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rise-my-angel · 8 months ago

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Heart of the Great Wolf

63 - Laws of Gods and Men

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader, Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader (Past)

Length: 16.4k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, past character deaths, child harm/abuse, descriptions of gore and violence, past traumas

Notes: Next week either you can have the Jon flashback chapter, or modern!au part 4, so let me know if you have a preference which comes first. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

“Lord Petyr Baelish, step forward.”

The silence through the hall felt staggering. Not even whispers were given thought as men and women alike only stared at the man in question with a narrowed glare matching nearly to every one of them. As if only then as Jon spoke, did Littlefinger realize the degree of guard surrounding the court. Up at the main table behind where you sat with Benjen beside you, was five members of what had become known as the Queen’s personal guard, all fully equipped with weaponry and behind you specifically was Theon, fully armoured. Behind Jon and downward to Sansa, Arya, and then Bran as Meera stood just off to the side away from main view but enough she could get to him if need be, did equally as armoured and ready members of the Stark household guard also remain firmly present. One of the same household guard seemed to be stood at the walls adjacent of each end of the table and more were placed throughout the room both behind the crowd and in front of it.

If somehow even more intimidating, when normally the witnesses of the smallfolk of Winter Town normally come stand and watch the proceedings of the Northern Court at the helm of their new King, were instead, men and women all dressed in only one way to interpret. Where the common people normally stood to watch, instead all around were the arrivals whom could be found in and around Winterfell or by Tormunds side. The Free Folk most involved in their new affiliation with the Northern people on a daily basis, stood as their own witness as well, if not to present a unity against what was to come.

Were you to wager, you would put gold that the front of Starks before him were all matching in their stern solidarity to the degree he did not expect. He always assumed he was the smartest man in the room, but his advantages were running thinner and thinner as the world around him seemed to twist and turn into something entirely beyond any one persons control. Things all bearing down on the real which one singular man could not always manipulate to his benefit, but it would not be an easy task to change that, nor reveal to the man himself that his house of cards had begun to fall without his knowledge.

Yet the look in his eye as he spoke presented that of a man whom begun to put the pieces together that he had walked into something he knew nothing of. “May I inquire your Grace, what this is about?”

Jon looked at him with eyes dark and yet a steady calm in his voice as it projected with unquestionable authority throughout the room. “Lord Baelish, you’ve been involved with my family for many years. Through my blood in the Starks, of my brothers and sisters to House Tully, and to my wife’s b birth, House Baratheon. Most recently, you were the reason my sister Sansa could be returned home to Winterfell safely, and for that I thank you.”

“It was my honour truly-”

Cutting him off, there was but a flash in the mans eyes which could clearly be read as something almost in an anger at being interrupted, yet blind sighted to the words coming from Jon as he continued. “But that’s not all you’ve done. And it’s those reasons you’ve been summoned to court. To answer for your crimes.” The silence in the room, one could hear near anything had a single person broke that stern quiet. In a steady tone, Littlefinger asked what crimes it was he was here to supposedly answer for, but the moment your name, in it’s entirety came out did the realization in him grow. “To answer for the crime of conspiring to murder the Queen in the North.”

He said nothing, which was smart. His eyes flickered to you, but you did not blink, breathe nor move one single bit. Biting down on your tongue as if to not even allow a twitch of your muscles peek through, he read nothing from you which gave away the nerves flowing through you. You didn’t wish for this to have come around to you, but you could not change that and you would stay at Jons side no matter how much you wished the eyes around looked anywhere else.

You had not often seen a trial within your time in Kings Landing, but in contrast, this looked far different. Taking place in the throne room, so always something grand and decorated with light shining through the windows would peek through. Two sides of seating built up like the stands of a crowd for a tourney, and in the middle of the space up by the steps was the podium. One could sit or stand, but chains were placed on their wrists attaching them to the spot. Robert would sit as judge in one seat, and one on either side always consisting of the same judges. His Hand of the King Jon Arryn on his right, and his brother, Stannis on the other. Any relevant parties to the matter would always sit off to either side of them as well, creating a sense of organization and almost ease in the way the room looked and sat.

This was not the same. He stood freely without chains in the middle of the clearing as the Northerners around sat and stood and watched with guards posted to keep him from acting out any. Not just a King and two judges, but the family remaining to Jon sat at either of his side as a symbol of a strength, or a unity not seen much in the capitol. The darker walls of Winterfell as snow and clouds surrounded made the sunlight dripping in more doused in a blueish tone, almost imposing in contrast to the brightness of the Red Keep.

Addressing both the man and room, Jon laid out the details of the charge before any questions could even be asked as if the story was brand new to him. You forced your eyes forward without room to see the nerves behind as Jon again brought up your name. “Some months ago, while attending to personal matters in Barrowton, she was kidnapped and put up in a trail of outlaws against impossible charges she had no way to defend herself against. This was part of an elaborate plan meant to result in her being found guilty, and executed by these outlaws. You’ve been brought here today, Lord Baelish, to answer to the accusation that this was an attempt to assassinate the Queen in the North, created and planned by you.”

Littlefinger looked to you, peeling them back to Jon as if he could again use that lightness in his voice as a shield where one no longer existed. “I was in the Vale for many years, your Grace. And in Kings Landing for much longer before that. How could I be responsible for an attempted murder thousands of miles away?”

“That’s what we’re here to find out, my Lord.”

A smaller stand just off to the side door by the top of the hall was the only new addition. Positioned to be seen and heard by judge, accused, and witnesses alike. Being told he would be given the chance to speak, you knew out bursting was not going to be what he did. Littlefinger wasn’t so stupid to say anything at anytime and you knew he would save it all for the worst moment. Your eyes did catch however, the glance to where your mother sat with Gendry enough to the side and back that it appeared as if they were just part of the watching crowd. The moment his eyes went from Gendry, back up to you did your breathing hitch in your chest, but you refused to allow it to exhale with any shake. Sensing Arya’s watchful gaze taking in the entire scene, you dared not think what she would feel when realizing how long you hid it from her, but it would come out eventually.

Jon was smart though, where he started off. The crime to be slowly connected and revealed through almost a recounting of events until it built and built, the first to speak was, to Littlefinger no doubt, one he saw no reason to put any fear into having him speak. Seldom would such a thought occur to you, but you could not find reason to dismiss it once it found its way into your head. More on the quiet side compared to men of the North, and more well spoken but also in a kinder way he appeared without any threat, and his size would be scrutinized by those whom cared.

Littlefinger was a man whose work was deeply rooted in how things and people looked around him, so of course you saw not a scrap of worry as the first entered the hall. Asking him to state his name, you also knew Jons time as Lord Commander likely long since prepared him for this side of the man as good as his brother, turned King. “Samwell Tarly.”

Jon asked with an even tone, if he was there the night of your kidnapping, and thus Sam was let loose with Jons full trust to say what needed to be said and nothing more. It was not a coincidence that Jon had chosen Sam to relay the events start to finish, rather then Gendry. Keep him out of the focus of attention, and giving a well spoken highborn within the Nights Watch the chance to establish a trusting basis. “I was, your grace. I had met her earlier in the day before it all happened.”

Explaining the simple facts of the story, you knew you gave nothing away to him that he could read but you felt Sam just barley meeting your eyes as he talked around the details regarding the lies and mess your presence caused right away, a smoothness which none else would pick up on whom was not there to witness the hostility. Jon took advantage of the lull in Sams recounting of meeting you, knowing to establish Sams credibility, though to Sams amusement not that you nor Jon picked up on, was he asked it the same way you asked him. “What would a man of the Nights Watch be doing in Barrowton?”

Sam sensed it likely, his attention more towards the room away from Jon knowing both were aware of such details already. “Before being crowned King in the North, I first knew Jon Snow in the Nights Watch. He had been elected Lord Commander, after avenging the mutiny and murder of Lord Commander Jeor Mormont.” Your eyes flickered to spot not just Maege you realized, but two familiar figures watching as well. One a mirror of her mother, and the other still just as small but just as feirce as her older sister and mother beside her. Clever too you thought, appeal even moreso your side to the North. “And after leading the Nights Watch through the night Mance Rayder attacked Castle Black with an army of wildlings.”

Again your eyes flickered, that time to the other side of the room. A situation you felt you knew nothing about, battle in and of itself fought and won by Jon and somewhere in there your father had a place. The event which led to the only reason any true salvation of your relationship with your father was made, the strange yet respecting dynamic between Stannis and Jon. Looking at the wild yet harsh gaze of Tormund, you could only wonder the life lived leaving to being on separate sides of a violent battle to being as close friends as could be, between he and Jon.

Sam continued regardless. “Our Maester had fallen ill sometime after that, and I was sent with him to the Citadel in Oldtown to both possibly begin studies to return as a replacement for Maester Aemon, and to see if I could find any helpful information on the Others and the Long Night.” The crowd was silent and serious while Littlefinger raised an eyebrow as if thinking he was surrounded by fools. “It was when I had discovered information I thought Jon should know when I learned he had become King. So I made my way into the North through Barrowton to make my way to Winterfell, when I had met the Queen. Who was there on personal business.”

Your eyes found Littlefingers as Sam continued, the details of what happened, the fires, the fight, the confrontation as you both stared at one another. He knew. He had to of always known. The way he almost raised one eyebrow in knowing, saying what was going wholey unsaid. Your eyes dared not leave his and risk flickering to Gendry, it would give it away, it would give him more fuel to add to his fire building to burn you with. You were well aware, you were not exactly a person whom lended themselves to being painted in the best of lights at times.

“She didn’t have a chance. They threw accusation after accusation that only made her look like a traitor to the memory of her late husband. They blamed her, saying she had conspired to take the King in the Norths crown from it’s rightful heir, and give it to a bastard with no claim but it was only her word against theirs. They had a story in their minds they thought was true, and there was nowhere it could go but finding her guilty.”

You hated thinking of it, the thought of it all. How much that falsehood of a creature wanted you to pay for what her demonic, twisted memories of Catelyn Stark claimed against you. It had never been about rights or crowns, it had all been a ruse to punish you for the son that never came back. It had all been to make you pay for her hatred of Jon, with your life. And worse too, you had been willing to do so then and you still would now. This plan against you alone still managed to taunt Jon with the things he grew up knowing he would never have nor be. Every freedom granted to him now, was still always being painted against him for being a bastard. It still refused to go away, even now.

“How do you know the accused?”

In truth, you were not even sure you had once appeared as if you moved in the slightest. Hidden more by the table before you, your hands were all but begging to dig into your palms. Instead tightening in the fabric of your dress almost as it to tear a whole into it just to alleviate some of this feeling. You knew why this all had to be dragged back out once more, but that did not change the fact that you hated it was about you.

Speaking with more of a passiveness you were used to from the man, it had struck you the thought if being sober made Thoros of Myr more or less insufferable. But too you sat there, thinking strikingly of what he had said. That there were no words in any language to describe the feeling existing within both of you wit what you had been able to do, and it made you somehow more uncomfortable. How much worse did you come off as you wondered, if not sober did this appear to be the form of most tolerable he could be. “He was on the small council of King Robert, I was a member of his court. Our paths crossed from time to time.”

You dared not ask yourself to which degree brothels were included in such endeavours. Beside you, Jon had not even the slightest bit of inclination towards that question appearing in his own head as he indicated to you. “How did you go from part of the Kings court to the Brotherhood Without Banners, involved in her kidnapping?”

Thoros at the least, was an honest man to an insufferable fault. Telling the same story Beric Dondarrion had told Jon, but without the ghastly slight of a man littered all over with memories of previous deaths to distract. Ned Stark, the Mountain, the Riverlands, all circling around to fighting supposedly for the people as part of you felt the bite to point out the people, the common people they claimed to fight for were included in those that night they lured you out. But what was worse, was her. The talk of whom had led them to the North and in your direction.

The memory of a woman whom died a mother to you, but whose pale eyes stared down into yours and hissed with a vitriol that she wished she had never preyed Jon survived the pox as an infant. That she wishes Robbs son had been cut out of you before you died with him, because wouldn’t that be so much easier. A living son and heir, and this fight of whom claims for what would never exist and yet you dared not trace where under your layers, a scar told the story of an unborn son whom did not survive.

A dark, growing weight in your stomach rising up your chest. The pressure placed on your lings acting as something to suffocate as the thoughts increased, as did the force within you to tell such memories to stay away. Worse still, the three Starks beside Jon having to hear of the memory of their own mother torn to shreds in an impossible magic which made her monstrous. The worst which you could imagine they would think of her final fate and yet there was no hiding from that truth.

That hateful thing walking in her visage was a lie you and her children would remember as her final part of your lives, but at least for them, their final memory of their mother wasn’t drenched in horror. They mother they parted from was alive, and loving. The one you parted from had her throat slit after watching all she had left, lay dead on the ground before her, and the anguish of that night, or the demon whom came for you, were your only options.

Lady Stoneheart was all that remained to Catelyn Stark and yet you knew hearing of her was a better final image then the true one you shared not with people. You hardly remembered a thing, you could hear voices and cries and blurs of Robb by you but nothing a memory that had any weight. But Thoros of Myr stood there recounting it all.

That time you dared not look at Littlefinger, what he felt about her you did not care. He had not the right to care, not now, not after what would happen here.

Jons voice almost startled you back into the present, your mind having drifted so far you could’ve forgotten you sat in that hall. “How did you know all this?”

He need not point the finger, more would come. Jon wanted his basis covered, no stone left unturned, as he let the vauge answer be unchallenged as it truly was honest. “I have no idea. We were told what we were told, that she got her information from someone close to her. Who that was, we didn’t know and she wasn’t a woman who gave us much room to question that. But one thing was clear, it wasn’t yourself her mind was really set on.” Commenting with a confidence that it was indeed, a violent inclination towards you, you again said nothing, nor moved. You had been a statue for this entire trial thus far, and you had not a clue when anything else would return.

You just wished for this part to be all over, you didn’t want to sit there and let Jon find justice for you, it didn’t matter. What happened then did not matter compared to the things Jon was fighting now, you knew dealing with Littlefinger had to be done, but you hated his best way was to go through you first. You wanted to leave everything of those nights, the memories they caused, the images and sounds they conjured back up, you wanted all of those to go away forever. To be picked up by the cold winds and blown so far from reach never to be seen again.

Jon had never forgotten nor forgiven almost losing you in those nights, considering how you both had found yourself parting ways, but you hated it. You wanted him to care more about things that weren’t you, but with the advantage of knowing saying it to him as such would not go over well. So you stayed still as a statue, and as silent. This was his Kingdom, he could handle attacks on those within his Kingdom as he saw fit.

The slime dripping from his voice, as Littlefinger had the audacity to speak up. “Your Grace, if I may ask the witness one question?” Formal and polite, he played it well, thus Jon gave only one rigid nod with darker watchful eyes drift from him, right over to you before jumping to Thoros. “Was this leader of yours after her death, or simply justice in whatever form that would’ve come in?”

You felt Thoros looking to you, but your eyes casted downward to the nothing of the table before you. What truly was even left of your life you ever wanted to revisit? How little of who you were wasn’t painted over by something you still felt a heavy guilt for? How much of your failures since being with him again, did Jon have to take care of in the aftermath?

Smooth was the way it was answered though, eyes flickering towards you again as Thoros spoke. “We were after justice, but in the eyes of the Lord of Light, there is no punishment for the guilty but death. In our eyes there is no half way. If half an onion is black with rot, then it’s a rotten onion. A man is good, or he is evil.”

Hours ticked by in your mind, in place of the minutes it truly was. You had the final nail to hammer in for what this was leading up to, but you wished you could disappear until needed and let it play out without you bearing witness to defending your honour. Perhaps you could’ve been up where you had Gilly watch the baby. Sam had grown to a boy of three and much more he was learning to talk, you could help her with him, see how well she’s done with reading on her own. You could simply hold little Eddard in your arms as he slept and focus away from what was too much about you.

You wished there was another way to seek out your defence then this, you wished there was anything else as strong that had nothing to do with you.

He hadn’t seen it coming, the things to come as the next witness was called. So far up North Littlefinger likely assumed Jons reach was limited, he assumed what information Jon had was based on what he only could guess on his own. He very distinctly, had not guessed the sheer idea that not only would he be betrayed by the people he manipulated around him, but that he had not seen coming that those he simply looked down on as lesser then could ever see through the facade he put up for himself.

Thin cloak and tunic both matching, the colours stood out more then most would have been seen wearing in this area. The fabric, the designs all looking like one whom would stand most days in the sun high in the sky rather then any style of dress and colour looking to keep what little warmth existed, tight against their person. The clasp holding together their cloak being worn like robes was in the shape of a shield. Bronze in colour and black iron studs sitting within the middle. Were one to look closer, the markings surrounding the edges could be seen in the shape of runes.

Yet what stood out most was not the man himself, but the hardly concealed look crawling upon Littlefingers face as he approached the stand. As all were within formalities, he was asked to state his name. “Ser Yohn Royce of the Vale, Lord of Runestone.”

They acted with nothing but stern formality, as if this winding mystery had not started with him. Jon asking with his head gesturing somewhat towards the middle of the hall. “Do you know this man?”

The look shared between Ser Royce and Littlefinger was what you could call unique. A knowing on one yet the confusion of the other, the situations had flipped and the confused was now with no understanding when he once thought he surely held all of the cards. But Ser Royce did not linger, losing back towards Jon. “I do. Lord Petyr Baelish, widower of the late Lysa Arryn.”

Jons face remained neutral, nothing smug or condescending or even holding a single hint that Jon knew far more about what he was to say then any other. “And what do you know of his crimes?”

If you were to glance beyond Jons person to Sansa, you would’ve seen her blue eyes unblinking as she stared at him. Her final parting times from the man she had still been masquerading as Alyane Stone and was told to see him as little more then a useful fool to hide her away in the Vale once she let the truth be known. In what had been told of her the eve before, the details of how Jon came to any of these conclusions were not explained.

He rightfully knew, letting her sit in on this trial, learning most of the how and what for herself would be good enough to allow her the freedom to choose what to believe. And as Ser Royce spoke, you and Jon both knew that this was not nearly the worst of the truth. “I cannot speak in absolutes of his guilt, but I can relay the details of what’s led me to my suspicions.”

It was interesting as he spoke, at least to you. The simple fact that he had not given the identity of the confidant whose raven accidentally was brought to him and not Littlefinger. You wondered why not, if he was here to give the details of what he found, why not speak it. Why keep it in the shadows, and the moment your eyes flickered to Littlefinger, it seemed he sensed the same thing.

Ser Royce was nothing if not a well spoken man, a bit on the blunt side at times but never rude nor abrasive over the subjects. A squire gave him a raven meant for Lord Baelish, with the speakings of rumours far North written as the whispering of a spy. Speaking that Jon had married you the night returning from Dragonstone, and that there had been no time for interference on that matter. That Littlefinger seemed to hold an interest in the King and Queen in the North yes, but more specifically, the interest was held greatly in discussing you but he at the time did not know why.

Seeking more information, he had uncovered a great deal of twisting and turnings of people within the North and Winterfell which were all connected to this web of spies tying back to Littlefinger, and much of it, was about you. What you did, where you were, who you spoke to, but that it did not last long. Soon after that was he looked into what he had stumbled across, had Littlefinger left ever so briefly on what he called business matters.

It needn’t be said that the timeline already the North both knew and had been established here today, that the time Littlefinger had briefly left the Vale did it soon align up with the incident in Barrowton. Sansa’s eyes caught Littlefinger, whom failed at any imploring looks to get her to have faith. Her eyes flickered from himself, over to your still yet watchful eyes on Ser Royce, did more of something angering and unsettled filter within her blood.

Turning now more towards the crowd before him, did the story shift slightly, shifting into territory that Jon knew, Littlefinger wished for him to think was his only conclusion for this trial. “After that, I had begun correspondence with the King in the North as to attempt to uncover this suspicious plot surrounding Lord Baelish.”

Speaking up suddenly, Arya had asked the pressing question which she knew the crowd would wonder themselves. To Jon and Sansa both that answer was easy, but you knew he was quick enough to sense not everyone could make that connection right on their own. “Why? You didn’t know him at all, or his wife. Why risk helping him?”

Ser Royce kept eye contact with her, and almost a flicker of familiarity came across his face of memories long since passed. “I knew your father, Lord Eddard Stark. He was sent to the Vale as a young lad to serve as a ward to the late Jon Arryn, along with Robert Baratheon. Half of his life they were raised within the walls of the Eyrie, and I watched both grow from boys before going off to live their lives as men. Now both are gone, and what sort of man would I be if I didn’t do whatever I could do help those they left behind.”

All three of you he looked towards, yourself, Jon and Sansa but said little on the matter of specifics. It spoke for itself, at least the general idea of it spoke for itself. Those details, like much in this trial, Jon knew not to throw out all at once and overwhelm with too much. Too much he had said the night before to you, meant that he could only defend himself against so much at once and lies or not, Littlefinger had every right to defend against what he was accused of.

“There was little reason the King could find on his own for why such events in Barrowton would have occurred, but little I could do from so far while on my own. All we could know for sure, was that Lord Baelish found interest in any instability to be found and exploited between the King and Queen.” Looking with a distaste seen only within the shining of his eyes did Lord Royce state almost to the man directly. “His interest in her specifically, seemed to be only matched by his interest in Lady Sansa.”

Whispers spoke through out without any doubt that time, and the peeling of eyes from Ser Royce to Sansa herself finally settled on Jon, but found something only giving the man unease. A darker look sat in Jons eyes as his face was both seething yet appearing as calm as he could be. As your eyes drifted enough to catch Sansa’s, you recognized the look. A shame not hers yet with nowhere to go but feel as if she was responsible for a grown mans ill desires. But he was not done, and the guilt she felt you realized would only be matched once more by the implication about to be relayed.

“I only have my word of what I speak of his character, and yet I strongly believe there is reason to not doubt his intentions are not honourable.”

You had last seen him a small boy in Kings Landing. Always kept by the close watch of Lysa and an uncanny lack of independence for even a boy of eight. She sheltered Robin from the world, and thus he held no idea how to behave in the real one. His septa must have had been blessed with the power of patience to handle him as much as she did with not a hint of fuss.

But he was a troubled boy. Ill and sickly but always with tantrums and outbursts. Not a clue how to behave and Lysa only seemed to make it worse. There had been days you would walk into the small council chambers to see Lord Arryn there exceptionally early and you could hardly blame him. Sometimes if one wandered close to the tower of the Hand, Robins yelling could be heard and Lysa would do nothing to make him stop. Working in such an environment must have been grating on the poor man.

Some days you would assist in his work, just to give him company that did not shout or cry insistently throughout the day. But this, was something not even your most frustrated thoughts on the petulant boy had come close to. “Lord Baelish had begun giving the boy sweetmilk to sleep. Every night given to him to calm his outbursts, but when the Maester had brought it up to me he seemed concerned. Telling me that when he had questioned Lord Baelish on the matter, he had begun sending another to request it for him, as if to avoid what he was not willing to answer.”

