#oswin west

[lodger-art]

Magma drawings ft. Doctor Who OCs (The Doctor, a Companion, Romana, and a Master who looks suspiciously like the companion), and some DC stuff

[scotianostra]

31st of August is the Feast day of St Aidan.

Not much is known about Aidan’s early life, it is thought he was born in Connach Ireland.

St. Aidan began his life of service on the Isle of Iona, the monastery at Iona was established by Irish monks under St. Columba, during the so-called “dark ages.” About a century later, in St. Aidan’s time, the monastery had become a major center of Gaelic Christianity and was receiving and sending monks across Europe.

By this time, Christianity in Northern England was largely replaced by the paganism of both native Britons and the Anglo-Saxon conquerors. The Kingdom of Northumbria (northern England and south-east Scotland) had just been reconquered by King St. Oswald of Northumbria. There was no Scotland or England as such back then, and no real borders Oswald brought the two Northumbrian kingdoms of Bernicia and Deira once again under a single ruler, and promoted the spread of Christianity,the North of Bernica are now part of the South of Scotland.

Oswald took back his father’s throne at the Battle of Heavenfield, where he prepared by praying before a wooden cross, legend says it was a relic of the True Cross. Next, Oswald beheld a vision of St. Columba who promised victory if his generals would be baptized. At council, all agreed to be baptized the night before and victory came to Oswald.

Oswald’s Northumbrian kingdom was small but remarkably diverse. Such was it you could hear at least four languages within the kingdom’s borders and there was a mix of church ruins and pagan sites dotting the landscape. While Christianity was initially brought to Britain by Roman saints, and strengthened by Sts. Gregory and Augustine of Canterbury, it had fallen away from the Britons with the Anglo-Saxon invasions.

When Oswald was killed in battle in 642, Aidan worked equally well with Oswin, king of Deira. Aidan preached widely throughout Northumbria, travelling on foot, so that he could readily talk to everyone he met. When Oswin gave him a horse for use in difficult terrain, Aidan gave it to a beggar soliciting alms. Oswin was angry until, as Bede recounts, Aidan asked if the son of a mare was more precious to the king than a son of God. Oswin sought Aidan's pardon, and promised never again to question or regret any of his wealth being given away to children of God. Both Oswald and Oswin are venerated in England as saints and martyrs.

Scores of Scottish and Irish monks assisted Aidan in his missionary work, building churches and spreading Celtic Christian influence to a degree that Lindisfarne became the virtual capital of Christian England. The saint also recruited classes of Anglo-Saxon youths to be educated at Lindisfarne. Among them was Saint Eata, abbot of Melrose and later of Lindisfarne. In time, Eata's pupil, Saint Cuthbert, also became bishop of Lindisfarne.

Aidan lived a frugal life, and encouraged the laity to fast and study the scriptures. He himself fasted on Wednesdays and Fridays, and seldom ate at the royal table. When a feast was set before him he would give the food away to the hungry. The presents he received were given to the poor or used to buy the freedom of slaves, some of whom entered the priesthood. During Lent Aidan would retire to the small island of Farne for prayer and penance. While there in 651, he saw smoke rising from Bamburgh, which was then under attack by the pagan King Penda of Mercia. He prayed for the wind to change, and many of the besiegers were destroyed by fire.

When Oswin was killed in 651 by his treacherous cousin Oswy, king of Bernicia, Aidan was grief-stricken. The saint outlived Oswin by a mere twelve days, dying in a shelter he had erected against the wall of his church in Bamburgh.

The first pic shows tomb of St Aidan, St Aidan's Church, Bamburgh, the second is a stained glass window depicting Aidan at the Monastic Chapel, Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, New York.

[moriitis]

Thyra, Lady To Be of Lord Oswine.

Been wanting to actually write out my Creepypasta OCs stories for awhile now so going to dump this here. Time period is around 866 AD, might write more about her in the future if people are interested, like HCs and such. Recommended playlist while reading!

TWs; kidnapping, murder, stabbing, blood, panic attacks, anxiety. 18+.

"Father? Mother...?" The words hung in the air.

The woodland brought a sense of familiarity for young Thyra, for these be the very woods she and her younger brother would play in. It was dark and she knew that being here at such a time would get her scolded, not only because she would be outside the castle walls, but because her mother would be worried sick.

Perhaps she had fallen asleep, the linger of summer still rich in the air. Maybe she had simply played too hard and upon lying down on the rich soil beneath her, she slept a slumber so deep that it almost felt as if she had slept for an eternity.

--

"Go in these woods, I dare ya, and each tree will awaken!" Thrya spoke with enthusiasm that was enough to sell at a market, her hands up and looming above her head as she trudged up behind her younger brother.

He was younger than she, only by two years and yet Thyra took the responsibility of the oldest sister with pride. For who shall hurt her dearest brother?

"Nae, I'm t' scared me," Leofric spoke with his small and delicate hands over his eyes, too afraid to peek into the denseness of the woodland before him. "Monster in there, Thyra, I heard 'dem!"

Thrya gave a simple tut of her teeth, shaking her head in utter disbelief at the notion.

"Nae, tis' naught!" Swooping down to scoop up a stick, she treads with a beat in her step toward the edge of the forest, daring to enter with a watchful eye on Leofric. "Come now. Take me hand!" And there, her dirt ridden hand reached out toward the young brunette who was a lot shorter than she was.

Despite the comforting words, Leofric did not budge.

"Tsk, what warrior are ye?!" Thyra jested with a chuckle. The boy frowned, his expression so visible that each crinkle on his skin only further made the young girl laugh. "'Ere, me mighty sword," holding out the stick between them, she shook it. Then it was there for a second that Leofric peeped a look toward the stick, in his small and innocent mind imagining the biggest sword only the finest warriors could carry. So, with that thought in mind accompanied by his sisters reassuring words, he grabbed the stick and her hand with his other before stepping closer.

His steps carried no confidence, unlike Thyra, who practically knew this forest like the back of her hand.

Whenever lost, turn west, then south, follow the sun and home should ye! Those were the words of their mother.

With each tread they furthered into the forest. It grew thicker, darker as the trees loomed above; but nothing frightening here. There! A bush rustled and out came hopping a rabbit, brown and white and quick as ever!

"There! Foul beast!" Thyra pointed, her loud voice an echo as she tugged on Leofric's hand and darted after the rabbit in such speed that her brother struggled to keep up. His feet gave way here and there as they paced through.

"Thyra!" he called desperately, trying to get her to stop or even slow down so he could attempt to keep up. His cries fell on deaf ears as she ran but it wasn't long until she paused, heart beating in her ears as she listened carefully for where the rabbit had fled off to.

Thump, thump, thump.

Cursed heart, now she will never hear where the thing went!

Leofric's expression was that of worry as he glanced around the area, the trees above them providing shelter from the hot summers day. It was silent as Thyra listened, her brows scrunched in focus, wiring in on all the sounds that produced themselves. The leaves brushing against one another in the soft wind, the lake that was just down further along and as she squeezed her eyes shut- There!

CAW, CAW, CAW.

And the noise, gone. The rabbit escaped.

"Damn birds!" Thyra cursed, throwing a fist to the branches above her. The crows were perched on a branch close by and her sudden movement did not disturb them for they watched intently, almost judging her and her curses toward them.

"Tis' just birds, Thyra," Leofric uttered, keeping the stick sword close to his leg, just in case something were to pounce out from the shrubbery around them.

"Nae, 'tis devils," the brunette girl replied, a sneer in her voice as she finally peeled her eyes away from the jet black crows above them. The words 'devils' made Leofric's lips purse, he hated any idea of that and his grip further tightened on his weapon.

For a moment, silence lingered and loomed over them as they both took in the beauty of the woodland around them. The bright green on the leaves above them, each flicker and wave the shrubbery would make in the light wind and if you listened close enough, you could hear the crickets chirping. But amongst it all, Thyra noticed not once did she hear a bird, aside from the crows above her. No robin, no simple pigeon, had they fled? Were the trees not good enough for a humble abode? Perhaps they did not take liking to the wood, whatever it was, she would not dwell on the fact any longer.

"Is Father dying?" Leofric's words shocked her at the suddenness of it, causing her to whip her head round to glance at him.

There was no denying that Father was indeed dying, a cruel and unpleasant death that made his insides rot. It was something Thyra couldn't come to terms with, not just because she would be losing her father; but because that would make her the next heir to the small kingdom her father owned. The idea of becoming a Lady at only fourteen wasn't something she looked forward to, because her Mother had prepared her for this; for what was to come.

'A Lady must have a Lord, and thus there the Lady will bare children to further improve the kingdom's bloodline.' Only, she didn't want children and she had yet to even bare blood.

"Nae," she lied, a lie she only wished was true but despite the reassurance in her voice, her younger brother did not believe her. Thrya pushed away a lock of her brown hair, the plait that had golden beads at the end hung on the right side of her face; the rest of her hair messy. Leofric also had brown hair, something they both got from their Mother, however the brown in his hair was a lot lighter compared to her own.

"Ye lying," he sneered which visibly made her cringe. Damn her brother, damn the world! Although, she did love him so, so maybe no damns were needed for now. With a simple tut, she released his sweaty hand from her own and stepped off further into the woodland. "Me knows that when he dies, ye gonna be Lady," there was a mocking tone in his voice which caused her to furrow her brows in irritation. Could they not talk about this? She just wanted to play and have fun! To forget the real world worries for a moment.

"Leofric," she warned him, a subtle hint to wanting him to shut up about the matter.

"Tis truth, is naught?" Leofric shrugged, kicking a pebble with the end of his leather shoe and following behind it until he approached a tree, swinging the stick with might until it hit the bark and created a large THWACK to echo into the woodland. Thyra's mind now began to drift away as she sat down, leaning against a tree of her own with her knees pressed firmly against her chest. There was anger bubbling away within her, an anger she didn't want to feel and yet couldn't help the simmering, feeling it grow more powerful as each day passed. She was angry that her father was dying, she was angry that this was happening to her and she was not prepared. Why must she be the Lady? Why not the Lord? For she wished to carry a sword of her own and storm into battles, not be the child bearing.

"Ye speak too often," was all she could utter, a hint of annoyance laced in her face and yet she dared not to look him in the eye. Not that Leofric held much power over her, only because she couldn't dare to hurt him with her expression which took control over her being. There was a brief and short chuckle that erupted from Leofric, a childlike chuckle and that itself brought a soft smile to her own freckled features. Maybe he wasn't too bad.

It was there an abrupt pain shot in the middle of her skull, making her wince and quickly grab her temple. Another head tremor. The pain was nothing and it was something she could shrug off, but it was the way it bounced inside her skull, the ache of it stretching into each corner of her head. There the younger brunette caught notice of her pain and his features twisted into that of concern, stepping forward to place a reassuring hand upon his sister's shoulder.

"The pain?" was all he asked, Thyra only giving a simple nod as she tried to grimace the pain away with grit teeth. Only the pain was temperamental, some moments it would flicker for a short moment, other times it could last for days; there was no in-between. Leofric's lips pursed and his jaw tightened, unsure on how or what to do to comfort his sister, in times like these; his mother would usher her to the chapel to pray away the pain. Perhaps she cursed too much, and now God was punishing her for her foul mouth.

But before he could made a suggestion, there was a beat in the distance, a beat that was similar to a galloping of hooves and quickly Thyra sucked in her pain and jumped to her feet. Sisterly instincts kicked in and it was there her fingers hooked around the collar of Leofric's tunic and she tugged him gently behind her, taking a step forward to keep an watchful eye out to the trees before them. By the count of the gallops alone, she could tell it was a handful of people and her heart began to race.

