#oath-sworn and reborn

[cursed-ever-to-wander]

OC Roster

Since I got a bit on inspiration, I suppose it might be a good opportunity to use and describe two my Soulsborne OC I sometimes post about here - Nox and Nizsseax.

Nox - character tag "Dragonseeker and Usurper"

Involved in: Dark Souls trilogy, background character in Elden Ring

Basic info: failed sorceress from the Vinheim's Dragon School turned dragon-obsessed pyromancer. Klutz and often finds herself in some variety of a mess, with time also starts suffering from memory issues caused by prolonged existence as an undead.

Notable visual details: vibrant red dragon tattoos covering significant portion of her body; sickly pale and ashy skin; light-grey hair worn in long braids; red eyes. Darksign/Dark Sigil located on the backside of her left hand.

In her original iteration Nox had (badly researched and presented) albinism, in her present iteration her skin, hair and eye coloring is a result of how her first "death" involved a lot of uncontrolled pyromancy and her practically literally "rising from the ashes" in the aftermath.

Trivia: afraid of spiders, uses "quirky outgoing silly undead" as persona to hide behind, allergic to talking about her feelings and especially about her grief

Verses:

- main version of Nox is a protagonist/deuteragonist of the Dark Souls trilogy in the final of the trilogy making the choice to usurp the First Flame and becoming Lord of Hollows (still a klutz)

- alternate version of Nox - Paledrake Nox stays in the Duke's Archives and eventually transforms into a paledrake form, not unlike the one of Consumed King Oceiros. A bit friendlier compared to him, though

- post-game version of Nox - now as a Lord of Hollows shrinking their lordly duties appears as background character in the Elden Ring as a comedic relief eldritch horror

Relevant TW: mild gore and violence, character death, mild body horror

Nizsseax - character tag "Oath-sworn and Reborn"

Involved in: Elden Ring

Basic info: Tarnished glintstone sorceress of the Raya Lucaria Nissa merged into one with the ancient dragon Aizsseax oath-sworn to the royal family of Caria in a rite of Rebirth.

Nissa as a Tarnished was hounded from the Lands Between and returned with the call of Grace, while Aizsseax was killed in the civil war and salvaged for the alchemical ingredients barring few of the scales Nissa was able to find upon her return.

Notable visual details: as the joining of Nissa and Aizsseax into one being is not natural by any means their body is slowly changing and twisting, both dragon scales and glintstone overtaking (im?)mortal form. Claws, dragon eyes and proudly-worn colours and sigils of Full Moon and Dark Moon.

Trivia: Nizsseax are fiercely loyal to Rennala and their journey takes them across the Lands Between in an attempt to help Rennala heal her broken heart. It eventually leads Nizsseax into service of Lady Ranni, of whom they become equally protective and loyal to. Aizsseax is rather insufferable being stuffed into pitiful human form, while Nissa is a small ball of anxiety one rude sentence away from crying.

Verses:

- main version of Nizsseax is a Tarnished in service of Rennala and Ranni, traveling the land in search of things that might help Rennala and on the orders from Ranni

- post-game Nissa and Aizsseax are once again separated and Celestial Consort Nissa departs for the stars with Ranni, while Aizsseax remains in the Lands Between returning to her watch as the oath-sworn dragon of Rennala

Relevant TW: mild gore and violence, prominent elements of body horror, character death(-ish)

[yourbestiethejestie]

I'm still figuring out the emotes mod I downloaded, but here's one of my favorite shots of the night :3

[incorrect-green-lantern-quotes]

do you ever think about what it was like for the Green Lantern Corps during Emerald Twilight? I try not to do it too much because when I do I wanna punch holes in the wall and cry

Hal fights at least eight of his fellow Green Lanterns on his way to Oa. Some of them, like Boodikka and Kreon, he'd personally recruited to the Corps. All of them, he strips of their rings and leave them floating in the void. Geoff Johns might've brought them back as the Lost Lanterns, but before that retcon, there was no way for them to have survived.

How many other Green Lanterns died like that when Parallax destroyed the Central Battery? Their rings suddenly shutting off with no explanation, cutting off their life support and leaving them to choke in the cold vacuum of space. Some, I imagine, were on their way to fight Hal, and they die wondering if they could have stopped this if they'd just been faster, stronger, better...

Others however, had no clue of what was happening on Oa. Adara, a former Green Lantern that Kyle meets on his first venture into space, says as much. Her ring died while she was fighting Corellian privateers, and she only survived because her enemies wanted to capture her.

Green Lantern (1990) Issue #56

Dozens, perhaps even hundreds of her fellow GLs aren't as fortunate. Their final thoughts are of bewilderment and pain and terror. But perhaps the ones who died early are the lucky ones.

Adara is tortured by the privateers before she's able to escape. Later on, Kyle encounters Fatality, the last survivor of Xanshi. Her ship is filled with trophies of the former Green Lanterns she'd hunted and killed.

The Green Lanterns had many enemies as a result of both their successes and failures. The fall of the Corps would have been a golden opportunity to exact revenge on its now-powerless members. And they likely wouldn't have had much trouble finding them.

Old habits die hard. Green Lanterns are heroes after all, with or without their abilities. The Oath is not just a passphrase to charge their rings, it is the promise that they keep with every breath. They would have continued to help others and protect the innocent because that's what they do. But without their power, without the protection of their Corps, one by one the former lights of the universe are snuffed out.

And of those who remain, at least a few are forced to sacrifice the principles they had once sworn by, just to survive in a universe that is now hostile to them. Fear and desperation drive even the best of the universe's heroes to allow evil to escape their sight, and for at least one, the shame is too much to bear.

Adara seduced Kyle and stole his ring while he slept, trying to reclaim the life that had been taken from her. Neither knew then that this last ring was keyed to his DNA and would never have worked for her. For all Adara knew, the ring rejected her because she'd broken her oath, and this is the final straw that breaks her. She rejects Kyle's offer to start a new life and instead turns herself into yet another casualty of the Emerald Twilight

In the end, it is impossible to name all of the Green Lanterns who fell with their Corps, whether it was in the initial slaughter or in the dark years after. It is easier to count the survivors, the lucky few like Salakk or Rot Lop Fan who lived to see their Corps reborn and helped rebuild it.

[doodle-pops]

A Love That Burns

Celegorm x reader

Request: I'M SO GLAD YOU OPENED THE REQUESTS NONNY!!!!!! You are an absolutely wonderful writer, I eat every one of your writing like the best steak ever🥺🥺 I live for angst, so👉👈 Can i request a fem!reader x celegorm or carantir? Reader is the human wife of one of our angry boys, and although she loves her husband very much, she still feels insecure in relationship with the elf because of societal prejudices(( And the boy is tired and doesn't want to deal with anything and the reader has been subjected to some taunts and tries to tell her beloved about it(( But doesn't have time and her elf snaps at her and they fight a lot... And this hothead forgets to control his stupid mouth and says he regrets marrying the reader((((( Of course he didn't mean it, but now he still has to deal with the consequences of his words and his lovely wife's low self-esteem(( Happy or unhappy ending, your choice! – anon

A/N: This was different from what you requested anon, and I’m terribly sorry. I do despise not writing what someone requested, however, I got lost in the writing because it was ANGST, a beloved theme of mine. I did try my best to stay on the part of the dispute and angst theme, but the reasons were entirely different from what you described. Apologies in advance, yet I hope you all enjoy it!

Warnings: heavy angst, breakup, dispute, mentions of Tyelko’s physical altercations, hurt/no comfort or happy ending

Words: 2k

Synopsis: You've decided after years of following the leader, to make your own stand and create a new path in your life.

As you stormed into the cosy room, the door slammed shut behind you, capturing the attention of your husband. He sat there, aloof and unperturbed, even though the anger coursing through your veins was impossible to miss. You shot him a fierce glance, and he casually raised a wine glass to his lips before turning his attention back to the dancing flames in the fireplace. Curiously, Huan, his loyal companion, was absent from the room this time, offering you a rare moment of solitude to confront the silver–haired, nonchalant elf.

With the room now yours alone, you felt liberated to unleash a torrent of fury and horror upon your husband. “You certainly left your mark today,” you seethed, your voice dripping with suppressed rage as you rifled through the closet, yanking clothes from drawers and shelves. Celegorm’s back remained turned, allowing you to carefully plan your approach without escalating the impending argument prematurely.

A scoff escaped his lips, followed by an eye roll and a leisurely yawn. It was a familiar scenario, one that played out every time he committed some outrageous act that grated on your sensibilities. Tonight was no exception. He seized the opportunity to make it a grand spectacle, leaving some unfortunate young elf languishing in a jail cell, beaten and bruised. While his actions might have warranted a more measured response, your husband was hardly one to concern himself with propriety when his adrenaline surged.

“I’ve always had a knack for leaving a lasting impression, my dear. It’s part of who I am; you ought to know that by now,” he retorted with a snide undertone. He exuded an air of regal charm and charisma as he spoke, seemingly immune to the consequences of his deeds, convinced that they were merely lessons in “respect” and “superiority.”

A surge of disgust welled up inside you as you shot a sidelong glance at him while continuing to stuff your clothes into his hunting bags. His utter lack of self–awareness and compassion left you bewildered. The Celegorm you had once known, a carefree, compassionate, and admittedly stubborn elf, seemed like a distant memory. Well, the stubborn part was still very much intact, but the night he had sworn that ominous oath had marked a turning point. It was as if you had witnessed the elf you once loved killed a part of himself, only to be reborn as a living nightmare. At times, you had even tried to convince yourself that this transformation was a necessary response to the darkness lurking in the world.

Day after day, night after night, you made promises and excuses for his behaviour. “He’ll change, he’ll change. This isn’t truly him,” you chanted to yourself after every heated confrontation. Yet, Celegorm had a knack for shattering your hope and turning it into a cruel mirage. You had lost all your friends, and any family who had wished to reach out had distanced themselves, fearing Tyelko would turn their presence into yet another issue. Jealousy had never been an issue before, nor had paper–thin insults. Things that could have been brushed off and ignored were now carefully nurtured by him, allowed to fester and destroy your life.

You were utterly alone, with even his presence feeling non–existent.

“It’s quite fascinating how your idea of making a lasting impression involves beating up those who dare to voice their whimsical comments. Must you inflict harm upon people for their veiled statements?” you snapped, unable to contain your thoughts any longer, your frustration with his demeanour finally bubbling over.

“Are you still dwelling on about that?” he retorted, irritation lacing his voice as he tightened his grip on the wine glass, causing a hairline crack to snake its way along its delicate surface.

Furious and fed up, you flung the clothes onto the ground, your anger and frustration boiling over. You spun around and shouted at him, “Yes, I am! And I won’t apologise if it bothers you, since you never bother to do the same for me!” Your inner turmoil had reached a breaking point, and you longed to shake some semblance of compassion into him. His obliviousness to the pain his thoughtless actions caused you only added more fuel to the fire. “All you ever do is harm people for senseless reasons and act as if no one should ever dare to criticise your actions!”