Before anything could be said, Jon had looked to the crowd with much more distinct of a distrust on his face to what he seemed to understand was coming. “Maester Wolkan, do you know why this would be concerning?”

The answer was unsettled to most in the room, despite how little Littlefinger reacted in anyway with dark eyes now looking up towards Jon, whom only stared back with something hardly one could lie and say was not a glare as Wolkan spoke. “Adding drops of sweetwine to milk can replicate the effects of essence of nightshade, help soothe the nerves and give the drinker an easy dreamless sleep. But adding too much of it, or using it everyday over time will cause it to build up in a mans blood. Act almost as a poison, giving the user a very slow death which to many, would appear as a natural illness.”

You knew what such a thing implied, but part of you desperately did not wish too. Someone who could look at a child and only see it as something in their way, as something to be disposed of once it was an inconvenience to their plans. Desperate you suddenly felt as it flipped in your stomach, to stay seated and remain at Jons side.

Growing however was something boiling up inside of you, as if the simple fact that he was not within your sights worried you. As if Littlefingers presence within Winterfell, knowing what he wanted and would try to do to get what he wants, you felt what you refused to yet acknowledge was panic. He was fine, you had seen him not long ago and he was fine. But wouldn’t it be easier of course to get rid of you, if you didn’t have a son any longer to fight for-

Your heart almost stopped and started as fast as it pounded now. Hands tensed further and further without your notice did your nails dig enough into their wrappings that the fabric begun to slowly seep into a red covering the usual white tints. It was harder afterall to separate a man and wife when they had a child between them. But you sat, ignoring the ever so brief look of Jon towards you with a narrowing expression of worry towards your unusually stiff demeanour.

But the thoughts refused to go away, you couldn’t even hear what was being said in the court. What if it was you it was being given too, and your son fed from you and- your blink nearly allowed the tears you didn’t notice were forming to come out. Watering behind your eyes that few could see from where you sat. As soon as the words passed through your mind you felt that guilt as if you did it yourself. If something happened to the baby, that Jon would blame you.

Robin would be thirteen by now, only a year younger then-

“They were boys.”

No one but you could hear, the echo of Robbs voice through the halls in Riverrun as Willem and Martyn Lannister were laid out on a sheet before you both in the middle of the night. It did not matter what age or innocence those boys held, men with enough hate or evil in their hearts would be willing to do anything to those whom they could not see as worthy of their life.

The bright green eyes your son held, the same green eyes that were seen the day you finally met your baby sister, the same which looked up to you with a little smile held by a young girl whom did not understand her baby girl would never get the life she dreamed for her. The girl whom stood there watching the gold cloaks murder that little baby right in the middle of-

It was nothing proper of you, but you could not care to think how it looked as whispers were spoken amongst the crowd the second you pushed from your seat. The guard by the door into the corridor opening and closed it swiftly without any fuss as the halls remained rather empty, those whom could spare their work to watch the spectacle did so.

But one way, then another, then the steps and up through the door almost throwing it open before you realized your lungs ached as they heaved for air. Gillys head shot up in a startle along with little Sam in her lap, your naming coming from her in a breathless worry, “Is everything alright?”

You didn’t answer, your eyes found the little bassinet closer to the fire and dropped to you knees to seek out his level sat down on the chair. Eyes not yet open but a slumbering face now twisting as he slowly woke up with a grumble and small hints of cries for someone having done so. One hand reaching up to run over his head with a gentle shush, he seemed to recognize your voice but the upset cries still creeped out. As soon as his little arms fought from his swaddle out to you did you gently pick him up, moving to stand as you held him close against you.

Turning to press your lips to the top of his head with soothing words meaning very little as you eased him from being upset into recognizing it was only you, and everything was alright. Only then, did you notice your surroundings, everything was alright. He moved to hide in your neck with a now muffled cry in distress as he no doubt had picked up on yours. But he was alright, nothing looked wrong nothing was wrong but yet you stood with your head dizzy at the whirlwind around you.

Gilly had gently put little Sam down, telling him to go play as she slowly approached you from behind, your name coming from her quiet tone, but your eyes closed you had not the energy yet willing to acknowledge any that was not him. The noise in your head too loud, and the warmth behind your face stung at your eyes without the ability to hide them when you inevitably opened them to the room once more.

Slowly her voice finally reached your hearing as she called to your name once more. “Is it over? What happened?” You appreciated her concern, but gentle rocking to ease calm into little Eddard as you needed it to return to you, you shook your head.

Turning only to press your lips against his head, did you whisper, keeping him cradled close against you. “I-” Do you lie? What explanation could make sense of such unbecoming and erratic behaviour? It did not come up as smooth as some lies go down, but you forced it out in a strained mutter all the same. “I just needed to check on him is all. I shouldn’t be away from him for so long.”

Somewhere in the back of your mind you felt thankful at Gilly’s lack of hesitation to rest a comforting hand on your back, leaning more to try and speak closer to you directly then from behind, but without pushing you. The change of subject almost seemed odd at first to what of you could hear her through the blood rushing rapidly in your veins. “I’ve never been away from Sam before.” Your head barley tilted to the side to indicate you heard her. “From the day he was born, I’ve never been without him. I’ve never been away from his side for more then a few minutes, really. I couldn’t imagine having to be away from my son for so long right after he was born.”

The sensation of racing in your heart begun to settle, the realization that not every facet of your life was dictated by others, that not everything would be lost to you the way it once was in such blood. Muttering as you looked down at little Eddard, now awake but snuggling into where he lay at your neck and shoulders, a warmth only then coming through you to feel any manner of rational again. “I was apart from him for hours after he was born.”

Slowly moving to sit in the seat, Gilly had quickly moved the bassinet to the ground as she held the back of the chair. Shifting the baby to rest down in your arms, leaning over to keep his bright eyes looking up at you as you murmured to continue. “I only had him for three hours, I had only fed him once when..” Gilly nodded from what you could see from the side of your vision, she didn’t force you to say it. “I was away from him for hours right after he was born. I was terrified by the time I’d get back to him it would be too late.”

Hands trying to reach up to grasp at either yours or what he could catch of strands of your hair did a little laugh crack out, along with the smile matching on his which no doubt would grow up to look exactly like Jons. “He adores you, I don’t think you have to worry about not protecting him just because you sometimes can’t be with him all day.”

Shaking your head, your smile melted into something tender, unwilling, or perhaps unable, to look away from him as you could continue to see he was as healthy has he was this morning, as he was the day before and the day before that. Everywhere in your life you felt as if you could see the bodies of dead children follow you, their memories haunting you just like the blood soaking Robbs hand that was the last of a son you’d never know was within your sights.

Already things would come for you, for all of you when the winter storms breached the Wall, but as you sat there part of you could only consider, if his plan here worked, whatever it truly was, would he have hurt your son? Would he have harmed Jon? Your life was one thing, theirs was far more precious to you. Little hands drew your attention, a laugh leaving you despite the thoughts swimming in your head. Looking up, you nodded over to a shall sitting across a chair belong to Gilly, “Would you mind? He needs to be fed and-”

A small smile came over her, a knowing you rarely felt in mothers around you it seemed. “Of course.” Coming back over as soon as she grabbed it, you had already undid the easy laces to the front of your dress, a surprised noise leaving you as she made herself comfortable wrapping it around you. “I was out there for months with little Sam, I got used to covering the two of us quick.”

Finding a seat as you muttered a thank you, and an internal one to the Mother for gracing you with a son that had not a single issue with latching, you almost felt a relaxing come across your bones. The paranoia slowly leaving you, knowing you fed him with nothing but your milk and monsters like Littlefinger had not tainted that. Glancing up, Gilly had taken a seat opposite of you by the fire, something on her mind. “You can say whatever it is you want to say, Gilly.”

“Sorry, sometimes I remember who you are and that I’m supposed to be proper around you.” A smile crossed your lips as you glanced up to her and back down to the baby telling her that you much preferred she not treat you that way it seemed to put her more comfortably at ease. “He’s doing all this to protect you.” Your brow raised in question. “Jon. I mean he wants to protect his whole family, but he’s doing this mostly to protect you. When he and Sam think they’re alone, all Jon does is talk about you, that hes angry you came back and the world won’t leave you and him be.”

In your heart you knew that, but something flipped in your chest at hearing someone else say it with ease, the way people with ease would comment on how Robb felt about you. If you looked closer, you might be able to see traces of a scar haunting you of a son that never was, but before that was the small sight of the real one feeding from your breast. How much you’d do anything to protect him and Jon, but sometimes it was easy to forget. That Jon didn’t just want to protect his son, that people wanted to protect you.

Benjen had looked for you himself to protect you, he chose that on his own. Jon risked everything with a newborn with him to find you before you were taken away from him. And then he comes home, and watches as a plan unfolds around his brother and sisters that means to separate you from him, and put your life in danger once more.

Your voice was quiet as you all but murmured in the air between you and Gilly. “All I started to think of down there was how painful it would be for Jon to lose all of this now, the way it hurt me to lose Robb that night. I couldn’t sit there and relive all of that for the sake of justice because all suddenly could think was how it would feel to put Jon through what I went though.” Eyes glancing to the fire, your tone lowered just a pinch. “While I’m worried about it, he’s the one actually trying to stop it, trying to prevent it. It’s just...not easy accepting that.”

Gilly only commented that it wasn’t easy accepting that Sam sent her away once trying to protect her. “When the other wildlings came, Sam thought I was dead. It took me days to get back to Castle Black and once I saw him again all I cared about was that we were together. It didn’t matter why I was upset before, or he was angry with himself for it.” Asking gently when you got there, her answer almost took you by surprise. “The night the Mance Rayder attacked Castle Black. Part of me still wonders if Sam would’ve stood and fought as much as he did that night if he still thought we were dead. That protecting me gave him a reason to fight even though he always tried to claim he wasn’t good at it.”

“Well, he’s gotten you this far.” Gilly only came back saying that Jon had done the same for you. It almost felt nice, a mutual understanding of having such a strange and difficult to explain love for someone that doesn’t always look like the right thing to others. Sam did the things he did to protect her and you didn’t look at him as if he was wrong for it.

But Jon was doing this for you, and you had every faith in him he could. But as you sat there, allowing the time to pass not focusing on what could possibly be said down in the hall, you considered one more thing. Sam had sent Gilly away to protect her and she made her way back to him, Jon wanted to protect you from Littlefinger, but maybe it was your turn to make your way back to Jon.

Though, you had moreso it seemed, meant that in a metaphorical sense.

The guilt had been established. No trial needed, no public proceedings. Barbrey Dustin had sat in that room and confessed every single detail without holding back. But sitting there now, it was obvious to Jon even moreso then that day, the shame which had grown within her for such actions. He did not wish to condemn her as an evil woman, and now more then ever she had begun to prove him right. It did not take away what she already did, but she had been upfront.

Littlefinger had any and every chance to speak for himself the truth, and he took not one of such opportunities. Already he had betrayal in Ser Royce long before now, and to thus sit here and be stripped down by a woman whom had spied for him the horrific details of what she knew.

Once Jon gave her the freedom to speak, off she had went. As if the moment her mouth opened the air never run out. Rarely needing to interject, Jon had only asked her why it was she never had any instructions from him during the year after the night at the Twins regarding you, if she had known you were alive. And it only served to add onto the falling image he still stood with. “Until Roose had made the move to Winterfell, only a small garrison of his men knew she was alive. I never informed Lord Baelish of the information.”

“Why?”

Glancing back to Jon then the crowd, she avoided Littlefingers narrowed gaze as if she cared not to implore herself to him but people of her own kind, that perhaps all was not lost for her. Thinking to herself only a moment or two, did she find something solemn in her tone. “I was shown the extent of her wounds, then Roose informed me she was alive. I have seen my fair share of blood in my life, but..nothing ever quite like that. Most of you can imagine I am not a woman easily shocked, but that sight.” Looking away for a moment before continuing, Jon knew the feeling of seeing it. Very few had.

He could at any point imagine it perfectly, as in front of his eyes as the feverish dream showed him the blood you laid and died in. Not his men, his sisters, nor anyone could imagine what looking at such a sight felt inside. For as many as littered his own chest, the wounds of knives in Jon were clean. One stab then the next. You had been cut open all it had reminded Jon of was that day they found the direwolves, and seeing the dead stag laying out with its stomach pooled out onto the rotting ground.

“It isn’t an easy thing. Seeing that sort of violence on the woman you, yourself had called a Queen. Had I told Lord Baelish, well I could not imagine what sort of death would come to follow after what she had already returned from. Despite everything I had and would go on to do, still I knew that not even she deserved whatever that would be. So I withheld it from him.”

It was the first she had spoken, and the first Jon sensed any amount of rising troubled emotion in his little sister as Sansa spoke up. A doubt in her tone, but eyes set centre on Littlefinger whom was doing what Jon assumed, was his best to pretend he was not losing faith. “Lady Barbrey, I have a question for you.” Turning a little in suprise, but she gave every ounce of respect if somehow more then previous as she faced the crowd. An act of playing along or not Jon knew it was convincing to watch. “Why go through him? If you were to tell someone she was alive, by then the North was under Roose Boltons control, and he answered to Tywin Lannister. Why would you fear going through Lord Baelish when all he would do is bring that information to the Lannisters?”

Littlefinger ever so slightly tilted his head at Sansa, a curiosity in the question but the moment they slid to the right, landing on Jon did that curiosity once more die. Going through all of these events, telling a story Jon knew you didn’t wish to be public all for your saftey, and the pain of reliving such things and fears having driven you from the hall itself as Jon knew he couldn’t go after you. Theon had silently left, only to return with the whisper of where you had gone and were with, being the only thing letting Jon even somewhat relax.

But to add onto all of that, the last thing he was willing to tolerate was Littlefinger still looking at Sansa as if he had the right to expect her on his side. As if planning once more how to use his advantage as a grown man to manipulate a teenage girl back onto his side. He had wanted to treat her as a woman when he had been forcing her closer and closer to that since she was only a girl of thirteen. But as eyes met, Jon knew Littlefinger likely still felt the sensation of being slammed against the wall and the pressure around his throat the only thing sparing him being Jons own self control.

Barbrey Dustin however, answered Sansa’s question with more fuel to throw onto the fire that was his losing battle of having a single Stark left on his side. “Lord Tywins instructions to Roose detailed the murder of the King and Queen in the North. When Lord Baelish had used me to facilitate this arrangement between the Crown and the North, he was the one who insisted on the importance of her death in particular. That if all else failed there was still the chance to defeat King Robb in battle, but that under no circumstances, could the Queen be allowed to live.” Head rose high now, she kept her eyes on Jon and the Starks beside him. “He had painted the situation as if her death was more important then King Robb’s himself. Learning she was alive when I first saw her, I couldn’t grasp why it was so important to him. But something of the situation felt strange to me, so I kept it to myself.”

Interrupting before any could continue, Jons voice projected throughout the hall. “My lady, you told me he never gave you any orders until after I reclaimed Winterfell. What had occurred which made you decide to listen to him if you already didn’t think you could trust him?”

The truth she told was as she confessed to him. That the act of refusing to give up to the Lannisters that you were alive, had in turn been the act which forced Barbrey Dustin back into Littlefingers control. Now he had leverage over her knowing she kept that from him, and finding out that you were alive and once again within a position of relative power, meant that instead of having her killed for keeping that information from him, she was going to help him instead.

Spy for him on you, on Jon by proxy. And she followed his every instruction which led you to Moat Cailin. Where Littlefinger had been relying on the perceived bloodlust of the new leader of the Brotherhood Without Banners to kill you in a manner which left little trace back to him.

If the story wasn’t damning enough, there was nothing but a rising wave of anger once more through the watchers in the hall as she read out one by one each copy of the ravens sent between she and Littlefinger. It had not been a bluff when Jon told her that he had already seen every letter sent and received by her from within his walls.

Sparing a glance to his side, Jon found Brans gaze drifting towards him. A raise of his little brothers eyebrow, he knew the question, but Jon wouldn’t act yet. He had enough to say Littlefinger was guilty of the attempt on your life and Jon knew he would need no more justification to take his head for it in his people’s eyes. Not the whole tale, but there was something he had to do first.

You had run off, and Jon needed to check on you, he needed to make sure you were alright, and he needed to tell you that you didn’t have to do this, you did not have to say what you knew and he and Bran would understand. Standing from his seat all eyes turned to Jon without hesitation as his voice projected through the hall. “We’ll stop here for now. Give us,” Gesturing to his siblings beside him first then to Littlefinger. “And Lord Baelish time to consider the evidence so far. We’ll continue when I return.”

People everyone stood up, moving about and out the hall as the guards surrounding Littlefinger indicted he was to stay right where he was, and a failure Jon noticed, to catch Sansa’s eye as she stood as well. “Jon-”

Turning to her, Jons voice was set and firm in more of something akin to a whisper towards her. “You don’t need to make your mind up right now, the trial isn’t over.” Looking to Arya he nodded for her to come over. “I don’t want you, any of you alone in the room with you. Take Bran, and go somewhere else for a while, all of you. Until this is over I won’t have any of you anywhere near him.”

A glare came easy from Arya as she looked over to him, a mutter matching Jons low one. “What do you think he’s going to do?” But Jon knew the answer.

“He’s not going to do anything. It’s what he’ll say I’m worried about.”

Some time had passed as the baby was fed. You now resting him back down, a hand still on him watching his bright eyes finally lull asleep when the door opened. A much more wild and on edge Jon firmly closed the door behind him, either ignoring or more likely not even seeing Gilly in the room did Jon come over to you.

The second your body turned in his direction, Jon grabbed you and pulled you into his front. A hand holding at your hip while the other cupped your cheek, thumb running over the skin as he leaned down with his eyes dark and yet urgent. “Are you alright?” Nodding yes, Jon leaned in more narrowing his eyes. “You sure?”

Again you nodded, your hands resting high on his chest and by his shoulders more. “I am. I’m sorry I ran out that way, I couldn’t-”

Cutting you off, Jon let the hand on your cheek drift to rake through your hair. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made you sit through all that.” Gently muttering his name, Jon pressed onward anyways. “I didn’t want to hide you away, I wanted him to see you, see the woman he tried to take from me-”

“Jon.” Hands reaching up, you cupped both sides of his face, the scratching of the facial hair against the wrappings of your hands would’ve felt soothing were they bare palms against the coarseness. “I just came to check on him, he needed to be fed anyways.” He knew you were downplaying it, but too could Jon sense the tension had been gone for at least a little while in your muscles. “You know I’m starting to wonder how you put up with this.” Asking with what, your answer pulled a laugh from him immediately. “Put up with me, I mean.”

Nudging your nose with his, he muttered close that you felt his warm breath dance across your skin. “Someone has to.” Cupping the back of your neck, Jon tilted your head down to press a kiss to your forehead, your hands slipping to his shoulders as he allowed you to pull back enough to meet his eyes. “He betrayed you and my father once, he tried to have you killed, and now he’s trying to tear you away from me to do who knows what. I know you don’t like it, but I have to do this. I won’t let him take you from me, in any way. Neither of us will.”

His head gesturing down to the now slumbering bundle, did you smile. A handsome one once more graced Jons face watching you. “I’m ready.” Brows narrowing, you both knew he meant to ask for a certain. “I promise. You’re doing what you need to to protect your family, but you’re all my family now too. I have to do the same.”

Murmuring your name, Jon ran a hand soothingly down your hair at the back of your head, ��You don’t have to do this, darling. I have enough on him without putting you in the middle of it like that.”

Nodding, your eyes did not have a single flash of anything which was not a certainty. “I’m sure. You’re protecting me, let me help you. He won’t be able to even attempt talking his way out of this, you know he won’t. Let me do this, and we finish this together.” Asking gently why the sudden change of heart, you felt a melting in your bones almost compel you to sink into his warmth, forcing yourself to stay at a distance, meeting his eyes so he knew you were no longer in doubt. “The damage was already done, I may as well put it to good use.”

Narrowing his eyes, Jon pulled your hands from him to hold in front of you both, the wrappings more red then before. As if switching from night and day did the softness leave Jons eyes, as they darkened with a concern. “What happened?” He didn’t even let a second pass before he came to the answer on his own. “I’ll clean and wrap them, but you’re wearing gloves this time.”

You didn’t argue, Jon sitting you back down in the seat as he kneeled on the ground to get a better level to work at your hands. Palms facing up on your knees, for such large and rough hands in feeling, Jon always worked away on yours with such a feather light touch. “Do Arya and Sansa know?” Shaking his head, you let out a deep sigh. “Not an easy way to learn about it.”

Jon didn’t waver in his work, nor even allow himself to be distracted. “I never knew until the night you saw it. I was at Castle Black, and all I had was a letter from Robb saying Bran woke up. Told me he’d never walk again, but nothing about what happened.”

Perhaps in another life you wouldn’t have been so confident speaking for him, but it came out as natural as the image in your head appeared. “He knew you’d come back. Taken your vows or not, he knew you’d come back if he told you what happened.” Affirming he would’ve, you knew that made three times he had tried to do so. “I’m starting to think the gods were trying to tell you something.” Asking what, you had made him pause his work at the gentle way you said it. “That you didn’t deserve to think you didn’t have a place here anymore.”

Only a moment in waiting did Jon let a beat pass, before a small huff left him, returning to now wrapping the left hand first. Low he rasped, “My place is here with you.” Flickering his eyes up, the wide grey shined at you in a boyish sort of charm. If a tease existed on your tongue, Jon watched you swallow it back down. Not even needing to look as he wrapped your right hand, “I’m protecting them too. My sisters, my brother, my son, but I’m here because I need to protect you. Because you won’t do it yourself. Why I never should’ve left, I’ve always been the one to stop you from getting into trouble.”

Honestly, you didn’t mean for it to come out the way it did, a true jest dry in nature. “So why have I been in more trouble since marrying you?”

It was unfair, he was so much quicker then you were at this sort of thing, he didn’t even need to let enough time to blink skip by before he snarked back, “I think you just like the punishment.” His name leaving your lips in a hiss knowing Gilly could’ve easily heard that, but Jon rose his head with that smirk so handsome across his face. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

You had no defence, and he was smug knowing it. He truly must not have cared, cupping the back of your neck, Jon brought you to his lips. His other hand cupping your cheek and jaw, tilting you to the angle so much better for him the way you both sat. Keeping you pressed to his kiss, he was soft and guiding, kissing you deeply but with a slowness that made it somehow as chaste as it was passionate. Almost too much so for someone else being in the room, but he tilted your head to kiss you more regardless the second you even thought about pulling away.

A tingling left on your lips as he let his teeth graze on your bottom one, almost teasing you with deepening his kiss in a way he wouldn’t so brazenly out in the open as such. The second your lips left his, Jon had barley even allowed his eyes to open to see yours still shut as if in a daze when he pushed forward. Connecting you right back, his kiss so much deeper, so much more demanding right away as your hands dug into his shoulders, him keeping your face in his hands to steal every inch of breath in your lungs, gifted right into his mouth along with such small sounds of need bouncing around in your chest.