Emerging from the trees, soldiers upon horses. The horse at the front was as white as snow and she recognised it as her father's warrior, the head of the other soldiers in regards to ranks. He was old, with greys peeking through the tuffs of brown hair on his head. Eadric, a man so cold and stoic that the sight of him made Thyra frown. He was mean, unfriendly and Thyra was almost certain he had come here to bear news that their father had passed. The other men behind him who were also atop horses wore heavy armour, the chainmail covering their arms and neck, swords on their hip which hung down past their ankle almost. There on their breast was the familiar family crest, a crow with it's wings spread so far that it almost wrapped around their torso.

"Ye to be home," Eadric spoke, his voice rough as he kept the reins tight within his hands, the horse occasionally jerking; eager to gallop. Thyra pursed her lips and glanced at Leofric, who emerged a little now that he noticed it was only his father's people; people he could trust.

"We only playing," Thyra responded.

"With the boy?" Eadric scoffed and it was there her face contorted a little, Leofric? Why should he matter in this case? She was confused and admittedly a little taken aback by his remark. The white horse beneath him reared a little, his head jerking back and forth as Eadric tried to control the beast. "The boy must be ready for battle," he sneered over at the stick Leofric was holding. "With a real sword." There was a short chuckle from the other soldiers behind him.

"Battle?" Thyra repeated, confused, was there an unknown war that she had not been informed about? But her question was ignored as Eadric made a simple motion with his hand, the horse turning on its heel and the others around him following suit.

"Ye to be in the castle walls, now," and with the final bark of his order, he galloped off and out the woodland.

A beat of silence and Thyra turned to face Leofric, who looked equally as frustrated as she had felt. She sighed a sigh of defeat, there was no arguing with Eadric and it was there and patted a hand on her younger brother's shoulder.

"Ye heard the man, come," she finally spoke and with a simple motion of her head, she turned and began to follow the man made path out the forest, with Leofric following close behind.

"Thyra."

"Yes?" she asked and paused in her tracks, turning to look at Leofric, who also stopped but he looked confused, his brows furrowed.

"What?" he asked. Her own brows furrowed.

"Ye said me name?" she spoke softly, feeling almost a cold sweat to hit the back of her neck. Leofric shook his head slowly, his brown eyes whipping around the forest around them.

"Nae, Thyra," he whispered. It was there the sense of unease began to simmer around them, creating a tense environment. Then who spoke her name?

"Thyraaa," it croaked behind her and she screamed, not hesitating to grab Leofric's hand and run.

Whatever it was, whoever it was, it sounded like a witch! It croaked right beside her ear and yet when she turned, there was nothing! Her heart was beating, her head pounding as she ran as fast as her legs could take her. She ran and ran until she could see the edge of the forest, until her lungs were burning and sweat was producing on her upper brow and quickly she hurled herself out into the grass that was the forest edge. Leofric came following, except he didn't throw himself to the ground, only doubled over for a moment with his hands atop his knees to catch his breath. The stick that was once in his hand thrown to the floor in such a panic.

The grass beneath her was cold, a welcoming change compared to the sun that beat down beneath them and she gasped for breath, feeling her body shade and shudder from the interaction. Maybe Leofric was right, maybe there were monsters in the woods.

"Why was ye runnin'?!" Leofric gasped out, his torso beating up and down as his body craved to catch its breath. That question alone made her freeze. Why was she running? Maybe because of the voice that called and lulled at her name, maybe because only she could hear the voice. Her head began to pound more, causing her to pull her knees up to her chest and groan. What was happening? Was she going mad? This never happened before, how could she tell mother? She would never be deemed to rule, to be a Lady, god forbid this be the start to her bleeding!

Her arms wrapped around her legs and she began to hyperventilate, feeling as if her oxygen and her very breaths were being stripped from her as she gasped. Her chest tight, her body shaking involuntarily. Leofric hurried over, collapsing onto his knees beside her and grabbing her head to place it upon his lap.

"Thyra, Thyra! Listen! Breathe, slower, slower!" he instructed, but in reality he had no idea what he was doing. This happened before, Thyra often had these attacks and it was there the priests would say these words to her and bathe her in a tub of holy water. Her vision was a blur, but with her head tilted up to see her brother, it was like her frantic breathing calmed and she regained a sense of her surroundings once again. These attacks didn't last long, but the everlasting effects ate away at her energy as her body shook. "Yes, breathe Thyra!" he pleaded, like he was on the verge of tears. Sucking in a long and steady breath, he then exhaled through the pout of his lips. "Like me Thyra." With his face in frame, she focused and took in slow and steady breaths. It was rinse and repeat; only taking a couple more minutes for her body to relax and for her to regain her composure.

The world around her spun and so she remained with her head on his lap, feeling the occasional tickle of the grass against her freckled arms. She could hear the birds, the wind as it stroked it's tender fingers through strands of her hair and she could feel Leofric's body as he kept a watchful eye on her.

"I'm sorry-" she finally croaked out, her throat feeling so hoarse and her body aching for a drop of water to wet her lips. Leofric only shook his head but he did not speak, not wanting Thyra to stand up and push herself just yet. He enjoyed their tender embrace, he enjoyed keeping her close and it was in moments like these he was thankful to have a sister like Thyra. Someone so strong, so brave, the traits only he wished he could carry himself. His hand reached out and there his fingertips grazed against the skin of her cheek, pushing aside some strands of her hair.

A brief moment passed and Thyra finally sat up, raising a hand to press it against her temple once again. Her attack had already eaten a chunk away at time and she knew that Eadric along with her father were waiting for them back within the castle walls; keeping them waiting any longer would be a bad idea. So, with a simple huff, she got back to her feet and with one hand outstretched toward her brother, he took it and stood up himself. Her gaze glanced back over toward their pony grazing at the grass beneath its hooves, the reigns tied to a branch nearby.

"Come," she spoke softly, for her throat was in too much pain and she began to step over the long and tall grass toward the mighty steed.

"Can ye ride, Thyra?" Leofric asked, his own voice soft compared to hers and also laced with concern. With a hum, she tugged the reigns away from the branch and hopped up atop the pony before then helping her brother climb up on and behind her. He wrapped his arms around her torso and she kicked softly against the chestnut pony, letting the animal trot off into the direction of the castle. Leofric's hands were wrapped securely around her torso and it was there she could feel his head resting against her spine as their bodies bounced softly against the beat of the pony's trot.

The ride was not long, only about fifteen minutes as the whole castle seemed to be covered in woodland. It stood high on a hill, with almighty pride with its walls unshaken. There was a little village beneath it, the occasional smoke from each fire within a tavern or house. It was always bustling with life, people, farmers and travellers, passing by or just looking to trade. It was a village that not even Thyra could comprehend owning, something that the very thought panged her with nausea. The pony rode through the village, making her way up the path that lead toward the gates. People were crowding the streets, some shooting glances toward the pair, others avoiding them altogether. The ground beneath them muddy, each step the pony made resulting in a squelch or squish noise, geese running close and following them along. As they approached the gates, Thyra knew that it was too early for them to be lowered. Soldiers littered the entrance, some getting drunk, others playing rhyme games and the occasional guard on duty atop the wall to keep an eye on the rabble below.

"That ones sleeping," Leofric chuckled, pointing up quickly and nudging Thyra to catch a look before they passed through the entrance. Quickly, she looked up and caught the guard in particular, leaning against the stone wall with his head dropped down so his chin was touching his chest. She chuckled too, but in reality no guard should be sleeping on duty; especially when they were supposed to keep them both safe.

Passing the castle walls, they entered the inner sanctum. The castle was their home, built from stone and it stood tall compared to the other huts that were outside the city walls. An array of green coated the stone, the occasional ivy dressing the castle in a nice green. The chapel was on the left and there was on the right was the stables, the barracks being close by. The door to the kitchen was close, tucked away in the far corner just left of the stables. It's there she and Leofric would run out of carrying occasional treats they stole from the kitchen. There were the priests and nuns leaving the chapel, possibly just ending their midday prayer.

With a soft nudge in the ponys side, she directed the pony toward the stable and there they both slid off the animal, leaving it to graze on the hay on the floor below. As the duo both approached the big wooden doors, their mother suddenly came rushing out.

"There ye are!" she called out, rushing to Thyra and Leofric to wrap them both in a warm embrace. Thyra always thought her mother looked so beautiful.

"Mother-!" was the muffled sound of Leofric, but Thrya didn't complain. There was a moment that the embrace lingered and it was there their mother pulled away, admiring both her children with love in her eyes. "God blessed me with ye two." Her hands were on each cheek on her children, her right on Thyra's and her left on Leofrics. Before any words were further spoken, a priest came rushing by.

"Ah, they are back," he spoke. He was bald and ugly, and always scolded Thyra for not reading her prayers properly. "We must prepare you at once." Those words were sudden, as really Thyra felt a hunger brew in the pits of her stomach but reluctantly she turned to face the priest. Their mother had now removed her hands, keeping them to her sides as she watched. Although, the priest was not talking to Thyra and it was there he pushed past her and toward Leofric. Confusion slapped her across the face, prepare him for what? Despite the confusion and admittedly, the amount of questions that lingered in her mind, she didn't speak up nor press on the further any more. For if it was something she could avoid, then she would happily do so.

There the priest hurried Leofric away, leaving only Thyra and her mother. There was one thing her mother could do best, and that was read Thyra like an open book. "Tis not ye worry," she said softly as Thyra kept a look on Leofric, feeling a sense of almost worry toward him and the priest. "Come," and with that her mother pressed a hand against her shoulder and hurried her along inside. The hall of the castle was large, far bigger than any other room she had seen and there stood at the end of the hall was the throne. Despite the almighty of it and the title it held, it was nothing but an ordinary wooden chair draped with animal pelts and despite the ordinariness of it all; it sat and mocked her. It was daunting to look at.

As her and her mother walked up the stone stairs, their footsteps echoing, they finally reached the hall of their bedrooms and studies. Mother was quiet, but that was her nature as Thyra followed along almost helplessly. There was a faint chatter, a chatter that grew louder as they further stepped down the hall that was lit with the sun that flooded through the windows. A servant stepped out of her brothers room, carrying bedsheets that were due for a cleaning. With a bow of her head, she uttered a quick, "Lady Thyra, Lady Wilona." Wilona was her mother's name, a name she heard often as they were addressed. Both Thyra and her mother nodded back. Then, they both turned left and it was there the chatter got louder, yet it sounded more like hushed whispers at this point.

She knew her fathers room was down this hall, a room that frankly was already begining to stink of death and as they passed, she craned her head just barely to peek inside. There was her father, frail, weak, and yet still talking to Eadric, whose hand was firmly against the hilt of his sword. They both passed looks back toward Thyra and there the talking abruptly stopped. Eadric then stepped toward the door and closed it shut, leaving her a little bewildered.

Something strange was going on, something that made her gut twist a little. Of course, with her father on the brink of death, there was no denying that things felt tense and her mother being rather calm about it all was not something that comforted her. Nevertheless, she pushed these thoughts and feelings aside; for what was there to worry about?

"I had another attack," Thyra said abruptly, breaking the silence between the two. Her mother glanced down at her daughter, her brows knit in worry as she sighed a gentle yet somewhat strained sigh.

"All is fine," she uttered back, turning her head back up. But was all fine? Because it didn't feel it and now her stomach was truly knotting just at her mothers reaction alone. What was going on? Why did she feel so hot and sweaty? Thyra clenched at her own tunic, feeling her fingers curl around the wool as she tried to gather a coherent thought.

