characters and a sense of "realism" in your fantasy don't try to change something to your liking. Go read Game of Thrones. Or the Silmarillion. Skip to the section about the kinslaying.

Female characters.

I love it when a movie can pass the Bechdel test, even if it is a flawed test. But Lord of the Rings is one of a few exceptions that I make. Andrea Livo's answer to The Lord of the Rings (creative franchise): Why are there so few female characters in JRR Tolkien's works?

"Tolkien wasn't just a man created by his time period (he was actually rather forward thinking for his time), he was also writing about a story set in a Medieval society. Would it be historically accurate if he did add a ton of women fighters? No. He wasn't just writing as a man in the 20th century, he was writing as a man who was trying to copy the writing styles of the Old English/Anglo Saxon period (a time in which we only have 2, very short, poems written by women).

Éowyn was the exception, she was the model of a Viking/Scandinavian woman. These women were allowed to take on masculine roles if they wanted to (which at the time included many jobs that we now see both sexes doing). You'll note that while Lord of the Rings and the Hobbit are written with a male (Anglo Saxon) voice the Silmarillion reads more like a historical text. It is here we see the true importance of women in Middle Earth and their influence both on history and on the men around them.

While one may or may not agree with Professor Tolkien's choice, he had reasons behind every word that he wrote. On the outside it might have appeared misogynistic but it wasn't being written for a modern audience. The Lord of the Rings was not nearly as popular when it came out because of its fantasy elements. Now we complain that it was biased. But it was being written largely for himself, and for other scholars of Anglo-Saxon literature who would have appreciated it for what it was attempting (and I feel succeeded) to do."

The fact that the film makers gave Arwen more of a role than she had in the books was not terribly surprising. But I could not agree with what they did with Galadriel. Her magic was in general far more subtle in the books, and when she was truly aroused she was all the more terrible and beautiful. The film makers decided that was not enough, that they needed to throw her power in the face of audience especially in the Hobbit.

Tauriel was not only male in the books (as the Captain of the Guard) but she would have been completely unnecessary if they had remained true to the story. Thranduil was very active in the world, being the one to send Legolas to Rivendell to find out what was going on. In addition, he helped as much as he was able against the threat of Sauron, even when it was something as little as watching Gollum. Tauriel's main purpose (other than "love interest") was to serve as a voice against Thranduil's "inaction". Not only that but they completely changed what little we knew of the Captain of the Guard. The Captain of the Guard was an incompetent drunk who not only let the dwarves escape but was also likely the one who let Gollum escape 60 years later.

It also upsets me that the movies created Tauriel to serve as a love interest and not as a truly independent female character.

The Fifth Army

This is a minor issue in regards to the many sins that both trilogies committed against the books. Even many people who have read the books disagree with this one, but the fifth army was not the eagles. They did not even show up until the end, and would be considered an air force in any case. The fifth army was the wargs. Wargs, like the eagles, were an independent and intelligent race. While they could not speak like the eagles could, they had their own motives and evil goals which frequently lined up with goblins and orcs. They could be equated somewhat to Shadowfax's ancestor Felarof: they had human like intelligence but still agreed to being beast of burden to an extent. To quote the Hobbit "So began a battle that none had expected; and it was called the Battle of Five Armies, and it was very terrible. Upon one side were the Goblins and the wild Wolves, and upon the other were Elves and Men and Dwarves." In my mind the movies committed a huge sin by not only changing who the five armies were (either Men, Elves, Dwarves, Goblins, and Eagles or Men, Elves, Dwarves, Bolg's Army, and Azog's Army depending on how you look at it) but by leaving the wargs out of the battle entirely. Especially when the title of the third movie was “The Battle of the Five Armies”.

A few of the (many) other sins and myths in the movies are: the eagle's inability to talk (which spawned the huge myth that the eagles could fly the ring to Mordor), Beorn's appearance (he was a large MAN), Elven vegetarianism (they ate meat and hunted multiple times throughout LotR, the Hobbit, and the Silmarillion), that the Nazgul rode "dragons" (instead of the fell beasts in the books), that Shadowfax was white instead of grey (they still picked a gorgeous horse), Azog's existence in the Hobbit (he died almost 150 years prior), and many many more. Pick a scene from the movies. I'm sure that most of us die hard Tolkien fans could find SOMETHING wrong with it.