One kiss, then another, then another before finally Jon had to be the one to tear himself from your lips, turning you head down once again to leave one at your forehead and resting against it. Your murmur was light in his ear as your hands wrapped around the back of his neck. “None of this will make our lives any easier.”

Jons rasp was as deep as it was comforting. “No. But they won’t be so complicated anymore. We can focus on what really matters.” The audacity Jon had to lean back to let his eyes drag down to your stomach, breaking out into a grin as you tried to pull away hiding a flustered grin. “We finish this today, and it’s over. I promise.”

Leaning in, your kiss was far more tender and light then his was. Not in need but almost an appreciation for the love he never wavered in showing no matter what direction your spiralling mind could take him in at any moment. Speaking against them, you felt by the tightness of his hand on the back of your neck that Jon was tempting pulling you back into his kiss each word you said. “I trust you.”

Nodding, Jon brushed his nose against yours barley letting you nudge back before pulling back. Hands lifting you to your feet, he only looked down at you for one moment before grasping at the laces of the front of your dress, tightening them with furrowed brows, as if even the idea of temptation of how it made you look made him annoyed. If it was with the idea that other men would notice how loose it was around your chest or if it was because it would be that loose right beside him and couldn’t have anything be done about it that annoyed him.

Leaning down, Jon pressed a kiss to little Eddards forehead, whispering only enough you and him could hear. “Don’t nap too long. I need time with your mother tonight.” Only hesitating for half of a second Jon grin adding, “Still need to make you a sister.”

Were Gilly not in the room you’d have called his name in a fluster, but your wide eyes and embarrassed smile said it all for him no doubt. Both making your way back down, Jons hand pressed firmly into your lower back each step did you ask, “Who else still needs to speak?”

Shaking his head a little bit, Jon answered with more of an authority falling back into his tone naturally the closer you both got to the meeting hall. “Only you.” Nodding, you both arrived, clearly everyone was waiting inside for the trial to commence once more, the guards alone on the other side of the closed doors as you both stood there. Turning you in his arms, Jon cupped your cheek, holding at your hip in the other, simply allowing himself not to care of the guards watching his softness with you. “Give me a bit, when the doors open, it’ll be your turn. Are you ready?”

Exhaling shakily, your hands rested on his waist as you shook your head. “No, but it’s like you said. We end this now.” Pulling you back in, his kiss that time was much deeper, yet more urgent before pulling away. Looking you over with wide eyes, Jon swallowed down the rest of such raw need of many desires as his expression steeled over. Nodding for the guards to let him through, you could only stand out there.

Waiting for them to open, you had confronted the memory of Catelyn Stark in a trial of your own with no hesitation. This was not your trial nor your death on the option of the chopping block, you would not allow yourself to let the fear talk you out of it now. Not with what you were about to say, and how few anyone in that room could guess what that would be.

No doubt, Littlefinger had expected once the trial begun once more as Jon sat down, that he would finally be given his chance. A man such as him you knew would’ve spent the entire duration of the break between coming up with the right words to convince even one person. But when Jon had called for the next witness and the doors opened, never more was there such a distinct apprehension, and perhaps even fear which flashed before his eyes as it was you who walked into the hall, and up to the small podium.

You had felt fear before, but meeting his eyes, you too could see one person specifically up at the table on Jons side. Jon did the rest of this without fear to protect you, it was your turn to return the favour. If there was only one slip, it was the simple one noted by some, that the King in the North had been polite, yet stern and proper this whole time but was just the slightest bit softer spoken with just the softer matching eyes looking to you as he only ever addressed you by your first name.

If that was Jons only slip, then you knew you could not disappoint him this time.

Asking how it was you knew the accused, you only looked to him for as long as it took for Littlefingers eyes to narrow in question at you, before you turned back to Jon. Collected you hoped it was, and steady without sounding like you were forcing it. “I’ve known him since I was a twelve, he sat at the small council in Kings Landing with my father, and later myself when I begun sitting in on such meetings as well.”

Jon had the questions he needed to establish, but with less demand in the way he spoke to you compared to anyone else. “Did he ever give you a reason to think he’d betray your trust?”

Again, your eyes looked to his, and then back at Jons. As if the familiarity of the grey could overpower the beating in your heart. “Yes. More then once.” Some whispers begun, only to be washed away into silence as with but a single glance to the crowd in disapproval did they all grasp the message their King was telling them. That this was not the time to gossip or to stop paying attention. “The first was in Kings Landing, during the time your father was serving as Robert Baratheon’s Hand of the King.”

Waiting only long enough for Jon to gently nod at you with a gentle look did you know he was prompting you to speak it in your own words in your time. He knew the questions to ask to guide you to the conclusion you both knew was coming. And Jon too knew the closer to that he could get you to, the more confident you would grow to say it on your own. He just needed to help you get there first.

Speaking clearly, you would glance ever so briefly at Arya and Sansa, the details of all this mostly lost on them as only unaware girls at the time of the events before it all crumbled around them in one single day. “King Robert was dying, and your father and I had uncovered the truth that his children and heir were not actually his, and he had not known it. Both of us knew once he was gone, that Cersei Lannister would attempt to force Prince Joffery onto the throne knowing he was not Robert’s rightful heir, and that she would use force against us if necessary.”

Dragging your eyes over to him, the single brow raised did not even anger you as perhaps once his attempts may have. He assumed this trial was still about you, afterall. But you didn’t care about that, what he had done and tried to do to you. You cared about what he would do once he got what he wanted. With you out of his way entirely, where would he stop? Not just with you, not with your son, and certainly would not stop before trying to move Jon from his path as well.

Jon was doing this to protect his siblings, and to protect you and the case he had created was well put together enough none in this room would object to Littlefinger being sentenced to death. But you were here for Jon, he was your purpose and so you would erase any spec of doubt left within the air and force it gone forever. You were to leave no stone unturned, and no room to ever give a single person doubt of Jons choice.

“Lord Baelish assured Lord Stark and myself that the City Watch would be on our side, sworn to defend the Kings peace. But we stood in the throne room, and realized he had done the exact opposite.” Darker and darker the colour in your eyes grew as did the tightening in your heart at the sight and memory swirling of a last time you then had not known. “It wasn’t until the City Watch had murdered the remainder of the Stark household guard, one held a knife to my throat and Littlefinger holding a knife to Lord Stark’s did we understand he never intended to help us.”

“I did warn you not to trust me.”

You ignored the whispers, you ignored the looks any gave to one another or to you or to Littlefinger. You simply stomped over whatever explanation he’d no doubt give again to pile against him this time. “Lord Baelish purposely betrayed us knowing it would lead to Ned Stark’s death, hoping it would lead me to mine. During the war, when Catelyn Stark had gone to the Stormlands to negotiate peace with Renly Baratheon, Lord Baelish approached her. Telling her lies that he never betrayed us, telling her lies that Arya was safe in the captiol when none had heard from her, and offered to arrange sending home the bones of a man he helped lead to his death to manipulate Lady Catelyn in freeing Ser Jaime Lannister in hopes her daughters would be returned to her. When he knew without any doubt, they did not have Arya, and they would never give Sansa up.”

It was strange, that fear you felt no longer within your chest. As if knowing all you knew, and trusting that the man you loved would keep you safe, you felt nothing about the way Littlefinger looked to you as if daring to say it. You knew too what he may say to you in return, but he had not a clue what sort of place he had come to. Your eyes barley tore from him at the behest of Jons voice asking you in a more lulling tone then he would’ve others, “The crime he committed was against your life and you’ve established he has reasons to do it. Is there anything you’d like to add?”

Jon was giving you that one last chance to tell him you couldn’t do it, but the brightness in them and the warmth radiating into you was only watched as your eyes flickered to Bran. Your hands flexing under the material of your gloves, you felt the sting of the blade as you looked at him. Were one to not focus, still he could’ve been mistaken for a boy, the boy you thought you’d never seen again who did not yet know the danger of the world around him.

Your voice was steady, as you met Jons gaze before turning to address the court. “There is nothing I could add to the case which the King has already presented today, but there is one thing which has not been answered. Why.” Those up on the stand here had seldom found reason or willingness to address him so directly, but your lack of fear in doing so, almost seemed to put him on edge. “Lord Baelish, you knew there was a chance the Lannisters may have traded Ned Stark’s life in exchange for peace with the North, but you knew there was no negotiating with Stannis Baratheon once he had chosen to fight against Joffery’s claim. That he was not a man to surrender in exchange to free me from being a prisoner. When you betrayed myself and Ned Stark that day, if you only had one plan which you hoped would work, is that I without any doubt would’ve been executed for a treason we both knew was false.”

If you listened closely, the sounds of the strings was heard through the halls in an echo only to you, but still you spoke over it. You pushed passed it knowing lingering on just that pain was not where this belonged. “You later had hoped the threat I posed to you was gone the night the Freys betrayed Robb Stark and I at the Twins. And when you heard I was alive over a year later, you tried again to have me killed but in a way you hoped could not lead back to you.” Truly it was as if something inside of you flipped.

The way Jons own fears of his blood and father and who he is, all compounding in fears which were inflamed by his own sister. But those distrusting didn’t come from her alone, you knew her as a girl but that level of animosity towards Jon did not come from merely years of being apart. That came from somewhere. Someone whom had interest in getting between you and Jon before.

Growing and growing that resentment that he ever thought to worry with you what he was like, how he treated you, or if you feared the love he gave you, and the question of would this have returned to Jons mind had the man before you not slithered in, a snake looking to bite at the right strike. “When all else failed around you Lord Baelish, you then came here. Under the guide of simply bringing Sansa home where she belongs, and then you stayed. You fed lies to her, saying that Jon is nothing more then a bastard who can’t be trusted, that she should attempt to drive us apart. Because you know that it is a lot easier to try and kill me when I’m nowhere near Jons side.”

Sensing her eyes on you intensely, you pushed passed what you knew Sansa had not yet started to consider. Not that such a thing was her fault. Whatever she and Jon had discussed the other night seemed to have brought her down to some kind of understanding with him, but you knew this was not even the worst.

Whispers around all begun a slow ascend, the unavoidable fact that it continued to get worse and worse and how utterly long and devastating of a path it took Jon and yourself to be able to get here. Of course, he had not perhaps, seen it coming that his path against you had attempted to take what should’ve been time used to repair Sansa’s difficult past with Jon and Arya, instead making her animosity drive them each apart from her. Looking to you, he had the audacity to speak as if you were anywhere near done. “Perhaps what you see as lies were merely what I thought was fair advice to Lady Sansa-”

If Sansa were to speak for herself, instead who took up her defence was Arya. Cutting through him louder and with a bite in her tone enough it could’ve come across a growl. “You weren’t here to help her, you’ve never tried to help her.” Jon attempted to call Arya’s name in a quieter tone, but she kept going, likely not even hearing him. “The last time I saw my sister she was screaming and crying for Joffery not to murder our father and because you came here trying to tear what few of us were left, I couldn’t even be happy to see her again because all I saw was you.”

Eyes flickering between Jon and to Sansa, no doubt he too could feel the conflict within her, that guilt at what part she played and the slow understanding of todays events the degree he simply used her. Afterall, she had not known any reason to see any ill use of giving her young cousin sweetmilk. She had not a clue that when Maester Coleman had grown suspicious of him, did he send the naive Alyane Stone to continue it for him. Until Maester Wolkan had explained it’s effects, until you had heard too much to handle and left did it occur what he had her become.

And just like the rest of it, that wasn’t even the worst of it.

Arya continued to defend her sister, in despite of everything and how strained they were and how little they talked, it was just like that night at the inn. Moments before she had grabbed at Sansas hair yelling she was a liar as the two girl fought against the other, then without any hesitation did Arya yell at Cersei herself the moment Lady was declared to take the punishment in Nymeria’s place. You had seen the way she much like you had, stared unblinkingly at Cersei with a glare wild in her eyes as she stood beside her crying sister.

Only this time, Sansa didn’t cry or argue or yell, she sat in a silence in a feeling you knew too well. As if she sat a stranger to who she even was anymore, and Jon saw it too. A small nod, Jon read your intent that you understood to leave it to him as Arya was arguing back against Littlefinger. Whom had just inferred that perhaps his advice was simply taken in the wrong way beacuse of a misunderstanding. “You don’t even know him, you just call him a bastard and tell Sansa to assume the worst, and expect anyone to believe you didn’t intend to tear us apart-”

“Arya.”

Snapping over to him, Arya felt that feeling much like Sansa had the other night, but in a way familiar to her. The calling of her name in a manner and tone so much like their father, but coming from Jon. His head tilting as he looked at her with a knowing expression. “That’s enough.”

The understanding between them was one of a silent language Jon had always been able to speak to Arya. An equally as low and rasping voice from closer to you however drew your focus. Benjen softly prompting you with something shining of encouragement in his eyes only you seemed to catch. “Please, continue.”

Only a nod, but turning from the table towards where Littlefinger stood, you knew there was little left. “What I am saying, my lord, is that you should have worked far sooner to try and kill me again.”

He was daring you gave him that, looking to you as if to attempt to make you sound delusional. “And why your grace, would you think I want that?”

Not for long would he remain daring. Staring at one another, no doubt were you any other witness, such an exchange of words not be permitted so freely, but you trusted Jon the rest of this trial and so now he trusted in you. Your voice was flat as you spoke, and yet did not match the ever growing darker look within your eyes. “Do you know much about gambling, my lord?”

Eyes flickering side to side in a bit of confusion, he sounded more honest in that moment then he had the entire time he had been within the North. “I’ve dabbled in it.”

The scowl grew a breath more noticeable. “Then you would know two important rules a smart gambler would live by. Firstly, never wait to play your best card for too long. Because another might come around with a better one in the time it took you to choose when to play it.” If he didn’t grasp it then, he did now as you slowly and clearly phrased it. “The second, never play the same card too many times. Eventually someone will recognize your tricks, and put together how much you’ve lied your way into winning.”

There it was. The look you were waiting for. The anger of a man realizing that he had placed his enemy in the hands of the wrong Baratheon. How does it feel Lord Baelish, you thought. How does it feel to realize that it wasn’t Stannis’s hatred for him that was his biggest enemy, it was the daughter right in front of his eyes. Doing exactly what he had tried more then one to have you killed to avoid. It simply took long enough to come together that it brought him into a falsehood of his own hubris.

You didn’t even look to the crowd, or Jon. Just Littlefinger right in the eye so he could feel it all coming.

“The night King Robert had come to Winterfell, Catelyn received a letter from the Eyrie from her sister, Lysa Arryn. Stating that her husband, the Hand of the King, Jon Arryn had been murdered by the Lannisters.” Not yet any reaction further. “The day after, when most of the men and guard were on a hunt, ten year old Bran Stark had seemingly fallen from a tower, leaving him unconscious for nearly a month and crippled for the rest of his life. Not long before he had woken up, a fire was started in the library here to draw attention away from Brans chambers. Only Lady Catelyn had still been there taking care of her son, when a man came into the room, attacked Lady Catelyn, and viciously attempted to murder Bran Stark in his sleep before his throat was ripped out by Brans direwolf Summer, saving his life.”

Oh very few would be able to even spot it, but it was there. The slightest twitch in his eye, and the rush within your blood burned hotter. Jons voice to the side was rough, a control meaning to hide the husk furthering him into an anger. “Do you know who this man was?”

Your head shook slightly to indicate a no. “No assassin any more sophisticated then a simple catspaw.” You dared not look at the remaining Starks, the distraction of their anger or devastation could not spare to interfere now. “The blade did stand out however. Made of Valyrian Steel, and the handle carved from dragon bone. Someone gave it him. Lady Catelyn had reasonable presumed the two incidents were connected, and Lysas letter had given the impression that the Lannisters loyalty to the crown was questionable already. Soon she left Winterfell for Kings Landing to inform her husband of the events but was greeted when she got there by you Lord Baelish.”

“I simply had heard she was coming-”

You cut him off, and the hall was silent as if only you both stood there. “You were honest with Catelyn. There is only one dagger like that in all the Seven Kingdoms. It was yours. But that you had bet it in a wager during the tournament of Prince Joffery’s last nameday.” Brows furrowing, Littlefinger looked confused and unsettled at the manner which you spoke, as if someone showed you the meeting itself. “You bet on Ser Jaime as any sane man would. When the Knight of the Flowers unseated him, you lost that dagger.”

Bran was more clever then you could’ve hoped for, both of you speaking such easy words yet only the man before you would recognize their exactness. “To whom?”

“Tyrion Lannister. The imp.” The details were harrowing, speaking of your time with Ned Stark in Kings Landing, what the mystery of uncovering Jon Arryns death had uncovered and why, the secret he learned before he was poisoned. How the secret pertained in such specifics to the nature of Cersei and Jaime Lannisters secret affair. “So imagine my suprise, Lord Baelish when Catelyn arrives at the Eyrie with Tyrion Lannister as her prisoner, as you put it in her head that he had tried to murder her son, that Lysa accuses him of a new crime. She suddenly accuses Lord Tyrion of murdering her husband, Jon Arryn as well. When so far, not even Ned Stark or I had come anywhere near that conclusion. Strange, how two murders were pinned on him. And even more strange, that I know for a fact, Tyrion Lannister had nothing to do with the attempt on Brans life.”

The trial by combat in the Eyrie, learning Jon Arryn was murdered by poison wine given to him by his squire. It all was a life reliving that had been so long gone but felt as if it were fresh in your mind without any doubt. Arya had glanced to the side, a look on her sisters face as they both found the others gaze, a near scowl putting it all together only to find Bran seemed to watch Littlefinger with the same amount of knowing animosity as you did.

An issue posed, was that you knew for a fact the person who ordered a catspaw to murder Bran was not connected to whomever pushed him from a window. Jaime Lannister had confessed to Catelyn that he did it, and neither he nor Cersei had a clue about the assassin. They weren’t connected, and neither did Lord Tyrion know about his brother and sister and thus had no reason to wish to see Jon Arryn out of the way.

Grasping at straws, that time he picked one which Jon himself had the answer to shut down. “Perhaps Lord Tyrion had other motives, arranged for the murder on the road after parting from Winterfell.”

Jon could speak for that. “He didn’t, and you know that. Lord Tyrion was on the road to visit Castle Black, with me, and my uncle, Benjen Stark.” Asking if by any chance was their an opportunity to plan an arm an assassin during that period of time, Benjen confirmed without a doubt there wasn’t.

Tyrion had no reason nor gain from ordering Jon Arryns death, and had even less reason or ability to order the attempt twice on Brans. “Twice falsely accused is odd, my lord. But three times? That tells me he was being used as a shield. A lamb for the slaughter to hide the real murderers actions.” Asking loudly and with a defiance you knew was crumbling to his feet, what this third imaginary crime was, it was nothing short of satisfying that she finally found her voice.

Something between a tearing of betrayal and anger was shaking behind Sansa’s voice. “You told me that you killed Joffery. You had a necklace made for me, one of the stones held the vial of poison so someone at the wedding could take it off me without me realizing and use it to poison him.” If the look on his face was a wider eyed shock, you hoped it felt even sharper in what little of a heart a man as him could possibly have. “You planned it all out to help me escape the city, knowing they would accuse me of helping my husband murder the King. You needed Cersei to accuse Tyrion, because you knew he had no one there to defend him. Knowing he and I both didn’t do it.”

The room was thick with tension. Littlefinger had one play left and it was his weakest card and it seemed he could sense that. “It would seem backwards for the King in the North to try me for the murder of the very King who murdered his father.”

Pushing up from the table, Jons stood with his hands braced against the surface and nothing but black remaining in his eyes. “You aren’t on trial for that, my lord. I could stand here and accuse you of using Lysa Arryn to murder her husband and blame it on Tyrion Lannister, of murdering the man who killed my father, but that’s not my place. More then once you tried to murder my wife, because you knew she was the only person left who could actually find the truth in the chaos you caused.”

If an ounce of credit could be given, it was that Littlefinger held himself together very well, but his eyes told stories beyond even his comprehension when he asked what reason would he have to cause that much chaos just to murder one woman. But Bran was the one with the answer, and one that put him into a silence as he realized there was no hiding from the truth coming out, because Bran said the one thing Petyr Baelish alone knew that not a soul in this room could have possibly known he said.

“To most of us, chaos is just a gaping pit waiting to swallow us all. Many try to climb it and fail, and never get to try again. The fall breaks them, some are given a chance to climb but they refuse. They cling to an illusion, but the climb is all there. Beacuse to a man like you, chaos isn’t a pit. Chaos is a ladder.”

Petyr Baelish could lie about you, he could lie to Sansa, to Catelyn, back stab many of the Starks and Baratheons because he knew he could get away with it, but he couldn’t look Bran Stark in the eye and even pretend as if he could climb his way out of this pit. The pit he caused.

And the issue was, chaos was not a ladder to all. Chaos was not found in the lives of some men. Ones with the trust in justice and duty and honour and love above all else. Jon stood there as King in the North and took away his last chance to ever try to climb his way out of that put of chaos. Projecting loud and a husk under an anger of dark eyes turned black and a tensity you felt too within your own bones, Jon knew he had him without any doubt, just as he trusted in you for.

“Unless any up here with me have any protest, I, Jon Snow, find Lord Petyr Baelish guilty of three charges.” Your name without even hesitating for once to feel the bravery to name you a Snow coming from him with that same rasping seriousness hardly masking an anger. “For conspiring to murder her, my wife and Queen. For betraying my father Eddard Stark and giving him over to the enemy you know was to kill him. And for the attempted murder of my little brother, Bran Stark.”

When none, not Arya, nor Bran, nor Benjen, nor even Sansa spoke a single word or even though about saying something in his defence, Jon gave a slow nod to the guards by him, not hesitating to pull Littlefingers arms back into chains, as he stared in a disbelief at how swiftly it had gone wrong without ever seeing it coming. There was not even an attempt to silence the sheer volume of the now standing crowd, the North loyal to their King and the Starks, shouting and yelling in defence of the family he had used and harmed over and over.

Petyr Baelish could only stare at Jon’s burning glare of black eyes. The man who, unlike his father who Littlefinger betrayed, had been the one to put the knife to his throat all without spilling a drop of blood.

#jon snow x reader #robb stark x reader #jon snow #robb stark #jon snow x you #robb stark x you #jon snow imagine #robb stark imagine #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf

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roseyreveries · 5 months ago

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Far Away - 4

Draco Malfoy x Fem!Muggle!Reader Previous Part <- click! Summary: You wake up inside the Harry Potter universe without any explanation as to why you're there. Disclaimer: All characters are being aged up for PLOT (1st years are 15, 7th years are 21) but characters may act immature and childish in the beginning at times to keep their character development. Not accurate to the books or movies. A/N: okay, all parts from now on are going to be in the regular font because if I put it in the chat font (the font this A/N is written in) Tumblr won't let me post long parts. CW: drinking, partying, dares Directory <- click!

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“You’ll see,” Lila said with a wink, yanking the door open. The music hit us instantly— a pulsing rhythm that made the floor vibrate. Voices shouted over the beat, laughter rang out, and the smell of something sugary and spiced wafted down the corridor.

The common room was alive.