Ding, ding, ding.

What on earth was that noise? Quickly, she glanced behind her, but the halls were empty and she snapped her head back around. What were these voices? Was she going mad? Perhaps this was her end to the throne, Lady Thyra going mad, insane, and what if she couldn't bare children? What then would happen? Her family would die out, her legacy? She didn't want to be a Lady, she didn't-

Ding, ding, ding.

And who is ringing those damned bells?! Thyra whipped her head back around, glancing over her shoulder, only this time catching a shadowy figure peering out from around the corner and staring back at her. Gasping, she turned her head back around at such speed that it hurt, finding her feet taking each stride quicker and quicker.

"Thyra?" Her mother called out and she paused. The ringing of the bells had gotten louder, but they were not simple church bells, small bells a jester would wear around his ankles or wrists. Was she being mocked? Perhaps she was the jester, the joker in this story? Clasping her hands over her ears, she squeezed her eyes shut; the noise becoming so loud that it was becoming impossible to think.

"Thyra!?" there a hand grabbed her shoulder and the bells stopped. The only noise was her heartbeat pounding, each beat so hard that it felt as if her heart was about to break free from her ribcage and drop onto the floor. With brown eyes meeting another set of brown eyes, she pulled her hands from her ears and pursed her lips.

Her mother looked at her with a state of worry, but her mother was not the focus as she glanced back down the hall. The shadow figure ceased to be, putting her mind at ease but only somewhat.

"Y-Yea-" Thyra mumbled, her bottom lip quivered and her legs were daring to buckle and give way. "Sorry."

"Have ye seen a ghost? My, so pale," her mother remarked and it was there she pressed the back of her hand against Thyra's forehead. Despite being pale, she was hot and sweaty. "Some rest will do you good, come." Despite her mother's recommendations, rest was the last thing she needed but nevertheless she followed behind, like a lost little lamb; because truth be told she was too afraid to be alone right now.

At the end of this hall was her own room that was also rather equally large in size. The room was rather close to Leofric's, something that felt a comfort right now as she stepped inside and sat on the bed. There was a tapestry on the wall opposite a bed, a tapestry her mother had made when she was both pregnant with Thyra and Leofric. Upon the tapestry was two siblings, their backs turned however their hands were intertwined. The castle was in the background and to the left was the woodland, with all kinds of wildlife appearing out from the treeline to welcome the siblings. It was a tapestry so beautiful that whenever she struggled to sleep, she'd look upon it and admire the detail her mother went through making it. Wilona stepped toward her daughter and helped her with tugging off her tunic and belt, setting them to drape over the wooden end of the bed. "Rest, then eat, there's lots to discuss, but for now, rest is important," she spoke with authority, an authority Thyra dare not to question or fight against, so with a simple hum she kicked off her shoes and laid back in bed.

Before her mother could leave, she lingered by the door and there Thyra glanced up to meet her gaze. Her face contorted, hurt and she was crying.

Perhaps she cries because her daughter is growing, perhaps she cries because her husband is dying and for now, Thyra doesn't question it, settling back down into the comfort of bed. Her gaze hard on the ceiling above her, questioning all the strange details this day laid out before her. It was a day stranger than others and one she shan't forget in a long time. However, it wasn't long until she felt the lull of sleep pull her in, the attacks taking out most energy of her body as she drifted off into a slumber she opened with welcoming arms.

"Shh, shut ye whore mouth, you'll wake the girl," it whispered. A voice grunt, large and brute. Her eyes opened however she remained motionless, seeing a shadow linger by the frame of her door. It was a man, there was no denying it, however she could not see his features as they were concealed under a cowl. There was a shuffle, another man? And there she took no risks and squeezed her eyes shut. Her heart pounding so loudly within her skull that she could not determine where they were in her room.

It was dark, which meant she must've slept for a lot longer than she had expected.

"How'd we do this?" one whispered, this time their voiced seemed a lot closer.

"Like he said."

"Nae, ye bloomin' idiot, how'd we take the girl?!" the other spat back, speaking through gritted teeth. Despite their attempt at being discreet, they were awful and frankly, took Thyra for someone at a disadvantage.

The darkness in her room was of something in her favour however as she peeked one eye open to glance over toward the corner of her room. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, allowing her to focus in on the wooden sword that was propped against the stone wall of the castle. It was no real sword, but depending on where you hit, it could deal enough damage to allow her to bide some time and call for help. She knew a simple scream or shout would work in her favour, that the guards would come running; that was if they weren't sleeping on duty again.

"I'll her legs, take her arms." Thyra listened carefully, planning her next move with haste. A second longer motionless here and whatever would happen to her would not be good news so as she focused on the noises around her, she determined when to strike. However, it was silent which only sent her into a state of paranoia but before she could spiral again, there was a shuffle close to her and within an instant she jumped up, taking both the men by surprise. They both wore the same clothing, dark and with a cowl covering both their heads; however they sounded like the common blunder of folk she had heard in her lifetime. As she jumped to her feet, Thyra made haste toward the wooden sword and allowed her fingers to curl around the hilt.

In a movement so quick, she spun her torso and allowed the wood to come crashing down onto one of the mens heads, earning a hard and loud grunt to escape him. She was satisfied but before she could begin to pace toward the door and land a blow onto the other, he grabbed her wrist and promptly she was pushed to the ground. The stone was cold and hard beneath her bare torso, resulting in a soft yelp in response. Fighting them was no use, as she was a small teenaged girl and they were grown men, but she had to try.

So, with adrenaline kicking into her bloodstream, she hurdled back to her feet and made for the door. However, the thickness of fingers hooked around her ankle and it was there she came tumbling back down onto her stomach. It hurt and for a brief moment her chin connected with the stone beneath her, causing her teeth to bite down on her tongue. The metallic taste of blood there resulted within her taste buds, causing her a sharp shoot of pain that boiled and bubbled on her tongue. Giving up was, however, out of the question as she struggled against the grip. It was tight against her ankle and damn did it hurt, but she knew there was nothing more powerful that the sound of her voice.

"Get off me, damned you!" she yelled, her leg lashing out in hopes that her foot would make a connection with his leg. "Help me!" she screamed out, using all the might she could to wake someone up. Her energy was growing thin however and with their strong grip now securely around both her legs and arms, she was struggling to find the fight within her. The men were scrambling though, for it seemed they were not prepared a child to fight back and there uncoordinated with one another now the plan seemed to be going amiss. In one big burst of energy, Thyra pulled her arm from his grip and let a fist make a connection with his jaw. He grunted but it was not enough to send him flying and there his own fist curled as he punched back against her own face. A hit so hard she was seeing stars and what was already a rather dark room only became darker as she blacked out.

It was there she awoke briefly, however her mind and eyesight a haze. Everything blurry, dark and her body struggled to find any burst of energy within her. She was swaying a little, but that was only because she were on someone's shoulder and as she craned her head briefly to look up, she saw her door. Everything ached, her head and tongue more so than anything else as she tried to make sense of the situation.

Why had no one came? Where were the guards? Why was she being taken? Where was she going?

Turning the corner, it was there she saw Eadric. He was accompanied by soldiers, however they made no effort to help; only watching as she be taken away from the comfort of her bed, from the comfort of her home. Her own gaze was hard, unforgiving, had he planned for this to happen? Her blood boiled. She'll find him, she'll kill him and she'll find him again in another lifetime just to torment him all over again. Her head dropped back, blacking out once again before she could feel the cold and cool air hit her tender skin.

It wasn't long until she awoke, feeling a hard kick in her side which caused a growl to erupt from her. It was still dark and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust. Despite the darkness that swallowed her whole, there was no denying that she was outside, as her body shook and shivered as the cold nipped at her skin. There was now however a tunic around her frame, which frankly confused her even more. As she blinked not once but twice, she glanced around at her surroundings. It was the woodland she was in with Leofric much earlier on in the day, she could tell because this was where she once stood when she cursed out those crows above her. There was another jab in her side, this time a lot more harder and she could make it out as a shoe as she was kicked. Thyra turned and sat up, had they made a simple error in not tying up her wrists? What was going on? Why was she here and who were these people?

"What are ye waiting for? Kill the girl, it has to be done tonight," a voice called out from within the shadows of the trees, a voice that was so familiar that she only couldn pin it down on being Eadric. That fool couldn't dare show himself? How weak. But that now was the least of her worries as her heart began to frantically beat, it beat so hard that it was drumming against her bones and there she found herself stuck, motionless and unable to move. Eadric wanted her dead? Why?

"Nae, nae, don't kill me-" Thyra began to helplessly beg, her head shaking frantically as she tried to search for the faces of the men who had kidnapped her prior; however they were still hidden over those dark cowls. "Have mercy, please!" Was this some unkind foolery? A prank? The men did not make haste, they were hesitating, like some kind of decency they had left were still lingering over them, a guilty conscience lingering over their very being. Who could take the life of a child so helplessly?

"Well?! Kill her!" he barked and it was there footsteps began to pace forward.

"I can't, she's but a child-" one man answered, watching as Eadric appeared from the shadows and now into the clearing. Thyra could only push herself farther away, her back hitting the bark of a tree behind her as she watched the scene unfold before her.

"Even more of a reason," Eadric spat and it was there he snatched the knife from one man, turning to Thyra. She froze, watching as her death and fate inched closer to her. She wanted to move, to stand and run until her lungs were burning, but she simply just watched. He stepped closer and closer and at the last second she scrambled to her feet, her footing slipping as she tried to run because at this point her life literally did depend on it.

Before she could get far, she glanced over her shoulder and it was there the blade of the dagger met with her face. It was a simply graze through her eyebrow and down her cheek, but it was deep enough for her fall onto her knees and whine out in pain. Her hand came up to her eye, thankfully she had not lost her vision but now blood was pooling down her wrist and into her eye as she tried to overcome the overwhelming feeling of the pain, the stinging that errupted on her face. Eadric had missed her by an inch but now that she had ceased running, his hand grabbed her shoulder and threw her back to the ground. Thyra fell onto her back, having the air knocked from her lungs as she tried to catch her breath and get up and run.

It was no use, because now the other man had grabbed her ankles and pinned her to the cold and musty ground beneath her. Eadric loomed over her, his face contorted into that of disgust. Not disgusted at the situation that was unfolding before him, just disgusted at the sight of her.

"Long live, Lady Thyra, only her reign didn't last long," Eadric sneered. Thyra couldn't tell she was crying because the warmth of her blood and the tears that pooled down her face mixed perfectly, it wasn't until she was sobbing helplessly that she acknowledged that this was truly the end. The end of her, her life, and that she spent her last day with her brother who would wake up unknowing that she was dead.

With a simple swing of his arms, the dagger plummeted down into her shoulder and for a moment all she felt was a numb sensation as steel pierced her skin. Thyra screamed, a scream so helpless that begging would be unjustly to how hard she screamed. Her voice breaking, her hands reaching up in a desperate attempt to defend herself but it was useless. The dagger came down once again, harder this time however it sliced right through the palm of her hand and all the screams she once had were nothing but gargling mess. The first slice of the dagger penetrating her lungs, now essentially drowning her in her own blood as it pooled in her mouth and began to dribble down her chin. With each raise of his hand, it came down harder on the small girls body, the sound of Eadric's grunts and skin being ripped open only filling the night air.

This was where she died, in the woods alone, betrayed by her own people, having not even had the title nor worry of being a Lady. She'll never carry children, she'll continue to lie here until her body was nothing but bones and for years to come she will be a forgotten memory; because after this night Lady Thyra never existed. Her body jerked as each dagger made the impact and her arms that were once flailing to defend herself now dropped down as her body became limb.