Read other answers by

Andrea Livo on Quora:

Where was Radagast the Brown during The Lord of the Rings?

Why is Elrond considered to be a Peredhil (Half-Elf) when he's actually not?

In The Fellowship of the Ring, why did Gandalf only pull out the bigtime magic against the Balrog? Could he have used that kind of firepower earlier to the Fellowship's benefit?

Read more answers on Quora. via Quora http://ift.tt/2jXqvEx

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christinaepilzauthor-blog · 7 years ago

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Lord Rhys; Welsh First, Henry's Second

by Jean Gill We all know something about King Henry II of England and Thomas Becket, but few have heard of another powerful man who sparked off the temper of that fiery king and then, against all odds, gained his trust: Lord Rhys. When Henry died in 1189, Lord Rhys, the Welsh ruler of the kingdom of Deheubarth, had been the royal Justiciar of South Wales for seventeen years, an alliance arrived at through war, truce and stubbornness on both sides. At the peak of their conflict, frustrated in battle, Henry ordered that twenty-two Welsh hostages, including Rhys' son, should have their eyes gouged out. Yet the two rulers then became firm allies. How is that possible? How could a father accept such an alliance? The answer might lie in Rhys' own style of leadership and his background. Maybe he accepted such an action in war because it's exactly what he himself would have done. Certainly, the alliance was politically expedient for both rulers as, although Rhys could never win against Henry's superior manpower, Welsh guerilla warfare could harass and tire the slow, heavy English soldiers, ad infinitum. An alliance gave them both peace and a means to keep in check the greed of the Norman Marcher Lords. However, their truce held strong through later trials, when expediency for Rhys was not in loyalty to Henry, suggesting something deeper between the two men. For his part, there is no doubt that Henry felt respect for Rhys and his countrymen. 'In one part of the island [of Britain] there is a race of people called the Welsh who are so brave and untamed that, though unarmed themselves, they do not hesitate to do battle with fully armed opponents' King Henry II 1176

Lord Rhys

Who was Rhys? His praise-singer described him as 'golden' and it might be that he was 'fair' like his mother Gwenllian, a princess of North Wales, who eloped with Gruffydd, Prince of Deheubarth to become a legend in her new kingdom. 'Fair' and 'golden' are compliments with many possible meanings: attractive, just, gifted, lucky, or, of course, blonde (no longer the compliment it once was!). The only other clues to his appearance are in a 14th century effigy on a tomb in St David's Cathedral, thought to be of Lord Rhys, in which he sports a moustache worthy of a WW2 RAF pilot. Nobody would have expected him to rule Deheubarth. Youngest of six brothers, he was four years old when his mother, Gwenllian the Warrior Princess, was betrayed by a Welshman and beheaded by the Norman, Maurice De Londres, on the battlefield now known as Maes Gwenllian. One brother, Morgan, died in the same battle and another, Maelgwyn, disappeared, never to be heard of again. Rhys' father died a year later, of illness or grief. The eldest surviving brother, Anarawd, then became leader until he was murdered in 1143 by order of his future brother-in-law, Cadwaladr of North Wales. The next brother, Cadell, was so badly injured by Normans from Tenby in 1151, when he was out hunting, that he renounced all worldly matters, retiring to a monastery after going on a pilgrimage.

The coat of arms of Deheubarth

Cadell left his two younger brothers, Maredudd and Rhys as joint rulers in his absence, which turned out to be permanent. Closeness between noble Welsh brothers was rare as they were usually fostered while young and competing for inheritance (with the support of their foster families) as they matured. Gelding and/or blinding were not uncommon ways of showing mercy to the loser while protecting an inheritance. However, Rhys and Maredudd, two years older, had never been fostered and had survived losses that were cruel even by the standard of the day. What little evidence remains suggests that they were close, that they rode together and fought together to win back the lands lost during their father's time.

Wales 1153

1153, the year my fictional troubadours arrive in Gwalia (Wales), was indeed a golden year for Henry, who was named heir to the English throne by its incumbent Stephen, and also for Rhys and Maredudd. They were on a winning streak and continued to regain castles and land; Carmarthen, Llansteffan, Tenby and St Clears – a 21st birthday present for Rhys in his first sortie as Commander. They even regained Ceredigion, which the North Wales allies had helped them to defend, years earlier – and had then kept for their own, at the time Anarawd was murdered. Now there is a story begging to be told!