When they stepped into the room, the sight was straight out of a party movie. Someone had enchanted green and silver lights to dance across the walls, casting an otherworldly glow over the space. The tables were piled with snacks and drinks— some magical, some very clearly not Hogwarts-approved. A group of students had pushed the couches aside to create a makeshift dance floor, and even the normally aloof seventh years were swaying to the music.

“Surprised?” Lila asked, leaning casually against the doorframe, watching my wide-eyed reaction.

“This… is not what I expected,” I admitted, torn between awe and sheer nervousness.

Lila chuckled, grabbing my wrist. “Come on, newbie. You can’t just stand here gawking. Let’s mingle.”

I stumbled after her as Lila navigated the chaos like she’d done it a hundred times before. A few students turned to look at us, but most were too busy having a good time to care.

“What’s the occasion?” I asked, raising my voice over the music.

“Start of term,” Lila said with a shrug. “We like to set the tone early. Let everyone know Slytherin knows how to live.”

I hesitated as Lila reached for two butterbeer bottles on the table, handing one over with a knowing smirk.

“Relax,” Lila said. “You’re one of us now. Might as well enjoy it.”

I took the bottle and sipped cautiously, my tension easing a little with the warmth of the drink. “This is… not bad.”

“See? Told you,” Lila said, clinking her bottle against mine. “Now let’s find you someone to talk to before you chicken out and bolt back to the dorm.”

“I wasn’t going to bolt,” I protested, but Lila just laughed, already pulling me toward a group of students arguing over who cast the best Silencing Charm last year.

I was just starting to relax, the warmth of the butterbeer and Lila’s sarcastic commentary easing my nerves. I let myself be led around the room, meeting a few other students and even laughing at a particularly dramatic recount of someone’s summer holiday escapades. The party felt almost… fun.

But, of course, fate had other plans.

As I turned to follow Lila through the crowd, I collided with something— or rather, someone. Hard. My butterbeer sloshed out of the bottle, splattering all over the front of a perfectly tailored black robe.

“What the bloody hell—” a sharp, cold voice hissed.

I looked up and instantly regretted every life choice that had led me to this moment. Standing in front of me, staring down with a look that could freeze fire, was none other than Draco Malfoy.

“Are you completely blind, or just unbelievably stupid?” he snapped, his pale eyes narrowing into icy slits.

My heart raced, but instead of cowering, I squared my shoulders. I wasn’t about to let him get the upper hand. “Maybe you shouldn’t stand in the middle of the room like you own it.”

His lips curled into a sneer. “That’s because I do. Unlike you, new girl, who clearly doesn’t belong here.”

“Oh, I belong just fine,” I shot back, crossing my arms. “Sorry if your little superiority complex can’t handle sharing the space.”

Draco stepped closer, his gaze sharp and assessing, as if he couldn’t decide whether to be furious or amused. “You’ve got quite the mouth on you, don’t you? Let me guess—Dumbledore’s latest charity case? That would explain a lot.”

My jaw tightened, my hands curling into fists. “You’re right— he did bring me here. Probably because he saw something worth value. Which is more than I can say for you.”

A flicker of something crossed Draco’s face— surprise, maybe? But it was gone in an instant, replaced by his usual disdain. “You’re going to regret saying that,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.

“Is that a threat?” I asked, my tone steady, though my heart was hammering. “Because I don’t scare that easily, Malfoy.”

The tension crackled between us, the air heavy with unspoken challenges. For a moment, it felt like the rest of the room had disappeared, the party fading into the background as our eyes locked.

Draco’s lips twitched, as if he were fighting back a smirk. “You’re either very brave or very foolish,” he murmured, almost to himself. “We’ll see which soon enough.”

“Try me,” I said, refusing to back down.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Lila’s voice cut in sharply, breaking the moment. She appeared at my side, gripping my arm and shooting Draco a glare. “Y'know you're new too, Malfoy. Just because you're royalty doesn't mean shit.”

Draco’s smirk finally broke through, though it was anything but kind. “I’ll be seeing you, newbie,” he said, his tone mocking as he turned and disappeared back into the crowd.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “Well, that went great,” I muttered.

Lila dragged me toward the quieter corner of the room, shaking her head. “Are you trying to make enemies, or is that just a natural talent of yours?”

“I didn’t start it,” I defended. “He was being—”

“Draco Malfoy,” Lila interrupted with a sigh. “Yeah, I know. I've been dealing with his shit since we were in diapers. But word of advice? Maybe don’t try to take him on during your first week here. He’s dangerous.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Dangerous how?”

Lila hesitated, then shrugged. “In the ‘he’s got power and knows how to use it’ way. Just… be careful, okay? I don’t want to have to dig you out of trouble.”

I nodded, though my mind was still replaying the encounter. I'd never met anyone quite like Draco Malfoy— cold, calculating, and yet somehow magnetic in a way I couldn’t quite explain.

“Come on,” Lila said, nudging me. “Let’s get you another drink before you pick a fight with the entire house.”

Before we could leave anywhere however, a voice rang out above the music, amplified by a Sonorus charm.

“All right, you snakes, shut it for a second!” It was a tall, third-year boy standing on one of the tables, his grin wide and mischievous. “You know what time it is— First Year Initiation! Get up here, newbies!”

The room erupted in cheers and jeers, the crowd parting like the Red Sea as a handful of wide-eyed first years were pushed to the center, including me. I barely had time to process what was happening before I was dragged forward, Lila shoving me along with an infuriatingly gleeful laugh.

“Lila!” I hissed, trying to pull back. “What the hell—”

“Relax,” Lila said, giving me a nudge. “It’s tradition. Just go with it, newbie.”

I wasn’t alone, though the sight of a scowling Draco Malfoy being shoved into the circle made my stomach flip. He looked every bit as annoyed as I felt, his sharp glare cutting through the room as if daring anyone to laugh at him. Unfortunately for him, it only made the older students laugh harder.

“Look at that,” one of the seventh years said with a smirk, pointing at Draco. “Even the mighty Malfoy can’t escape tradition.”

“What’s the ritual?” I whispered to Lila, who was conveniently standing just outside the circle and grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“You’ll see,” she said, not bothering to hide her amusement.

“Alright, firsties!” the third-year announcer said, clapping his hands. “The rules are simple. You’ve gotta pair up— don’t care who— and then complete the challenge. Fail, and you’re cleaning up the common room tomorrow. Succeed, and you’re officially one of us.”

I groaned internally. Of course it would be something ridiculous. As the other first years began pairing off, I felt a familiar presence beside her. I didn’t have to look to know who it was.

“Don’t even think about it,” Draco said coldly, his voice low and full of warning.

“Trust me, Malfoy, you’re the last person I’d want to pair with,” I shot back, equally annoyed.

“Five seconds!” the announcer called out. “If you don’t have a partner, you’re automatically cleaning duty!”

I turned, realizing with mounting dread that everyone else had already paired off. Of course. I locked eyes with Draco, who looked equally displeased.

“Fantastic,” he muttered. “Let’s get this over with.”

I didn’t even have time to respond before the announcer clapped his hands again. “Your challenge: Polyjuice Potion Truth or Dare!”

The crowd roared in approval, and my stomach dropped.

“Here’s how it works,” the announcer explained. “We’ve got a cauldron full of Polyjuice Potion— don’t worry, it’s temporary. Each pair picks a random vial containing hair from someone in this room. You drink, you transform, and then your partner gets to dare you or ask a question. You chicken out, you lose. Got it?”

I glanced at Draco, who looked like he was on the verge of murdering someone. “This is ridiculous,” he snapped.

“Welcome to Slytherin,” the announcer said cheerfully, shoving a vial into Draco’s hand and another into mine. “Drink up, you two.”

I sighed, shooting Draco a glare. “Well, bottoms up.”

Wedowned the potion simultaneously, the taste making megag. Within moments, my body began to twist and morph, my reflection in a nearby mirror shifting into a familiar face.

“Lila?!” I exclaimed, my voice now an exact replica of my roommate’s.

Draco, meanwhile, had turned into a gangly third-year boy with a mop of curly hair. The laughter from the crowd was deafening.

“This is ridiculous,” Draco hissed again, now in a much deeper voice, glaring at his own reflection.

The announcer grinned wickedly. “Alright, Lila 2.0, you get to dare Draco Lite first. What’s it gonna be?”

I crossed my arms, a mischievous smile tugging at my lips despite myself. “Fine. I dare you, Malfoy, to—” I paused for dramatic effect, watching his narrowed eyes. “—sing the Hogwarts school song. Loudly.”

The crowd erupted in cheers, and Draco’s pale face flushed— though whether from anger or embarrassment, I couldn’t tell.

“You’ve got to be joking,” he said, his tone deadly.

“Nope,” I replied sweetly. “Or you can clean the common room tomorrow. Your choice.”

The tension between us was palpable, the air charged with unspoken challenges. For a moment, it looked like he might refuse— but then, with a glare that promised retribution, Draco stepped forward.

“Fine,” he bit out. “But you’ll regret this.”

His rendition of the school song was stilted, his voice dripping with sarcasm and annoyance, but it only made the crowd cheer louder. When he was finished, the room erupted into applause, and Draco spun to face me.

“My turn,” he said, his voice dangerously low. “Truth or dare?”

I hesitated, but there was no way I was backing down now. “Dare.”

Draco’s lips curled into a wicked smirk. “I dare you to tell the entire room what you really think of me.”

The crowd fell silent, and my pulse quickened. The tension crackled like electricity as I met his piercing gaze.

“Fine,” I said, lifting my chin. “You want to know what I think? I think you’re arrogant, entitled, and way too used to getting your way.”

The crowd gasped, laughter and murmurs rippling through the room, but I wasn’t finished. “But… I also think there’s more to you than that. And maybe one day, you’ll actually let someone see it.”

Draco’s smirk faltered, his expression unreadable. Before either of us could say another word, Lila burst into the circle, pulling me back.

“Alright, that’s enough drama for one night,” she said with a grin, though her eyes flicked between the two of us curiously. “Come on, newbie. Let’s get you out of the spotlight.”

As I let myself be dragged away, I couldn’t shake the feeling of Draco’s eyes still on me, his expression a mix of anger and something I couldn’t quite place.

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Read the next part here! Join my Taglist! @ferntv @Katie_kinz @forever-living-in-my-head

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humanradiojmp · 5 months ago

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My blind reaction to TADC Episode 4

Spoilers ahead, so precede with caution

It’s nice to see the characters outside Pomni interacting with each other. Shows more for the other characters And shows Pomni is starting to become more adjusted to the place.

I actually believe Jax in that he didn’t intentionally break her mask, but he would have eventually

Zooble’s room. That’s it

So does that mean Gangle can wear any mask? Like, if there was an adventure where there were different masks available, could she wear them? And how much would it affect her? I kind of want to see her wear an Oni mask or something similar and see what happens

Caine, are you trying to traumatize your guests?

Honestly, who would want that to happen to them?

Maybe if you looked at it at least once, the common complaint of you being bad at your job wouldn’t be an issue, Caine

Expected of Jax

Also weirdly expected of Jax for that response

Who suggested that? I’m half wondering if it’s someone that’s been there a while and wanted something “normal”, and possibly one of the now abstracted circus members

Gangle actually smiling and more than for a few seconds is so different yet so nice

Jax’s face at the day’s adventure is hilarious

Did Kinger suggest that to be nice to Caine or to get out of the minimum wage-based labor? Who knows for certain?

Your opinion and objections are invalid; you’re going on the adventure

“Can we go to McDonald’s?” “We have McDonald’s at home.” The McDonald’s at home:

Oh yeah she was definitely a shift manager before

Ragatha, No!

giving Caine the idea of extra motivation after an adventure definitely isn’t going to backfire in a future episode; I’m sure of that

Jax is getting his just deserts while manning the only deserts in the store

Please get Ragatha out of the deep fryer, that can’t be good for her cloth body

Honestly, what else did you expect; that’s your hand

From a previous adventure, eh? [I think we all know where this is going]

Basically what it’s like when you can barely understand a customer despite asking for clarification Three times and you go with the closest thing on the menu

Makes me think of those places where they have excessively complicated names for their dishes, but in this case, it’s real

Having an employee that’s (borderline) high is completely accurate for food service businesses

Yep, called it

I honestly was not expecting GummiGoo to come back, nor was I expecting him to come back this soon if he was

Was that joke necessary?

Don’t, don’t, don’t be suspicious

The shippers are going to go crazy with that comment

Ngl, I kind of like the Gloink Queen

That’s oddly specific

Since we’re airing our grievances that may or may not be related to our job, let me take a minute to convince you to put up giant glow-in-the-dark house numbers, because I’m super frustrated when I can’t read the tiny non-reflective house numbers and have no idea if I’m at the actual place for the delivery; especially when the numbers are in a really inconvenient location so I definitely can’t see them

That’s low-key horrifying

Again, borderline high is acceptable so long as it’s away from the food and out of the customer’s sight

I get that reference!

I have a feeling every time there’s a crack, the tragedy mask is cracking. So when she takes off the painted one?

Gangle having an existential crisis is not what I was expecting

One of the shift leaders at my job used to say that all the time

Oh nevermind, it’s still there

At least Pomni tried

I like how the cars are labeled

Zooble having to do everything while Ragatha is just zonked out is… interesting

I kind of wish I actually went through with saying this prior, but I really hope Gangle doesn’t abstract. I think it would be unfair for the character and a little too soon narratively speaking for it to be effective. But it seems we might be getting that…

Pomni to the rescue, thank you, girl!

Shankshaw Redemption staring Gangle

And we’re back to our cruel reality

I know a lot of people ship abstragedy, but I more platonically pair them up. I see them as the best of friends who unintentionally mess crap up and have each other’s back. Seems like that’s at least partially true

Is it just me or was this episode kind of depressing

Watching this whole I work at my minimum wage food service job probably wasn’t the best idea….

And that’s episode 4

#the amazing digital circus #tadc #tadc ep 4 #tadc episode 4 #the amazing digital circus episode 4 #fast food mascaraed #radio rambles #humanradiojmp #gangle #tadc gangle #the amazing digital circus gangle

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kltira · 2 years ago

Note

Hello! I do hope your having a fantastic day/night!

And may i say i do love your blogs style!

I do hope you dont mind if i drop a request in?

May i get Mukuro (Danganronpa, ) And Kaede ( Danganronpa ) with an S/O that carries their cat around to prevent their common panic attacks and anxiety attacks? Yet they do often get made fun of because of the cat since people think its childish-

I do hope its not too much to ask- i know its a little hard but i believe in you!

And i hope you dont mind that i am 🎀 anon!

-Signed with love by - @regular-ol-anon

Good luck and please take your time!

┊₊˚{☁️} “Comfort Kitty” ₊˚꒦｡

꒦꒷︶꒷ ꔫ Requested by...꒱꒱ @Anon 🎀 ( #cutiekittysender : Anon🎀)

ꔫ Fandom꒱꒱ Danganronpa

ꔫ Genre ꒱꒱ Fluff {100% sfw}

ꔫ Type and pairing꒱꒱ Imagines (x reader) ꔫ Featuring꒱꒱ Mukuro, Kaede, Hiyoko, Fuyuhiko, Nagito, Kokichi

ꔫ Pronouns꒱꒱ They/Them, GN reader

ꔫ Content Warning(s)꒱꒱Panic attacks, light angst, bullying, swearing, Danganronpa spoilers, minor yandere themes

ꔫ Summary꒱꒱ You carry your cat around everywhere! Including Hopes Peak. You have severe anxiety and when your significant other can't be with you 24/7, you need a companion so you're not living with constant panic attacks. Though...Some kids start making fun of you and calling you childish for having your emotional support animal with you. How will your significant other react to you crying at home because of the bullying?

ꔫ Author note(s)꒱꒱ IM CRYING- I SPENT 4 HOURS (IM SLOW AND GET DISTRACTED EASILY) WRITING THIS OR SOMETHING AND THAN I CTRL Z BY ACCIDENT AND IT WENT POOF, SO I NOW HAVE TO WRITE IT AGAIN. SORRY, THIS TOOK LIKE 500 YEARS AAAAA. Anyway, enjoy! Hope you're okay that I added more characters!!

She was a bit different about getting a cat at first because of her job and sister and was afraid something bad could happen to it, but that wasn't quite the case. Though, she would do anything to make you happy, so she was content with getting a cat in the end of things.

Plus with her originally being an orphan anyway, adopting was something she always had her hopes on doing; a pet is a great way to stop!

She knew about your constant anxiety and did her best to help, but sadly with her job she couldn't be there 24/7, so she's glad you have someone to help you when she can't be there. It truly puts her worry at ease.

She grew to love the cat too, and was happy you were confident enough to bring it everywhere with you.

Though when she saw you run home crying with your kitten from school...She knew something was up and anyone who hurt you like this was going on her hitlist....But first she had to go and check on you!

୨₊˚‿︵‿꒰🌸꒱‿︵‿˚₊୧

You emitted sobs from your room. Your cat nudged against you, looking up at you; trying to comfort you. Normally this would help, but the issue was being laughed at for having the kitten. Since you ran home early because of the incident, your shared dorm with your girlfriend was just you and your cat since Hopes Peek was still in session. So who could this be? You slowly got up and sniffled. You tried to look sort of presentable, even though you were still very much upset. Opening the door, you looked up; it was Mukuro! Mukuro always had a very neutral expression, even when you started dating; but you could always tell her true expressions, anyway. She seemed worried, and you could figure out why. "(Y/N)? What happened...? Did you get hurt?" She questioned walking into the dorm room and lightly shutting the door behind her. Mukuro seemed extremally calm, she always did after all she deals with stressful situations being a soldier and all. Though, this calmness didn't mean she wasn't worried, she was always worried and caring about you. You busted out in tears again, jumping up and wrapping your hands around the other as you continued to cry into your girlfriends shoulder. Mukuro was a bit stunned at your sudden movement, but she hugged you back scooching over onto the ground just holding you in her arms for a minute. Your cat purrs and walks over to both of you, rubbing their face on both of you. "You don't have to tell me if you don-" Mukuro was cut off by you looking up at her and beginning to explain how you were getting bullied today and mocked for bringing your cat to school with you. "I'm so weak! I don't deserve to be an ultimate!!!" you mumbled into your lovers chest at the end of your explanation. Mukuro could only rub your back and leave a kiss on your head. "You're not weak my love, far from it. You don't deserve any of the words they dare say to you. I'll take care of them, don't worry." She said that last part more quieter than the rest. You sniffled and wiped away some tears and gave Mukuro a sweet smile, you honestly felt a lot better hearing her soothing voice ring throughout your ears. Your cat came up to you with a small meow while you petted the feline. "Thank you...I love you" you said to both your cat and your girlfriend.

The next day at Hopes Peak when you brought your cat, you were expecting the bullying to continue...Instead the kids that were making fun of you aren't anywhere to be seen. Just your girlfriend walking over to you and kissing you on the cheek as she walks you and your cat to all your classes. In reality, those kids were definitely checked off on Mukuro's hitlist.

You and Kaede both agreed to getting a cat, as it fits both your cozy lifestyles

Your panic attacks always worried her, though Kaede was amazing when it came to helping you through them; she used to have performance anxiety so she gets the feeling.

Super happy you found another great coping mechanism to use when you get all stressed out.

Since you both went to different schools, bringing your cat for comfort really helps you get through the day

Though because of that the bullying started and today you just couldn't take it anymore

So here you were on the bathroom floor next to your cat that was trying to comfort you, crying your eyes out

୨₊˚‿︵‿꒰🌸꒱‿︵‿˚₊୧

Kaede bent down to your level, frowning. She knew about the bullying and always tried her best to cheer you up, and most of the time it worked. This time, you seemed to be too stuck in your own head. Kaede didn't know what to do but hug you and put her hands through your hair in the hope of soothing the tears pouring out of your eyes. "I just wish I didn't have anxiety..." you mumbled in between sobs, your cat just lying on your lap, also not knowing what to do. Kaede was speechless, her mind fumbling over how to respond, but she responded in the only way she knew how: through music and song.

Kaede slowly got up from the ground your eyes tracing her movement as she went over to the other room where the piano was. You rubbed your eye and sniffled, curious on what she was about to do. Your girlfriend started playing the piano, it was your favorite song! Your cat perked up and started to trail around Kaede's feat as she started playing. You smiled getting up and wiping dried up tears, her playing always made you happy and this time...It made you confident and cared about. "Thank you Kaede." you whispered just enough for her to hear once she finished her song. She nodded in approval before giving you a peck on the cheek.

The next day at school the bullying continued, but you were no longer letting it get to you. You were confident bringing your cat with you and simply ignored those who were bothering you. You always remembered Kaede's piano playing when you were anxious about having your cat with you all the time and it truly just made you feel better. Thus, because of your ultimate pianist girlfriend; you feel much better about having your support kitty!

It was actually Hiyoko who wanted the cat in the first place since she never got to have an animal growing up

Of course you agreed, as cats are just the cutest and it would make a great addition to the family.

You always kept your anxiety pretty well hidden since that's just how you were, but you did notice when the cat was around it always helped your mind to be put at ease.

So you started carrying the little guy everywhere with you

Hiyoko didn't mind, she actually secretly thought it was so cute and was happy you both got along

You were only teased at school when Hiyoko wasn't around, since even the bullies feared to be bullied by her wrath

You never said anything as you felt it wasn't a big deal and didn't want to trouble your girlfriend

Though sometimes it was alot to handle and it stressed you out to the point you just broke down at school one day in the bathroom

୨₊˚‿︵‿꒰🌸꒱‿︵‿˚₊୧

Hiyoko waddled after you; she knew something was wrong, and she was absolutely right. "Huh? Y/N? What's wrong!?" She panicked as she hugged you close. Nobody but you would ever see this caring side to her, but she also didn't care if people saw it. Her focus was on you and only you. You sniffled and explained the mean things people had said to you and that it was just too much. She was surprised anyone would dare talk to you that way; you were perfect and the only person who understood her. She had a pouty face on; she was definitely not mad at you but rather at them.

"How dare those pig-faced bitches say anything mean to you? They're such losers, and how is it that they go this low? Hmph." She pouted, crossing her arms, and you giggled. The insults you thought were very creative and cute made you feel a bit better. Hiyoko smiled back at you and helped you up on the floor. Grabbing your hand, she started walking away with you before starting to speak once again. "Cm'on. I'm going to make them say sorry to you!" Your eyes widened; this is Hiyoko were talking about, so it's bound to be insults until they're crying apologies to you. Hiyoko knows how to hit all the weak spots.

You showed her the people that were being mean to you, and she crossed her arms, kimono draping. She looked pissed, and the bullies stopped in their tracks. "You pig-slut losers! You should carry a plant around with you to replace the oxygen you waste! Were you born this stupid, or did you take lessons? I’d slap you, but I don’t want to make your face look any better. Now, see that door? Say sorry and go to the other side of it." She spurted at them, and it seemed to work, as they quickly apologized to you and did as she said. Maybe they were afraid of the amount of bullying Hiyoko would have done if they didn't, as what she said was just a sample. Hiyoko pouted and then looked at you with a smile. "Now, wanna go and get candy? We can get cat treats as well!" She tilted her head as you nodded and smiled back at her.

