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danni-dollarsign · 4 years ago

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A Critical Look at “Pokemon: Sword and Shield” From a Casual’s Perspective...

A/N: Hey! if you’re reading this, then thank you! I don’t know why, but I thought to myself, “Hey, wouldn’t it be cool to write a pointless essay about a Pokemon game?” And then I realized today was the 1YR anniversary of SWSH, so I figured I might as well just do it! So even though I’m late and probably nobody will really care to read all this nonsense, I wrote it! If you’re interested in all the analyses of PKMN SWSH, but aren’t too invested in the technical mumbo-jumbo used by the more hardcore fans, then maybe you’ll enjoy this.

Also, it’s worth mentioning that I’m literally just some rando on the internet saying my opinion. None of this should really be taken SUPER seriously - it’s mainly designed to provoke thought rather than try to argue any specific idea. So if I say something that you don’t agree with, you got two options: 1) Draft a constructive comment or DM to me and we can discuss calmly like adults, 2) shake your idea and ignore this. There’s really no need to get heated up over a video game essay, of all things, so let’s not do that lol.

But other than that, yeah! If you’re interested in more stuff like this from me (in-depth analyses of Pokemon games from the perspective of a low-key casual), lemme know! I’d love to chat with anyone about this awesome series.

So, without any further ado, let’s get into the essay (warning: it’s like ~8k words).

Introduction...

Welcome to the wonderful world of Pokemon! Love it or hate it, Pokemon has had a huge impact on popular culture in countless countries in a number of different ways, sparking memes, dreams, and happiness everywhere! It holds a very special place in my heart - Pokemon was a game that I got to share with my two older siblings, was one of the first fandoms I got into, and was a big reason as to why I grew to love creative writing so much after writing a couple fanfictions for the games. I’ve been playing Pokemon ever since my brother gave me a copy of Pokemon: Ruby and have been a devoted fan ever since. While I may not be super into the strategy and damn near mathematical aspects of gameplay, I’d like to consider myself a relatively knowledgeable fan with enough extra knowledge to give a look at one of these games from a casual, yet analytical view. So what game other than the newest title, Pokemon: Sword and Shield, with its release anniversary being today? In this casual online essay, I hope to describe all my thoughts of Sword and Shield (which I’ll shorten down to just “SWSH”) from the perspective of the everyday Pokemon fan.

General Gameplay...

Many top-title games of Nintendo are best known for their simplicity: in Super Mario Bros, you’re a mustachioed red guy jumping on monsters to try and save some random princess (who may or may not be in this castle); in The Legend of Zelda, you’re a green elf-looking guy slashing wildly at monsters with a sword given to you by some old guy in hopes of defeating some ultimate bad guy; and in Pokemon, you’re a child wandering around the region catching monsters who also accidentally saves the world before becoming the very best (like no-one ever was). And while the games themselves have grown from that initial stylistic simplicity, some have lost that creative in-depthness in favor of being playable for children. This is probably the biggest issue with the newer Pokemon games as of late.

Regardless, let’s look into the playability of SWSH.

It’s played like your regular Pokemon game; you’re a kid who journeys to become the Champion of Pokemon Battling with your friend, catching monsters known as “Pokemon” with pocket-sized balls dubbed “Pokeballs.” But I’m sure you’re all aware of that information, and are instead asking “Well, what’s the deeper plot?” Yeah, no, that’s it. You’re a kid catching Pokemon to become champion - oh, and you also accidentally save the world from a power-hungry businessman - but that’s neither here nor there.

Plot aside, the game is a bit barebones. It’s pretty linear gameplay (literally linear - the map of the Galar region is almost exactly a straight-line waltz from Postwick to Wyndon, which is a bit weird after dealing with the giant, sprawling maps of earlier generations) where you travel from place to place, beating gyms and catching ‘mons, before getting into a couple scuffles and becoming champion. For an RPG-styled game, it comes off as much too simplistic for older fans (I’d even reason that it’s too simplistic for younger players, as well). While I will say, I don’t exactly miss the days of hopelessly wandering around a pixel city, trying desperately to figure out how to move on to the next town because the answer to the puzzle is hidden in this giant area that my little peanut-brain couldn’t figure out at the time. But it is a bit demeaning to get “Hey, do you know where to go?” and “Hey, follow me so you don’t get lost!” and “Oh, yeah, want another tutorial on how to easily catch Pokemon for the fourth time in a row?” every two seconds in a city where there’s only two places to check out.

But we can’t really discuss the gameplay of Pokemon without discussing the highlights of the region. Ever since the transition from 2D to 3D, Pokemon games have begun a trend of gimmicks - which I like to call “battle enhancers” - that they use to add uniqueness to their games. X&Y had Mega Evolution, Sun and Moon (and USUM) had Z-Moves, and now we have Dynamax! As we all know, battle enhancers are the strategy by which the player uses some extraterrestrial/magic stone to physically enhance one pokemon at a time for a certain period of time - in the case of Dynamax, the pokemon either grows in size or changes in form, gaining the ability to use special type-based attacks for a duration of three turns.