Growing tired of craning his neck and straining his ear to hear your grievances, he abandoned the sofa and turned to face you. He remained by the fireplace, enjoying the warmth it offered. He stared at you with his piercing forest green eyes, a silent warning that seemed to say, “Choose your words carefully.”

“No one has the right to speak about my family and our actions! They have no idea what we’re going through—”

“Well, I do, because I live it every day with you, and your methods of releasing your frustrations are unbearable!” You yelled in frustration, your voice rising in pitch. “I’ve tried to help you, and you’ve pushed me away, so now you resort to displaying your insecurities.”

“Insecurities?!” His right eye twitched, and he strode across the room to confront you, his fists clenched in frustration. His bewildered expression betrayed genuine hurt at your accusations, as if he couldn’t fathom you taking jabs at his struggles. It was a side of you he hadn’t expected; you had always been the compassionate and thoughtful one. “How is me defending you and my family from naysayers an act of insecurity?”

He shifted his weight to his left leg, his hips rolling in a display of astonishment. You locked eyes with him, your anger still burning as he threw a seemingly irrelevant question your way, acting as if he had no knowledge of the answer. He had witnessed your slow withdrawal from him and his circle, even from his family, but he seemed oblivious to anything beyond power, glory, and the oath. The Tyelko you once loved and grew with had faded away, and it wasn’t just the oath that had changed him; his true ambitions had rendered your presence obsolete, especially if this was the outcome of your arguments.

“Tyelko,” you began with an exasperated sob, “I’ve loved you for so many years, through thick and thin. I stood by your side even when your father was wrong, and I was foolish not to see it. I endured the silent suffering of Formenos, standing with you through your transformations. You think I wouldn’t recognize your insecurity? You only lash out when things don’t go your way to make yourself feel better.” Tears welled up in your eyes, and a few escaped, staining your clothes. Ignoring his judgmental gaze, you lowered your head to wipe your eyes and nose, sniffling as a mixture of tears and snot streamed down your face.

“That still doesn’t explain anything,” he snapped.

Casting him a look of disbelief, you realised that explaining this to him like he was a child was futile; he refused to see your perspective. “You’re becoming just like your father in the later years of his marriage, and I’m forced to walk in your mother’s footsteps. I have no friends left because of you; they’re terrified you’ll harm them if they speak up about my new life. I’m lonely, and you’re not listening. I take part of the blame for following you, but you...you’re tearing apart the rest of my life.”

“They’re not your friends if they’re worried about me making advances,” he retorted, his tone dripping with an air of self–righteousness, as if he had just uttered the wisdom of the ages. “But seriously, how am I ruining your life when I’m just clearing away obstacles?”

A surge of rage erupted within you, the lid of your patience finally blown off, and your words spilt out uncontrollably. “Because you never listen to me! You always believe what you’re doing is for the best, even when I’m clearly unhappy! I’m lonely because you drive everyone away; you don’t offer me the comfort and support you used to! You dismiss my concerns, telling me I’m complaining too much or that I’m a bother. You pick fights with anyone who disagrees with your family’s actions, and it terrifies people! I can’t go on like this anymore, and I’m exhausted!”

He stood there, silent and immobile in the doorway, his face contorting in a mix of confusion and disbelief. His expression seemed to ask, “What are you saying?” as he gingerly placed the wine glass on a nearby shelf in the closet. He opened his mouth to respond, but then hesitated, a deep frown furrowing his brow as he watched you spin around and begin gathering the clothes scattered on the floor, stuffing them into a bag. “W–What are you doing?” he stammered, his voice tinged with concern.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” you groaned, forcefully shoving another set of clothes into the bag, your frustration evident. “I’m leaving. This life here isn’t for me.”

Your words hit him like a ton of bricks. Leave? You couldn’t be serious. Your home was with him, your lives were intertwined, and the idea of you leaving him was incomprehensible.

Stumbling forward in a state of shock, he cried out in anguish, “Y–You can’t leave me! We’re married, we have a bond, a life together! You can’t just abandon me! Tell me this is some kind of cruel joke, my love?” Your silence only fuelled his panic, pushing him toward hysterics. He knew that when you fell silent, it was a grave sign of your seriousness, and the waves of displeasure and dissatisfaction coursing through your bond were tearing him apart. He wanted to reach out and shake you, but he had no idea how you’d react.

“Y/N, please answer me, darling? I beg you, tell me you’re not leaving, that you’re just taking a break, perhaps some time away in the cabin?” His voice was filled with anguish and guilt, only now realising the gravity of your pleas as reality crashed down upon him.

You breathed heavily as you continued to gather your belongings, doing your best to avoid eye contact with his anguished performance. Where was this reaction when you first voiced your concerns? “I have every reason to leave, Your Highness. Removing myself from your presence is what I need, and I hope it brings me peace.”

“No! You can’t leave me. I—I love you! Can’t you see that? All those fights I got into defending you from insults and harm, it was because I love you! There was more to them than what meets the eye!” He pleaded with a heavy burden of guilt and regret, willing to get down on his knees if it meant you’d stay, but his pride seemed to hold him back.

Finally gathering all your belongings and slinging the bags over your shoulders, you didn’t bother changing into travel clothes. You’d do that later at a tavern along the way. As you moved toward the exit, Celegorm’s presence blocked your path. “I—…You have every right to be upset with me right now, and I know this, but… Give me a chance, just one chance to make things right! I can change.”

“Why didn’t you change before when you had the chance, instead of now?” He stood there, mouth agape, speechless. “I’ve had wonderful moments with you for most of my life, but these last few years have tarnished everything. And as much as I blame myself, you bear a share of responsibility. Now, step aside and let me leave in peace.” With that, you pushed past him, determined to embark on a new chapter of your life, leaving behind the turbulent past that had brought you to this point.

You didn’t spare him a glance, even though your heart ached with the weight of your decision. It was a wonder how his mother had managed to stand her ground and leave his father, but now you understood what separation felt like. You weren’t sure whether you wanted to leave your heart at the doorstep or cast it aside entirely. All you knew was that making the right decision for the betterment of your life was a painful, but necessary, choice. You only prayed that you would manage successfully on your own without crumbling to the floor.

Masterlist

Taglist: @lilmelily @ranhanabi777 @mysticmoomin @rain-on-my-umbrella @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @sakurayaxd @ladyenchanted @involuntaryspasms @stormchaser819 @aconstructofamind @addaigio @lamemaster @hermaeuswhora

If you would like to be tagged, click on the taglist link.

[ceescedasticity]

A writeup/outline of the House of the Dragon/Song of Ice and Fire fic I worked on feverishly for a month and a half:

Premise: So, over two-four months of binging HotD fanfic before abruptly focusing on something else, I found a lot of fics with one or more Game of Thrones-era characters being reborn into the Dance era, but very few in reverse — I can only remember one, and it overwrote a canon character who I like with a HotD character I don't care about so meh. (There were a handful more with HotD characters suddenly being transported to the GoT era, but most were abandoned.)

So, the other way around — why might such a thing happen?

Well — Jace owes the Starks a Targaryen princess. The Starks seem to have felt dying cleared the debt, but they aren't the only ones who might care about oaths sworn in godswoods. So, Jace gets to be reborn until he delivers. As a girl, because he doesn't have a right to promise other Targaryen princesses. —Except his brothers. Well, sisters.

Unfortunately the Old Gods do not have free access to Targaryens; they need there to be a backdoor, so not every generation is accessible. Also they are possibly using a somewhat perverse definition of "princess".

First backdoor: Melissa Blackwood, one of the mistresses of Aegon the Unworthy. Jace and Luke are reborn as Mya and Gwenys Rivers. (Melissa's third child is a boy, and also earmarked for other purposes, so Joff sits out this round.) Even after they're legitimized they're not precisely princesses; there's no reason the Starks would want to marry them. They end up pretty preoccupied with Targaryen stuff anyway, supporting Daeron II and opposing the Blackfyre Rebellion. They go through some bad stuff. There's a whole story here, between the Blackfyre Rebellion and the frankly insane dynamics of Aegon IV's court.

(Part of the story is about their little brother, Brynden Rivers, who loves them very much and also sees who they are after a greenseer-awakening sojourn on the Isle of Faces.)

Altogether it's not an entirely unsuccessful life, but delivering Targaryen princess: Not accomplished.

You might think that Betha Blackwood would be the next backdoor! You would be wrong. Possibly Shaera was un-meddleable due to upcoming Prince that was Promises bloodlines. Possibly the Old Gods are set on only reincarnating them as questionable princesses.

The next backdoor is Jenny. Duncan and Jenny weren't planning on having children, but whoopsie-daisy, twin girls. Jenny's friend (the future Ghost of High Heart, henceforth Woman of the Forest/WotF because I don't want to keep typing that) sees some things about the babies, but not very clearly, so they end up named Junia and Layne.

Junia and Layne have a good, sheltered childhood. (Junia could definitely have been a much better and more responsible princess than Shaera, but whatever.) They're in their mid-teens when Aegon V comes up with his dragon-hatching scheme. They are 1000% on board with this. They love dragons. Targaryens without dragons is just wrong. They die at Summerhall. But — and this will be important — the WotF understands their situation enough to know they will eventually be back.

If Lyanna Stark had daughters (who didn't already have Destinies), that would have been a suitable backdoor. But, she doesn't, and her son mustn't be tampered with. And of course not much later there's a serious Targaryen shortage.

If I were writing this properly I'd introduce Jessamyn, Lucinda, and Jocelyn Flint and leave the connection vague until later, but since I'm not — their mother Mona (short for Daemona) was a Blackfyre in the female line. Their father Ronnel is the backdoor, and a younger son of House Flint of Flint's Finger who ran off to become a sellsword in Essos.

(This is the most excruciating parentage by far, because after Mya and Gwenys's experiences they really, really hate Blackfyres.) (Joff is here for the first time, and Jess and Lucy won't let Jo out of sight, mostly.)

Ronnel says they're trueborn and no one in Westeros can contradict him, but technically their parents never formally married (no godswoods available).

Mona dies and Ronnel gets sick/takes an injury that won't heal/idk something where he's dying but not immediately. Mona didn't trust her family, so Ronnel takes the girls to the North. He'll trust his brother with his daughters' safety — but not with the several chests of Essosi gold Ronnel is leaving to them. Those Ronnel entrusts to Eddard Stark, the contents to be released to his daughters only; as a compromise, they can withdraw some before they marry to help offset expenses.