Her arms were littered with stab wounds, not as much as her torso and Eadric wasn't sure what killed her that night. Whether she choked on her own blood or whether it was the final stab wound that sliced through her heart, thus ending her suffering and existence in this world.

"Her eyes are open," one man remarked, anxiousness in his voice as he finally released her ankles. Eadric wiped some sweat off his brow and stood straight, her blood smeared on his cheeks.

"She's dead," he replied, looking at the lifeless body of the child below him. Thyra died there, in that woodland, her blood coating the soil beneath her and her eyes wide open, still glossy with the remains of tears. The other man who had no courage to take part was vomiting nearby, doubled over by the tree as his body jerked with each heave. Killing someone was not easy, it never got easier, however there was something about killing an innocent child that was almost worse.

CAW, CAW, CAW.

CAW, CAW, CAW.

"Quiet beast! I'm sleeping.."

CAW, CAW, CAW.

"Have you no mercy!?" Her voice screamed out as she sat up. The crow sat on a branch opposite her, head tilting and just as silence began to settle, it started once again.

CAW, CAW, CAW.

"Damn you!" she yelled, raising a hand to rub it against her temple. It was there she noticed that she was not in the castle, in the comfort of her bed; but here on the woodland floor and she blinked as she took in the sight around her. It was dark still, had she perhaps walked in her sleep and now she was here? "What.." she whispered as she blinked again, trying to make sense of what happened and where she was. Had she taken a nap? It was dark, it was late and she had to get back before mother noticed! Thyra remained seated, glancing at the crow for a moment.

"Don't look at me so," she sneered, placing a hand on her knee as she stood to her own feet.

"And why not?"

Thyra froze, did that bird just speak back to her?!

"What in the devil, did you just talk!?"

"Nae, 'tis naught me." Indeed it was not the crow, and yet it remained perched upon the branch with its head twitching and flickering to each side.

Ding, ding, ding.

Those bells, she remembered the sound of those bells. It was the same noise she heard before she fell asleep, the same noise jesters would make within the great hall during their many feasts. But the sound of those bells were far away within the forest, a thick layer of fog settling just above her hipline. The sound of the bells drew closer.

"Thyra, ye to be home!" The voice came from the direction of the bells and Thyra narrowed her eyes, trying to catch sight of what was talking to her. Despite being alone in the woodland, she had no fear, for the voice sounded oddly familiar to her late grandma.

"Where is Leofric?!" Thyra called out helplessly, her voice echoing and bouncing back toward her and yet she had no answer, only the sound of the voice cackling back at her. Her face contorted into confusion as the voice laughed at her question, it was naught a stupid one.

"Ah, Lord Leofric, says ye?" The voice remarked back after its cackling ceased. Thyra kept a watchful eye around her and it was there she finally noticed a figure stepping closer toward her. It was plump, large and resembled the same body type as her grandma indeed, however there was nothing friendly nor comforting about it. In fact, she felt a sense of dread plague her body upon looking at the figure. "Aye, he has babes now."

Thyra was confused by this remark. Lord Leofric? No, she was to be Lady and how such could a child Leofric's age bear children already?

"Nae, ye speak in riddles," Thyra spoke cautiously.

"I speak only the truth, girl." This time the voice came back distorted, twisted and evil and it made Thyra shiver almost at the sudden attitude change. As the figure stepped closer, Thyra noticed there that it also wore the same clothing as her grandma but upon finally settling her eyes on its head, she knew that this was not her grandma. Each step the beast made, the sound of bells would chime out into the forest. Despite the dress it wore, there was a collar of bells around its neck, ankles and wrists; like some kind of monster that lured children into the woodland. Maybe Leofric was right about monsters. However, upon further inspection and despite the human body, this beast had no head. Only the head of a crow, much larger than any regular crow and yet it lacked feathers or eyes and it appeared the monster only had the skull of a crow atop its neck. Thyra wanted to step back and run, but she didn't.

"Who are ye.." Thyra mumbled, afraid to dare ask the question and the beast cackled its manic cackle once again. The crow that was once perched atop the branch battered its wings and flew toward the animal-like human, resting atop its shoulder and letting out another loud CAW.

"I be death, girl." Despite the lack of facial features, it was grinning. Suddenly, a large flock of crows gathered in the branches above them, resting atop and watching down. Thyra always hated crows, so naturally felt rather uneasy about being watched by what seemed like hundreds of them.

"Death?" Thyra remarked back, her hairs standing on edge at the notion of repeating that word. "Why would-.." There the beast cackled again.

"For ye be dead!"

Thyra felt everything shift around her, her legs wanting to buckle and yet she didn't. She scoffed, laughed nervously and began to frantically shake her head. "Nae, ye lie!"

"LOOK AT YOURSELF!" The beast roared and suddenly Thyra fell back onto something hard below her, craning her head over her neck to see a mirror that was now almost within the soil. What she stared back at was.. herself, and yet it wasn't at the same time. She was pale, grey, there was blood on her chin and her tunic was stained with blood. Her eye was red, the scar that looked so new caused her to gasp out. She raised a hand to touch it and there, when she expected to feel a burst of pain, felt nothing. Thyra was hyperventilating, shaking her head as she looked upon herself.

She was dead. The girl scrambled away from the mirror, she couldn't look at herself because this wasn't real, this was another night terror and she would awake to find her skin plump with blood again and feel the beating of her heart. Her hands grabbed at herself, desperately trying to feel a heart beat beneath her skin and chest. Then as her hands connected with her chest, everything had all came true and there was no heartbeat, only the coldness of her skin.

"Nae, nae!" Thyra screamed and she felt her legs buckling again as she collapsed onto her knees, only her knees didn't connect with the soil beneath her, they connected with her cold and lifeless body that lay before her.

"Look at ye girl! Dead, dead, dead! Dead as anything!" The crow woman remarked and it cackled again. Thyra was in disbelief, she wasn't dead, she was only fourteen! She had her whole life ahead of her and it couldn't be stripped from her this easily! It was unfair, this was all unfair and it won't be long until she awakes from this awful dream! Her lifeless body below her made her want to vomit but nothing came out as she gagged, moving herself away from the rotting corpse that lay on the woodland floor.

"Then what am I?!" Thyra questioned through grit teeth, her eyes searching hopelessly for an answer. How was her body there and yet so was she?! "Do I be a.. a ghost? A spirit?" But Death gave no answer, its beak outstretching into a grin. That was enough of an answer for Thyra and she collapsed again to her knees, her fingers curling and grabbing fistfuls of her hair as she screamed. Doubling over and screaming so hard that she wanted to choke. Her scream did not echo however. Her fist began to punch at the soil beneath her. How could this happen? Who could do such a thing? And before she could word her questions, Death simply answered them.

"They say blood is thicker than water.. Well, your father seemed to not think so. Say, Lady Thyra, why would your father trust a fourteen year old girl to rule his kingdom when he had the perfect heir already?" Thyra only sobbed, her body shaking. This couldn't be real, it wasn't real.

"And yet it do be real, girl!" Death barked and Thyra winced, grabbing her hands to cup them over her ears. Death's slender fingers reached out and grabbed her wrists, prying her hands away from her ears. "Ye father be dead, long dead and so have you only... if I see correctly, ye mother be alive.. and she knew ye were to die." Death's words were seductive, lulling and Thyra's sobbing halted slowly as something began to brew and bubble in the pit of her stomach.

Distaste? No, a hatred. A hatred for someone she once loved. Her brows furrowed and her breathing began to shallow, her body trembling as she tried to come to terms with it all. But she couldn't, how could she? She was dead.

"How... What did they say when I disappeared?" Thyra asked quietly, her body aching to know what lie they fed Leofric, because Leofric would never forgive his parents if he knew the truth. Death had Thyra in its grip and it grinned, releasing her wrists to stand straight.

"I hear they said ye ran off, that ye were mad, unfit to be Lady and here in these very woods you ended your own life." Thyra's face contorted into that of disgust.

"And of Eadric?" she spoke through gritted teeth. All the memories came flooding back to her as the rage within her rotten body bubbled.

"Oh, he be alive still, haunted by visions of ye. Say.." Death grinned, kneeling down to whisper into Thyra's ear. "Nothing more powerful than an angry spirit coming back for revenge, so let's make a deal. I'll let ye leave these woods and ye venture back to that castle and kill poor mother and awful Eadric, hmm?"

The idea satisfied a certain hunger within her, but she was only a ghost, how could she inflict damage?

Death grinned, standing straight once again and turning to venture back into the darkness of the forest, leaving Thyra to ponder over the deal she had fleshed out between them. She paused.

"Ye words be enough dear, and ye, yerself. Make them jump off the castle walls, or entice them to hang themselves. Satisfy me with their deaths, and I promise ye that when their souls venture 'ere, ye can do a lot more." Then, before Thyra could ask any more questions, Death disappeared into the fog; thus leaving her alone.

It was there Thyra knew to no longer fear Death as she stood to her feet and slowly turned to face the path that carried out the woods. Death wasn't scary, maybe that was why her father didn't fear it so and rightfully. Taking a step down the path, Thyra felt a sense of relief wash over her that mixed perfectly with the rage that brewed in her lifeless being. Death was unkind, unjust and sometimes it snuck up on you when least expected.

This was a lot longer than I expected and if you stuck around to actually read it, thank you! I'm currently working on some other writing pieces, just gotta find the time around work. If you have any requests or even questions about Thyra, please ask them in my requests! It would mean a bunch.

[v-arbellanaris]

just for myself, implications from bodahn's rumours:

loghain is already beginning to gather another royal army in the east (denerim) -- rumours imply this army is to march against orlais in the west instead of south to the darkspawn

a bann was arrested for saying loghain should be removed from the throne by force i.e. treason

loghain's forces & one of the bannorn's crossed each other north of lothering and fought. unclear who won or who lost, or if this happened before or after lothering was lost

loghain crushes bann bronach's forces; rumours that bronach was trying to parley with loghain

several banns band together, leading a thousand men against loghain's men at winter's breath. loghain's men win, with heavy losses on both sides.

anora attempts to mediate between her father and the bannorn

over two dozen of loghain's men are killed after an ambush near highever at night

loghain hunts down the men responsible to oswin - hunters working for bann valdric - and executes them

oswin revolts against loghain; attempts are made to quell the uprising

the bannorn band together again and raise more men against loghain, confronting his men at iachus valley. loghain won.

the bannorn are on the run.

loghain hunts them down, manages to arrest three banns

[four-loose-screws]

FE7 Novelization Translation - Chapter 8 Section 3

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Chapter 8: Noble Lady of Caelin (Section 3)

Once they traveled down a small hill and made it north through the large forest that covered the south, they would arrive at Castle Caelin.

When they started to fight, Lyn and her allies would join them. Knowing that, Eliwood had Oswin, Marcus, and the other experienced fighters start their march as the vanguard.

Rather than prioritize meeting up with Lyn, he decided to prioritize putting their efforts into moving separately, as if they did so, they could throw the Laus soldiers into chaos. 

Meanwhile, General Bauker, while on the defensive, was desperately trying to figure out where the pegasus had fallen when she dropped out of the sky.

"Someone! Figure out if that pegasus knight is really dead! And if she is still breathing, then finish her off!"

If the pegasus knight was a messenger from the remainders of the Caelin Army being led by the escaped Lady Lyndis… she would not be just a nuisance to them. Laus had ambushed another territory within the Lycian League and captured their castle. If Ostia or one of the many other territories knew about any of this, then the entire Lycian League would likely become their enemy.