You already had your feline friend before you started dating Fuyuhiko

It was surprising to you how gentle and caring he was towards your pet. You didn't think he liked cats but he actually really does

You never really carried your cat around before your relationship bloomed, but your anxiety started to get bad and Fuyuhiko was always at dangerous jobs so he wasn't around alot unfortunately

Though when he is around, even though he's not best with his words he gives the best physical affection that always eases your mind

Honestly people were scared to even talk to you because of your boyfriend, but those unknowing of who your boyfriend was was quick to tease and pick on you. Not a good idea on there part

You didn't want to worry Fuyuhiko with this since he has enough on his plate, so you just silently sobbed to yourself when he was away

୨₊˚‿︵‿꒰🌸꒱‿︵‿˚₊୧

A few tears trickled down your cheeks while you were in your shared dorm. Your boyfriend was already gone for whatever the Yakuza had going on at the moment, and he wasn't expected to be home until much later. The bullying earlier really got to you and stressed you out; you weren't sure what else to do but cry and curl up in a ball. Your cat was in the other room asleep; you didn't want even your fluffy little fur ball to see you like this. After a few moments, the door opened quietly. Usually, you would be taking a nap at this time, so Fuyuhiko probably thought as much. When your boyfriend walked in, you tried to quickly wash away your tears, but Fuyuhiko already saw the emotional distress you were in.

His eyes widened, he crouched down to your level, and he gave you a hug. "Who the fuck did this to you? Are you hurt?" He panickily asks, trying to be as quiet as he can to not scare you or make your anxiety worse. You nodded and sniffled, afraid to talk, but you knew it would only worry your boyfriend if you didn't. You took a deep breath, looked up at Fuyuhiko, and made eye contact. Soon enough, you were crying your eyes out, explaining your situation to your beloved. Fuyuhiko's eyes turned to anger. How could someone dare even say a word to you without his permission, nevermind say something so filthy? He took a deep breath, controlling his anger so as not to take it out on you. He kisses you on the lips lightly as you melt into it. "I'll handle it; don't worry, Y/N. I fucking promise you." He whispered into your ear.

The next day, you brought your cat to school as always, expecting the bullies to come and torment you again, almost forgetting Fuyuhiko's promise, until he tapped you on the shoulder. You turned around and smiled at him, pecking his lips with a kiss. He wasn't usually at school because of his job, so it was a happy surprise. "By the way, Y/N, Peko is handling those fuckers today, so she won't be here," he whispered into your ear as your eyes widened. It was a good day to have a Yakuza boyfriend!

He says yes to whatever you want, you are his little hope bagel after all!

But.....A pet? After what happened to his dog he wasn't sure if he deserved to take care or even be around another animal; afraid his luck would do something to it

After a lot of convincing him that it'll be okay, you both agreed to get a kitten

You got a white kitten that looked very similar to Nagito in a weird way, it was comforting to think even when the short minutes when Nagito was away you still had a piece of him

So you started to bring the kitten everywhere with you!

Nagito also suffers from anxiety, so if anyone he understands it the best. He's overjoyed you found a great coping mechanism

Plus he doesn't think he's good enough to comfort you, so this also puts his mind at ease.

Nagito regularly got bullied at school, and it's usually you that would stand up from him but since you started bringing a cat with you...Things started to change

You're a really sensitive person and don't know how to deal with being picked on so you just start crying

୨₊˚‿︵‿꒰🌸꒱‿︵‿˚₊୧

Nagito was a clingy mess, so of course he was with you when you overheard some kids talking bad about you and your cat, and he was there when you started to tear up. Nagitos’ heart broke. How dare someone bring despair to his precious hope? You tried not to weep In front of your boyfriend, not that you were afraid to show weakness but the fact that you couldn’t stand him being a big worried mess about you. Your boyfriend stayed calm and took your hand and guided you out of the school. You didn’t ask what he was doing as you were ecstatic to leave the school and destress. Your cat was on Nagito’s shoulder, curious about how to make you feel better. You and Nagito walked to the car, Nagito in the driver’s seat and you in the passenger seat. He frowned, looking over at your saddened and stressed out state. You had no words as when you were upset and stressed; talking wasn’t a thing you did. Nagito hugged you close and tilted his head. “It’s okay, my hope. Everything will be okay. You’re so strong and beautiful, please don’t listen to their despairful words,” he said softly as your cat climbed onto your lap and curled up, purring. You pet your kitten, then giggle and pet Nagito's hair. Later that day, Nagito drove both of you home. He had a plan of how to handle those people who were picking on you, but for now, he decided to keep your mind off of it. Thus, you Nagito and your kitten all cuddles on the couch together and watched your favorite movie. “... I love you,” you mumbled to Nagito as you cuddled into his chest, snuggling your head into him. His face turned red with blush as you cuddled onto his chest.. You said this a lot to him, but he won’t ever believe he has such a hopeful, significant other that truly loves him. “I love you too.”

Why do you want a cat? Isn't he good enough for you?

He would tease you, but all with love of course

At the adoption center of course he acted like a toddler looking at all the animals and pointing....

"OOOOH!! WHAT ABOUT THIS ONE? CMON! THIS ONES SO COOL!!!"

After an hour you adopted a black cat because Kokichi said it looked evil, but that was a lie as the cat was the sweetest thing to both of you

The kitty would always seem to make you happy just as much as Kokichi did. He had to admit he was a SLIGHHHHT bit jealous but he still was happy for your small little friend

Kokichi was either hated or loved at school, no in between, but everyone knew that you were his queen/king/royalty because he would talk about you ALL the time

So those that didn't like him...Well also didn't like you, but until you started bringing your cat around they had nothing to make fun of you for

You were used to teasing by Kokichi, but this is straight out bullying with the cruel words they said to you

Once the day ended you broke down, frowny face and all

୨₊˚‿︵‿꒰🌸꒱‿︵‿˚₊୧

You were off on the way to your dorms while walking with your kitten on your shoulder and boyfriend next too; you did this every day after your classes, but this time you weren’t as cheerful and you weren’t teasing Kokichi back when he made snarky remarks. He took notice of this but didn’t want to say anything in public with all the other ultimate’s walking through to their own dorms. Kokichi frowned before bringing you closer and taking your hand. He just held your hand on the way back to both of your dorms. Your cat went off to eat, and Kokichi grabbed your wrist with concern. “… What happened?” he asked in a worried tone, tilting his head. “W-what do you mean?” you acted dumb trying to ease your lovers’ concern. “Don’t lie to me, please tell me” a small tremble in his voice at this point; you just sighed and frowned before telling him everything that’s been happening and you started sobbing at the end of your explanation.

Shock swept over Kokichi. He knew people hated him and he couldn't care less, him and D.I.C.E would just prank them all the time anyway, but he draws the line of them messing with his queen/king/royalty. The rest of the night was filled with special attention from your little supreme leader. He was a clingy mess, and you loved it! He gave you many pecks on the cheeks and did everything in his power to distract you from what happened, besides he plans to have D.I.C. E give them the worst prank he can think of tomorrow, making sure they never dare make fun of you for having an emotional support animal again. While you both were cuddling, your cat wanted to join as it pounced onto the bed and curled in between you two, meowing and being a cutie. “See! It’s dividing me from my queen/king/royalty. I told you it’s evil!!!” Kokichi states, giving a pouty look to your cat. All you could do was facepalm at his shenanigans. He was such a loveable goofball.

#cutiekittysender : Anon🎀#nyanyafluffxoxo #fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #danganronpa #danganronpa x reader #open requests #requests open #mukuro x reader #kaede x reader #hiyoko saionji #fuyuhiko #fuyuhiko x reader #nagito x reader #kokichi x reader #gn reader #they/them reader #hiyoko x reader

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live-with-love · 1 year ago

Note

Storge 1 & Philautia 2 + 4 for akira shimazu :3

Thank you very much for the ask, my friend.

Storge 1: Did your [character]'s parents love them unconditionally? If so then has this helped them feel confident as an adult? If not then how has this affected them? What were the conditions their family attached to their relationship?

Oh, this is such an interesting question because Akira and Koji are arguably the most wholesome and mutually loving parent-child relationship in the John Wick movies, yet there exists a lot of nuance in their father-daughter dynamic.

Whether Koji loved Akira unconditionally, I think it's a bit too complicated to answer from an outsider's perspective, but he certainly loved his daughter very much. Even though they may have different ideas on who/what to protect, they have a very healthy relationship with plenty of mutual respect and trust between each other, and it's obvious that Akira viewed her father with a lot of admiration and love.

Koji very likely raised Akira under the Table since young so that she could take over the Shimazu family business (the Osaka Continental) one day. Despite the obvious risk of bringing a child into a life where everyone kills one another, he was protecting Akira in a way by giving her the knowledge and skill to defend herself from hitmen and assassins. But one has to wonder whether Akira even have a choice in the way she was raised in the first place.

Regardless, Akira grew into an independent, driven woman who is confident in her own abilities and capable of thriving on her own under the High Table's rule. She just need to pick herself back up after losing her father and hotel in the Osaka raid.

Philautia 2: Does your [character] believe that it is important to love themselves [in order to have a healthy sense of their own worth and value]? Perhaps in order to be able to give and receive love authentically? Or because they believe first and foremost in "looking after number one"?

I don't think Akira really believes in that. She knows her own self-worth and value, but puts others above herself due to the traditional values Koji taught her. While she can take care of herself, she seeks validation from her father. In Chapter 4, her perception of self-preservation comes from a place of caring for her father and the Osaka Continental's wellbeing before anything else. Every action Akira took and all she thinks is for the best of the hotel, even if it clashes against her father's ideas.

Philautia 4: Which of your [character]'s qualities makes them the most proud? Do they think more people should be like them in this regard? Or do they quite like being rare in possessing it?

On a superficial level, Akira prides herself on her physical accomplishments, like her strength, athletics and such. But if you want to talk about character, I think she prides herself on her moral backbone the most. This is most probably a result of her father raising her with very upright values in addition to Akira inheriting Koji's stubbornness. She won't necessarily look down on others because of it, but it doesn't stop her from judging the people she meets. For example, she will 100% dislike the Marquis as a person due to his underhanded tactics and deceitful nature.

On the other hand, I feel Akira is the kind of person who couldn't stand if she's the only one in the room with a braincell (in the literal sense). She definitely appreciates it if the people she's working with have at least a little common sense and manners.

#non sw #john wick chapter 4 #akira #akira shimazu #akira jw #akira john wick #answering asks

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lovelyladyabsinthewrites · 2 years ago

Text

From the Ashes Pt.9

Pairing(s): Rhaegar Targaryen x Lannister!Reader, one-sided!Jaime Lannister x Lannister!Reader, Jaime Lannister x Cersei Lannister

Warnings: original characters, MC POV

Words:2930

Summary: You and Jaime meet the other residences of the Red Temple

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 3.5 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33 Part 34 Part 35 Part 36 Part 37 Part 38 Part 39 Part 40 Part 41 Part 42

Book Two of Heir of Ash and Fire

Book One of Heir of Ash and Fire

Out of the window of your room, you stared at the calm water below. Opening it, the breeze tickled your face and sweeping one leg then the other, you sat on the edge; feet dangling freely and bumping against the stone of the Red Temple. Ships of all sizes were scattered across the water and you wondered if maybe one of those ships were traveling to Westeros. Sails fluttered gently in reply to the steady wind’s caress.

After having bathed and eaten your body was finally relaxed even though you surmised there was more to come. At least they would give you a moment to breathe. Before your world changed even more.

Even with learning what the worshippers of R’hllor believed you to be you still didn’t feel any different. The way everyone looked at you though. . . They didn’t see you as the young girl you still felt like. You were so much more to them and it scared you. If what they all said was true, then there were thousands of people putting their complete faith into you. What if you let them down? What if you didn’t amount to their hopes and dreams and instead disappointed them severely. Instead they would look at you the way your father did. Those cold, unfeeling and unforgiving eyes that would turn anyone to stone.

Caws of seagulls echoed from the background as they drifted above the sea. Fear and doubt rang loudly in your head. Someone like you wasn’t meant to be an important figure. You would admit that it felt nice when people cheered for you. They didn’t know you though. Not personally. They didn’t know how you should be the last person to be a savior of anything. Sure, you knew the basics of sword fighting but you were still nowhere as skilled as Jaime.

“Thalina, what have you gotten me into?” You smile sadly and shake your head. She wasn’t there to reassure you. **

They had separated Jaime from (y/n) the moment they passed the threshold of the temple doors. She was taken to be cleaned and fed while Jaime in a different direction despite his loud protests. Servants with brands upon their cheeks took him down to a basement hot spring where he was expected to bathe. All the while Jaime kept asking where his sister had been taken. Neither of the three servants replied and then it dawned on him that they may not speak the Common Tongue. Jaime’s Valyrian was very poor as he cared not for the study when he was younger. He dared not try to speak it, envying his younger siblings for their Valyrian vocabulary. Forced to be quiet and bathe, worry pulsed through him. Was (y/n) okay?

Azor Ahai reborn.

The notion was ridiculous. It was hard to deny it though when faced with a horde of people cheering and crying just for her.

Outstretched hands begging for just one touch from their hero. For the meek little mouse of Casterly Rock. For his (y/n). His sister who had grown into a lovely young lady under the care of Rhaegar Targaryen. Someone who he hadn’t looked twice at before due to his love for Cersei. In their childhood (y/n) had been a dull, quiet little girl who could never look anyone in the eye for more than a second. An annoying hanger-on, that’s what Jaime used to think. The day she left for Dragonstone, Jaime could hardly muster up any sadness at her departure. Her existence had meant little to him, having only tolerated her since she was his sister. That’s not to say that he was cruel to her like Cersei had been. He might as well have been though. A bystander that did nothing to stop his twin from the things she did.

(y/n) had slipped his mind for years until the fateful day she returned to King’s Landing. A pearl that had been excavated from an oyster’s shell. Shiny and lovely. Eyes that had once been a muddy green hue were now glossy and bright as spring moss. Dragonstone had turned her into a respectable lady. Baby fat was still fresh on her cheeks but that added to the purity of her appearance. A maiden in full bloom that had immediately stolen Jaime’s heart. The change was evident in her as she had held his gaze with a confident smile. Confidence suited her.

The very same person was now some kind of. . . Jaime didn’t quite know what to call it. Prophet seemed to suit the term he was

“Jaime Lannister?”

Immediately on the defense, Jaime whips around in the steaming bath, eying the older man in question. A little on the portly side, this man definitely did not have an intimidating appearance. Far from it,his pale blonde hair was thinning and streaked with gray. Smile lines were etched deeply onto his tan face. Kind, honey eyes crinkle as he finally situates himself on the hard stone floor of the basement bathhouse.

“Didn’t mean to startle you.” He chuckles. “I am Nuahlin, a red priest in this beautiful establishment.” Some of the words he spoke sounded weird on his tongue indicating that the Common language wasn’t his first. Not quick to trust anyone, Jaime stays on guard; cursing that he was naked and without a weapon. He clenches his fists, glancing at the handmaids that stood quietly by the doorway. “Where’s my sister?”

“You’ll see her soon enough. At the moment I believe she has just gotten out of her own bath and served supper.” Nuahlin assures the Westerosi knight. “However, there are important matters in which I need to discuss with you. Sirvart has told me of your reaction about the truth of your sister. Understandable that you would be in denial. It’s quite a shock, neh?”

“Something like that.” muttered Jaime. “Look, what do you plan on doing with her?”

“Nothing that she doesn’t want. You and your sister are free to leave whenever you want. We just want to make sure that she is prepared for when the Long Night arrives. It happened during what you call your Age of Heroes in Westeros. It will come again and when it does, your sister will lead humanity to victory as Azor Ahai once did. To speak truthfully, I did not believe Thalina when she saw your sister in her vision of flames. Having seen her now, in person, well. . . It’s still very hard to believe that that sweet girl has anything to do with the prophecy. Alizah has faith though, that she can see the Warrior inside of (y/n). Faith is a funny thing. Most times you just have to follow what your gut feels and not the overthinking of your head.”

“She couldn’t hurt a fly.” Quickly insisting, the words of Nuahlin sinking in.

The smile that had been on the red priest’s face turned sad. “Not willingly. We hope to train her and get her ready for when the time comes.”

Sinking deeper into the water, Jaime closes his eyes. “I don’t want her getting hurt.”

“That’s why I come to you, Ser Jaime. Who better to help her than her knightly brother? I want you to train with our Fiery Hand.”

“What?”

“They’re the guards of our temple and the soldiers of our belief.” explains Nuahlin. “They will serve your sister greatly.”

A little slighted, Jaime narrows his eyes. “I already know how to fight. I don’t need anyone to teach me anything.”

Nuahlin chuckles, holding his hands up in defense. “I meant no offense. I have no doubt that you are skilled in Westerosi fighting. But we do things differently here in Essos. It wouldn’t hurt to acquire another skill.”

What was there that they had to offer? The men Jaime had fought already in Essos seemed like nothing special. He had easily cut them down within seconds.

With difficulty, Nuahlin gets back up on his feet. “Give it some thought. Let me know when you decide. Oh, and welcome to Volantis.”

The clothes were too loose on Jaime, hanging off of him and swallowing up his frame. The robes much resembled the one that Nuahlin wore. A vibrant red trimmed with orange and gold. Not the usual color Jaime would have normally worn, but at least the colors were much familiar with those of the Lannister house.

Several times Jaime had tried to roll up his sleeves, but it was useless.

“It’s the normal fashion here in the temple.” Came Sirvart’s voice as she joined Jaime’s group as they traveled down the corridor. Underneath her own red robe, she wore a dark leather jerkin and a cream colored shirt. “Even those in the Fiery hand wear them when they fight.”

Scoffing, Jaime lets his arms fall to his side. “How do they even fight in this get up? That just seems impossible.”

“Haven’t you learned anything, Golden Boy? Nothing in this world is impossible.” she reminded him with a crooked smile on her red lips. Choosing to ignore her smugness, Jaime asks “Where are they taking me?”

“To meet the high priest. You can get rid of that expression. Rest assured (y/n) will be there.”

“Any words of advice?”

Hazel eyes flick over to Jaime. Now that she was back home, there was a certain carefreeness on her face. She must have been happy to be back. It made him miss Westeros, the familiarity of the terrain and language; of the people and rules. Even though Volon Therys was just across the river, who knew how long she had been there waiting. “You need not be so suspicious. We just want the best for (y/n). Honestly. Over the time she served her, Thalina sent us letters. Of her growth and personality, what she learned and what she feared. We may not personally know her, but we all care for her.”

“Because you think she’s a reincarnation of your savior.” Pointing out, Jaime notices the three hand maids that had been attending him were whispering amongst each other. One caught his gaze and immediately quieted.

“We don’t think, we know. Yes, she seems like the most unlikely person, but it's often the unlikely ones that make a mark on this world.”

Taking a turn around the corner leads them to a great set of doors which Sirvart strode up to. On either side of the door were guards in red robes and flames tattooed on their cheeks. Both men held serious expressions, regarding Jaime with obvious caution. One of them speaks to Sirvart in a foreign tongue.

Instead of Sirvart answering, a hand maid speaks up. Dark kohl under her eyes makes the iris color pop. Her hair was cut short to the scalp and glowed a reddish-brown hue. The guard who had spoken glances at Jaime before nodding, saying something briefly to Sirvart before allowing her to open the door.

“What was that about?” Jaime quickly asks.

Sirvart nonchalantly shrugs and motions him inside. “They don’t like the way you look.”

Frowning, Jaime bit his tongue and reluctantly let it slide as he entered the chapel. A vaulted ceiling made every small noise echo. At the back of the chapel was a giant metal torch blazing with bright flames of a fire. A tapestry hung on the stone wall, etched on the red fabric was a heart with a ring of yellow flames atop of it like a crown. (y/n) was already there and smiled immediately at the sight of Jaime, relief so clear on her face. The blind girl known as Alizah stood next to her along with an unknown man who watched the siblings carefully.

Freshly bathed, (y/n)’s hair glowed, pulled back into decorative braids, her face free of any dirt although still tan from the amount of sun she had received during their journey. Unlike the other ladies in the chapel, (y/n) lacked a red robe. Instead she was decked in a light pink gown and lacked a robe. Her under linens were a scarlet red which bled past the gentle pink. The trim on her dress were soft shades of orange and yellow. Perfectly suiting her bright demeanor as she floats over to Jaime.

She was a sight to behold and Jaime nearly forgot himself as he took her arms.

“Nice robes.” (y/n) commented.

“Thought you’d be wearing similar attire.” replied Jaime in a breathy voice. In such a beautiful dress, she almost reminded him of Cersei. Almost. It outlined her shape perfectly, emphasizing the curvature of her waist and hips. During their ocean travel, (y/n) had been sickly thin. Now, she was healthy and radiant.

“Ah, the brother has joined us.” Smiles the man. He must have been around the same age as Nuahlin, perhaps older as Jaime saw the deep set wrinkles on the man’s face. “We thank you for bringing (y/n) safely to us. We know it must not have been an easy task.”

“Save it.” Jaime was quick to snap. Both siblings had been through so much. The last thing he wanted was faux friendliness. He just wanted answers. “Just tell us what we want to know and what this whole Azor Ahai thing is about.”

(y/n) purses her lips, nervous eyes turning to the older man that held his patience.

A swift kick to his shin made Jaime hiss and lose balance. He glowers at Sirvart who mirrored his heat. “Watch your tongue. This is our High Priest Benerro. He deserves more respect than that.”

Benerro chuckles and shakes his head. “Easy there Sirvart. No need for roughness here. It’s understandable that they want answers. And answers they shall receive, although I doubt they’ll be to Ser Lannister’s liking. He might not even be happy with what we have to say.”

There’s a certain agitation on (y/n)’s face, her own patience waning thin. It was always hard to read (y/n). With Cersei it came so easily, but his younger sister knew how to suppress her thoughts and feelings well. Jaime didn’t possess the same telepathy he had with his twin. (y/n) always had him guessing.

The thin High Priest moves toward the massive torch. Hands and arms spread wide as if he were ready to embrace the fire. “The way the world is made. The truth is all around you, plain to behold. The night is dark and full of terrors, the day bright and beautiful and full of hope. One is black, the other white. There is ice and there is fire. Hate and love. Bitter and sweet. Male and female. Pain and pleasure. Winter and summer. Evil and good.” Turning his tattooed face back to those in his presence. His words haunted Jaime. And gesturing to (y/n), Benerro grins. “Death and life. Everywhere opposites. Everywhere, the war.”

(y/n) shrinks away slightly, gaze darting to the fire and momentarily it holds her attention.

“Come closer.” Benerro beckons. Hands held over the fire, unafraid of the sting. “You see something don’t you? What do you see?”

Hesitant and looking to her brother for help, there was nothing Jaime could do. Equally unsure and afraid of what this man preached. Fear. . . that was something new to Jaime. Never had he felt fear like this. He was his mother’s courageous lion, his father’s perfect heir. Neither of those felt fear.