Thus they are not infrequent visitors to Winterfell, not close to the Starks but quite well acquainted. Which puts them closer to 'marrying a Stark' than they've ever been, but Catelyn is very clear that they are not suitable prospects. Jessamyn Flint is a responsible girl with enough dowry for a respectable smaller house to overlook questionable origins and some personal eccentricities, but shouldn't look higher.

Also Jess has a temper — better controlled than Jace's, because Mya faced severe consequences for lashing out and Junia's family actually taught her how to manage anger, but it's still there. When it shows up at Winterfell it's usually because Theon Greyjoy, comedic genius, has reacted to Lucy's somewhat boyish behavior by persistently nicknaming her Brave Lucy Flint. This is generally agreed to be reasonable grounds for even a lady to lose her shit. (If Jess had Jace's training and muscle mass it would be all over for him.)

Cascade effect from this: Because the Brave Danny Flint thing gets brought up over and over and OVER again, tied into reality in a way the song alone won't do, Jon is much less enthusiastic about the Night's Watch. In fact, he wants to go for a knighthood first (or instead) — when he leaves Winterfell he goes to House Locke, one of the handful of Northern houses that does knighthood. And when the North goes to war, Jon rides with House Locke to the Green Fork and gets captured.

After Robb is crowned, Jess has the idea of reaching out to her father's contacts in the Company of the Rose — would any of them want to come defend an independent North, at least enough to get a good price hiring them? She also volunteers her dowry to pay for it. So, Jess and one of her Flint cousins set out to get a ship to Essos, and Lucy (with Jo) is dispatched to Winterfell to get the gold if things work out.

The three-eyed raven gives Bran a very clear and explicit warning about Theon's party approaching, with instructions on how to avert it. The castle falling would be useful to drive his successor northwards, but Brynden is not about to let Gwenys get captured by Ironborn. The attack is foiled with minimal casualties, but Theon takes out one of Lucy's eyes. (Lucy has a hysterical laughing fit before passing out.)

—After this Theon is either dispatched for the Wall and does Night's Watch things or "escapes" with "Reek" and has a very bad time.

In the course of preparing for the attack Brynden revealed through Bran that he's still alive and can communicate through weirwoods. He has to be much less cryptic in explaining why Bran needs to cross the Wall. Lucy is unconvinced and says she certainly couldn't let Bran go without her, which Brynden doesn't like at all. Fortunately for Brynden's plans Lucy is still in recovery, and she is unable to stop Bran from slipping away with the Reeds, Hodor, and also Jo. Brynden will be in so much trouble when she tells Mya.

Jess has her own problems. The safe thing to do would be to head to Essos by way of White Harbor — but starting from Riverrun that's a long way out of the way. Sneaking through the Riverlands to Saltpans should be much faster. It's a terrible idea but Jess knows the Riverlands well (or did when she was Mya) and her cousin is short on common sense. They get caught and taken to Tywin at Harrenhal. We now have Jess, Jon, Arya, and Tywin all in Harrenhal.

Which is not quite the same as it is in canon, because — remember Jenny's friend knowing Jenny's daughters would be reborn someday?

The Woman of the Forest dug up those seven dragon eggs Aegon V brought to Summerhall and buried them by the Harrenhal heart tree. They'd already been in a pyre with way more than seven people, and Harrenhal has plenty more death to offer, so when magic starts growing again — say, about when the direwolf mother came south — they hatch. Now the Harrenhal godswood has seven possibly cursed dragons. (Almost definitely cursed, really. They're most active at night and stealthier than they should be even at night; they grew quickly to a fairly small size for dragons and then stopped; they are uncannily knowing for animals.)

Cursed or not they've been very considerate for dragons — they've never attacked inside the castle. They're practically friendly with the castle smallfolk who discovered and secretly fed them. (The smallfolk called them after the major houses of Harrenhal — Hoare, Qoherys, Harroway, Towers, Strong, Lothston, and Whent.) When they started attacking Lannister raiders they did it outside the castle.

Since Jon Snow has been a prisoner, one of them has been lurking around the relevant tower more.

When Jess arrives, one breaks into her cell within a few days. (Jon is an option. They're meant for Jess.) (The one that's most for her is Strong, because of course it is.)

There's a very exciting night after which they're in control of Harrenhal and Jess and Jon have claimed dragons, to Jon's consternation. (Two more of the dragons are destined for Lucy and Jo.)

Blah blah, more stuff happens, I'm not sure how the war works out exactly but Robb marries Jess after all because she's from a good northern family and HAS A DRAGON.

They still have quite a bit to do up North even before the Others show up because in addition to the Ironborn and potential Bolton problems—

No Jon Snow means Lord Mormont gets killed by a wight, which means that the Watch started attempting to elect a new Lord Commander and deadlocked. No Great Ranging. No infiltration of Mance Rayder's wildlings by Jon or anyone else. Wherever the wildling army attacks — maybe not Castle Black if it's full of election — they're a surprise, and any wall-climbing advance guard was un-infiltrated. Mance gets through.

(Which will actually be a benefit when the Others show! Going to take a while to work that out, though.)

The Bastard Dragons will likely help with all this. (Also Brynden has to be careful with Bran or his sisters will be disappointed.)

Anyway anyway — that's only four out of seven bastard dragons spoken for, and what about the Greens?

So, considering the dragonkeepers as a quasi-religious order. They are likely to be distraught when the last dragon dies. They perhaps might want to demand vengeance — perhaps not on the current king, both because the senior Dragonstone dragonkeepers remember Aegon III as a little boy who loved Stormcloud plus, you know, he's the king. Perhaps they might instead turn to Valyrian blood magic and access to Targaryen funerary urns, and commit mass ritual murder-suicide to chain the guilty to life where they can be punished.

This doesn't work with an empty funeral urn, so they can't actually target Rhaenyra or Daemon, or Daeron. Any non-Targaryens aren't on the table at all. But Aegon II and Helaena had funerals, and Aemond's bones were dredged up with Vhagar's. (Some might question the inclusion of Helaena among the guilty, but her suicide triggered the storming of the Dragonpit.)

The curse will see them reborn, when a Hightower has a child with Targaryen blood. The curse will see their bodies warped with approximations of draconic traits, eventually killing them painfully. The curse will end when there are dragons again.

The first available "child of a Hightower, with Targaryen blood" is the youngest daughter of Rhaena and Garmund Hightower, followed by Rhaena's daughters's children. They go through a few rounds of this before some of the Hightowers figure out what's going on. They come up with a way to stall the curse, but decide that probably they should try to avoid marrying Targaryens. Rhaena's grandchildren don't bear the Hightower name, so it doesn't fall on any of them.

It does pop up when Viserys Plumm marries a Hightower. And when a Hightower fathers a child on a dragonseed whore, years after that.

(The curse doesn't specify gender, but somehow Aegon is a girl every time. He undergoes character development partially from this and partially from experiencing actual competent parenting and unconditional love.)

Fast forward. Leyla Hightower is one of Lord Leyton's daughters, and the only one to marry into a knightly house. Suppose, then, that this was a coverup after she got in trouble. Suppose she got into trouble with a descendant of one of Aegon V's sisters, and surprise, turns out that's enough to trigger the curse. Mad Maid Malora figures out what's going on fairly soon, so Agnes and Ellyn get the curse mitigation very young.

Leyla then goes on to fuck Robert at the Lannisport tourney and has Emmon. To complete the set.

Agnes, Ellyn, and Emmon are all nominally the children of Ser Jon Cupps, but Leyla and Robert weren't exactly discreet. Jon Arryn comes up with a pretense to invite Ser Cupps and family to court — he wants a closer look at white-blond Leyla and her black-haired son.

Ellyn would rather die than set foot in King's Landing, so she goes to be a companion to her cousin Margaery instead. We'll come back to her.

Lord Arryn and Stannis interrogate Leyla but leave Ser Cupps out of the loop. Emmon isn't told anything but figures it out. Agnes decides Cersei was custom-crafted by cruel gods to answer the question "what would a queen have to be like for Aegon to think better of Rhaenyra by comparison".

When Jon Arryn dies, Stannis takes Leyla and Emmon — evidence — to Dragonstone. Emmon is very unhappy about this. Agnes and Ser Cupps are left behind. Ser Cupps, still clueless, helps Ned's investigation as best he can, and is 'accidentally' killed in the chaos around Ned's arrest. The Lannisters decide Agnes isn't much of a Reach hostage, but still worth hanging onto. Agnes is very unhappy about this and makes it everyone's problem.

Back in the Reach, Ellyn doesn't care about Renly but she is fond of Margaery and Loras. She tries some of Malora's tricks to protect the encampment. It interferes enough that Renly doesn't get killed.

Emmon eventually manages to get off Dragonstone — Leyla will probably be safe there but Melisandre is making him nervous. He wants to get back to the Reach or find Renly's forces, since breaking Agnes out of King's Landing on his own is unrealistic. (As far as kings go Emmon thinks all the Baratheons are pretenders, but the Lannisters and Stannis have made themselves his enemies.) Inconveniently, he makes landfall in the Riverlands. He is captured. He is imprisoned in proximity to Jess, and both of them have to come to terms with a lot of things real fast.

So Emmon is also at Harrenhal, and also claims a dragon, and also calls dibs on two more for currently absent siblings.

Claiming of the Bastard Dragons:

Hoare, renamed Hoarwing (by Jess), renamed Hoarfrost (by Jon): Jon Snow

Qoherys, renamed Rhaenaxes because who cares about House Qoherys and Queen Rhaena was awesome: Ellyn Cupps

Harroway, renamed Harrowfyre: Agnes Cupps

Towers, renamed Towerfyre (by Jess), renamed Riverwing (by Emmon, from reasons he won't discuss): Emmon Cupps

Strong, renamed Strongwing: Jessamyn Flint

Lothston, renamed Danelleys because Mad Danelle was definitely the best Lothston: Lucinda Flint (You could therefore, if you wanted, nickname the dragon Danny Flint — or perhaps Danny Flint's Revenge)

Whent, renamed Whenthor: Jocelyn Flint

When Daenerys finally arrives, they all make terms — they insist on good terms, but they won't set dragon against dragon for the sake of any crown.

[apocalypticavolition]

Let's (re)Read The Dragon Reborn! Chapter 38: Maidens of the Spear

The Maidens will stab you if you complain about spoilers when you read this post. You're clicking "Keep reading" with full knowledge that I can and will spoil anything and everything about this whole series and any others I feel like.

This chapter starts with the Wheel-and-serpent icon because this is an important chance meeting.

Men were sometimes silly enough to think a woman was harmless merely because she was a woman; Egwene had no such illusions.

I assume these silly men are not counting women with ageless faces among the harmless but purely the average, non-channeling woman because otherwise they'd be jumping far past "silly" and into "suicidal".

Except maybe a fully trained sister, she admitted. But certainly not one woman, even if she is Aiel.

Egwene betrays her ignorance here. As her story goes on, she spends very little time being actually thwarted by any fully trained sisters and has a lot more difficulties with virtually everyone else.