They now needed to bide their time and regroup their forces.

But then one of his soldiers approached him with a report which utterly crushed that thought. 

"Reporting, Sir! An enemy is attacking from the west! It is Eliwood, son of Marquess Pherae!"

"...So they're here."

It must be the army that had conquered Laus Castle. He couldn't imagine that any other army would be able to arrive so quickly once they had learned of the situation. Knowing full well that he was going to lead them down a path to their own destruction, Bauker made the decision to fight for his lord. 

"This is our opportunity to show our loyalty to Marquess Laus. Our foes are nothing more than a ragtag group of random soldiers! They are no match for us!!"

ー

Within the thick undergrowth of the forest, Lyn unsheathed Mani Katti and started to move towards the castle.

As she ran, to protect her, Sain and Kent were on either side of her, and Wil was behind her. It might have been the right decision to wait for Florina’s return and Eliwood's arrival before doing anything, but Lyn couldn’t bear it to just wait around.

And so, in order to reduce the enemy's numbers as much as they possibly could, she decided that they would utilize guerilla warfare tactics. As there were so many places to hide within the thick forest, they could engage in an advantageous battle even in their small numbers.

Even Kent, who was against the idea at first, reluctantly agreed, so long as they kept this fight a feint operation, and they began to make their move.

"What is the current status of the enemy?" Lyn asked Wil upon his return from reconnaissance. 

"Their archer unit appeared to have deployed out on the front line, but are now receding. I wonder what could have happened to lead to that?"

"Archers…?! No! They couldn't have been targeting Florina…?!"

"It's alright, Lady Lyndis. We can't say that is necessarily the case."

"What do you mean?!" Lyn calmed her panicking heart, and looked at Kent.

"If their archers moved to the front and they are now retreating, then two options are conceivable. One reason could be that they fulfilled their goal… Or the other could be that they are now in a situation where their archers have no other option than to retreat."

"They had to retreat?"

"Because of a situation like an enemy attacking?"

At Sain's guess, Lyn realized what Kent was leading up to. "So that means Eliwood and his allies have arrived?!"

"Yes. That is one possibility."

What Kent was saying was nothing more than a guess. The latter possibility was mostly wishful thinking. But Lyn didn't want to think that Florina might have been shot out of the sky. 

Lyn announced her decision, made to obtain a grasp of this unclear situation. "I want to know what's going on. Let's get a little closer to the enemy!"

At Lyn’s words, all of her allies nodded in agreement, and they started to march once again.

They were careful as they progressed and pushed their way through the vegetation.

As they neared Castle Caelin, the sounds she heard became more and more distinctly those of battle.

'It really does seem like the battle has already started.' 

When they reached the edge of the forest and could see the field from where they stood, Lyn's thoughts were proven to be reality.

She saw the magnificent swordplay of the red haired lord she'd met one year ago, fighting against a Laus soldier.

"Eliwood!"

"Lyndis?! It’s so good to see you safe!" As he wiped the blood off his rapier, Eliwood turned towards Lyn, who was coming out of the forest. "Florina told us what's going on. Everything will be alright now. We're going to fight with you."

"Thank you!" Both the arrival of reinforcements and the confirmation of her friend's safety made a sense of relief wash over her from the very bottom of her heart. 

'Now we can go save Grandfather!' She looked at Castle Caelin in the distance, and renewed her resolve.

ー

Once Lyn, leading the remainder of the Caelin army, successfully combined forces with Eliwood’s unit, the outcome of the battle was decided.

Though Eliwood and his allies were also disadvantaged in sheer numbers, morale was high towards their goal to take down the Laus soldiers, who had not predicted at all that they would be assaulted by another territory of the League. The Laus soldiers also seemed to sense that what they had done was underhanded, as their performance on the battlefield was half-hearted.

And as the tide of battle became less and less in their favor, more and more soldiers started to flee, until it led to the complete downfall of the defense unit that had been deployed to surround Castle Caelin. General Bauker continued to put up the best resistance he could in front of the castle gate, but once he was defeated by Hector, the initial battle for the recapture of Castle Caelin ended with Eliwood and allies claiming victory.

"Lyndis, once we defeat the remaining soldiers inside the castle, then we will be able to recapture it."

After gathering everyone back together at the front gate, Eliwood turned back to face Lyn standing behind him.

"Thank you, Eliwood. Without your help, we never could have made it this far."

"This all happened because we cornered Marquess Laus… of course we would help."

"The situation… it's as I heard before, right? About your father. I think I would have done the same if I was in your position. What happened in Caelin isn't your fault. Don't let it get to you."

Eliwood felt his guilt ease a bit at Lyn's words.

Though he would do whatever it took to find out where his father was, the consequences of the events he had caused were harming Lyn and the people living in Caelin. He felt that he was more responsible than anyone else, and couldn't help but blame himself over and over again.

And because of that, he vowed to return peace to Caelin by his own hand, no matter what. "Thank you. But allow me to take responsibility until we recapture the castle."

"I will. Please lend us your strength."

"Eliwood! We're going inside the castle already!" Hector came to tell them that their preparations to invade were complete. 

Eliwood nodded enthusiastically and answered, "Understood."

"...Who's that?" Lyn asked, this being the first time that she had ever seen Hector. 

At her question, Eliwood realized for the first time that he had not yet introduced her to his friend. "Ah, that's right. I'll introduce you. Hector!"

"Hm?"

"This is Lyndis. She's the granddaughter of Marquess Caelin. Lyndis, this is Hector. He's the younger brother of Marquess Ostia."

At Eliwood’s introductions, the two faced each other and exchanged a brief greeting.

"Now let's go inside the castle!" At Eliwood’s order, everyone rushed towards Castle Caelin at once.

���

[jackhkeynes]

Markland

Markland is a polity of Albion, situated east of Wales, north of London and Kent, and south of Northumber and Sodrick.

History

Markland originates with Saxon settlements in sub-Roman Britannia, which in the west formed (what would go on to be named) Mearce land "borderland". Compare the related demonym Mierce "people of the border", whence the Latin name Mercia and native Merchman "man from Markland".

The petty kingdom of Anglia was annexed by Markland with the Treaty of Oxford in the late eighth century, at the dawn of the Viking Age. This established the persevering border between the mouths of the Severn and the Tames, and incited renewed influx of people into the petty kingdoms on Borland.

Markland weathered the Viking Age much more successfully than neighbouring Northumber, though much of its eastern coast was settled by Danes; the city of Lincon served as the de facto border of Danish rule for several decades. In part this was the inevitable result of tensions along the Welsh border; even during peacetime Theodric the Awefast maintained substantial levy forces.

The tenth-century Elved Marriage (which took place near the modern city of Leeds) ended hostilities between Markland and Dane forces in the east for almost a century. It is said to have been solemnised over a sandstone block later inlaid into the Redstone Chair, a low-backed wooden throne on which many subsequent monarchs were crowned.

Around the turn of the second millennium, Markland was conquering territory from the northern reaches of Wales (incidentally leading to Pope Agatho's canonisation of the Welsh St David). The perennial conflicts between Markland and Wales would come to be collectively referred to as the Mallor Wars.

The First Drengot Empire of the eleventh and twelfth centuries counted Markland as a major vassal, conquered from the south following the subjugation of Kent by Normandy and Greater Devon in 1029.

The Mallor Wars were reignited after a quiescent period by the martial-minded King Andrew II, with the Sack of Rexam in 1301 during which the original St Brigid's Abbey burned to the ground.

Markland was embroiled in the Wars of Fealty in the late fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries. Tensions over the location and possession of the Redstone Chair boiled over into a conflict that would last forty-one years. Markland conceded several battles to the young Kingdom of Britain in the early years of the wars, culminating in the 1483 Battle of Rexam which expanded the borders of Wales in the north and killed the last Duke of Chestre.

In the final years of the Wars of Fealty, a code known as Thieves' Script was employed by the forces of King Andrew III, apparently adapted from similar systems used by gangs of housebreakers in Nottingham. It is remembered today as a very early precursor of codes like steeplescript or modern one-zeffre encoding.

The poor economic conditions and population displacement in Markland following the Wars of Featly led it to suffer almost twice as many deaths per capita from the Second Great Dying compared to polities like Willemy.

Long contested between Markland and Kent, the city of London found itself independent for one final, lasting time following the Democratic Wars of the mid-eighteenth century.

The spellings of various towns and cities in Markland were rationalised during the Long Peace period of the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries (for example, Conster for former Colncester /ˈkɔn.stə/).

The 2010 Œcumen Count, a regular census, recorded that Utter Safford was the secondmost populous city in Markland proper with 4.4 million inhabitants, after the capital of Tommarth.

People

Monarchs

Theodric the Awefast (fl. 800), repeller of several attempted vikings into Markish territory

Oswin the Becoming (fl. 1029), last ruler of an independent Markland before the First Drengot Empire

Andrew II (fl. 1301), who reignited the Mallor Wars with the Sack of Rexam

Andrew III (fl. 1500), ruler of Markland during the latter years of the Wars of Fealty

Authors

Ferris Bewly (fl. 1942), alchemist responsible for the quire 'Modern Developments in Benjamine Detaxion'

Laurent Burnows (fl. 2015), famous for children's series 'Back to Front' and later for the more mature series 'An Inconvenient Armageddon'

Anna and Ralph Highwater (fl. 1930), cowriters of the series of books 'Games for Sorties and Excourses'

Challow Huddresfell (fl. 1956), historian who wrote 'Daughters of the Sea: The Northwestern Isles'

Jason Ridley (fl. 1967), who with others wrote the quire 'A Handbook of Natural Theory'

Dr Harold Westcamp (fl. 1997), who wrote the series of textbooks 'Albick Medicine in the Workshop Decades'

Others

Sarzan Dawkinholm (fl. c19), long-serving and much-lambasted Outland Minister

(Approximate extent of Markland proper in 2000 N.)

[lovelybeautifulsleep]

Halloween Skull Spider Fishnets by Oswin West

[zeezzerpan]

God’s Friend

A month or so had passed since Icarus first met the man of darkness and fine cotton suits. Every day Icarus worked during the month the man would come in, chat briefly with the librarian, and then go to the hidden collection to read until close. He had long since moved past The Tome of Void, and had onto other books with secrets just as dark. He had also obtained a regular library card, and had checked out a few normal books, mostly cook books, and was a generally good patron.

On a particularly cold January day, ice and frost decorating the windows while snow fell steadily outside, Icarus sat at the front desk. This wasn’t unusual. He was repairing some of the children’s books. This wasn’t unusual. When the door opened and cold and snow took the opportunity to rush in and disrupt the warmth of the library, Icarus did not look up from his work. This also, wasn’t unusual. He listened to the door closing, and the footsteps of whoever had entered the library, which stopped at his desk.

“Welcome, what can I help you with today?”

“Well Mr. Westing, I’ve actually come for you today.” The voice that spoke was heavy and smooth, like warm molasses. Icarus didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

“I’m afraid I am far less interesting than the books.” As he spoke, Icarus lifted a hand from his work, catching some black wax falling from his candles before it dripped down onto the desk. He rolled it up into a small ball, and flicked it away into the wastebin.

“I think quite the opposite Mr. Westing. In fact, I think you, with all your observing and mindfulness, might be the first person to actually know something about me. That itself, is incredibly interesting.”

“I know very little about you, Sir.”

“Mr. Westing, I’ve given you my name, you are free to use it.”