I have reconstructed the taking of Tenby and St Clears from details of the building structures there in 1153, starting from the terse statement in the Brut y Tywysogion. 'There was not much time afterwards before the sons of Rhys attacked the castle of Tenby, and by a night plot, after breaking the gate, they got possession of the castle, and delivered it into the [custody] of William, son of Gerald. And when that was accomplished, Rhys, son of Gruffudd, with an immense host, laid waste the castle of Ystrad Cyngen. So, a night plot it was! Unfortunately, 'an immense host' seems to be poetic license, as on-the-spot research from Tenby sent me records showing the 12th century castle to be a small stronghold, little more than a watchtower, and St Clears (Ystrad Cyngen) was an even smaller motte and bailey. This is why, in my version of events, my hero Dragonetz observes, 'It's smaller than I thought it would be,' before the men lay siege. There is also some disagreement as to whether events took place in 1152 or 1153, a minor matter considering how little information there is on major events! I can't find any indication of how Maredudd died but it seems that this happened in 1155 and Rhys became sole ruler, Prince of Deheubarth, or 'the Lord Rhys', the title he's known by nowadays. He continued to build his kingdom, and not just figuratively. He built castles in the Norman style, and as solidly expensive as theirs; Cardigan, Cilgerran, Dinefwr and Llandovery, among others. According to the cleric and writer, Gerald of Wales, a relative who stayed as Rhys' guest on his Journey Through Wales, Rhys was 'kindly' and 'discreet', a perfect host. He was highly cultured and drew poets and musicians to his court. You can imagine the harper playing in Rhys' castle in Cardigan, as at King Henry's court, where a Welsh harper was also employed. Steeped in this musical tradition, Lord Rhys is credited with hosting the first Eisteddfod, at Christmas in 1176. He also started the codification of Welsh laws, later continued by Hywel Dda. I would argue that, when he did so, he had read The Usatges of Barcelona, laws that influenced law-making throughout Europe. He founded Cistercian monasteries but hated bad clerics. Rhys was nicknamed 'the Good' and yet he died excommunicate for arguing with a bishop over a horse theft. His body had to be scourged before burial, in penance. He was reputed to be charming, a man who loved many women, and this proved to be damaging for the succession in Deheubarth. Linked to Henry II in their life-times, Rhys faced the same problem; his children's conflicts, with him and with each other. Rhys had at least nine children by various mothers and as legitimacy was not important in Welsh law, claims to Deheubarth were violently disputed.

Notwithstanding the conflicts, Rhys' children played their own parts in history. Through one daughter named Gwenllian (there were several, just to add to the confusion), Rhys could claim ancestry to the Tudors, and from them to several of the ruling houses in Europe today, including the UK. Henry Tudor flew a Welsh dragon banner at Bosworth field to acknowledge his descent from this remarkable man, Rhys, Prince of Deheubarth. Further reading/ Acknowledgements http://www.maryjones.us/ctexts/brut_y_tywysogion.html This is the version of Brut y Tywysogion translated by William ab Ithel in the 19th century. The Lord Rhys – Roger Turvey The Journey through Wales and The Description of Wales – Gerald of Wales Photos 1) Effigy of Rhys ap Gruffydd in St David's Cathedral, Wales scanned from the 1810 engraving by John Conlon Credit: Rhion Pritchard 2/3/2006. Public Domain Image. 2) The coat of arms of Deheubarth By AlexD (Own work) [CC BY-SA 3.0 (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0) or GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html)], via Wikimedia Commons https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/e/ef/Coat_of_arms_of_Deheubarth.svg 3) Map of Wales in 1153 Adapted from Map of Wales 986-99 (Maredudd ab Owain) courtesy of AlexD under the Creative Commons license 4 and 5 Llansteffan Castle © Jean Gill 6 Welsh dragon on plate © Jean Gill ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Song Hereafter is available as a paperback and an e-book. Amazon.com Amazon.co.uk On website Jean's website Amazon author page Facebook Troubadours Page Facebook Author Page Twitter Sign up for Jean's Newsletter for exclusive news and offers, with a free book as a welcome.

Hat Tip To: English Historical Fiction Authors

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