“You have not the look in your faces, but we saw the rings. In your lands, you have women much like our Wise Ones, the women called Aes Sedai. Are you women of the White Tower, or not?”

Note that TECHNICALLY Aviendha isn't committing the same ageless face continuity error as in book 2. Not sure if that means it's already resolved or what.

“We are women of the White Tower,” Nynaeve said calmly. She was very obvious in not looking around for other Aiel. Even Elayne was peering about. “Whether you would consider any of us wise is another matter,” Nynaeve went on.

Nynaeve's statement wouldn't trigger the Oath Rod if she were already sworn to it, so good job! Also it's really quite impressive that she's so good at dealing with the Aiel. Unlike the other gals, she already knows that if they're surrounded, they're fucked, so why worry about an additional ambush when there seems to be a way to leave the conversation peaceably?

A friend of hers is dying? She sounds as if she is asking if we’ll lend her a cup of barley flour!

Egwene grows up a LOT, doesn't she?

And what if Nynaeve can’t Heal their friend? I wish she would ask before she makes these decisions that involve all of us!

I think Egwene is probably the last member of the party to come to the conclusion that the Aiel have no interest in fucking with them, and looks particularly immature to worry that the Aiel might kill them for honest failure but not for uncharitable refusal to help.

“I am Egwene al’Vere,” she told them. They seemed to expect more, so she added, “Daughter of Marin al’Vere, of Emond’s Field, in the Two Rivers.” That seemed to satisfy them, in a way, but she would have bet they understood it no more than she did all these septs and clans.

Egwene, it's obvious what being the daughter of someone means, and context explains the rest, though almost no one knows where the Two Rivers is.

“Then why do you not speak the words before your Wise Ones?” Chiad asked. “Bain and I became first-sisters.”

Because Elayne's saving herself for the right sister and she's right there, you homewreckers!

Bain knotted her brow in thought. “What you say comes near truth, yet misses it completely. When we wed the spear, we pledge to be bound to no man or child. Some do give up the spear, for a man or a child”—her expression said she herself did not understand this—“but once given up, the spear cannot be taken back.”

So obviously trying to apply modern labels of sexuality to people who don't exist in modern western culture is usually a mistake, even if their culture only exists in the fiction of western culture, but... Bain's a lesbian, right? I legit don't believe her when she says she doesn't NOT like men, she seems to be mostly in denial. (Also it's great getting to watch the Aiel go, "Holy shit you wetlanders are dumb." I look forward to this coming up more and more.)

“Yes, they do.” Chiad sounded as though she and Bain were sharing something between them.

They're laughing at Aviendha.

“Yes,” Egwene said faintly. She glanced at Elayne and saw the bewilderment in her blue eyes she knew must be in her own.

Egwene is so deeply into the White Tower that she can't even conceptualize organizations of people outside it anymore. That's deeply worrying.

But we do not share him, Elayne. We can neither of us have him.

Is this a Perrin chapter? Because I am just non-stop dunking on the stupidity of the POV character. EGWENE. Wake. the. fuck. up.

“Some of those fools that the oath-breaking treekillers call soldiers thought we were another handful of the bandits who infest this land. We had to kill them to convince them otherwise, but Dailin. . . . Can you heal her, Aes Sedai?”

That's... that's not how you convince people of facts, Aviendha. That's just how you stop them from harassing you.

Chiad and Bain stepped to the river’s edge and returned together. Their faces never changed, but Egwene thought they had almost expected the river to reach up and grab them.

Again we can see how our characters are very early on their personal journeys because even the random NPCs have better emotional and facial control than they do.

“She truly does sound like a Wise One,” Chiad told Bain softly, and the other woman gave a tight nod.

I'd like to see Nynaeve go to Rhuidean and probably break the initial ter'angreal because she's so fucking constant it can't come up with any alternate futures based on other things she could have done.

The Stones River. . . . Some claim it had water in it once, but that is only boasting. There are only the stones. The oldest records of the Wise Ones and the clan chief say there was never anything but stones since the first day our sept broke off from the High Plain sept and claimed that land.

Probably the initial Aiel who discovered the area still had remnant knowledge from the AoL and thus the ability to recognize the signs of a river destroyed by climate change.

“I would never harm an Aes Sedai,” Aviendha said abruptly. “I would have you know that. Whether Dailin lives or dies, it makes no difference in that. I would never use this”—she lifted one short spear a trifle—“against any woman. And you are Aes Sedai.”

Aviendha is of course concerned that Egwene is grabbing the One Power out of nowhere. Egwene can't even conceive of Aiel channelers and again she's barely spent any time with the White Tower.

Just because Elayne had been taught something did not mean it was true, even if the Aiel said the same thing.

This isn't a bad instinct to have, but Egwene only has it when it comes to her two equals in the party, not when it comes to the knowledge she's been taught at home and the Tower.

“Balefire,” Egwene said. “Aviendha, what is balefire?”

It's a good thing that these Aiel are on the up and up or Egwene would have just blabbed on herself in an incredibly stupid way. Also, I guess the Aiel have a better cultural memory of balefire than westerners because of Rhuidean. I don't remember if it's explicitly used in Rand's genetic memories though.

She was not sure she had even been able to make out all the many flows, much less the way Nynaeve had woven them together. What Nynaeve had done in those few seconds had seemed like weaving four carpets at once while blindfolded.

Egwene won't admit it even to herself, but she is deeply concerned with how ahead of her in channeling Nynaeve is.

Next time: The girls get kidnapped. Again!

[fukuokadivision1]

SUMMIT OF DIVISIONS (MIHANASA & Kiya Kara Ver.)

Bring the Beat!

[All:]

Here we go (here we go), east and west

Connecting divisions (divisions) with this microphone

Old and young, come together and make our voices a chorus

The battle is locals vs. Chuohku

Here we go (here we go), you and me

Right and left, me and you

Overcoming blood relations and troublesome connections

Anyway, this party, let’s get it on

A night where shocking oaths crowd around

The no.1 mic that aims at our days

Let us drink and sing, get wired as we like

A party night limited to only one stage, make love

Hop, skip, and jump, taking the initiative asap

Let’s get started

Reverberating sound and hearts

If we don’t have fun, there’s no point

Let’s go!

[Sanyu:]

In a world that's obsessed with the norm

I spit rhymes in a storm, breakin' the form

"Average," they say, but I won't conform

I'm the queen of the ring, not just another swarm

I shed the label, it's a societal scorn

Normal's a myth, in my truth, I'm reborn

From the ashes of the past, my spirit's torn

In the beat of the streets, a new rebel's sworn

[Tasuku:]

Fate's a gamble, destiny's a lie

I'm the master of my path, under the sky

No dice, no cards, no fate to defy

I carve my own way, never gonna say die

[Ming:]

For the lost souls in Fukuoka's nights

We stand as guardians, igniting their rights

In slums we rise, our bond ignites

MIHANASA's vow, to reach new heights

[All:]

A night where shocking oaths crowd around

The no.1 mic that aims at our days

Let us drink and sing, get wired as we like

A party night limited to only one stage, make love

Hop, skip, and jump, taking the initiative asap

Let’s get started

Reverberating sound and hearts

If we don’t have fun, there’s no point

Let’s go!

[Ryūzō:]

In the shadows of my past, I've danced with death's embrace

A silent whisper in the dark, a ghost without a trace

From ninja to professor, I've found my space

Teaching truth in every verse, in every line I face

The darkness of my history, a canvas for my art

The former life I lived, the pain was off the charts

But in this classroom, I've found a brand new start

Kiya Kara's my redemption, Sendai's where I impart

[Takumi:]

In the gym where spirits soar, I'm the force that never rests

Pushing limits, breaking sweat, putting wills to the test

Life's a challenge, face it head-on, that's my quest

With every drop of sweat, we're becoming our best

[Kotono:]

Medicine and physics, my dual domain

Healing bodies, teaching minds, in the academic lane

For my sister, lost but not in vain

I'll unravel every mystery, break every chain

[All:]

Here we go (here we go), east and west

Connecting divisions (divisions) with this microphone

Old and young, come together and make our voices a chorus

The battle is locals vs. Chuohku

Here we go (here we go), you and me

Right and left, me and you

Overcoming blood relations and troublesome connections

Anyway, this party, let’s get it on

A night where shocking oaths crowd around

The no.1 mic that aims at our days

Let us drink and sing, get wired as we like

A party night limited to only one stage, make love

Hop, skip, and jump, taking the initiative asap

Let’s get started

Reverberating sound and hearts

If we don’t have fun, there’s no point

Let’s go!

Fukuoka! (Hey!)

Sendai! (Ho!)

Edogawa! (Hey!)

Shizuoka! (Ho!)

Kobe! (Hey!)

Kanazawa! (Ho!)

If you stan them, put your hands up! (Ho!)

Boys! (Hey!) Girls! (Ho!)

Gentlemen! (Hey!) Ladies! (Ho!)

Middle aged men! (Hey!) Mature women! (Ho!)

If you're there, raise your voice! (Ho!)

[Sanyu:]

Step to me, you'll learn quick why "normal" ain't my tale

I'll unleash a damn storm, and watch as you all flail!

Try to chain me again, I'll shatter your scale

MC Rogue's wrath, in this fight, I prevail!

[Ryūzō:]

Cross my path, you'll meet shadows where death once tread

An assassin still lingers, my silence, your dread

Dare to challenge my peace, I'll paint your end in red

Kage's blade, leave opposition in shreds!

[Tasuku:]

Life's a gamble, step up, it's time to cash in your chip

My destiny's mine to wield, this rap battle's my grip

Ante up, face the storm, I'll sink your ship

Katame's resolve, watch your footing slip!

[Takumi:]

Think my class is tough? Oppose us and feel the sting

I'll school you in pain, let the real lesson begin

Corporal's my game, with each verse I bring

GUTS on the stage, feel the punishment I sling!

[Ming:]

Monsters roam our land, but none as fierce as I'll be

Threaten my kin, my city, unleash the beast in me

For the children's future, I'll fight, you'll see

Miss Ming's fury, a protector's decree!

[Kotono:]

Dare to harm us, I'll show you Chuohku's dark side

Experiments of horror, a past I won't let slide

My knowledge, believe me, it's a terrifying ride

Shiki's secret weapon, you've nowhere to hide

[All:]

Here we go (here we go), east and west

Connecting divisions (divisions) with this microphone

Old and young, come together and make our voices a chorus

The battle is locals vs. Chuohku

Here we go (here we go), you and me

Right and left, me and you

Overcoming blood relations and troublesome connections

Anyway, this party, let’s get it on

A night where shocking oaths crowd around

The no.1 mic that aims at our days

Let us drink and sing, get wired as we like

A party night limited to only one stage, make love

Hop, skip, and jump, taking the initiative asap

Let’s get started

Reverberating sound and hearts

If we don’t have fun, there’s no point

Let’s go!