He feared for (y/n). The immense weight that was suddenly slammed on her tiny shoulders. Unready and wobbling from the heaviness of the situation.

Clearly having been nervous a few moments ago, the longer she stared the more relaxed her frame became as the fire drew her in. “I see a field. A field with tall wheat grass. I think. . . there are soldiers on the field with many banners and-” A sharp inhale from (y/n) has Jaime twitching, ready to protect her but Sirvart kept him at bay with an outstretched arm.

(y/n) scowled, unsure of herself as she whispers “And a dragon. In the sky.”

This made Benerro grin widely as he threw his arms open once again. “She can read the flames! And what a vivid description indeed. Soldiers and dragons in the near future. Yes, I can see it. Dragons are part of the key to stopping the Long Night and destroying the Others for good.” Noticing how his words only made (y/n) even more scared, Benerro takes it down a notch. “Neither of you should be scared about this. There is nothing to fear.” Old eyes flick over to Jaime. “Especially you. You worry for her. That she will be hurt. In life its always possible for hurt to come in all shapes and sizes. That’s why she needs her brother by her side. As many allies as she can get.”

Jaime stared at his sister. This young woman that had been small and insignificant for most of her life. There she was, standing before a raging torch overflowing with orange flames that seemed to lick at her back. In that image, Jaime finally saw what everyone else did. Albeit it was still unbelievable. There were plenty of unbelievable things that had happened to (y/n) though. Even before she had been born, in Joanna’s womb their mother somehow knew that one day (y/n) would be someone of importance. No, she had never been insignificant. She had always been someone extraordinary. Jaime had just been too blind and stupid to see it before.

Next to him, Sirvart smiled. Not smuggly, but in relief that it finally clicked in.

If Jaime had had his sword in his possession, he would have knelt down on the floor and laid it out before (y/n); symbolizing his loyalty and fealty. All he could do was stare in awe.

#A Song of Ice and Fire #a song of ice and fire fanfiction #a song of ice and fire fanfic #A Song of Ice and Fire fandom #ASoIaF #asoiaf fandom #asoiaf fanfiction #asoiaf fanfic #asoiaf fic #game of thrones #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones fanfic #Game of Thrones fandom #reader insert #reader insert fanfiction

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superwingscentral · 2 years ago

Text

Pirate AU Masterpost (AU name pending)

since im a person who like to make aus that does not fit with the canon at all, im gonna go all batshit with this one lets go. i havent made proper aus in a long time hhhh

my english went scrawny all over in some places so im sorry for that :'D this post is also extremely messy so buckle up yall

They're gonna be humans in this AU, because I have no idea how to incorporate planes in a setting like this. (also i think it may or may not fit since 'advanced tech'...does not really exist. it isn't set during old times though, it doesn't have a clear time period because it isn't set in our earth.)

The characters don't have clear designs, but FYI, I'm personally going to use my own gijinka designs for visuals like 'screenshot redraws' in this.

Anyway...if you have questions or suggestions, you can ask away! (they help a lot to build my art/stories geniunely + also i think this post is all over the place oh god)

Some parts were inspired from the suggestions given by @stormvanari , ty so much!!!✨️✨️

■■■

This world is filled with islands, but without a clear bridge between them. So the only and the safest way of transportation is with, well, ships. This includes supplies too.

Pist, one of the small islands, took charge of transferring supplies to the other islands due to its location, under the name of "World Delivery". "WD" in short. (the reason for that is the amount of way to the other islands are pretty much same. Although visitors are not really common in the island, even if it's in the center of the whole ocean. It's not a touristic place. People prefer going to Gire, or Dimdi.)

Jimbo-Sky-Storm are 3 of the residents in Pist, and they are in the charge of this delivering organization. Jimbo is the head of it, Sky and Storm are second-hands.

A client sends a letter to WD about what they want, and boom. If there are smaller orders, they'll be sent by small ships. If the order clashes with a supply delivery, it'll be sent with a big delivery ship. Still fast. (residents of pist usually go to there themselves to order. its close)

There is a factory in Pist to produce the supplies (although rumors say the trio uses an extra deal to make their delivery items because there are almost no workers in the factory...)

Storm manages the factory, Sky is in the charge of managing the delivery ships.

There are many ships that work directly for World Delivery HQ (most of them being Pist residents), but there are freelancer ships that come to help them from time to time.

(I divided them in a quite strange way honestly, because I didn't want to seperate the s1 quartet or some 'squads' sorry xP Also FYI: there are many ships. So they don't only consist SW characters. Think of them as...extras? yeah that. i wanna make them go on a long trip once and i dont wanna put wd out of business)

●●●●

The main ships in the AU (not all of them work in Pist but when they pass by they do work for them sometimes. i was gonna put them all under the same workplace but then scrapped that)

Speedy (they're still working on the name. the other three teases the hell out of jett because of this): Consists of only Jett, Dizzy, Donnie, Jerome. Smallest ship with a crew of only 4 people. They reside in Pist, and they're the only ship out of all the SW ships that is actively working for WD.

(well, except for the time they all suddenly disappeared one day on a journey. Turns out they sneaked out.)

Neptune: Mira, Bello, Swampy, Wily, Sparky, Neo. They never stay on islands, instead they live in their ship. It's bigger than Jett's, so it has extra rooms for other things like a greenroom. Speaking of, the crew has a reputation of making herbs and medicines due to their master use of plants (thanks to the captain and her first mate.) They pass Pist by all the time, and help them deliver things, mainly medicine.

Goldstar: Paul, Kim, Badge, and numerous other officers. They're a security ship, and Blackbird is number 1 on their hit list. They're usually sent by Miz, to catch thieves and sometimes to hunt monsters. (But the crew of Goldstar has no idea about what Miz is doing after they hand over the criminals or the monsters, because they're constantly on missions.)

Although their beef with Blackbird's captain is a personal case, not Miz's (mostly for Paul).

Loyalty: Grand Albert's restored historical ship. He travels between islands, along with his students (the top student being Narae) He used to be a famous adventurer that fought thieves who stole artifacts and returned them to their homeland, but now he retired and in prefarence of a slow, peaceful life. He's now sailing a ship-library and is open to visitors. Somehow pirates don't get too close to him.

He also has a granddaughter named Ellie (who is also his student) but she left due to her wish to sail to adventure with her own friends.

Galacti: The most mysterious ship possible. Nothing much is known about them, except for one thing: They're seen during the night. Their morals and goals are also unknown. They're also known as the ones who only know the safe ways to the North. And they home several magical artifacts: ancient spell books, weapons, mystic plants, etc. All of them are wanted by Miz, especially the captain.

Blackbird: The most notorious ship, with the crew of ruthless thieves. They love to mess with the other ships, they ambush the delivery ships while on their way, steal their goods, and scatter the 'useless' ones to the ocean for ships to crash on and sink.

Rumor say the captain Phantom used to navigate a security ship, and people wonder what led him down this path.

No one knows which islands are the crew is from, but they know for a fact that they can sail to the waters in South effortlessly. (The waters in South are also violent, so majority of security ships sunk in hopes of investigate the island.)

●●●

Tech is a bit weird in this AU. It does not exist, but it does at the same time. Phones, internet, or holograms, those stuff doesn't exist, for example.

There's a thing. It's not a common thing, it's a rumor in some islands, it's forbidden to use or even speak of it in some islands–

It's magic. Yep.

Big islands like Miz forbid anyone to ever talk about. Ironically, the most powerful professional magic user is from Miz.

Small islands like Pist though, it's mostly a rumor in there.

Anyway, the magic in this AU mostly relies on spells. Only some certain people can do it. For example, rumor say the mysterious ship Galacti can use magic effortlessly (especially the captain). But the island of Miz, the island the captain is from, can't catch them because the ship is literally invisible.

There's also another type of magic. It's not like a 'wizard-y' type, or done with spells. It affects the physical appearence, like 'monsters'.

Sea creatures are the only known 'monsters' at the moment but there are some research for other possible 'monsters' alive.

There are 3 different sea 'monsters' rn:

The 1st type: Your good ol' cliche sea creatures. They live underwater all the time, cannot go up to surface. Some of them look like a giant squid but some of them have humanoid appearence (like sirens). They're the most common.

The 2nd is: Luca-style. They appear as humans when dry. One of the main ship captains is this. No wonder she rescues people so swiftly from the water? Also the new lackey in Blackbird too, but with the addition of a siren voice.

The third type is a curse that turns the person into a fish, then a bubble. They start to appear as scales under eyes, then ears start to look like fins. At the end of two days they will turn into a full fish, then foam (curse you little mermaid /j). It has a solution though, but it can only be found in the north side of the ocean. Sadly, most people who got cursed end up meeting their demise because the North is even harder to reach than South. The ones who do would still have some side effects like: constant need for hydration and the transformation into a mer-person when dove into water.

(this is completely inspired by that one episode where jett and jerome turn into mer...planes???)

〔 There is also another type of magic, but not a third-type. Instead it's a sub-category, because this one also relies on spells. But instead of performing with bare hands, an object like a wand is needed. 〕

●●●

That's all! For now. I didn't write character introductions, because i didn't know where to put them in (alao the post would be way too long + i haven't written all of them yet.)

Idk if I write a fic based on this. Maybe I'll write snippets?

When I make the outfits, I'll maybe draw 'fake' screenshots?

#i hope this isnt too confusing #i left out some things due to my inability to organize them/having no idea where to put them without making the post more confusing 🥹#gonna post the characters in an another post (so far i have only written jett dizzy donnie jerome)#super wings #sw au #au #curses & deliveries au

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scattered-shadows · 1 year ago

Text

As seen on my FF.net

Following the events of fifth year, a new adventure awaits for Norah Lee. Boys, exams, school events, common room parties, and old foes outside of Hogwarts. Even battling pensieve guardians was easier than this.

Main Pair: OC/? Genre: Adventure/Angst/Fluff (it's a little of everything, tbh)

KEEP IN MIND: Characters are aged up (even if the story's got them in sixth year) to make it more appropriate. Time period is leaning towards the modern day so in case you might find anachronisms in the dialogue or references, this is why. This may also be quite a lengthy fic too.

BE WARNED: Social anxiety, mentions of blood and injury, grief, drinking, kissing but nothing more than that, death (this is Hogwarts Legacy, after all)

P.P.S: Sorry in advance for any mischaracterization and other mistakes. Tag list is open if you would like to follow this story on here. Reblogs are much appreciated.

Masterlist

Chapter 4

Norah wasn't sure what was coming over her as she spent some time in the Room of Requirement over the next few days. It was like she was feeling everything all at once. The grief from losing Professor Fig, the anxiety over what she planned to do, the stress from the amount of lessons she needed to take in for NEWTs, and that fluttering feeling she didn't know how to describe whenever she was near her two male housemates. The worst part of it was that she didn't know who to turn to. She felt mostly helpless.

Deek the house-elf, had taken it upon himself to tidy up the areas close to the vivariums while she concentrated on her lengthy Ancient Runes essay in the adjacent study area. Over the past several days, she came to the conclusion that she would need some help from a teacher on how to access the caverns and build up the repository again.

She first thought of Professor Sharp, a former auror turned Potions master. Maybe he could help her regain entry. Then again, there was also Professor Hecat, who was an Unspeakable at the Ministry for some time. But she also knew that Professor Weasley was also a curse-breaker during her time and Professor Ronen was the Charms teacher for a reason. All of them would be of help. Telling all of them would be risky as they would be inclined to tell the headmaster what would happen.

But she knew that they of all people, would understand the gravity of the idea the most. They came to her rescue when the goblins invaded the caverns that day, including Natty's mother, Divination Professor Onai. Norah looked at the four other drafts of letters she planned to send to each of the professors she thought of, in the hopes that at least one of them would be able to help her. Would that have seemed shameless? She thought.

With a sigh, she reached over the drafts and tore up the pieces of parchment before pointing her wand at it. Professor Ronen introduced the lesson of mastering non-verbal spells for NEWT-level students, and she was able to at the very least, master Evanesco. The torn up pieces of parchment vanished and she put her wand down again to continue writing her essay.

She suddenly heard a soft rumble in the room, and out of nowhere appeared a table that was already laden with food, from mashed potatoes, sausages, cheeses, bread, buttered vegetables, and soup. The room seemed to figure out what she needed, and she had only just remembered to eat.

Norah put her quill down and got up from her seat to approach the table. She hurried over to the hallway to check where the house-elf was. "Deek? Deek!" She called out.

Deek soon appeared, walking toward her. "Yes, Miss?"

Norah smiled. "Join me for a meal. It suddenly came up," She gestured to the spread. "I only remembered to eat just now, and I know I won't be able to finish these," She laughed.

Deek smiled. "Deek thought Miss hasn't eaten yet, so I asked some to bring food here."

"Deek..." Norah raised a brow. "Well, as a thank you, you have to eat with me, I really can't finish all of these."

The house-elf hesitantly approached the spread but before Norah could interject, with a snap of his fingers, his own spread appeared laid out on a mat on the floor, with a small bowl of soup and a piece of bread. "Your food is best shared with your friends."

"And you're my friend, Deek, I want to share all of this with you," Norah pointed out, picking up the plate to place servings of sausages, mashed potatoes, and buttered vegetables. Deek snapped his fingers again, and pitchers of pumpkin juice and water appeared next to her goblet. "Deek!" She laughed, and the house-elf looked amused by her reaction.

They heard the sound of something shifting, and before Norah could tuck in, they heard the voices of Sebastian and Ominis. "You've been hiding yourself away in here all week. What's gotten into you?" The brunette boy asked, suddenly helping himself to the food when Deek conjured up more plates and cutlery.

"You were supposed to help me with my Ancient Runes essay too," Ominis added, suddenly pointing his wand towards the food. "Oh, something smells delicious..."

"Please help yourselves," Norah said. "Deek was kind enough to have these sent up here for me."

"So, care to explain yourself? You've been acting weird all week," Sebastian continued to press as he tucked in on her right side while Ominis sat himself on her left.

"I've just had a lot on my mind lately. Been thinking about things, is all," She muttered in between spoonfuls of vegetables and mashed potatoes.

Sebastian glanced at her while he took a drink of pumpkin juice. "Like?"

"Like all these lessons I have to learn, and other things. I'll talk about those other things some other time," She made sure to point out. "Don't worry, I've just been quite busy."

"It's not a bad thing to ask for help, Lee," Sebastian's expression changed into that of concern. Ominis also had a concerned look on his otherwise neutral expression. "You act like we haven't gone through what we went through last year. At least talk to us if you can't tell the others."

She wanted to tell them. She knew he was right. But she didn't exactly know how to explain what she was thinking about, what she was feeling at that moment. It was when Ominis reached out to touch her hand that made her snap out of her thoughts. "Norah?" He asked, as if tacitly pleading.

"You've done everything no other student possibly could last year. It's safe to say that you need to let off some steam, and I don't mean just shutting yourself inside this room and feeding and brushing those beasts you keep in those vivariums over there," Sebastian tilted his head toward the hall that led to the main room.

But before she could speak, she saw her owl fly inside and drop a letter at the table. Norah could immediately recognize the handwriting. It was from Lucan, telling her to come up to the clock tower courtyard to oversee a round of Crossed Wands. "This will have to wait, it's Crossed Wands time, you ready, Sallow?" She grinned, getting up.

Ominis frowned and nearly devoured the remaining food on his plate before getting up. "I'm holding you to that, Lee."

"Why haven't you had a go in Crossed Wands, Ominis?" Norah asked curiously.

"Yeah, why haven't you had a go in Crossed Wands?" Sebastian teased his friend.

"Tempting, but no, I think my being visually-challenged is one reason why I could never go for that," The young Gaunt replied.

She rolled her eyes. "You literally fought inferi with me. You can't use your blindness as an excuse. If anything, you have as much of a chance at winning this year's tournament. Besides, Sebastian could partner with you. Or even Natty," She suggested.

"Or even you," Ominis grinned. "If I join, will you be my partner? Do we have a deal?" He said.

Norah held out her hand. "Deal. If you join, I can partner with you. Shake on it."

Sebastian looked intrigued, a shit-eating grin on his face as he followed them out of the room. "Now that I am looking forward to."

Natty, Poppy, and Amit were at the clock tower courtyard when the three of them showed up. The sight of Norah entering led to whispers among the other students, all of whom hopeful to advance in the tournament. Lucan looked especially excited upon seeing them.

"The Crossed Wands duellist to beat!" Leander called out with a grin on his face, followed by Grace.

"Here she comes! The reigning champion!" Lucan announced.

"A few second, third, and fourth years are looking to duel this time, I hear," Natty told them as soon as they gathered in one corner. "I say they have an unfair opponent with Hector Jenkins and Charlotte Morrison giving it another go this time around. Astoria Rickett bested some yesterday."

"They can put up a fight, yeah," Norah nodded, immediately seeing Lucan gesture for her to come over. "Hello Lucan, how are you?" She said.

"I'm doing very good. Mind giving our potential duellists some pointers?" He asked, his voice loud enough for all of them to hear.

"Use what you've already been taught, I guess," Norah shrugged. "If you're unsure, Lucan can set you up with a training dummy to practice. That's how I was able to do well. Oh, and good luck, Charlotte and Hector are really good."

The young Gryffindor's cheeks turned pink. Hector and Charlotte smiled at the compliment. Lucan cleared his throat to snap himself out of it. "Alright! Wands at the ready! Whoever's left standing wins!" He declared.

Norah returned to where Sebastian and the rest of the group were standing, including Ominis, who was listening intently to the spells being thrown around the room. Lucan even had to shield himself when a levitating charm bounced off Hector. Leander quickly ran behind the doors when a blasting curse was fired, sending Charlotte flying back a few feet from where she was standing, her robes scorched.

"Whoa, quite bold of them to use confringo in their initiation round," Sebastian commented. "I would've thought they kept to levitation and disarming charms."

Natty looked impressed. "They must have learned on their own."

"I wonder what Professor Hecat would think of that, I think she knows about Crossed Wands," Poppy muttered.

"Better just confringo than bombarda. We wouldn't want this tower to break down," Norah said, and they hummed in agreement.

"There are defensive charms all over the castle. They'll be fine," Sebastian said.

The duel was a close one, with Lucan watching so intensely at how everything unfolded. Unfortunately, the pair of second years were defeated, with Charlotte and Hector exchanging high fives while shaking hands with the students. Astoria Rickett and Leander were next in going against the pair of third years looking to join.

"That was a close one, second years, better luck next year," Lucan assured them as they left.

"You think they were trying to impress you?" Ominis teasingly asked Norah, who wrinkled her nose and shook her head.

"More like the rest of you," She retorted. She noticed one of the second years, a Ravenclaw girl, kept glancing at Sebastian before and after the duel. Sebastian, unfortunately, didn't seem to notice.

"But we're no heroes of Hogwarts," Natty pointed out.

Violet McDowell, one of the Slytherin prefects, had posted a notice on the common room's bulletin board that evening. The first of the many house parties was going to take place in two weeks. Word had soon got out to the rest of the students that it wasn't surprising that even the teachers had some idea. With the exception of Professor Black, who was too absorbed in his own affairs than that of the school.

It was upon the announcement of the party that Norah found out about how exclusive house parties were in Hogwarts. Sure, they were unsanctioned, yet the prefects and head boy and head girl looked the other way when it came to it. Even Gladwin Moon, despite serving as caretaker, kept mum on the parties as he would see those nights as a time for an extended stop at the Hog's Head. But students, including prefects, from the other houses, needed to know someone from the house throwing a party to be able to enter the common room.

"Brilliant, the first party's in two weeks," Sebastian nodded. "All of these NEWTs are doing my head in."

"I'm so looking forward to letting myself go by then," Grace sighed. "I'm guessing we're bringing in some barrels of butterbeer?"

"Obviously."

"Maybe a few bottles of firewhisky while we're at it," Grace was grinning. "We'll just need to endure a few weeks of homework and lessons first."

"I heard Garreth Weasley's planning on introducing his new brew at the first party too. Coincidentally, the first party's at the Gryffindor common room," Sebastian chuckled. "I'm looking forward to that."

Norah suddenly appeared, having returned from the Room of Requirement with her rolls of parchment and quill in tow. "Garreth told me about the party on the way back here. Seems like you're all excited," She noticed Sebastian.

"Who wouldn't be?" The male replied. "Weasley ask you about the ball yet?"

The question made Grace look intrigued. Norah shook her head. "I think the party's all he's thinking about now, despite what Natty's been saying."

The mention of Weasley made Norah realize the answer to the question she was thinking about earlier. If there was a teacher who could help her somehow, who knew the details of what Professor Fig told her, it would be Professor Weasley herself. She immediately knew what to do. She could only hope Professor Weasley could agree to it.

Sebastian looked at her curiously, already sensing that she had something up her sleeve. "What are you on about now?" He asked.

"I just realized something. Can you put this in my room for me? I'll be back," Norah handed him her things before running back up the staircase going out of the common room.

Grace and Sebastian watched her leave. "Where else is she going now?" The blonde pondered.

"I don't know," Sebastian could only say, yet he had an idea as to what it was. He went up to the girls' dormitories, being careful to freeze the stairs first in case it would turn into a slide. Knowing where Norah's bed was, he placed her things on top of the trunk before running toward the boys' dormitories, where Ominis was dozing off. "Hey, we need to get the others. I think I know what she's been up to."

The doors of Professor Weasley's office quietly opened and Norah peeked inside, seeing the Transfiguration teacher herself, having anticipated her coming in, with a smile. "Hello Miss Lee," She said.

"Professor, do you have a moment?" Norah closed the door behind her and sat down when Professor Weasley gestured to the chair.

"Of course, what is it?"

"Last year, when you and the other professors came into the caverns, Professor Fig, told you everything?"

"Yes, he did. He told me everything and the reasons why you've been leaving the castle ever so often on his behalf. What about it?" She asked.

There was no other way to say it. "Professor, I would like to return to the caverns and rebuild that repository. It is what Professor Fig would've wanted, what many others who have died in Ranrok's hands wanted. I'm prepared to rebuild the repository, it's full of the pain, pain that Isidora Morganach took from her students without their consent, and turned into power. It will be opened again once we've learned enough of it."

Professor Weasley stared at her, nodding slightly at the explanation. Norah could feel her eyes well with tears the more she explained. "Are you sure you want to do this? " She asked quietly, her expression softening. "That is the most important question to ask."

Norah nodded. "This power, which I feel, is becoming too much. It's like I'm feeling everything at once. Like all the pain, all the grief, I'm honestly getting overwhelmed and I have my work cut out for me," She said.

"You were made to do something you should never have to do at your age when you faced Ranrok and his loyalists. It's not your fault things are the way they are," Professor Weasley said. "A heavy burden was placed on your shoulders, when all you should be thinking about is your magical education. I'm glad you came to me about this. What can I do to help you?"

She let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you, professor. I would like to return to the caverns and reform that repository. I have the wand that can reopen the doors to that repository. All we need to do is rebuild it and contain all of it. I know I cannot do it alone," Norah explained.