“Apologies, Oswin.”

“And right there is proof you already know far more about me than most others. You know my name, and a name is a powerful thing. I don’t just give that to anyone. Not even the other librarians, after all, the only one who has even seen me, is you.”

“I’ll consider myself honored.”

“As you should, now, I have a very important question for you Mr. Westing, how you answer will determine what happens next.”

“Then you should probably go ahead and ask it.”

A rich round laugh came from the patron. “Then I shall. Mr. Westing, no, Icarus, what do you think I am?”

When the question was asked, Icarus’ hands slowed to stopping, though, he still did not look up. “What you are?”

“Yes, what am I, Icarus? And please, do not spare any details of how you’ve come to your conclusion.”

There was a silence, and eventually, Icarus began working again.

“I’ve seen the books you read in the hidden collection, you leave them out when you’re done, though now I believe you’ve done this intentionally. In fact, with this question I’m certain everything you’ve done has been acts of breadcrumb dropping. Most of those books are about dark and wicked magics that should never be touched by a living being. That smoke around your head is darkness in its purest form, but also? Something vile. I’ve seen you without those gloves on, you’ve taken them off to read some of the books, though I can’t imagine why. Maybe you just want to really feel how fragile the pages of those books are.

Without your gloves, there is nothing but smoke and bones, bones with old forgotten words carved into them. I’ve never been close enough to read those words, but sometimes when you read aloud certain carved characters illuminate with a red light that glows bright enough for me to recognize what symbol it is. Those are dark words written into your body, what’s left of it.

Whenever you look at me, I see centuries of pain in the backs of your eyes, the red of them is something truly bloody… You are old, ancient even, and you’ve seen a great deal of anguish, you have long since cheated death, and after all this time you have grown even stronger than you were in life. An accomplishment, assuming how powerful you must have been to become what you are now. That is, a lich.”

Another silence, however, Icarus worked through this one.

“You’re keen.”

“I try.”

“How many books in that small hidden section have you read Icarus?”

“Most of them.”

“And what magic have you been looking for that you end up reading books about liches?”

“That’s for me to know.”

“Saying that Icarus, has only made me more interested in you.”

“You wouldn’t be the first.”

A bit of wax dripped from one of Icarus’ candles, and before Icarus could go to catch it, a bony hand hand swathed in darkness came into view, collecting the wax before slowly retracting. At this point, Icarus lifted his head, and looked at Oswin.

He wasn’t wearing his gloves that day, for whatever reason, and his suit jacket, normally black cotton, was a cardinal red wool. Without the gloves on, Icarus could mostly read the words carved into the bones, between shifting black smoke. The word for “DEATH,” came up often, in many old languages that the librarian could identify. What he couldn’t recognize, Icarus imagined was more of the same. He looked up to Oswin’s face, and for once, he could see through the billowing blackness. There was a skull there, old and discolored, with those bright piercing red eyes lighting up the sockets and staring down at him. The eyes, slowly began to smile.

“I’m glad we had this conversation Mr. Westing. I have some preparations to make, but I will return for you, at closing.”

“I’m afraid I already have plans, Oswin, Sir.”

“To go home and eat dinner and read whatever old books you have at your house, maybe even watch some game show reruns on television if you’re feeling particularly adventurous, I know. I’ve been just as observant with you as you have with me, but humor me this one night, I implore you. There is something I’d like you to see.”

Icarus stared up at Oswin with a face that didn’t exist, but clearly shared discomfort. He wasn’t sure he appreciated Oswin knowing this much about him. Though, in the back of his mind, he was glad that was all Oswin had seen. The idea of being watched was an uncomfortable one, even if he had been doing the same to the patron whenever he entered the library. He felt the walls close in, though nothing moved, a tight spot that started to strangle his insides with nerves.

“I’ll consider it.”

Oswin pushed himself off the desk, having been leaning forward against it, the smile in his eyes turning a bit wicked. He began to leave. “See you at close.”

[flightandhotel]

Saint Brigid

By 6OO, Ireland was able to export its version of Christianity, which had become slightly eccentric by now, from time spent growing in a hothouse far from its original home and without regular contact with the continent. A religious-minded prince from the family that came to call itself O’Donnell fled local quarrels for the Hebrides and settled on Iona. His name was Columba, Latin for “dove.” Later stories would have it that he was sent away in penance for his part in a war, to a place he could never set eyes on Ireland again, and Iona was closest. The contemporary accounts of Saint Brigid make most sense if we keep in mind that her home, Kildare, had been the center of worship of the ancient goddess Brigit long before anyone heard of Christianity. The “voyage of Saint Brendan” with his followers in a tiny boat into the north Atlantic need not have happened in just the way the medieval legend tells it, but it captures the omnidirectional zeal of an island society gone mad for monkery.

That Irish church would flourish in its often daffy way until the twentieth century, though now it is in retreat. The Irish stressed some aspects of continental Christianity—particularly a long tradition of intense, learned biblical exegesis. But the conversion of ancient Ireland’s druidic class happened too quickly and easily to be entirely transformative. Ireland remained a center of missionary activity, monastic zeal, and frequently idiosyncratic practice, intermittently subject to military invasion from the east (Britain) or northeast (Scandinavia), rarely exporting anything. On a later page we will meet a few more Irishmen wrestling with angels in the middle of the sea.

Theoderic’s family

The Irish share with the citizens of Iberia, southern Gaul, and Italy— the last of these all ruled by distant offshoots of Theoderic’s family and relations—the pleasure of being the last Christianities to thrive in the west before the rise of imperial Christianity radiating from the Frankish and Byzantine courts.6 The rulers of these ancient Christian societies generally cared about Christianity enough to practice it in some form, to support it, and even to discourage its enemies, but they had no vision of a society wholly Christian that they could insistently impose on their followers. Augustine of Hippo himself, writing The City of God in Africa in the early fifth century, provided the makings of such a vision, without being able to imagine a world in which Christianity was unopposed and sovereign, unpersecuted and persecuting. The reality was emerging before his very eyes, but it had not yet established itself. Much of the most intolerant Christian language and practice arose among people who assumed that intolerance was necessary for a battle always fought but never won.

Patrick’s story is of the mid-fifth century. The story of Augustine of Canterbury, whom we mentioned above, is of the late sixth century, when Pope Gregory in Rome sent out a mission to convert the heathen Angles to Christianity. A small band of monks made their way from Rome north, crossing Gaul and making visits to the chief churchmen along their route personal tours bulgaria.

They found it easy enough to cross to Britain and had the serene confidence to introduce their faith to the people they found there as though they had come from another world with a great gift. In fact, they had little sense of what they would encounter when they arrived. In a society already sprinkled with pockets of Christianity, they quickly found themselves involved in local politics, winning kinglets here and there for their cause, only to find that other kings and other peoples were already affiliated with their creed through their other dissonant parts.

Christians argued

The various communities of British Christians argued not about doctrine but about practice. In one year the royal household of King Oswin, or Oswy, of Northumbria found itself divided at Eastertime by a disagreement over the calendar. Finding the date of Easter is not a straightforward calculation, inasmuch as the four gospel texts in the canonical scriptures differ among themselves about the precise timing of the crucifixion and resurrection, and so it took a very long time for all communities to approach agreement on this matter. In this case, Queen Eanfleda, daughter of King Edwin of Kent in the south, had brought her own chaplain, a priest named Romanus, and he insisted that she follow the Roman calendar.

It scheduled Easter a week later than the clerics of the king’s end of the palace, who observed the date calculated by the Irish tradition of the time.7 The pre-Easter period was a time of austerity and self-control, especially the last week, and so there was some tension, not least sexual, in the household when the menfolk in the king’s retinue came to the end of their austerity and were prepared to celebrate in many ways, but the womenfolk around Eanfleda were just entering the week of their greatest renunciation. Differences of practice were visible every day, as when the island’s monks observed the ritual haircut—the tonsure—in a different style from the continent.

[peacestew]

I was tagged by @earlgrey-lateatnight 😘 to list 4 songs on heavy rotation:

You Right- Doja Cat

Easy on Me- Adele

Jail- Kanye West

One Right Now- Post Malone (with the Weeknd)

I tag without pressure or worries, fellow Skam lovers ❤️: @amy-oswin-lovegood @lifeisevak @thegirlyouknow  @emziess and anyone else who wants to!

[lodger-art]

🎵 I'm an expert in my field

UFOlogy, yes, it's all real

Ancient aliens, it's all true

I'm an expert just like you

And like you, I'm a genius before my time

Disbelieving, that's the real crime

Pretty soon, they'll discover me

In the Super-Sargasso Sea! 🎵

[scotianostra]

31st of August is the Feast day of St Aidan.

Not much is known about Aidan’s early life, it is thought he was bot n in Connach Ireland. 

St. Aidan began his life of service on the Isle of Iona, the monastery at Iona was established by Irish monks under St. Columba, during the so-called “dark ages.” About a century later, in St. Aidan’s time, the monastery had become a major center of Gaelic Christianity and was receiving and sending monks across Europe.

By this time, Christianity in Northern England was largely replaced by the paganism of both native Britons and the Anglo-Saxon conquerors. The Kingdom of Northumbria (northern England and south-east Scotland) had just been reconquered by King St. Oswald of Northumbria.  There was no Scotland or England as such back then, and no real borders Oswald brought the two Northumbrian kingdoms of Bernicia and Deira once again under a single ruler, and promoted the spread of Christianity,the North of  Bernica  are now part of the South of Scotland.

Oswald took back his father’s throne at the Battle of Heavenfield, where he prepared by praying before a wooden cross, legend says it was a relic of the True Cross. Next, Oswald beheld a vision of St. Columba who promised victory if his generals would be baptized. At council, all agreed to be baptized the night before and victory came to Oswald.

Oswald’s Northumbrian kingdom was small but remarkably diverse. Such was it you could hear at least four languages within the kingdom’s borders and there was a mix of church ruins and pagan sites dotting the landscape. While Christianity was initially brought to Britain by Roman saints, and strengthened by Sts. Gregory and Augustine of Canterbury, it had fallen away from the Britons with the Anglo-Saxon invasions.

When Oswald was killed in battle in 642, Aidan worked equally well with Oswin, king of Deira. Aidan preached widely throughout Northumbria, travelling on foot, so that he could readily talk to everyone he met. When Oswin gave him a horse for use in difficult terrain, Aidan  gave it to a beggar soliciting alms. Oswin was angry until, as Bede recounts, Aidan asked if the son of a mare was more precious to the king than a son of God. Oswin sought Aidan's pardon, and promised never again to question or regret any of his wealth being given away to children of God. Both Oswald and Oswin are venerated in England as saints and martyrs.

Scores of Scottish and Irish monks assisted Aidan in his missionary work, building churches and spreading Celtic Christian influence to a degree that Lindisfarne became the virtual capital of Christian England. The saint also recruited classes of Anglo-Saxon youths to be educated at Lindisfarne. Among them was Saint Eata, abbot of Melrose and later of Lindisfarne. In time, Eata's pupil, Saint Cuthbert, also became bishop of Lindisfarne.

Aidan lived a frugal life, and encouraged the laity to fast and study the scriptures. He himself fasted on Wednesdays and Fridays, and seldom ate at the royal table. When a feast was set before him he would give the food away to the hungry. The presents he received were given to the poor or used to buy the freedom of slaves, some of whom entered the priesthood. During Lent Aidan would retire to the small island of Farne for prayer and penance. While there in 651, he saw smoke rising from Bamburgh, which was then under attack by the pagan King Penda of Mercia. He prayed for the wind to change, and many of the besiegers were destroyed by fire.