[eccentricmya]

In defence of Maedhros

A couple days ago I vilified him, read his character in a truly unfavourable light, arguing that he was never a good guy. Well, this time I'll defend him! I don't think he was truly a bad guy either.

I start once again by summarising the general opinion on him: he was good then he turned bad, very bad, or even villainous. The phrase that caught my eye was "he ended up doing the enemy's work". Well, yes, if we assume the enemy only wanted to eradicate the free people. But I'm of the opinion that Morgoth was erasing dissension and opposition to his 'rule', his goal was not wiping out people but subjugating them.

Maedhros never did that. Yes, he killed refugees (an act when seen through the perspective of the world we live in seem even more horrific), yes he ruined Doriath, but he did not do these 'unprovoked'. Had his demand of the return of the Silmaril been fulfilled, there would've been no second and third kinslayings. One may argue that his reaction to not getting the gem was disproportionate to the offence. And I will counter-argue that the same logic can be applied to the people of Doriath and Sirion, who valued a jewel over their lives. The fact that the Silmaril escapes with Elwing shows an unwillingness to give up the jewel, even at the cost of the lives of their people. The Sons of Feanor were not asking them to give up their freedom and live under a tyrant, like Morgoth was, they were asking for a mere trinket, the return of which would've prevented all that bloodshed. The kinslayings in Beleriand did not happen in isolation or for some grand evil plan. They happened because both sides put pride before lives. (At least the Falmari at Alqualonde had he excuse of defending their own creations, not a stolen one.)

All this on top of the Oath as a driving factor. The text gives it an almost sentient quality in its wording of its presence. For the third kinslaying the Silm says this: "the third of the great wrongs achieved by the accursed oath." Not by Feanor or his sons but by the Oath. To me, this reads like the Oath has taken an evil turn of its own, much like the One Ring. And you will bend to its will, whether for good reasons or not, and few will be able to resist its call. As many have pointed out, Maedhros did resist the Oath, both before Doriath and before Sirion in repentance of Doriath. That is not how a villain works for me.

Some speculation- it is said that Feanorions did not have the guts to assail Luthien while she wore the Silmaril, and I raise you this: what if they did not attack her and kill her as the Oath demanded because she had turned human and could no longer be reborn?

Which brings us, at last, to a very controversial idea. Why is killing elves so bad? Elves who have the option of rebirth with no loss of memories? I think most of us forget that they're not human who, once dead, will never return in the same form, or if they are indeed reincarnated, then unable to recall their previous lives or meet their loved ones from before. Elves get to return to life and resume their lives from before. Indeed, that is one of the prerequisite for rebirth- that they're ready and willing to take up the life they had before dying. So how is it as bad as killing humans? I feel callous and heartless saying this, but ending an elf's live is like uprooting a tree. It'll take years for it to grow back from the seed again, but it will grow, not in the same place or time but it will exist again. Not like animals who die. Once they cease to be, there is no coming back for them.

In conclusion, I don't think Maedhros is a true bad guy, which is why I used 'anti-hero' for him, though maybe 'anti-villain' would fit better. He's simply someone working with the cards dealt to them, chiefly the Oath. Now sure, that is as much a defence as voluntary intoxication is in hit and run cases, but even the Oath was not of his own wording or sworn in isolation or with full awareness of what it truly entailed (otherwise words like 'torment' would not have been used in relation to its effects). The one who chose to swear to Eru was Feanor, while his sons chose to follow him. It's a minute difference but it's there, which is why Feanor is still the far more condemned one in the eyes of the Valar.

[imakemywings]

I hope you don't mind me asking but I really want to know more about that Celebrimbor take (like the progression from his rebirth to trying to live in Valinor knowing his kin is there). I love it so much because it doesn't lean on the feanorian apologia, nor does it not lean so much on Celebrimbor forgiving or reconciling with them easily (especially his father), because from what I know, he was a lord of a city, so to be related to dudes who destroyed not one, not two but three cities must've to suck (but really impressive streak tho for the feanorians.) I also can't see Celebrimbor having a good relationship or having a good opinion of Curufin after Finrod's death and it would take him long (or literally never which I prefer lmao) to speak with him, after all, pride and arrogance ran in that family.

I definitely don't mind! I love talking about Elfs :3

So I imagine Celebrimbor grows up pretty steeped in the Feanorian mindset, which means he's behind Feanor's rebellion (perhaps he has some reservations about the methodology but in principle I think he agrees); he partakes in the kinslaying at Alqualonde and the ship-burning at Losgar. But over the course of his time in Middle-earth he really puts a more critical lens on what he was raised to believe and what his family has done, and eventually comes out to the decision that he cannot adhere to his family's beliefs or support their actions anymore (spending time with Finrod helps a lot with this). And disowning his father and his family, as a noble, as someone in line for the crown of the Noldor, especially with the quasi-historical emphasis on the importance of family in Tolkien's work, is huge.

I think in the Second Age he was largely attempting both to distance himself from the worst of his family's legacy while trying to restore some measure of honor to them through his own actions. I love the imagery in HoME (I'm forgetting exactly where now) of Celebrimbor alone on the steps of his forge trying to resist Sauron after the "Annatar" disguise has been dropped.

I think he was understandably traumatized by everything that happened with Sauron and the rings of power, and I think that would make him even less tolerant of violence and power-grubbing after rebirth.

With this background, I pretty much see Celebrimbor going (although they wouldn't use such modern terminology for it) no-contact with his paternal family, with the possible exception of Grandma Nerdanel.

Generally, I don't think Celebrimbor is allowed to be re-embodied; I think he probably falls in with the rest of the Feanorians/Noldor who are prohibited from that, but assuming otherwise, that he is reborn, and that others of his paternal family are too, I just think there's not much to say there.

I think his hurt and anger and disappointment over their actions runs incredibly deep, and even if they are willing to apologize, I think he doesn't really want to hear it. The kind of "I appreciate your regret and I hope it helps the other people in your life, but it doesn't change my decision" kind of thing. I think he might view them as toxic; I think he might not want to associate with them; I think he might be concerned about the influence they could have on him; and honestly, I think he would want to see them make some significant efforts to redeem themselves before he cared to even consider allowing them into his life again.

I think at best he pities them (he's not devoid of sympathy; he bought into the rebellion of the Noldor too and he's guilty of kinslaying too, and he knows the pressure they felt because of the oath they'd sworn, but he also eventually realized they were wrong) and most likely considers them willful enactors of violence and bloodshed among their own kind for their own benefit. Celebrimbor died in agony at Sauron's hands to prevent more death and war resulting from his own mistakes; I can't imagine he has a lot of understanding for violence undertaken to protect the perpetrator.

I don't think it's impossible for him to reconcile with his uncles/father/grandfather but I think it would take a very long time (if he was mortal, I would say never), and I don't think those relationships would ever be the same again.

[wanderlustmagician]

Taking a breather from reports! So for mythic creatures, I’ve been thinking about the Zeldas. Mostly Flora and TOTK, but also kind of all of them.

So anywhoozle, Flora in this AU is not a dragon. TOTK established that the secret stones being ingested are the cause of dragonification. So while the narrative I set will still have her go all Zelda: Become Dragon she wont be a dragon as a her baseline creature.

So anyways, Hylia is often depicted with wings and I decided to challenge myself by making all the Zeldas be a mythic creature that has wings of some sort.

I finally decided on Warriors being a Griffin (thank you @somer-writes for suggesting it <3) and that lead me to having Artemis be a Valkyrie. They’re warrior women often depicted with wings and she is a Warrior Princess. It works.

Sun is a Phoenix, she’s got the whole ‘Hylia reborn’ narrative and the long sleep in a Crystal… it works it vibes. Plus I wanted her to also be a big bird like Sky.

Dusk is a Erinyes, or Furiae, which in Greek mythology are chthonic goddesses of vengeance and are often associated with the goddess Nyx or with the night. They take vengeance on any man who has sworn a false oath.

Aurora is a Finnguala or Finola. It’s from Irish mythology, but since she was cursed to her own deep sleep and Finola in the mythos is cursed into the form of a swan, I thought it would be interesting to give her this one.

Lullaby is a Gamayun. They’re a prophetic bird from Russian folklore which I felt was very fitting for her.

Dawn is a Firebird. They’re similar to a Phoenix but not the same.

Dot and Fable are Sphinx.

Tetra is also a Erinyes. I debated having her be a Gorgon; snakes for hair, golden wings, and petrifying gaze… very pirate captain, but ultimately went with Erinyes for now. Might go back to Gorgon though.

Flora is also a Phoenix. :)

[lya-dustin]

Me looking at all my wips: okay how about a one shot where Alicent gets her wish in the worst way and ends up getting Rhaenyra Harwin and the Strong Boys killed because she got Viserys to acknowledge they were bastards?

Anyways i love the tragedy that is Alicent and the be careful of what you wish for trope.

The Price

Gif by @sansaery-theonsa

Vw: horror, murder, death, ghosts

In a strange turn of events, Rhaenyra is punished for her adultery.

Before the Iron Throne are the severed heads of Ser Harwin Strong, Princess Rhaenyra and the three children.

Maegor had decreed no bastard shall hold the throne, and no royal woman may cuckold her husband and live.

The children were not to be spared.

Not even moon old Joffrey who Rhaenyra tried to smuggle out of the keep in a laundry basket.

This law is what forces Viserys’ hand and makes Aegon his heir to continue the natural order of things.

They are all made to swear their oaths to him, swearing to never rise against the king’s new heir.

When Viserys’ health takes a turn for the worse, Alicent becomes the last to know of his will.

Should he die before Aegon reache majority, Corlys Velaryon, Princess Rhaenys, Ser Laenor, Prince Daemon, Lady Jeyne Arryn, Lord Borros Baratheon, and Lord Stark will all serve as his regents along with the Lord Hand.

Seven Regents in honor of the Seven Who Are One.

Alicent is to be sent away to the Motherhouse in Oldtown and none of her children would be allowed to see her the moment he dies.

You got what you wanted, now you pay the price.

When Larys Strong kills his father for their cause, it is not her father who becomes Hand of the King.

The Seasnake wastes no time in recalling Prince Daemon and his wretched family.

Lady Laena Velaryon and Princess Rhaenys successfully turn the court against her.

Even her own children see her as a monster not knowing she did it for them.

It was Rhaenyra and her bastards or her children, a mother knows there is only one choice she could make.

This she tells herself as she sees the utter loathing in the eyes of her own children who had been bursting with life just a few moons ago.

I had to, the queen tells to the headless victims who haunt her every waking moment.

“Did we do the right thing, Ser Criston?” the queen asks as they watch her victory against Rhaenyra taste like ash in her mouth.