"And you won't have to. Let me know when you plan on returning, and I shall meet you at the entrance to the map chamber," She said.

"Yes, thank you, professor," Norah nodded, getting up from the chair and turning to leave.

"Miss Lee?"

Norah turned around, hand poised on the door. "Yes?"

"Let others help you. You needn't carry this on your own."

"Understood, professor. Thank you."

Norah stepped out into the Transfiguration courtyard when she saw the concerned faces of her friends. "You could've asked us for help, you know, talked to us," Sebastian's arms were crossed.

"I know, and I'm sorry-"

"Never do something like what you're planning to do by yourself," Natty chimed in.

Ominis, however, looked the most calm while trying to calm his best friend down with a pat on the shoulder. "What did Professor Weasley say? Did she agree?" He asked.

"She did."

The young Gaunt nodded. "Good. I'm glad she agreed to whatever you asked. We can talk later if you'd rather not say anything right now."

"Thank you," Norah turned to the rest of them. "So, the party?" She tried to shift the subject.

The mention of the upcoming event made each of them smile. "Hey, I have an idea, why don't we look for another table?" Amit suggested. "Looking at the stars can be relaxing."

"Is that why you're often up at the Astronomy Tower?" Poppy raised a brow. "Or you've been holding back on asking Samantha to the Yule Ball?"

"She does seem interested in you, Amit," Norah added. "...But, do you even want to take her to the ball?"

"I-I don't know yet," The Ravenclaw shrugged. "If the stars says it will be, then I will."

Natty chuckled. "You sound like my mother."

Amit frowned. "That will be in my memoir, just you all wait."

"And you've never even said if you liked her or not," Sebastian grinned. He turned to Norah. "Anyway, I got the edition of the evening prophet. Looks like Harlow was last seen near Keenbridge. He looked quite ghastly, according to people who spotted him. But he killed a few people who tried to call the authorities for help."

The mention of Harlow's name made Norah stand up straight. She immediately knew what to do. "Alright, I've heard people nearly become shells of their former selves," She said.

"I heard that place can really suck the happiness out of someone. With all those dementors guarding the cells," Poppy shuddered at the thought. "Those that are imprisoned there do end up becoming shells of their former selves...like devoid of any happiness or soul. Like those angry dugbogs under Ranrok's powers, or that dragon that attacked your carriage."

"It's hard to think someone like Harlow would have a soul to begin with. Him and his poacher pack have been torturing and killing beasts for sport," Natty pointed out with a frown. "If he is anything like Rookwood, and I'm sure he is, he won't stop until he acquires the power he once had. Even if it means coming after Norah or any of us again."

Ominis sighed. Norah patted his shoulder. "Then all the more we must stay here. As long as we're in Hogwarts, no harm can come to any of us," He said. "We're all safe here."

Norah wanted to do just that, but she knew in her heart that she couldn't walk away from a fight that would be laid out for her sooner or later.

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy angst #hogwarts legacy fluff #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #garreth weasley #leander prewett #amit thakkar #andrew larson #natsai onai #poppy sweeting #imelda reyes

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 7 months ago

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Mission Control 4

Warnings: non/dubcon, violence, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Captain Hydra

Summary: a man marches into your life on a mission

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You clean your leg again. The wound looks and feels little better than the night before. The pulsing ripple of pain is a constant reminder, not that you can get that man out of your mind. Or your life.

You get ready for work numbly. You’re just going through the motions. You don’t know what else you can do.

Colin never returned your call. None of them. The window is broken. You don’t care. The window doesn’t matter. Breaking glass is far from the worst thing this man can do.

You get on the bus wearily. You sit at the front. Each stop, you look up, expecting the man. Some teens, then a man with a walker. You tense up each time the breaks squeal. He’s taunting you again, without even being there.

When your stop comes up, you get off and stand at the stop a few minutes, searching. You don’t if it’s better to see him coming...

You cross the lot and enter the mall. You stop at the coffee shop and get a latte. It won’t help but the warmth might help whittle away at your rigid muscles. You go to the tea shop. This time, it’s Jeremy at the counter.

“Hey, sup?” He asks as he put out the sample pitcher of fruit punch iced tea.

“Nothing,” you answer, eye dart to the mall corridor and back to the counter.

“Oh? Security was asking about you this morning.”

“Um... what?” You turn to him, “they were?”

“Yeah, something about a report last night. Said they were following-up. Something happen?”

You don’t think you’ve ever seen him so concerned with anything. Not more than his phone. You shake your head.

“Just... a suspicious customer,” you shrug.

What’s the point in saying anything? You doubt his reaction will be any different than the police. Or that he could do anything more than offer empty platitudes. It’ll be okay. I’m sure the guy will get tired and leave you alone.

No, he won’t.

The look in his eye as he latched on and tore out your hair assured you of that. You can feel his grip, how strong he was, and you remember the way malice roiled off of him. He’s not just a man, he’s a monster.

“Hm, no surprise there,” Jeremy snorts. “Halloween collections coming tomorrow. This place is going to get stupid.”

“Of course,” you mutter without much thought.

You stare over the counter into the bright mall. Waiting. Watching. He wouldn’t do anything now. Now with Jeremy right there.

He would. He could. Last night on the bus, there were a dozen other passengers who didn’t give a shit about what he did. You put your hands on your head, gripping your skull as if it’s splitting in half. You show your teeth and whine.

“Woah, everything okay?” Jeremy moves towards you and you wince away from him.

“No! It’s not okay,” you spin and hurry into the back room. You grab your bag and your jacket and veer back out.

“Hey, where are you going?” He shouts as you race around the counter.

You don’t answer. You don’t have one. You just can’t stand still and wait for this man to show up again.

You charge through the mall and to the exit opposite the one you usually come in. You stop just outside, right before the tarmac and heave. What are you doing? Where are you going? Home isn’t safe. There’s nowhere else to go.

Your sister stopped talking to you when you called her boyfriend a deadbeat. Your parents took her side, like they always do, and the rest of your family doesn’t give a shit. Even if anyone did answer your call, they’d call you dramatic, or a liar. The latter is more likely.

The police didn’t listen either. Your landlord won’t fix your window or replace the chain, he won’t even bother to check his voicemail. So, what now?

You look around and your eyes snag on a dark figure. It’s him. Just beside one of the light poles. He stands unmoving, as motionless as the metal next to him. You trip backwards and twirl, bursting back into the mall.

You sprint through the corridors, ignoring the patrons as they send you looks, swerving and weaving around them. You turn and come out on the east side of the mall. You slow to catch your breath halfway across the lot.

What do you do? That stupid question has no goddamn answer. What are you doing? That one’s just as pointless.

You get to the patch of grass and climb up onto the sidewalk. You turn south and walk without seeing. Cars blow by on the street as you grip the straps of your knapsack. You just walk. No where in particular.

You cross and continue down the next block, and the one after that, and the one after that. When you’re dizzy and tired, you find a bench and sit. You bend forward and cradle your head. Your lungs burn, your legs too. Your head pounds from fatigue.

You just sit there. When you sense gentle brush next to you, weigh creaking on the slats of the bench, you don’t look. You already know. It doesn’t matter how he found you. The inevitability was a given.

Silent, still, you languish.

You flinch only as he wraps his hand around your wrist and forces your hand away from your head. You sit up and he stands. He tugs you with him. You sway on your feet and he strides forward. You stumble along with him. Not a word, not a glance in your direction.

He just marches on and you have no choice but to go with him.

#steve rogers #captain hydra #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #mission control #drabble #series #mcu #marvel #captain america #avengers

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talesofsorrowandofruin · 2 years ago

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Characters Out of Context Tag

Thanks for tagging me, @writernopal! :D

Rules: Include one character quote of your choosing ⁠from each chapter of your WIP (or as many chapters as you'd like). Give absolutely no context, save for what's between two parts of an interrupted sentence, should that occur. You may mention who said it. Have fun! No pressure!

These are from Silver Glass (under the cut because this got longer than expected):

Prologue:

"Am I to pack my bags?" Eames asked.

Chapter 1:

"I take it they didn't marry for love," he observed.

Chapter 2:

By now Yo-han was just about sick of this business. As soon as they were safely away he snapped, "You had better be leading me to the front door this time."

Chapter 3:

Yo-han poured himself another cup of tea. "I suspect it means Mr. Lennox wants me to judge for myself if his wife is trying to murder him."

Chapter 4:

David tried to change the subject. "Gibson complained rabbits are eating his cabbages again. He wants me and McCullagh to help him shoot them. Can I borrow your gun tomorrow?"

Chapter 5:

"But what does it mean?" Eames asked. "Half grim? Baron nine thirds? That's not a proper fraction!"

Chapter 6:

The dining room windows faced over the lough. Mr. Seo looked out at the other bank as if he expected to find the answer there. "Miss Patton, do you have a boat?"

Chapter 7:

When they reached the path that ran past Phil's house, she couldn't stand it any more. "I won't repeat what Miss Bennett said. Not even to Vi. Especially not to Vi."

Chapter 8:

"Do you think this is a time for play-acting and putting on such a… a ridiculous pantomime?" was what he said next.

Chapter 9:

Eames drew his breath in sharply. "You know almost everything," he said, apparently to himself. He still hadn't let go of Lennox. He rubbed his thumb almost absently over the back of Lennox's hand. "How did you find that out?"

Flashback 1:

"Go to the American embassy at Alexandretta," Sahak says. "A British warship is coming to save us. But dress him," he jerks his head in Davit's direction, "as a girl. They're killing all the men and boys."

Flashback 2:

"Really?" Alec looks startled. "I assumed you were Greek."

Flashback 3:

"I don't drink." Dzovik looks annoyed, maybe at having something in common with Alec.

Chapter 10:

Alec's breath hitched. Davit felt his heartbeat speed up. "Davit, do you understand? I'm sorry you killed her because… I don't know how to say it. I'm sorry for the effect it's had on you. If I could change the past I would stop you killing her to save you, not her."

Epilogue:

Leopold Colman hung his hat beside the door and took off his coat as he answered. "Better than the last one. Miss O'Hara managed to get one out of twenty lines right, and that idiot Jefferson has finally figured out which side of the stage to enter from. With any luck we'll be able to get through the first act without being booed off."

Open tag for anyone who wants to do this! ;D

#tag game #writing #my writing #my WIPs #WIP: glass

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pawnsandpantheons · 9 months ago

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Welcome to Pawns and Pantheons!

¹⁸⁺ . ᴰᵃʳᵏ ᶠᵃⁿᵗᵃˢʸ . ᶠᵃⁿᵗᵃˢʸ ᴴᵒʳʳᵒʳ . ᴵⁿᵗᵉʳᵃᶜᵗᶦᵛᵉ ˢᵘᵇ⁻ᵍᵃᵐᵉˢ . ᴬᵘᵗᵒᵐᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᴱᶜᵒⁿᵒᵐʸ ˢʸˢᵗᵉᵐ

Pawns & Pantheons is a dark fantasy ARPG (Art Roleplaying Game) welcoming to Artists, Writers, and those who simply wish to Roleplay. It is a setting over Fifteen Years in the making, and can best be described as a melting pot of settings such as Fromsoft and Berserk melded with the whimsy and mystique of a Studio Ghibli film.

You don't need to be able to draw or even be a confident writer to join, we welcome experienced artists and writers, and those who just need a welcoming space to start learning.

Come steer the fate of the world, create characters, enter a cycle of Death and Rebirth, complete quests, and become a playing piece on the chessboard of the Gods.

Sound interesting? Check out the rules below the cut! Alongside our Invite Link.

1. Be kind to one another please, this is meant to be fun. If you have an issue with another member, block em and move on. If someone blocks you please do not attempt to circumvent the block in any way.

2. If you have a problem, @ the mod role.

3. This is an 18+ server, do not lie about your age, please join us when you are an adult.

4. This setting has many dark things in it, and many dark topics will be explored. We do not have a blacklist of topics and we will never maintain one partially because I have memory issues and partially because I personally do not think they enhance servers in any way. If a topic comes up that you do not like, please quietly remove yourself from the conversation and join back in once the topic has passed, you do not need to announce you have left a conversation.

If you cannot handle dark topics being explored in a fictional setting this is probably not the ARPG for you, while I do not allow blatant uncensored sexual NSFW in the server in public roleplays things of various NSFW natures may be touched on, dark topics regarding sexuality, violence, toxic or unhealthy relationships both romantic and non, etc. In essence, the dark content here can be considered on level with media such as Berserk or Game of Thrones.

5. I will put TWs on plots regarding dark content, you will never be blindsided by things in plots if they fall under a common TW, if you need to know if a specific or unusual thing is touched on, ask me!

6. I do not police the relationships between people's OCs, what you do with your OCs, and what their relationships are is not my business or anyone but those OCs players, do not 'tattle' about what two players are doing with their characters to me. The answer will always be 'What happens between two fictional characters isn't my business if the players are consenting'

7. While I do not police OC relationships, but please keep sexual NSFW in DMs. Private room threads may go as far as a Fade to Black, but I don't want to be forced to moderate sexually explicit NSFW and I don't want my mods to have to. Violent NSFW or other NSFW may remain in the server.

8. If you read the rules pop a 🌹 emote into ⁠welcome to get your entry role.

9. Please do not resell items you received for free for real world currency, you may trade items for designs, other items, slots, etc, but not real currency.

7. Character references may have tasteful nudity.

8. If a mod asks you to drop a topic, please drop it immediately. Arguing about it will earn you a ban, I run this for fun, it's not a second job to me and I won't let it become one.

9. If you need help or don't understand something please let me and my team help you, we want you to have fun too, we don't bite and we aren't mean, just reach out.

10. No venting, we do not have a vent chat and never will.

11. Please keep selfies behind censors or censored links! Weird rule I know, I promise there's a reason for it though. You can leave pet pics or food pics uncensored however, no worries. DISCLAIMER

This is, first and foremost, a horror game with fantasy elements. The world is careless towards the troubles of its denizens at best and outright cruel at its worst, and its worst is its most common. While there are NPCs, plots, and overall moments that cut through the gloom as sparks of light, you should enter knowing that this is a Game that may be emotionally taxing if you are not the kind of person who likes near-relentless downers or who may be personally effected by bad things happening to your characters, whether physical, mental, or emotional. This is a game meant to be fun to people who derive enjoyment from putting their OCs through a horrific wringer and who delight in watching their characters suffer.

Which is not to say fun, funny, whimsical, beautiful things do not happen, that beautiful relationships don't blossom, and that close and tender moments between one's character and other characters, NPCs, or the world at large, do not happen, they absolutely do, but they are not the theme and are not constant, breathing room is often little and far between.

To use a TTRPG for example, many multiverse fantasy roleplays are a lot like DND, they're a fun power fantasy romp where the hero will almost always win in the end, where you can overcome any and every obstacle with self belief and friendship, where the Gods are on your side and if they aren't will surely be struck down, most games end with being paraded through the streets showered in gold, orphans find their parents miraculously alive or themselves miraculously adopted, and light always overpowers shadow.

P&P then is more like Trophy Dark, a grim, despairing, 'play to lose' game where the expected end goal is that the player will at best die, and at worst become something terrible and they will suffer and struggle all the way from the beginning, and where most of the light is just the end of an anglerfish's lure, a promise that only really resolves in more pain and devourment.

Further Tone examples: Dark Souls, Elden Ring, Berserk, When the Wind Blows, Plague Dogs, Watership Down if general Woundwort had Won, Undertale if it were the Genocide run every time forever, Neverending Story but it ends at the Swamp Scene, Shadow of the Colossus, Persona 3, Hollow Knight, Ori & The Blind Forest, Tale of Two Brothers, Dead by Daylight, Rainworld, The Road, Princess Mononoke, Pathologic, Fear & Hunger, Devilman Crybaby, Goodnight Punpun, Nier, Drakengard, Clannad After Story, What Remains of Edith Finch.

In essence, while I absolutely do not want to scare anyone off or make it sound worse than it is, I do want to keep people safe, if you don't find it fun to be cruel to your characters, if you have a hard time separating IC suffering from OOC suffering, you aren't going to enjoy your characters potentially being broken mentally|physically|emotionally, then I would encourage you to err on the side of caution and not join us for your own mental and emotional safety and wellbeing.

Ready to Go?

#roleplay #roleplaying group #RP group #discord RP #discord roleplay #fantasy #dark fantasy #horror #horror fantasy #horror rp #horror roleplay

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rolandrockover · 1 year ago

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Why Unholy Is the Only Real Demon Song

This little essay was supposed to be called "Why Unholy is not a demon song", which in the end I preferred not to implement, because it could have led to unnecessary Misperceptions (0). Why this could be so, I suppose, should become clear in the course of reading.

I would like to approach the matter, however, only slowly, in which I first of all put the question into the room, what basically, a demon actually is. In the general explanation of terms, a demon is defined as a spirit or a fateful power, roughly but foundationally. Starting from this spirit sphere of its existence it exerts influence on the human being. This definition is to form the essence of my line statement to my way of looking at the textual content of Unholy.

In the course of the history of mankind and the parallel developing of mythologies and religion formations it is to be observed how the conception of a demon has developed slowly from spirit form up to various to a variety physical manifestations. This pure embodiment of the concept of a demon remains of course to be metaphorical.

However, it may well be seen that those very symbolic embodiments form the bridge to what is accepted as a demon in our common western culture: A supernatural being, with powers, bat wings, attachments to hell, evil red eyes, or just simply… Gene? A mixture of trash, fantasy & pop culture. Within this framework we can see or read them everywhere. In books, movies, or computer games, or wherever. I would like to say goodbye to this concept as quickly as possible, but before that I want to also ask what the pre '92 so-called demon songs were all about?

God of Thunder:

is a potpourri, made up of Greek and Norse mythology, an inverted changeling becoming a derivation of Superman, and … Rock and Roll? In other words, it is nothing less than epic nonsense (1). When I claim that they had no clue what they were writing and singing about, I don't think I'm taking too big a risk. I close this song for the sake of simplicity without further ado as Atmospheric Dadaism, that basically served its purpose quite well (2).

Almost Human:

obviously serves the werewolf motif - with a good dash of horniness. As much as I love the song, not much more can be said about it.

War Machine:

is hitting the shit a lot harder. It more or less gives free rein to a fantasy of violence lead by a call for regency of the fist over society - If of necessity, then even by pure forceful breaking the laws of nature in two. Similar to God of Thunder Demons merely make it in as a side note, but this time only to demonstrate the pure wickedness of the non-demonic spokesman. The latter gets pure satisfaction by calling for the release of all demons, and finds pleasure in the midst of the chaos he creates.

Does that make this song a demon song? Only very conditionally, in my opinion. One could ask oneself if this could be a foreshadowing of the planned removal of the make-up for the release of Creatures of the Night, considering that the title character is "only" human, and not a changeling, werewolf or anything else, thus demonstrating that this human being, the unmasked Gene, is quite capable of not only competing with demons, but even being superior to them in pure attitude. If this were indeed the case, I would find it rather regrettable not to have been true to this line in the following years. (3).

And what about Unholy?

What is that actually about? It's about mankind, or, more precisely, it is about mankind and its fundamental core structures. Or even more precisely, about their elected representatives, and their ways and methods to direct and control this man-made world. In a nutshell: a social psychological exposition… from the point of view of a demon! And this demon speaks quasi as the personification of the entire history of mankind in its fundamental order, and, more or less accuses all of us of being complicit in it. And Gene (4) gave it a mouth to be able to do that.

So, if for this purpose it is expressly considered that the sphere of spirit within which a demon exists represents nothing else than a splitting off of our own negative qualities - a pure projection of ourselves, this must be understood as a distancing, or rather as a washing clean of our own sins (5). This alone is the reason for the conception of demons.

You really have to let this abstraction sink in a bit first, in order to be able to understand it properly at all. Only then, with this full awareness of what hard stuff it basically is, should one also approach the fact that this entity's indictment certainly does not ponder the sunny side of our society. And let us add to this that the history of mankind is built at its core on war and enslavement (6) - for which power is clearly needed. And to gain, or increase, power, control is necessary. Speaking of control, let's also touch on the subject of religion, using the example of the Christianity in Unholy. I will try to concretize the symbolism contained in it a bit the way i see it:

In the search for meaning in existence, it is natural for man to have faith and spirituality (7). This natural need for faith is basically intercepted, and replaced by the substitute product of religion, which serves to take control over the life of soul and faith. One might say, thus isolating the seeker of faith from the true divine streams of this world respectively this universe. From this point on, the cycle of pain would begin. Suicide is forbidden in the Christian religion and represents a sin and does not permit the entrance into the promised heavenly kingdom. So should one dedicate oneself to this scheme devoutly on all fours, one just gets a cross placed on his grave after his death. This would bring no benefit to oneself, neither here on earth nor a uncertain kingdom of heaven, nor whatever bliss - because the cross only serves smybolically to demonstrate to the living that ones spirit belonged fully and completely to the power superior to one forever. In Unholy, furthermore, it is suggested that suicide is the true salvation from this misery. Which would also make more than just sense within this structure, if the body (enslavement) and the spirit (religion) are controlled by a power superior to me.

Unholy, however, might want to penetrate Christianity a little further. One could well see the demonic values split off from man, as a parable to the fall of Lucifer from the kingdom of heaven. And why? In the Kingdom of Heaven of God, there are two realms on His side. The right (hand). And the left (hand). To dwell at the right hand of God is usually considered the more preferable position because authority, power and strength are inherent in it (8). The Bible also mentions that Jesus was favored to sit in this place after his resurrection (9). On the left side of God, on the other hand, the Bible revealed, would be no one - and this should not change until the coming ages (10). Opposite it often remains asked whether this had not been the place of Lucifer. And so much for the father of lies.

In this, Unholy differs from the old, classic demon songs, and that is why Unholy is the only true, dogmatic demon song. It is about the evil that men do. To other men. It probably wouldn't even be too thoughtless to sound out a little less how very overrated Unholy supposedly is. Because in my own opinion, at least the lyrics of this song is still merciless and completely underrated.

Unholy (1992)

youtube

Side notes:

(0) However, as life goes, this title has also led to some huge misconceptions in the past. But hey, so what?

(1) Richard Wagner twisted through a pop culture distortion would not be a bad description either

(2) I am, of course, sticking to the final album version, and not the demo (thought out by Paul Stanley alone, with a greater emphasis on the Greek mythology).

(3) If you wanted it that way you could include Not for the Innocent (and All Hell's breakin' loose) in this attitude scheme, although I don't see any demon motif in it at all, but only the attempt to express that one is dealing with really bad guys here. If Kiss were universe-building in their lyrics, one could assume this (and the apocalyptic theme of the Lick it up videos) was as a direct consequence of the intended world overthrow out of War Machine. Sadly, this attitude was overthrown, too, as I have already indicated.

(4) Or Vinnie for that matter. Or both. I don't care, it's all about the content here.

(5) And we are all aware of these sins. That is why we're feeliing so…

(6) From deepening sexual debauchery, involved in it, or just general sexuality, in detail apart.