When Oswin was killed in 651 by his treacherous cousin Oswy, king of Bernicia, Aidan was grief-stricken. The saint outlived Oswin by a mere twelve days, dying in a shelter he had erected against the wall of his church in Bamburgh.

The first pic shows  tomb of St Aidan, St Aidan's Church, Bamburgh, the second is  a stained glass window depicting Aidan at the Monastic Chapel, Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, New York.

[hellzeldagirlsfanfic]

Cost of the Throne - Chapter 8

[Pervious] * [Next] * [First]

(Y/N) woke as the sun was coming over the horizon. Her fiancé was already up and was waiting for her to get up. He helped her back into the red dress again before breakfast was brought up to them.

When they had finished their meal, they returned to the carriage which was ready to take them to Quebel.

It took a little over a week for the group to returned to Quebel and its capital, Questone where the royal palace was located. A week that (Y/N) spent trapped in that tiny carriage with Vergil. It was awful. Vergil was a man of few words and was silent for the ride back to Quebel. Not that she wanted to talk to him.

It was about midday when they entered Questone and this is when Vergil finally opened his mouth.

“Welcome home, (Y/N),” He said to her.

“Quebel has never been my home,” She told him.

Vergil fave her a pointed look which she returned with a blank stare. (Y/N) could tell he was tolerating her behaviour for now but for a long how was a mystery.

A loud sound from outside of the carriage drew (Y/N) away from her fiancé’s face. She could see through the small window in the carriage’s door the people had stopped what they were doing so they welcome back their king. The people of Questone looked happy to see their king. (Y/N) remembered when Harald used to back from visiting Mallet the streets would become deserted, no one wanted t welcome him back.

The cheering continued until the carriage reached the walls of the palace.

When the carriage came to a complete stop, butterflies (Y/N)’s stomach.

Once again Vergil was the first to leave the carriage. (Y/N) took a shaky breath before she followed suit.

The half-demon waited by the side of the carriage’s door, with his hand outstretched to help her from the carriage. (Y/N) didn’t take it.

When she stepped out of the vehicle, the young woman came face to face with the grand entrance of Cedarroot Palace. She had never seen the front of the palace that she had been locked deep inside for the first ten years of her life.

The palace was as grandiose as she had imagined when she was a child.

There was stone relief on top of the hundred of windows lining the front of the palace, with each one having a different design. Over the top of the large palace door was a relief showing the first King of Quebel slaying one of Mundus’ demonic generals. It was a story that every child in Quebel knows.

Her (E/C) eyes were drawn away from the magnificent architecture to a group of men walking up to her and Vergil.

The group was mostly made up of men in their sixties. Some of their faces were familiar, their minor Lords when she was a child.

As she scanned across the group she spotted a very familiar face among them. Oswin was one of the faces in the group. He was standing at the far side of her looking gloomy.

“Welcome back, Your Majesty,” The group’s head man, Earl Templecombe she believes, said as the group bowed towards their king. “And welcome home, Lady Rozeningale,” The Earl turned to greeted her separately.

(Y/N) didn’t fave any reply, just kept her face neutral.

It was obvious by the look on Earl Templecombe’s face that he didn’t appreciate her silent response but he made no comment as he was in front of the king.

“Any news on the rebelling Dukes?” Vergil asked.

Rebelling Dukes? It must be Harald’s cousins. The males’ members of the Rose-Griffiths would never let the throne slip out of the family, even if history remembers them as villains.

“It seems like they have retreated to Hilden Mountains in the north,” The Earl explained. “We were just discussing a plan as you entered the capital,” He further explained.

“We will continue that discussion again after I introduce (Y/N) to the court and my announce,” Vergil instructed.

Said woman jumped at the presence on the small of her back, pushing her forward through the group of old men to the palace door.

(Y/N) was guided to the throne room as men continued to talk about the country’s affair.

The front of the palace looked untouched by the final battle of the war but as the group drew closer to the throne room, there were tell-tale signs of the fight. Sword slashes could be seen on the walls, holes litter the walls and paintings, burns marks and what looked like claw marks.

At the entrance of the throne room, (Y/N) noticed the elaborate craved oaks door were gone and the frame was heavily damaged. The throne room was in a terrible state, the grand tapestries and lavish curtains were gone. The tiled floor was destroyed half of the floor was already taken up. Even in this ruined room, the thrones stood there untouched by the destruction.

The hand on (Y/N)’s back left her back as  Vergil moved to take his place Quebelian throne. Automatically stepped aside along with the council, to take her place with the court like she did when she was a child.

She could feel Vergil’s eyes on her as stood with her eyes on the ground.

“(Y/N),” Oswin whispered to her. “Sit on the throne,” he told her.

Her eyes moved from the floor to the queen’s throne by side Vergil. Not wanting to cause any more trouble for Oswin, the (H/C) moved to the throne.

Sitting on the throne was strange. It was something that no one expected her to be sitting. She hoped that she would stay in Prildo Ira helping the people until her death not playing queen for people who didn’t even know that she existed.

Once she was seated a servant was called to inform the court that King had returned and was holding court, right now. Soon the room filled with nobility or what was left of them. The rumour in Prildo Ira was that most of the Quebelian aristocratic families had been killed either during the war or at the final battle inside the palace. It seemed like the rumour were only half true. It was only the families closest to the Rose-Griffiths that were missing from court.

When all of the court was presented, court began.

(Y/N) watched as Oswin stepped from the other member of the court, stopping in front of the throne. He bowed to them before speaking.

“Welcome back Your Majesty,” He greeted. “We are delighted that you have returned unharmed and successful,” Oswin said with pain as he said ‘successful’.

“Thank you, Lord Valles,” Vergil responded. “And yes I was successful in retrieving my fiancee, Lady Rozeningale from Prildo Ira,” He told the court. “Now that she here in Quebel I can now announce the date of our wedding which will be this summer,” The King announced.

‘That doesn’t leave much time,’ (Y/N) thought. Winter was just ending and Spring would be here soon. ‘I can’t rush or I’ll mess up but if I delay my escape then there would be a chance my plan could be discovered,’ She planned.

That day’s court wasn’t that long as it was only to announce officially their marriage.

Vergil stood from his throne looking over to his fiancee to follow him. Not wanting to have the eyes of the court on her so she followed Vergil’s lead and stood up. He placed his hand on her back again, guiding her out of the throne room. The council followed behind them.

The half-demon lead her and the council to a room that looked like a meeting room. A large and long table with then chairs on each side and a grandly decorated chair at the head of the table.

Of course, that grand chair was for Vergil so before he took his seat; he pulled out a chair for (Y/N) on the side furthest from the door.

(Y/N) sat in the chair with no argument as she had no energy at the moment.

Her (E/C) eyes met Oswin’s purple from the other side of the table. He gave her a strained smile as he sat opposite.

“To continue our conversation about those rebelling Dukes,” Vergil stated the purpose of the meeting.

“Of course Your Majesty,” Lord Creeveroe said. “The latest news we have received from the front lines is that Dukes of Vilotain, Celltain, Trombtain and Trumptain have retreated to Hilden Mountain in the north-west of the kingdom. It is the second mountain in Quartz-Spine Range,” He explained to Vergil. “We have ordered the force to surrounded the mountain. We’ve also sent two companies to the other end of the range to make sure that they don’t know one escape,” Lord Creeveroe finished. Oswin brought over a map to show the king the terrain around the Quartz-Spine Range.

The land around the range was flat right up to the mountains. The land was also fertile, so there was a lot of farmland surrounding the mountains.

Vergil studied the map, silently coming up with a plan to defeat the Rose-Griffiths’ Dukes.

“How much supplies do they have?” The king question.

“We are unsure but the Duke of Vilotain was apart of the war council so I’m sure they would have reasonable size. If I had to guess maybe about two to six months worth,” Oswin guessed.

Vergil hummed at the councillors response.

As the men talk (Y/N) just sat there listening to them, there was nothing for her to say. She knew nothing about war, it was a topic strictly for men. Even in Prildo Ira where women had more freedom, they couldn’t be on any council of war but even limited knowledge of war she knew what Vergil was planning.

“Do you have a plan, My Majesty?” Count Finlaggan asked.

Vergil sat up straight in his seat.

“The Dukes have an advantage at the moment,” He stated. “If they do have six months worth of supplies then those greedy Dukes will hoard all that food for themselves. Their men will either rebel against them or abandon them,” He explained.

The members of the council looked at each other, some understanding what their king wanted to do others didn’t.

“Sorry Your Highness, are you planning to siege the dukes?” A Lord asked.

“Of course, fool,” Vergil said.

“What!?” Earl Templecombe exclaimed. “We can’t do that, Your Highness! Most of the young men under the Dukes are either forced or mislead!” The Earl stated.

(Y/N) couldn’t hold back her snort of laughter as she heard Earl blatant lie.

“I find it hard to believe you are worried for the men servicing under the dukes as I remember you been quite a supporter for the Siege of Littheslingworth,” (Y/N) recalled. She paused to give the Earl a moment to realise what she had said. She watched as the old man scrunched up his eyebrow and went to speak but she opened her mouth before he could. “Or does your sudden pacifism have something to do with your favourite bed warmer, the Duchess of Violtain?” (Y/N) suggested.

It was certainly entertaining to watching the face of Earl Templecombe’s face drained of colour. He stuttered as he tried to come up with a reason.

“Y-You,” The nobleman stuttered.

“‘Blasted bastard of the house of Lovelace’, “The blighted daughter of deranged tyrant Harald-Mallory’, ‘The blemish on the noble lineage of the Rose-Griffith’,” (Y/N) listed. “Was it one of those or were going to use your favourite one ‘The Whore’s-”

“Enough!” Vergil shouted.

His voice stopped the pettiness between his fiancee and the Earl of Andden.

“This is not the time for the two of you to be squabbling about your past wrongs,” Vergil told them. “Earl Templecombe, do keep in mind the only reason you’re are here in this high ranking position is because you abandon your loyal to Rose-Griffiths,” He reminded the nobleman, his ice-blue eyes glowing with a dangerous-looking them.

(Y/N) moved her gaze to Oswin’s mortified face. She felt bad for the older man so gave him a soft smile.

The meeting continued with no more interruption but there was a heavy atmosphere.

“Hiding me away from everyone,” (Y/N) sarcastically said.

“Well considering how you acted during the council meeting,” Vergil replied.

“I’m so sorry,” She sarcastically apologised. “I couldn’t stop myself laughing at Archibald’s hypocrisy. You should be more careful when choosing your advisors,” She told as she took her seat at the dining table.

“Well, they will not be advisors soon,” Vergil reminder his fiancee. “I hope you are taking notes,”

The (H/C) silently growled at the half-demon.

Dinner passed with tense air between the king and his future queen. Vergil allowed (Y/N) to be escorted to her temporary quarter.

The room that she was escorted to was the quarters that Harald given her mother.

One of the knights escorting opened the door for her and then closed it behind her.

(Y/N) scanned the rooms that she had grew up in was stripped of all of its elegant furniture and beautiful paintings were gone. The luxurious ornaments on the mantelpiece were no longer there.

The furniture that was there now basic and plain, just two small couches and a coffee table between them.

The woman moved from the drawing-room to her old bedroom.

She was surprised to see that her bedroom had been left untouched.

The soft toys that had been brought for her were, stay present o her bed. (Y/N) walked over to her bookcase to all of her books, childish tales of heroism. Her eyes glide across the books’ spines until she found the book that made her want to become a doctor in her new life. Her fingers continued to travel across the books’ spines until they came to a series of similar-looking books. A face crossed her mind causing her heart pain. (Y/N) pulled away from the bookcase.