“I cannot answer you, your grace.” The knight answered, the friendship they had washed away by the blood in their hands.

The Kingsguard refused to take their heads, Ser Harrold pleaded with the king for the lives of the children at the least.

Ser Criston had turned away as the children cried for him to save them.

‘You didn’t tell me he would kill the children too!’ he had shouted at her with his eyes as they watched the execution with faces of stone.

The only one at court willing to act as an executioner had been a household guard sworn to her uncle.

The guard had been beaten to death by the smallfolk and goldcloaks alike that same night.

Once the people had loved her, Queen Alicent the Pious, they had called her.

Queen Alicent who was the Maiden reborn with a heart full of compassion like the Mother.

Now they call her Alicent the Cruel.

The wicked stepmother who made the good king kill his own daughter and grandchildren and a man who may have been innocent.

Was not Princess Rhaenys a Baratheon with a mother with hair as brown as the boys had had? Was not Ser Laenor brown of eye like his father and sons?

Didn’t their eggs hatch like the Targaryens they were?

And if they were guilty, why would the queen and her party refuse to spare the children and their mother?

They could have been sent away like Lucamore Strong’s bastards. Lyonel Strong could have taken them to Harrenhal with him and let them live.

This Aegon shouts at her when he begins to drink heavily knowing she did this to put him on the throne.

Aemond asks her if it was all his fault, that because he told her about the Pink Dread that his sister and his nephews were slaughtered before their eyes.

Helaena does not speak to her, speaks to her cousins and everyone else who is not Alicent.

They hate her.

Her children loathe her for what she did.

Why couldn’t they understand that she did this to protect them?

Why couldn’t they understand that for them to live they had to die?

Her father is proud, he has never been this proud of her since she can remember.

Who was this monster that sired her?

Why did he make her this way? Why couldn’t he have been a father and not the second son consumed by the green fire of greed?

“Exhausting, wasn't it? Hiding beneath the cloak of your own righteousness, but now they see you as you are.” Rhaenyra’s ghost whispers softly in the mirror as she clutched her headless children.

“You would have done the same!” the queen lets herself be overcome by her new madness and punched the mirror to make it stop.

[zeit-liebe-geist]

First time writing poetry for someone else, what can I say she inspired it out of me. Also first time posting it online so please be nice or I will cry thank you ❤️

The fear of exposing my heart

You turn that fear into pride

Walls broken down, emotions to art

Your psyche a gallery, your voice the guide

I could roam those halls forever

The museum of you, I’ll ever treasure

With every word a bond sworn

Breaking free from all I’ve known

With every touch a world reborn

The freedom that from courage is grown

To inspire change and stand by it

The light you gave me will forever reign

In the dark does my heart’s spark commit

The light that shines for your remain

In your warmth, my sanctuary found

Our safe space, a comfort for the soul

In your embrace, my soul unbound

From our lips, healing words do pour

The string that connects your heart to mine

Leading us to each other when we were ready

It’s strength surviving everlasting time

Having learned the lessons of life’s medley

I am thou, thou art I

With you, I wish to promise sacred oath

Through our bond, ourselves we’ll strengthen

Let me be the catalyst to your growth

Together, we’ll make this life our heaven

[the-rhyme-witch]

"Immortal cells" had sounded like a good thing. That isn't much defense, but it is all I have.

My name is Merielle. I look twenty three, which is hard evidence that looks can be deceiving. I am petite and angular, with brown eyes and black hair that goes it's own way. I got it from my father and my mother used to joke that my hair shared my personality.

I miss my parents.

I can't tell you about mima and pepa, not really. Not in the way I want to. It has been so long and I've never been clever with words, but a description feels pedestrian regardless. I could tell you mima was statuesque, with satiny dark skin and hair she wore cropped close as moss but it wouldn't capture how she moved through the world like an artist, every choice and movement just so. I could tell you pepa was lanky and pale and that his wild black hair made him paler but it wouldn't capture how he could light up a room with a kind word or a laugh. Perhaps it is enough to say they were my parents and I loved them. We both did.

Coretta is easier to describe, if not explain. She was my twin, my sister, my beloved friend from before either of us knew the word, so she looked much as I do. We were not identical in soul, but in body and heart we matched exactly. When we were born, my parents had worried at first. Were we a soul split in two? Holy Sister Giriette had explained, though, and our parents had repeated her words to us growing up. Sometimes, when a chance to be reborn comes, two souls try to join the same baby at the same time, and when they do, the baby becomes two to make room. It has reassured our parents. It had reassured the others in our village too. A soul is a precious thing. The idea of one cut into two people was almost as terrifying as the Incomplete Ones, who had given part of their soul to demons in exchange for Red Magic.

Aside from the occasional accusation of our souls being spliced, Coretta and I grew up as happy as a childhood could be. You would not, now, recognise how we lived. The subterranean flurbarja that once roamed the land, leaving burrow networks that my people used to shelter when skaybarja came down in the storms to rake the land above, they are long since gone from our world, though they live on in legends as Floor Badgers and Sky Badgers.

Coretta and I were close, too, so close that we both chose the same mate and Jontotto chose to leave his family tunnel to join us in ours. In times now, this would be a complex issue, but in that time, love was not greedy. Love was not a fruit, to be cut up and doled out to greedy mouths until it was gone but rather a light that warmed a home and all that was in it, be there two or twenty. I shared my mate with my twin with joy and satisfaction and we were all happy. When Coretta became pregnant, then gave birth to my nephew, our family joy was magnified.

Then the Sickleclaws came.

Like the flurbarja, the Sickleclaws are gone from this land but unlike the 'barjas, I cannot mourn their loss. They came to the tunnels that were our home and tore them apart while storms raged and skaybarjas ravaged the land, but it was the Sickleclaws that took my family, snipping away their lives and snubbing the light from my world.

All except my nephew. Little Otto was just a baby, barely eating food, too young to even have a prename yet. I had buried my family, my mima and pepa and twin and mate, as was the custom of our people. Our families souls were cut now, free to roam the earth. Without a proper ending, the souls would be hungry for rebirth but my burial rites would soothe them from choosing their new life hot with anger from their lives cut short. I knew my duty now was to embrace my own grief, my tears reassuring their souls that they were loved to help them choose their next life well.

Then I had held little Otto to my heart, both of us sticky with the blood and mud of all the world we had ever known, and sworn an oath to the souls of my family. I would protect my nephew, and love him, and guide him. I would stand for his mima and his pepa and his grandmima and grandpepa too. I would be his family.

I kept my word.

I found us a new tunnel community. I carried my grief for my lost family like a dear toy, clutched hidden but close to my heart, and I did not forget. Otto grew to be a rambunctious seven year old and gained his prename, naming himself for his mother. Cortotto became my family and my soul glowed. It was not easy to be a parent to my nephew but I was shocked at how fierce my love was. I had loved my parents, adored my mate and had been bonded heart-to-heart with my twin, but nothing had felt like this. Even when things were hard, and parenting was harder than I had ever guessed, my love for my little nephew was a furnace.

Then the immortal cells came.

First it was a lump, a strange bump on the side of my chest. Then my neck started to bulge. The Holy Brother of my new tunnel, Honturru, had explained. Normal bodies die a little all the time, Merielle, but parts of you have forgotten. They do not die when it is their time and instead stay immortal, passing their forgetfulness onto other parts of you. We need death for life, my sister, and the parts of you that have forgotten this will kill the rest of you.

I had asked when? When would my forgetful, immortal parts push enough of my mortal body out of shape to kill me? Soon, had been Holy Brother Hunturrus reply.

I had thought of my nephew, my son in my heart, my Cortotto. I thought of the way his cheek dimpled like Jontottos had, how he had inherited my pepas hair like Coretta and I, how he bounced from being a small man to a baby and back in a whirlwind of elbows and mischief. I thought about how I had inadvertently made myself his world and in doing so left him starkly vulnerable. How could I let my immortal cells leave him alone, truly alone?

So I did what my village had feared since my birth. I made a deal with a demon.

I left the tunnel system during a storm. I had dodged skaybarjas and stayed wary of Sickleclaws, then knelt in the dirt. As the rain flattened the spring from my hair and splashed stinging into my eyes, I made the sign of demons and lay on the ground, closing my eyes and whispering my deal over and over.

"Do not let the immortal cells kill me, let me live long for my nephew, let me live, let me live, let me live."

Red had lit up the back of my eyelids.

When the storm abated and I climbed filthy and trembling back into the village tunnel, I felt at my neck, at my chest. They were smooth.

I found that having a nibbled soul was bearable. It was a weighty secret to carry. I knew my new village would spurn me if they they knew I had dealt with the Red Magic, that I had willingly become an Incomplete One. The secret lay hard and heavy in my stomach, weighing me down as my pared soul attempted to struggle against it. Sometimes, I would think of the souls of my dead family. Would they damn me for this? Should I have been braver, looked the death of my life in the face and known my soul would endure? Perhaps.

But then I would hear Cortotto laugh and I was not so sure.

Cortotto continued to grow like a weed, his body changing as he approached adolescence and his voice recklessly bouncing through octaves like our shared rebellious hair bounced on our heads. He grew taller and stronger.

I stayed the same.

Cortotto changed from a cheeky young boy to a clumsy teen, throwing emotions on and off like a cloak in uncertain weather, striving to discover what he though, and how, and why, aping his peers one minute and forging his own path the next.

I stayed the same.

Cortotto became a young man, his soft baby body hardening and roughening into sinewy muscle and stubble. His personality found a shape that fit and settled into it, like a new shoe just waiting for a little wearing to make it just so.

I stayed the same.

When Cortotto was first mistaken for my elder brother rather than my nephew, I realised what the demon had done, and cursed myself for a fool. The Red Magic had not reminded my immortal parts how to die. It had made my entire body forget.

Our new village watched. Then whispered. Then acted.

They came for me as a community, during a skaybarja rampage, a sad eyed Holy Brother Honturru leading the way. I knew why. I understood. I even had intention to stay but my cowardice betrayed me and I fled the tunnels to the surface. But I did not flee alone.

Cortotto came with me.

I told myself at the time that he did not understand but I knew enough even then to smell the lie in my own thoughts. My heart might see my little nephew but Cortotto was a man now and to deny him that was to deny our life together. I had taught him the faith of our people and he was no fool. He knew what I was.

He came anyway.

So when the Sickleclaws found us, I was not alone, and for the second time in my life, my world was snipped from me in a flurry of claws as my bold, beautiful, radiant nephew was hit in a strike meant for me. But the beast did not drop his body. It carried him away.