(7) Even in certain ape species such as gorillas, place-based spirituality has been observed, with identical behavioral patterns noted. Ask Jane Goodall.

(8) (Genesis 48:14 - 19, Exodus 15:6, Isaiah 23:11, 41:10, 45:1, Revelation 1:16 - 17, etc.)

(9) (Matthew 28:18)

(10) (cf. Revelation 22:3)

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bowandcurtsey · 2 years ago

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Hello!! How’s it goin? Hope your having an amazing day

For your 1.7k event request, may I request a fluff fic Liebe x reader Modern!Roomate!AU? I just love your fics and they are very entertaining!!

{1700 event}

Hi Lane ~ (≧ω≦) Thank you for requesting this!! We have another Room mate AU on our hands here!!

I also realise that room mates could mean different meaning in different places so to clarify, the room mate I'm writing for is that both reader & character are staying in the same house, but different rooms. Some places call it house-mates.

AU: Modern, Room mate AU Characters: Liebe x f! reader (Liebe is a human in this fic!)

The new tenant is cute AF.

You texted your bestie Hana the moment you met him. He was a cool, a little awkward and shy all mixed together. He had ash grey fluffy hair and he pulled the colour off effortlessly, unlike those punks in your school. Thank god for your landlord, Mrs Charmy for picking such a cute new tenant.

Send pics please!!

Your bestie pleaded as you giggled to yourself, replying for her to come see him for herself.

Over the next few days you tried to be at home most of the time, so you could increase the frequency of interaction with him. You tried to make every occurrence seem like a coincidence; taking a "break" from your studies, going to the bathroom, making a snack... You had to rack your brains to make it seem natural.

You tried to make small talks but all Liebe gave were brief and straight to the point answers. He wasn't rude but he wasn't your Mr Friendly either.

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

"Omg he's really a cutie!" Hana squealed in your room when she came over on a "study date"

You had to shush her in case Liebe heard her.

"Even his name is cool," Hana spoke in a hushed tone, "is he from around here?"

"His parents are mixed German and Japanese!" you whisper-squealed back.

"I'll try to ask for his number!" Hana giggled.

You felt a sudden tinge of jealousy. Although it was your bestie, but this was your room mate and you set your eyes on him first. You couldn't help but wonder if Liebe would like Hana and what would happen if they ended up dating.

"No. I don't give my number to strangers." Even his rejection was cool. Hana was so embarrassed that she didn't come over to your place again.

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

Finals were around the corner and you had to study real hard to get into the college of your dreams: Clover College.

You burned many midnight oils and sometimes even forgot your meals. Sometimes Liebe would have extras from his work places and you would happily wolf them down and get back into studying.

One day, you were studying way past midnight again but you were feeling slightly under the weather today. Your eyelids were heavier than usual and your head was spinning a little.

2am. you looked at the clock. You contemplated if you should go on or throw in the towel for the night.

10 mins break and I'll finish up this chapter and call it a night. You told yourself as you slowly let your head down on your forearms, taking an eye shutter for a moment. Little did you know, you fell asleep right on the study desk.

When you jolted awake, it was almost dawn. You had slept for 4 hours. Your neck felt super sore and you tried to stretch your arms that were numb. You felt something fall off you. It was a blanket.

Strange. You don't remember putting on a blanket. You realised the study lamp was also turned off and the light was actually from the first rays of the morning sun.

You decided to take a warm shower to relax your muscles.

Your neck still hurt when you came out of the shower but your tummy rumbled when the aroma of chicken soup hit your nostrils. You followed the smell to the common room and saw Liebe who looked like he came back from a run.

Damn, did he look hot in his joggers and how is his hair still so fluffy and cute after a run?

"Awake?" he looked at you as he wiped off some sweat with his towel, "have some breakfast. Macaroni and chicken soup."

You couldn't question much as your legs automatically sat you at the table. He scooped some soup and macaroni into a smaller bowl and placed it in front of you.

"It shouldn't be too hot to eat this way." He scooped some for himself as he sat across you and ate as well.

You wolfed down the entire bowl at once. Liebe just took the bowl from you and scooped a second helping for you, emptying the contents of the container.

"it's okay, it's enough for me-" you rejected, feeling embarrassed that you finished his food.

"Eat. It's for your cold." he simply pushed the bowl in front of you again, and disappeared into the kitchen.

You blinked. He bought this specially for you?

You ate your food slowly now, savouring every spoonful of this thoughtful meal when Liebe appeared with 2 asprins and a cup of water.

"Once you're done with your food, take this and go back to sleep."

Liebe always spoke cooly, without much emotions but this sentence felt warm and tingly and you couldn't help but feel a tint of blush flashing across your cheeks and your heart rate rapidly increasing.

"h-how do you know I have a cold?" you ask quietly while you ate your soup, you couldn't even look him in the eye now, you felt like your heart was exploding.

"You have a slight fever when you fell asleep on your table. You have had a runny nose for days now. It's no surprise since you've been burning so many midnight oils for 4 weeks now, I'm surprised your body didn't give way sooner."

"so the blanket..."

"Mrs Charmy's not around this week, so there's only me, right?"

"T-thank you.."

"finish up your food and take your meds then go to bed."

"I still have some more chapters to finish, then i'll sleep."

Liebe sighed. "Listen, y/n. Grades aren't everything in life. Your health will always come first. Besides, this ain't the way to study. Lack of sleep causes bad memory. You'll be less likely to remember the things you study."

You peeked at him. He looked so handsome with his white fringe swept across his forehead.

"I'm no good with studying. But I graduated from college somehow and I found a job I like. I have friends from prestigious college and they can't graduate because the standards are fucking high. And some of them graduate but can't find a job."

He patted your head, sending chills all the way down your spine.

"Take care of your health, nothing is more important than that." He took the empty bowl from your hand and gave the medicine to you. He passed you the water as you gulped down the pills.

"Thank you, Liebe." you managed to squeak out.

He cleared the table and went into the kitchen.

You floated back to your room and laid on your bed. Your head was light but not because of your fever, but because you were on cloud nine from what just happened. You smiled as you drifted off to sleep.

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

When Mrs Charmy wasn't in to cook, Liebe always bought food back and made sure you ate your meals. He even made sure you always hydrated yourself. Some days he brought some sweets or fruits and made you take breaks to have them.

A week before the finals, he bought some pudding and both of you sat at the dining table and ate.

You couldn't help but ask, "Why the sudden change in attitude towards me?"

"huh?" he cocked his head to one side.

"Like, you weren't this caring towards me when you first came."

"I thought you knew what you were doing. Studying at night doesn't mean it's wrong. I used to study at night because the peace and tranquility of the night helped me to focus better. Until I realised you were a wreck when you got sick."

"How did you know I was sick?"

He gave a small laugh, "did you see yourself? I thought I saw a ghost when you walked past my room one day."

You smacked him playfully on the arm.

"Also, you think nobody could hear you coughing and blowing your runny nose all the time?"

"oh my god, sorry if I disturbed you..." it dawned on you that you were being an inconsiderate room mate.

"No. I'm not an early sleeper anyway. Good luck for next week by the way."

"Thank you, and for taking care of me the past 2 months."

"I'll bring you somewhere once your finals is over." Liebe suddenly said.

"Where?"

"I'll tell you when the day comes."

"like... on a date?" you pursed your lips, trying not to burst into a huge goofy grin.

He laughed, "so I take that as a yes, to go on a date with me?"

You nodded shyly.

"Focus on your exams and do well, so you won't be all mopey on our date."

#aine's 1700 event #black clover liebe hcs #liebe black clover headcanons #liebe x reader #black clover liebe x reader #black clover au #black clover headcanons #black clover imagine #black clover x reader #black clover scenarios #black clover fanfiction #black clover imagines

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horizon-verizon · 2 years ago

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Criston Cole--HotD & Canon Characterization and Headcanons

Inspired by this post by rosehathaways-sidepiece.

(I think that this is one of the better written characters of the show, but it’s not coincidental that he is one of the HotD characters who has least changes from the book.)

Criston’s vows as a Kingsguard, a knight, and as a man all are interwoven into this thick ball of self worth that’s he’s pulled a thread from and unraveled when he slept with Rhaenyra. But he’s a hypocrite. And yes he hates Rhaenyra from misogyny, the vows he takes and values stem from an inherently sexist system that facilitates the Madonna Whore complex he has w/Rhaenyra and women in general.

Prostitutes a "natural" fixture for the purpose of men who "need" an outlet and are "entitled to it", thus he didn't attack that one proprietor, esp when he's trying to stay on the down low asking her questions.

ONE

The First and Common Criticisms of Criston Cole

The most controversial argument I’ve put out there to people outside of Tumblr was that Criston Cole would have been fine (or better) if he had just kept his mouth shut about sleeping with Rhaenyra and that he has the room and ability to control himself from attacking Joffrey in public.

Others argued for how guilty he felt for his cloak’s “soiling” and/or how he would be castrated or executed for having sex despite his vows. That to him, his oaths matter more than base, material pride. That he was a commonborn man trying to get ahead in a court order f high born lords against social mobility

The problems with these are:

he comes from the stormlands house of Cole whose overlord is House Dondarrion; he is a nobleman. A petty noble, but still noble with some privileges. Canonically. The show makes it seem he was not noble.

yes there would be some tension over a petty noble knight rising to become a princess/prince/royal's guardsman, but honestly, the Kingsguard position is open to any knight and the decision to choose one falls entirely on the Monarch

that the show makes it easy to suspect that Cole felt he couldn’t say no to Rhaenyra when she invited him in episode 4 so we don’t know if he wanted Rhaenyra, or if he just felt the need to say yes, or if it was both (more below, in "TWO")

he was actually using the excuse of “honor” to marry Rhaenyra, not love; his metaphorical cloak is stained and he wants to make up for that with marriage

But:

running away to elope would bring great disgrace to both his and Rhaenyra’s families--not just Rhaenyra herself. So how does this make sense, the honor argument?

as a member of the Kingsguard, he only answers to the King and does not have to follow any orders from Rhaenyra that compromise his purpose and position. In this way, Cole has a lot more leeway than if we see a woman in his position. A woman cannot be a Kingsguard, can't even be a knight.

Thus, he does have leeway to use Rhaenyra’s approach against her.

He could have used the fact that he took celibacy vows against Rhaenyra....

But chose to sleep with her anyway.

He, again, only answers to the King.

He has been living in court being Rhaenyra’s personal guard for years. Some of us thought that he should have known that nobles largely do not follow the same rules that excuse their positions through rumors. That they withhold and lie to protect themselves. (And generally, humans are wont to try to bend their own rules to satisfy their own desires.)

And so we think that he should have done the same--patiently withhold information and observe what happens so he could adapt to it--while Alicent was getting to ask if Rhaenyra had slept with Daemon, and not if he slept with her.

It may not be faithful to one's vows, but if he actually knew what kind of person Rhaenyra was, that she would never run away with him (as he should after so many years of being with her and thus I think he did know but asked anyway, this he never really cared about her but himself), then he should have never brought up the suggestion of running away or thought she'd ever marry him. What exactly did he think would happen for him after sleeping w/her? And as I argued, he had much more choice than some may think and took advantage of it. As nobles often do.

Rhaenyra is not special for being a noble/royal woman and having either/both premarital and extramarital sex and/or having illegitimate children. People be having sex. She’s unlucky enough to not get away with it because others (Otto) wanted power and used her actions against her.

TWO

HotD has once again purposefully inserted ethical wrongness into a female character when there wasn't any, or little, reason to suspect any. Messing with Rhaenyra's characterization in order to make her more CoMpLeX at expense of her story about Criston making unwanted advances on her and telling a better story where we espy the entitlement that a person may feel after having been ensured the protection of a young girl most of her life.

In the book, there are 2 versions of what happened to Rhaenyra from Septon Eustace and Mushroom. Here is Eustace's account. Here is Mushroom's.

I'd argue that it is far more likely that book!Criston had wanted to take advantage of Rhaenyra rather than for her to actually sleep with him. She definitely had a crush on him that promotes her to choose him as guardsman for herself (and not Kingsguard); she chose him when she was 7 or so, though.

Plus, the idea of a"lady" (princess in this case, but this figure is supposed to be a female noble) and her knight having secret, impassioned, forbidden liaisons is a feature of the Westerosi courtly romance (by virtue of the fact that it is similar to and modelled after real life medieval courtly romances). In real courtly romance, the blockage is usually that the lady being married while her lover ensures his spiritual devotion to her, unable to ever consummate his love for her but willing to sacrifice his strength and life and attention into a spear of devotion for his lady love. All which narratively is supposed to also elevate the lady because such devotion has its religious precedents of the devour to the Virgin Mary or God. There was also influence from Islamic mystical philosophy that characterized and describes the condition of romantic love/erotic desire as being an "illness" of a certain ecstasy.

The devotion reflects on the lady's supposed worthiness of being "worshipped". And courtly love was conceived as an "experience" somewhere b/t erotic desire and spiritual attainment, "a love at once illicit and morally elevating, passionate and disciplined, humiliating and exalting, human and transcendent" (Francis X. Newman (1968). The Meaning of Courtly Love).

These are guidelines/principles/expectations traditions for the love game, as written by the 12th cen. Frenchman, Andreas Capellanus, in "De Arte Honeste Amandi" ("The Art of Courtly Love").

Marriage is no real excuse for not loving

He who is not jealous cannot love

No one can be bound by a double love

It is well known that love is always increasing or decreasing

That which a lover takes against the will of his beloved has no relish

Boys do not love until they arrive at the age of maturity

When one lover dies, a widowhood of two years is required of the survivor

No one should be deprived of love without the very best of reasons

No one can love unless he is impelled by the persuasion of love

Love is always a stranger in the home of avarice

It is not proper to love any woman whom one would be ashamed to seek to marry

A true lover does not desire to embrace in love anyone except his beloved

When made public love rarely endures

The easy attainment of love makes it of little value; difficulty of attainment makes it prized

Every lover regularly turns pale in the presence of his beloved

When a lover suddenly catches sight of his beloved, his heart palpitates

A new love puts to flight an old one

Good character alone makes any man worthy of love

If love diminishes, it quickly fails and rarely revives

A man in love is always apprehensive

Real jealousy always increases the feeling of love

Jealousy, and therefore love, are increased when one suspects his beloved

He whom the thought of love vexes eats and sleeps very little

Every act of a lover ends in the thought of his beloved

A true lover considers nothing good except what he thinks will please his beloved

Love can deny nothing to love

A lover can never have enough of the solaces of his beloved

A slight presumption causes a lover to suspect his beloved

A man who is vexed by too much passion usually does not love

A true lover is constantly and without intermission possessed by the thought of his beloved

Nothing forbids one woman being loved by two men or one man by two women.

Since, at the time, Rhaenyra was not married (one subversion) but still outside of Cole's reach due to their large difference of rank & degree and her father never agreeing to this (and his later devotion to the Kingsguard and its vows), Cole's supposed love for Rhaenyra, instead of being "pure" and steady, is corrupted through longing and closeness with the selfish desire to possess, claim, and eventual predation. Rhaenyra could have very well been pedestalizes to make Criston's longing "worth it"; his attraction to her translates as platonic devotion and image of body-mental purity. As long as she stays "pure", he could long and worship from afar, but if she's getting intimate with people (Daemon) "unworthy" of her....

The two genres of courtly romance and in chivalric romances are interconnected, since the motif of psuedo-submissive devotion is central to the cultural identity of the knight figure and his masculinity. Rhaenyra staying "spiritually pure" is a way for Criston to affirm his own self-sacrificing strength as a successful knight/Andal male warrior.

Such stories is both familiar and tantalizing for those nobles observing or reading; Mushroom uses this tale to say that Rhaenyra was the one to pursue Cole and the twist it into Rhaenyra being the unseemly one, the one looking for sex for the sake of scandalizing his audience (esp when we add his addition of her sleeping with Harwin after Criston supposedly rejected her). Even if he did believe it, he wouldn't stop himself from embellishing. Then he is also very interested in inserting himself into Rhaenyra's sexual activities to gain more attention and imaginary intimacy with his object of desire--Rhaenyra herself. Mushroom, honestly is like the bawdier kind of devolved bard because, as a jester and a dwarf, he'd be less valued or listened to as these events were happening. But after the Dance, then gain credence to build on and realize a fantasy that he might have always had. Like the bards and troubadours of real EU history who created and promoted courtly and chivalric romances in their songs and others, Mushroom wished to immortalize himself--gain an audience, a historical one, that would use him as a source of the events that occurred around him. He went about it in a much more tawdry way, of course, but his desire is evident

More reasons for Cole being the rejected pursuer: Again, her house pride BUT also, we see at her wedding tourney that Criston gets very angry at her public refusal of his request from her favor. Why would he be so angry if she was the one to approach him for sex and he was the one to immediately reject her advances, as Mushroom relates? He would have already protected his celibacy and have reason to avoid Rhaenyra or hold his head up high for sticking to his values after she refuses to give him her favor.

But instead, he gets excessively angry, which indicates she rejected him sex completely, there was no one night stand or affair and that made him feel small enough to be excessively violent and forever disparage her, call her a whore, etc.

If his lady love/beloved and "goddess" rejected him and his attempts to "rescue" her...wouldn't there be a break in that relationship (another subversion of the courtly romance narrative)? Wouldn't Rhaenyra likely end their relationship and/or avoid him even if she still has a crush, why would it be enough against her desire to become Queen and the danger Criston could present to her after he made his interest known and she rejected him the first time? Thus the murderous, possessive anger he displayed.

Ironically (or rather pointedly) the idea of the courtly love game was that the lady became the one holding the political power that troubadours and courtiers seek favors from, as aristocratic life became more and more centered around on inside the castles/aristocratic residences by the 1200s. But we see in Fire and Blood a case for how Rhaenyra was made a victim of near-SA.

Finally, I think she wouldn't approach Cole because we see that she compiled to marry Laenor after he father told her he would reconsider her as his heir if she continues to insist on Daemon (she wants power and love, unwilling to totally sacrifice one when her uncle is not even available by being married to Rhea Royce and Viserys being so distrustful), she has shown much more trust and affection towards Daemon than Cole, AND a childhood crush is like to peter out in rha faced her Targ-uncle bond. Even without that bond, we don't have any trustworthy evidence of Rhaenyra's crush developing into anything deeper when Daemon was absent.

THREE

But let’s consider Criston the character's immediate environment in accordance to his position and how it shapes how he views his psychology and personal philosophy:

Because he is Rhaenyra’s guard and she definitely wouldn’t have forced herself to spend much time with the courtiers for long--especially after Alicent has birthed sons for Viserys by episode 3--he then wouldn’t have had to interact or be around with much nobles at court to observe them (but it’s more than that--Point “D” below).

Being a steward’s son is not a bad deal. A steward of a noble house, like real life medieval stewards and the Night’s Watch stewards:

are responsible for an assortment of critical functions, providing vital day-to-day services for their brothers on the wall. They hunt and farm, tend horses, gather firewood, cook meals, make clothing, maintain weapons, and bring the supplies needed

His father was either a lesser noble-born vassal working for the Dondarrions as a steward or a common-born vassal steward of a well-off noble house. Again, this means he himself was a nobleman, not a commonborn

I look to the Tyrells who used to be the High Stewards of the House Gardner before Aegon I for the “noble steward” scenario, but even then, the dad was still a steward benefiting from running important tasks for the House he was serving and thus living close to or in the castle itself.

Criston's father would be in a position that privileges him like how the Hand position privileges the Hand, since the proximity to the power lends him more influence and advantage than others.

So, it’s not likely that Criston was ever materially lacking. But he made the choice to try to be something more, having the will and ambition to leave and fight in melees, tourneys, and (in the show) battles against Storm’s End.

It’s possible that he and his father experienced some prejudice from some nobles around him (we don’t get a lookie in the show, but oh well). But seriously, any and all peasants would have because this is a feudal society. Criston and his father would not be special for it.

Again, if anything they would have been treated better than most other servants and peasants.

At the same time, noblemen tend to inherit privileges and powers that make that idealized “glory” more accessible to them. And the higher/richer ones are the ones who would use him and are the ones he used to rise.

His military prowess is only valuable to these nobles and is his currency to move up in this highly stratified and rigid social hierarchy. But like his father, he thus has some more privilege, this time more than your average warrior.

We also remember that Criston is written as Kingmaker, and it's not a nice title. He's remembered as a traitor and getting too involved in politics, going above his station or purpose as. Kingsguard. Jaime Lannister points this out in AGoT.

I think he would have developed into thinking he was--in one way--“better” than those nobles around him for being able to beat the game and for proving how “pure” of heart and worthy he was.

Compromise is not in Cole’s vocabulary.

If he heard the gossip and learned about the nobles’ slippings and he never learned to create an identity for himself that wasn’t determined by how low in rank he was next to these high nobles, I imagine that he’d feel self-satisfied every time he hear a courtier slipping. Quietly enjoying himself and sing their slipping to bulster how “right” he is and is acting. Further and further diving deep into that well of purity and a sense of moral superiority.

But he’s still defining his basic identity through the models of masculinity and military prowess-x-sexual purity values.

Being Kingsguard locks him out of the typical ways a man can find their glory/purpose: marrying a high(/er) status, rich(/er), (better)family connections or (better)well-resourced woman/girl; have children to pass down their family name, trade or legacy; or have kids that would become people who later do praiseworthy deeds. He can only rely on being a Kingsguard if he wants to be that perfect model or fulfill that ambition to be “the best” man.

So that would explain why he wouldn’t bother to be as crafty or willing to be more cunning as these nobles or at least try to think like them. Because he develops a superiority complex along with his inferior one.

Quick Notes

his nonnoble background: how hard and persistent he had to be to climb up to even get noticed by Rhaenyra and other nobles before her; having had feelings of inferiority being the son of a steward and having been around nobles who may not have respected him nor his father

how highly he values being a knight: which is supposed to be a high ideal of masculine prowess and excellence (you don’t hear anything about female knights except here and there and knighthood is customarily reserved for men)

what else being a Kingsguard means to him (pt.1): not only has he troubled the idea that one’s "blood” and class determines whether you will rise or gain any sort of power in this feudal system that prioritizes family lines, he’s now part of a unit in charge of protecting the king and the heir even being as lowborn as he is

what else being a Kingsguard means to him (pt.2): how he has taken vows that make him a strong religious example of piety and morality --> he’s not just a great warrior, he’s a “holy” knight of sorts because his vows bind him to a conceived “higher” duty

So no, Criston is trying to distance himself from the “soiling” and trying to replace his honor through another sacred bond and through another set of sacred vows when he proposed to Rhaenyra.

He was attracted to her, but his main motivation was to escape the shame of his soiled cloak and soiled honor. That his honor is actually a lie, a made-up thing in itself. That he, himself, soiled it and thus he, himself, has made himself a liar.

This is what makes him end up as someone else's figurative and existential "slave", at least in seeming to some fans.

#criston cole #hotd comment #fire and blood comment #rhaenyra targaryen #alicent hightower #hotd accountability #fire and blood characters #criston cole's characterization #hotd #asoiaf #fire and blood

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