She moved her bed and collapse on the soft mattress. She buried her face into one of the many pillows on her bed and cried herself to sleep quietly, just like when she was a child.  

[sarah-snook]

magicpotion >>>>> owenjoyner

thank you so much to the lovely @marwankensari for this url of my fave jatp actor!! you’re the best ily!!!! tagging some mutuals under the cut to signal boost!

@lukereggies @marghost @rosemolinas @joeshardy @sailors-moon @smilecapsules @kreeves @juliesphantomss @oswins @danslevy @dani-clayton @rapunzels @simonbaker @bladesrunner @hennwilson @herbert-wests @tennant

[laudna]

Vaans ➡️ Oswins

I got a canon Clara URL and you know I’m unable to stop myself!! Still tracking #usercas ! I’d appreciate reblogs to signal boost!!

Tagging some mutuals: @herbert-wests @thexfilesbitch @matt-bomer @intimacypng @ciri @florencepugh

[holly-poly]

New Pinch Hits

Four new pinch hits just went out. Please see below for general details. More specific information can be found by clicking the links. Pinch Hit #11 - https://groups.google.com/u/0/g/holly-poly-pinchhits/c/mDY37xUWKZw Request 1 by DianaMoon Fandom: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)   James T. Kirk/Leonard "Bones" McCoy/Spock (AOS), Pavel Chekov/Ben Sulu/Hikaru Sulu (AOS) Fanart, Fanfiction Request 2 by DianaMoon Fandom: The Umbrella Academy (TV)   Ben Hargreeves/Diego Hargreeves/Klaus Hargreeves Fanart, Fanfiction Request 3 by DianaMoon Fandom: DC's Arrowverse   Barry Allen/Cisco Ramon/Iris West (Arrowverse), John Constantine/Oliver Queen/Sara Lance (Arrowverse), Leonard Snart/Mick Rory/Ray Palmer (Arrowverse), Felicity Smoak/John Diggle/Oliver Queen/Roy Harper (Arrowverse) Fanfiction Request 4 by DianaMoon Fandom: Altered Carbon (TV) Any Relationship (nominated relationships are  Elias Ryker/Kristin Ortega/Takeshi Kovacs, Poe/Takeshi Kovacs (Anthony Mackie)/Takeshi Kovacs Prime (Will Yun Lee), Poe/Takeshi Kovacs (in Ryker's sleeve)/Takeshi Kovacs (clone)) Fanart, Fanfiction, Fanvid Request 5 by DianaMoon Fandom: The Expanse (TV)   Amos Burton/Jim Holden/Naomi Nagata, Alex Kamal/Amos Burton/Jim Holden/Naomi Nagata Fanart, Fanfiction Request 6 by DianaMoon Fandom: Bones (TV)   Lance Sweets/Seeley Booth/Temperance Brennan (Bones) Fanfiction   Request 7 by DianaMoon Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe   Jane Foster/Sif/Thor (MCU), Bruce Banner/Pepper Potts/Peter Parker/Tony Stark (MCU), Frank Castle/Karen Page/Matt Murdock (MCU), James "Rhodey" Rhodes/Pepper Potts/Tony Stark (MCU), James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson/Steve Rogers (MCU), Bruce Banner/Pepper Potts/Tony Stark (MCU), Howard Stark/Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers (MCU) Fanart, Fanfiction Request 8 by DianaMoon Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types   Finn/Poe Dameron/Rey, Finn/Poe Dameron/Rey/Rose Tico, Han Solo/Lando Calrissian/Leia Organa, Bodhi Rook/Cassian Andor/Jyn Erso Fanart, Fanfiction Request 9 by DianaMoon Fandom: Sense8 (TV)   Daniela Velasquez/Hernando Fuentes/Lito Rodriguez, Kala Dandekar/Rajan Rasal/Wolfgang Bogdanow Fanfiction Request 10 by DianaMoon Fandom: Dirty Computer - Janelle Monáe (Music Video)   Ché/Jane/Zen (Dirty Computer) Fanart, Fanfiction Pinch Hit #12 - https://groups.google.com/u/0/g/holly-poly-pinchhits/c/W1nfZpXcoYE Request 1 by shopfront Fandom: Doctor Who   Jenny Flint/Madame Vastra/Miss Montague | Clara Oswin Oswald, Christina de Souza/Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan Fanfiction, Fanvid Request 2 by shopfront Fandom: Gotham (TV)   Leslie Thompkins/Tabitha Galavan/Valerie Vale Fanfiction, Fanvid Request 3 by shopfront Fandom: Grimm (TV)   Adalind Schade/Nick Burkhard/Sean Renard, Adalind Schade/Juliette Silverton/Nick Burkhard/Sean Renard (Grimm), Elizabeth Lascelles/Juliette Silverton | Eve/Theresa Rubel, Elizabeth Lascelles/Juliette Silverton | Eve/Rosalee Calvert Fanfiction, Fanvid Request 4 by shopfront Fandom: Haven (TV)   Audrey Parker/Duke Crocker/Jennifer Mason Fanfiction, Fanvid Request 5 by shopfront Fandom: Lip Service   Lexy Price/Sam Murray/Tess Roberts Fanfiction, Fanvid Request 6 by shopfront Fandom: Sanctuary (TV)   Helen Magnus/Nikola Tesla/Will Zimmerman Fanfiction, Fanvid   Request 7 by shopfront Fandom: The Hour (TV)   Bel Rowley/Camille Mettier/Lix Storm, Bel Rowley/Freddie Lyon/Lix Storm, Bel Rowley/Camille Mettier/Freddie Lyon Fanfiction, Fanvid Request 8 by shopfront Fandom: crossover - Fandom   Adaline (Age of Adaline)/Diana Prince (DCEU)/Helen Magnus (Sanctuary), Dutch (Killjoys)/Kyra (Chronicles of Riddick)/Mirror Ezri (Star Trek DS9), Dinah Madani (Marvel Netflix)/Karen Page (Marvel Netflix)/Kate Kane (Arrowverse), Angie Martinelli (Agent Carter)/Catrin Cole (Their Finest)/Phyl Moore (Their Finest), Anne (Glorious 39)/Catrin Cole (Their Finest)/Phyl Moore (Their Finest) Fanfiction, Fanvid Letter: http://shopfront.dreamwidth.org/447973.html Pinch Hit #13 - https://groups.google.com/u/0/g/holly-poly-pinchhits/c/sD2HvMn-4h0 Request 1 by silveradept Fandom: Arthurian Mythology   Bertilak de Hautdesert/Gawain/Lady Bertilak (Arthurian Mythology) Fanart, Fanfiction, Podfic Request 2 by silveradept Fandom: Final Fantasy I   Black Mage/Black Mage/Black Mage/Black Mage (Final Fantasy I) Fanart, Fanfiction, Fanvid, Podfic Request 3 by silveradept Fandom: Pushing Daisies   Charlotte "Chuck" Charles/Olive Snook/Ned Fanart, Fanfiction, Fanvid, Podfic Request 4 by silveradept Fandom: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types   Fujioka Haruhi/Hitachiin Hikaru/Hitachiin Kaoru Fanart, Fanfiction, Fanvid, Podfic Request 5 by silveradept Fandom: RWBY   Jaune Arc/Pyrrha Nikos/Weiss Schnee Fanart, Fanfiction, Fanvid, Podfic Request 6 by silveradept Fandom: Avatar: The Legend of Korra   Asami Sato/Korra/Raava (A:TLOK) Fanart, Fanfiction, Fanvid, Podfic Request 7 by silveradept Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender   Aang/Katara/Mai/Sokka/Suki/Toph Beifong/Ty Lee/Zuko (A:TLA) Fanart, Fanfiction, Fanvid, Podfic Request 8 by silveradept Fandom: Doctor Who   Amy Pond/Clara Oswald/Donna Noble/Martha Jones/Rose Tyler Fanart, Fanfiction, Fanvid, Podfic Request 9 by silveradept Fandom: crossover - Fandom   Minerva McGonagall (Harry Potter)/Peggy Carter (MCU)/Susan Pevensie (Narnia) Fanart, Fanfiction, Fanvid, Podfic Request 10 by silveradept Fandom: Original Work   Supervillainess/Superheroine/Female Mutual Friend with No Powers Fanart, Fanfiction, Podfic Pinch Hit #14 - https://groups.google.com/u/0/g/holly-poly-pinchhits/c/Wb0L5YKyLxc Request 1 by Stefanyeah Fandom: Hades (Video Game 2018)   Aphrodite/Dionysus/Zagreus (Hades Video Game), Aphrodite/Ares/Zagreus (Hades Video Game), Ares/Thanatos/Zagreus (Hades Video Game), Asterius/Theseus/Zagreus (Hades Video Game), Chaos/Thanatos/Zagreus (Hades Video Game), Dionysus/Hypnos/Zagreus (Hades Video Games), Hermes/Thanatos/Zagreus (Hades Video Game), Megaera/Thanatos/Zagreus (Hades Video Game), Skelly/Thanatos/Zagreus (Hades VG), Zagreus/The Furies (Hades Video Game), Achilles/Patroclus/Zagreus (Hades Video Game) Fanart, Fanfiction, Fanvid Request 2 by Stefanyeah Fandom: Horizon: Zero Dawn (Video Game)   Any Relationship (nominimated relationships are  Aloy/Erend/Val and Aloy/Nasadi/Vanasha) Fanart, Fanfiction, Fanvid Request 3 by Stefanyeah Fandom: Muse (Band)   Any Relationship (nominated relationship is Christopher Wolstenholme/Dominic Howard/Matthew Bellamy) Fanart, Fanfiction, Fanvid Request 4 by Stefanyeah Fandom: crossover - Fandom   Anubis (Ancient Egypt Religion)/Archaeologist (Original)/Loki (Norse Religion) Fanart, Fanfiction, Fanvid Request 5 by Stefanyeah Fandom: Original Work   Airship Pirate/Opera Starlet They Kidnapped/Musketeer Set on Saving the Starlet Demon/Angel/Human Whose Soul They are Competing Over Faery Knight/Captured Human Gifted To Them/Captured Human's Significant Other Questing To Save Them Faery Knights/Captured Human Gifted To Them Female Mad Scientist/Nonbinary Assistant/Nonbinary Creature Female Vampire/Male Vampire/Female Vampire Hunter Female Vampires/Female Vampire Hunter God-Empress/Harem of Badass Women Destined To Serve Her In All Ways Greek-esque God/Greek-esque God/Their Male Human Lover Group of Bored Elf Hunters/Mischievous Satyr Lost Wanderer/Group of Satyrs Male Dom/Male Switch/Male Sub Male Fallen Angel/Male Demon Wanting to Redeem Himself/Male Garden Hermit Male Fallen Angel/Male Mad Scientist/Male Government Agent New Bisexual Queen/Volunteers For Her Harem (Any Genders) A Nobleman/A Noble Woman Whose Love Potion Didn't Work Out Quite As Planned/The Witch Nymph/Pack of Werewolves Pirate Crew/Prince Who Paid Them To Kidnap Him Tentacle Monster/Couple It's Been Stalking Witch Who Stole the Peni of Most of the Town's Men/Her Victims Trying to Reclaim Their Stolen Peni Fanart, Fanfiction, Fanvid Letter: http://stefanyeah.dreamwidth.org/217571.html If you're interested in claiming any of these pinch hits, send an e-mail to holly.poly.exchange@gmail.com with your AO3 name.