I followed, or I tried, but I am a small human. I failed. When Holy Brother Honturru and the village found me, I begged for them to kill me. I had run from them before but now he was dead. My nephew was dead, his souls journey cut short, and his body was not buried and his soul, his beautiful bright gorgeous soul, was left tumbling like a feather in a storm, starving and abandoned, and no amount of grieving would remind it of how much it was loved. The agony tore every part of me. My heart seemed to swell until I felt it would erupt through my throat, my skull seemed to squeeze down on everything that I was, except that they didn't because I couldn't change. I never changed.

Holy Brother Honturru did not kill me. He saw in my eyes that my depleted soul could not be let loose.

I lost my faith that day. That is I told myself over the decades that followed, as I lived a life for a score of years before moving to a new village, a new tunnel, a new version of existence, I told myself my faith was broken. It was wrong. It had to be.

It had to be wrong because if it wasn't, my beloved nephews soul had been left to choose angry.

It had to be wrong because the alternative was so much worse.

Time moves on, even when it feels frozen, and while I am immortal, people are not. Beliefs are not. I saw the 'barjas slowly disappearing and the Sickleclaws with them, then people start to explore surface-based shelters. I saw fashions rise and fall, languages move, customs spark into life and then falter without a trace. People started to farm surface plants, then train them as they trained animals until parks evolved as a space for humans to worship in a new way. My faith as I learned from my parents moved into first a nostalgic tale of old times, then to a barely remembered story until nobody knew it at all, though modern faiths hold echoes.

My grief changed too and I hated it.

Some days I found myself forgetting. Sometimes I spent a week without thinking of Cortotto. When I realised this, my blood ran cold and I panicked so much that I thought I was dying but the Red Magic of demons cares not for petty feelings. I lived on the same as always. So I started courting grief. I made a point of it. If my grief was all I had left of Cortotto, sharp and bitter and shameful as I felt, how could I abandon it? I had made an oath.

Every morning, I sat. I sat and I thought of Cortotto. I challenged myself to remember, again and again. I cut my heart with my memories and when time blunted them, I taught myself to remember myself remembering and cut my heart anew. I made this my new faith, patching it over the canyon-deep faith of my childhood, though I paid lip service to the faiths of the times. My nephew, my family, my hearts son, my boy, my Cortotto.

It was a time not so far gone by mortal standards when I found myself in a park.

As is the custom now, prayer benches lined the public space. I had lived too long to think much of this now, though how my parents would have stared at the open greenery! I found a space empty of people and sat on a bench, my body language matching that of the other people in the park. What they prayed for, I did not know, but I took up my real faith. I thought first of Cortotto as baby Otto, when my twin and our mate and parents had been alive, giggling like a mountain spring in a desert. I thought of our life together and how I had gotten him killed. I tried to pretend not to worry about his soul wandering hungry and alone and loveless and choosing rage because, of course, that was a dead faith now and of course I didn't believe it but not looking into a canyon does not stifle it's echoes and my heart remembered what my head refused to.

"You think of me after all this time?"

I turned. A person had joined me on the prayer bench. I had never seen their face before. Their voice was unknown.

I looked into their eyes and my battered, emaciated, wounded soul recognised what my mind did not.

Cortotto.

It’s been many years since you’ve stopped aging. You’ve seen nations rise and fall. Met, and forgotten countless people. One day, as you’re resting your eyes in a park, dreaming of a love long past, the person on the bench next to you speaks. “You think of me after all this time?”

[sexy-ddlgtime]

Oath of the Plague

The Oath of the Plague is sworn by Paladins who see themselves as instruments of pestilence or agents of necessary decay. They believe in the power of contagion, and that through suffering and disease, the world can be reborn. These Paladins wield the powers of infection, poisoning, and corrupting influence to bring suffering to their enemies while shielding their allies from similar fates.

Tenets of the Plague

Paladins who swear the Oath of the Plague uphold the following tenets:

Spread the Infection: Let the sick and the diseased rise, and those who are healthy fall. Bring your enemies to their knees with the power of poison and affliction.

Decay is a Rebirth: Through decay and suffering, there is potential for regeneration. Protect those who endure and bring strength to the infected.

Mercy is Infection: Your mercy may be worse than your wrath. A quick death is a release, but suffering has value in it. Let none escape the sickness that you spread.

Guard the Plaguebearers: Those who bear the plague are your kin. Protect your allies from the spreading pestilence and ensure the disease grows.

Oath of the Plague Features

3rd Level: Channel Divinity – Infectious Touch

When you take this Oath at 3rd level, you gain the following Channel Divinity option:

Infectious Touch: As an action, you can touch one creature within 5 feet of you. That creature must make a Constitution saving throw or be poisoned for 1 minute. While poisoned in this way, the creature takes 1d6 poison damage at the start of each of its turns. The creature can repeat the saving throw at the end of each of its turns, ending the effect on itself on a success. The damage increases to 2d6 at 18th level.

3rd Level: Plaguebearer's Aura

At 3rd level, your presence causes sickness and corruption to linger in the air. You emit an aura that affects both enemies and allies within 10 feet of you.

Enemies: Any creature within 10 feet of you must make a Constitution saving throw or suffer one of the following effects (your choice when the creature fails):

Poisoned: The creature is poisoned for 1 minute.

Vulnerable: The creature becomes vulnerable to poison damage for 1 minute.

Allies: Any creature of your choice within 10 feet of you is immune to the poisoned condition. You can increase the radius of this aura to 30 feet at 18th level.

7th Level: Disease Mastery

At 7th level, you gain proficiency with the poisoner's kit, and your knowledge of disease and pestilence grants you the following benefits:

You can use your Lay on Hands ability to cure disease in addition to restoring hit points. Alternatively, you can choose to transmit the disease within you, allowing you to cure a disease from an ally and apply a temporary disease-like condition to yourself (or another willing creature within range). This effect lasts for 1 hour and grants the creature advantage on Constitution saving throws against disease and poison.

15th Level: Aura of Infection

At 15th level, your Plaguebearer's Aura becomes stronger. The range of your aura extends to 30 feet, and the effects of your aura improve:

Enemies: Creatures within 30 feet of you must make a Constitution saving throw or take 2d6 poison damage and become poisoned for 1 minute.

Allies: Allies within 30 feet of you gain advantage on saving throws against poison and disease.

20th Level: Plague's Sovereignty

At 20th level, you can invoke your ultimate ability to spread an overwhelming wave of disease and suffering. As an action, you can exude a contagious wave of plague in a 60-foot radius around you. All creatures in the area must make a Constitution saving throw, taking 4d6 poison damage on a failed save or half as much on a successful save. A creature that fails its saving throw also becomes poisoned for 1 minute and is unable to regain hit points during this time. You can use this ability once per long rest.

Oath of the Plague: Paladin Spells

At the 3rd, 5th, 9th, 13th, and 17th levels, you gain access to the following Oath spells, which are always prepared and do not count against the number of spells you can prepare each day.

3rd Level: Ray of Sickness, Inflict Wounds

5th Level: Misty Step, Blight

9th Level: Bestow Curse, Vampiric Touch

13th Level: Poison Cloud (homebrew, you can work with your DM), Phantasmal Killer

17th Level: Cloudkill, Contagion

Roleplay Considerations

With this subclass, you’re encouraged to roleplay your character as a harbinger of disease, spreading pestilence as a divine mission. Depending on your interpretation, you might lean into the idea that this is a “necessary evil” for the world to cleanse itself or that you are fighting to save your own life and sanity from the plague within you.

Your character could be an outcast or even an anti-hero who sees themselves as an agent of change through destruction. Perhaps you're fighting against an inner curse or have experienced a personal tragedy related to disease, making you uniquely suited to wield this dark power.

You can even use this as a way to play a “gritty” character who is a protector of the infected, guiding those who suffer and using their divine gifts to preserve what little hope remains in a plague-ridden world.

Conclusion

This Oath of the Plague subclass brings together the thematic elements of disease, decay, and corruption while still keeping the core Paladin’s protective and smiting abilities. It’s ideal for a character who wants to play a gritty and darker version of a Paladin, someone who doesn't just slay enemies, but spreads their influence across the battlefield in a way that forces others to suffer, change, or die.

What do you think? Would you like to make any adjustments or flesh out the abilities more? Would you like to include some other specific abilities or features for the subclass?

[iviarellereads]

The Dragon Reborn, Chapter 43 - Shadowbrothers

(THIS PROJECT IS SPOILER FREE! No spoilers past the chapter you click on. Curious what I'm doing here? Read this post! For the link index and a primer on The Wheel of Time, read this one! Like what you see? Send me a Ko-Fi.)

(Wolf icon) In which the dreams start comin and they don't stop comin.

PERSPECTIVE: Perrin. Lan asks how the heck Perrin recognized them. The Gray Men are specifically almost immune to Aes Sedai or Warder detection. Perrin admits that he smelled them, here and before, though he didn't know what they were, then. Lan says Perrin should join him outside, to see what they can see nearby.

Perrin smells sulphur again, and Lan finds a very large dog footprint in the stone of a mounting block. Faile is skeptical. Lan tells her not to be so quick, and this is probably her last chance to leave the oath she gave Moiraine before she knows too much. She tells him she doesn't frighten that easy.(1) Perrin asks why Lan and Moiraine didn't sense this Darkhound. Lan says the answer may be more than they want to know, and could get them all killed. They should get a few hours' sleep, they won't stay the whole night in Illian at this rate.

Back in his room Perrin sleeps, and dreams. First, he dreams of a tall slender man, in rich clothes, sometimes holding a shining-flaming sword and laughing triumphantly, sometimes sitting on a throne, kings and queens groveling before him. They don't feel like Perrin's dreams at all.(2) Then, he's in the wolf dream, on top of a high, flat-topped stone spire. Part of a mountain nearby seems to act like a screen, showing him Mat dicing with Baa, then it goes black, and shows him Egg, Nyn, and El looking at a metal cage, getting trapped inside it by a woman with her hair in braids who laughs at them, then another woman dressed in white laughs at the woman in braids.(3)

Perrin keeps calling for Hopper, and he finally shows up, saying that he's been warned, and he's too young, too new at this. Hopper says he has to see all these things, because the Last Hunt comes. Perrin says he's being chased by Gray Men and Darkhounds, and Hopper tells him to flee the Notdead and Shadowbrothers, they're all a great danger to him.(4)

He wakes up and Faile says he talks and thrashes in his sleep. She says whatever he is, he could use a little more hair on his chest. He asks what she's doing here, what does she want, who IS she? She says she's simply Faile, a Hunter of the Horn. Who does he think she is, the woman of his dreams? Why does he keep jumping around her?

Before he can answer, Moiraine crashes in and says his wolf dreams tell true, the Forsaken are loose, and one rules in Illian.(5)

=====

(1) It's not a matter of scaring you exactly, Faile. It's just that Mo's already sworn that she'll kill the boys, even Rand, before she lets the Dark have them, and she's protecting their future and thus the future of the world just as fiercely. If you learn too much, you literally will not be allowed to leave. (2) "Lord Brend" dreaming, then. Feels a lot like earlier when Rand's dreams were affecting everyone else's. (3) These dreams have the same vibes as Egwene's true dreams, don't they? (4) Is it overdone to have animal language be "less complex" than human language? Yes. Do I care? Most of the time, but not in this particular moment, since all the names for Shadow creatures vary across cultures in this world. (5) Well, however she figured that out, it does answer a few questions.

[apocalypticavolition]

Let's (re)Read The Dragon Reborn! Chapter 8: Jarra

I ordinarily say "Here there be spoilers for the whole Wheel of Time series" because it's a good catch-all, even if I don't regularly discuss stuff beyond the chapter we're in, but hoo boy do I go crazy this time folks so for real, don't keep reading if you don't wanna know.

This chapter begins with a wolf icon because Perrin is going to be meeting another Wolfbrother.

For an instant Perrin’s nose caught another odor, one he could not identify, a faint trail that raised the hair on the back of his neck with its vileness. Then it was gone. But he was sure something had passed that way, something—wrong. He scrubbed at his nose as if to rub away the memory of it.

Perrin is smelling a Grey Man. This shows that Rand's fleeing the camp was absolutely the right call; the boy was perhaps a week away from being found in the camp by a Gray Man if he'd stayed after the battle.

“I beg your pardon, good mistress. You have come far? Have you word of the Great Hunt? The Hunt for the Horn of Valere? Or the false Dragon? It’s said there’s a false Dragon in Tarabon. Or maybe Arad Doman.”

An unappreciated Aes Sedai oath loophole is found in how Lan answers for Moiraine, since he is able to lie freely and pretend that he doesn't know the Hunt is over and the Dragon is real.

Why, we’ve had a lifetime of weddings. A plague of them. All in the last two days. There isn’t a woman old enough to speak the betrothal remains unmarried, not in the whole village, not for a mile in any direction. Why, even Widow Jorath dragged old Banas through the arches, and they’d both sworn they’d never marry again.

I'm really curious as to what all the Wheel is weaving that needs this village's entire future genealogy (and legal inheritance, since Jorath and a few of the other ladies married probably aren't ever going to have kids but now set things up for heirlooms to pass down in certain ways) fixed by Rand. Will little old Jarra become a new Two Rivers, filled with channelers in just a few years with a lot of latent genes lining up properly? Will they produce a bunch of Wolfbrothers instead (they are in Ghaeldan, part of the Kingdom of the West Perrin never got)? Something new?

“That’s very interesting,” Perrin said when Simion paused to yawn again, “but have you seen a young—”

Perrin: I don't like to talk until I've had a second to think things over because I don't want people to think I'm stupid. I'm not stupid.

Also Perrin: Hello random stranger! Want to hear the exact reason I'm in town?

Loial had to duck low under the lintel, and the ceiling inside only cleared his head by a foot. He kept rumbling to himself about not understanding why so few humans remembered the Ogier.

It's because you all have a worse outreach program than the White Tower, which is saying a lot.

Master Harod got to his feet slowly, eyes fastened on Loial, smoothing his apron all the while.

It's not clear if Harod is fat, but given that he doesn't cause any real grief we should assume he's at least pleasantly plump like all the other good innkeepers except... whoever it was I pointed out that was something of an exception. I really need to be better at remembering stuff.

Master Harod began explaining about Ogier, making it sound as if he were quite familiar with them. Most of what Perrin heard before they left the voices behind was wrong. Loial’s ears twitched without stop.

I don't know about you guys, but I'm giving this place a five star review on Trip Advisor.

The man looked at her sharply before answering. Perrin did not think anyone else saw how sharply, in the dimness.

I bet Moiraine and Lan have a pretty good idea, Perrin, though it is odd to have such a strong reaction to such a simple question. Despite his later statement, this is the point where Simion's convinced than Moiraine's an Aes Sedai pursuing Rand (due to her intense interest in the Children), but he doesn't understand why.

Good master, you carry that axe like you know how to use it, but it isn’t so easy to face up to men with swords and armor and all, when all you know how to use is a broom or a hoe.

Perrin doesn't even reflect on this, unaware of how he's changed in this regard. He's way too focused on the supernatural parts of his journey to appreciate that he probably looks like a really scary dude at this point.

All these weddings and Whitecloaks are all very well, but I’d sooner know if Rand stopped here, and which way he went when he left. That smell couldn’t have been him.

I can't even blame Perrin for not understanding that all of this commotion is proof enough because Moiraine has never properly infodumped on ta'veren, Loial-- No, Loial would have told Perrin everything if he'd cared to listen so I can fully blame Perrin. But I'm still not going to, to be nice. He's being a bit of a jerk lately but it's hard to know what you need to take notes on and what you don't when you're running around with two different magical artifacts, the Messiah, and a bunch of characters who match the archetypes of all the fairy tales you've ever known.

“No reason, good master. He was an odd fellow, that’s all. He talked to himself, sometimes, and sometimes he laughed when nobody had said anything. Slept in this very room, last night, or part of it. Woke us all in the middle of the night, yelling. It was just a nightmare, but he wouldn’t stay any longer. Master Harod didn’t make much effort to talk him into it, after all that noise.”

Remember that Perrin and crew have been pursuing Rand for days at this point. Our boy's been in the woods, by himself, and dealing with Ishamael's latest campaign. All of this is clear sleep deprivation and the awkward position of knowing he's the chosen one and thus being able to find random asides much more meaningful than people think.

“I knew it,” Simion said, bouncing on his toes. “I knew she could help as soon as I saw you. Which way? East, good master. East, like the Dark One himself was on his heels. Do you think she’ll help me? Help my brother, that is? Noam’s bad sick, and Mother Roon says she can’t do anything.”

It's gotta be real awkward discussing taint madness with friends and relatives of the victim. Simion's quite relieved by his interpretation of what Perrin said, that they're pursuing Rand to gentle him.

Stupid question! The right question is, what does he mean to do about it?

There you go, Perrin.

“Of course,” the Ogier boomed. Simion gave a start when Loial’s hand swallowed his shoulder. “He will show me my room, and we will talk. Tell me, Simion, what do you know of trees?”

I'd say "Poor Simion, thinking that Loial is about to unleash Ogier violence on him in the most arboreal way possible", but anyone who could look at Loial for more than two seconds and see anything more than the world's most literate teddy bear deserves what they get.

Perrin squared his feet to face the Warder. That was easier than facing Moiraine’s glare. “How could we find out whether he had been here without asking questions? Tell me that. He left last night, if you are interested, heading east. And he was carrying on about somebody following him, trying to kill him.”

Perrin is zigzagging between somewhat wise (Lan is the lesser threat even though it's kinda like choosing between drinking cyanide or rubbing alcohol in practice), and then utterly stupid, not considering that an Aes Sedai would be perfectly skilled in getting the knowledge she wants without saying anything outright at all.

“Perhaps,” Moiraine said. “Perhaps not. No one knows anything about ta’veren as strong as Rand.” For just a moment she sounded vexed at not knowing.

Sorry Moiraine, but Perrin's right to be worried. Rand is going to be easily tracked, not just because of his ta'veren but through other means, and even Ishamael couldn't use the other means, he and the Forsaken are old hands at dealing with Dragon-tier ta'veren because they fought the first one.

Lan caught Moiraine’s eye, and for a moment they stared at one another. The Warder had the air about him of a wolf about to leap. Finally, Moiraine shook her head. “No,” she said.

Everyone needs a friend who is as willing to kill innocent bystanders for your convenience as Lan is for Moiraine. And also as willing to listen to vetoes. That part is crucial.

“He will not die by my actions,” Moiraine said. “But I cannot, and will not, promise that it will always be so. We must find Rand, and I will not fail in that. Is that spoken plainly enough for you?”

How many times in this series does an Aes Sedai offer to speak plainly and in fact plainer still if their words are not sufficient?

Lan nodded reluctantly, then gave Perrin a hard look. “See that you do, blacksmith. If any harm befalls her. . . .” His cold blue eyes finished the promise.

I really need to stop talking about how much I love Lan but I can't and you're all just going to have to live with that. Or stop reading, I guess that's an option too.

Behind those bars, a man lay sprawled on his stomach on the straw-covered floor. He was barefoot, his shirt and breeches ripped as if he had torn at them without knowing how to take them off. There was an odor of unwashed flesh that Perrin thought even Simion and Moiraine must smell.

Frankly Perrin your phrasing makes me think that his odor is "borderline but not actually overpowering", so that's pretty good for Noam's current conditions.

Perrin jerked back as he would have from a fire, sealed himself off. They were not thoughts at all, really, just a chaotic jumble of desires and images, part memory, part yearning. But there was more wolf there than anything else. He put a hand to the wall to steady himself; his knees felt weak.

Noam is... really not well. Even by Wolfbrother standards, I think. I wouldn't be surprised if in addition to his developing powers and the physical abuse we'll learn about in book 13 if he was also getting one of those late twenties mental health crises like schizophrenia. All of that mixed together plus the brief freedom and now imprisonment combines to make the dude we see here, who isn't coherent by either of the mental standards we could judge him by.

At her first step, Noam’s lips peeled back from his teeth, and he began to growl, a rumble that deepened till his whole body quivered. Moiraine ignored it. Still growling, Noam wriggled backwards in the straw as she came closer to him, until he had backed himself into a corner. Or she had backed him.

Moiraine is likely Compelling Noam a little bit as a part of whatever mental delving she's up to.

“Healing is not a simple matter, Simion, and it comes from within as much as from the Healer. There is nothing here that remembers being Noam, nothing that remembers being a man. There are no maps remaining to show him the path back, and nothing left to take that path. Noam is gone, Simion.”

With all the pressures Noam's under, it's no surprise at all that he happily jettisoned all the shitty memories. It is kind of impressive that they're entirely gone though, and again it makes me think that there's a lot more going on in Noam's head than we really get to see in this book or in the one ten books from now.

“He will die in here or out there, Simion. Out there, at least he’ll be free, and as happy as he can be. He is not your brother anymore, but you’re the one who has to decide. You can leave him in here for people to stare at, leave him to stare at the bars of his cage until he pines away. You cannot cage a wolf, Simion, not and expect it to be happy. Or live long.”

Perrin's one of those people who should heed his own advice, as so much of his misery will come from his desperation to cage himself.

“A Darkfriend wouldn’t care if my brother died in a cage. I suppose she found you soon after it happened. In time to help. I wish she’d come to Jarra a few months ago.”

I suppose this is as much as anything why the Wheel made everyone wait out the winter: it's not just making sure Rand only arrives at Tear at the same time as the Aiel do, but about making sure that Perrin frees Boundless so that he will someday pull his head out of his ass. Not that this was Jordan's intention, sadly, but it's nice that Sanderson was able to tie this together.

Next time: T'A'R!