Honestly, I think it’s a pretty fun mechanic! Dynamax combines the good components of both Z-Moves and Mega Evolution - new forms, awesome moves, and a ticking clock. It adds a bit more strategy to the battle enhancer, where the player actually has to plan out who and when to Dynamax (though it’s really not that hard - most everyone will save it for their ace or the pokemon with the type advantage at the very end of the battle, because that’s what you do). But it’s fun and creative, making the battle a bit more exciting when you see your beloved ace become gargantuan on a field while the audience chants in excitement. Initially, I was skeptical of the battle enhancer, but once I threw myself into the game and really got into it, I felt it was fun and cool for the region. My feelings were further improved when I learned that Dynamax was inspired by the idea that the Nintendo Switch had the potential to be played on the TV as well as in a hand-held mode. The idea of turning pokemon “big” on a “big-screen” is really just so cute to me, really. Overall, it’s a fitting concept that is paired well to the game when everything is considered.

But when you look beyond the Dynamx experience to find more content in the game… there’s really not much else. Many people (including me) were ecstatic to hear about the free-roam areas in SWSH - the Wild Areas. Here, you can do all the fun grinding stuff that makes Pokemon games a bit more challenging and fun - hatching eggs, shiny-hunting, running around in circles, Dynamax dens, etc. But when looking at other Pokemon games, that’s really it. Let’s examine Pokemon: Sun and Moon, for example. This game really shines not just for its refreshing setting and compelling plot-line, but also for it’s amount of cute and quirky mini-games to be enjoyed for a good while outside of the main story. Pyukumuku Chucking, Mantine Surfing, the Alolan Photo Club, Ultra Warp Ride Travel - a good handful of mini-games that appeal to different kinds of people! All of these mini-games aren’t just tossed in there, either - they have a fitting place in the culture of the world and add to it, rather than just reiterating it. But when you look for mini-games in SWSH, you won’t really find anything aside from just battling. Sure, there’s the Battle Tower, as well, but I’ll personally say that I’ve never been a fan of the concept of post-game NPC battle buildings. For a hardcore player, they might be fun, but as a casual who can’t devote the time to really dig into understanding how IVs and competitive breeding works, they’re really no fun. Not to mention that nothing is really being added or developed with these battle buildings; they don’t add to lore, they don’t add to the culture of the region, you don’t even really gain anything from it - they’re pretty much just places to battle the occasional familiar face and that’s it. While I’m sure plenty of people adore these facilities in the games, I’ve never been too partial to them (I’d even prefer those god-forsaken casinos over another goddamn battle frontier).

But my biggest problem lies with the release of the DLC. While I’m not against the idea of DLC in general, both The Isle of Armour and The Crown Tundra left a bitter taste in my mouth when I started thinking about the issue of playability in SWSH.

I have always been more invested in the storyline of Pokemon games rather than the battling aspects. Usually I’ve always just gotten through the main story, then wandered around to find extra post-game content or mini-games, and then moved on to other games. And that’s not necessarily a bad thing - I just figure that the games have served their purpose for me upon completion, so rather than bore myself wandering around and doing things that don’t interest me, I go find another game that has more story-based content. That being said, I finished SWSH in less time than any other Pokemon game (I’d say somewhere around twenty hours, complete with me running around in circles like an idiot before rushing through content intermittently); as a result, I was no longer actively playing the game by the time the DLC was announced.

I’ll be honest and say that when I learned about all that was being offered in both sets of DLC, I felt a bit betrayed. I’m well-aware that Nintendo is a corporate business, and therefore will always prioritize financial gain over their fans’ lasting enjoyment of their titles - that’s just a fact of life. But I couldn’t help but feel like I paid a bunch of money for the bundled titles, only to play a game that hardly could be considered worthwhile or satisfying without added headcanons or fan-works, and then get told that extra content is available that may or may not add satisfaction to the experience that’s already long since ended for me. It was just a bit disappointing - and I’m not talking about the whole “Dexit” deal (I actually was on-board with the idea of having no real National Dex - I felt it added realism to the games and would force players to get to know the new Pokemon instead of just choosing the same team they always have since Gen 1 or whatever). My gripe is that I paid for a whole game, wasn’t satisfied with the result, only to hear later that the content that I might have been missing is available to pay for? That’s incredibly annoying. Not to mention that I was further disappointed after learning about the contents of the DLC, but we’ll get into that later.

Overall, the playability of SWSH is very basic, but can be enjoyable if you suspend belief and just enjoy it for what it is. When it comes to storyline, it’s not much of a game, and doesn’t sport much post-game content besides battling.

Immersion and Ambience...

Many of my friends can attest that I tend to like silly, fantastical concepts because I personally love to throw myself into the universe being offered to me. Pokemon is really no different - the games have always sported a very immersive experience for me thanks to the combination of interesting regions and evocative music (especially the music).

I think that most every Pokemon fan has a specific region, city, and music theme that sparks a plethora of nostalgic emotions to the point of near tears. For me, that’s always been Pokemon: Platinum, the Twinleaf Town theme - just staring into the rippling reflection of the pond by the player’s home, listening to that beautiful synth clarinet playing that nostalgic melody - it makes my heart beat with so much fervent passion that I hardly have the words to describe it! And I think that sense of nostalgia - regardless of whether or not those memories are old or new - has always been a strong-suit for Pokemon games. They always have the ability to inspire such deep emotions in me and other alike in a variety of ways, further adding to the ability to immerse us into the game’s world. And whether your favorite area is as simple as Twinleaf Town in the Sinnoh region, or as agonizing as Rock Tunnel in Kanto, it’s the spirit of certain cities/towns/routes that further add to the immersion of the world in question. But how well does SWSH hold those values? Spoiler Alert: Not very well.

SWSH, in the end, is still a Pokemon game - so the setting is very vibrant and colorful and everything that can hold my attention for long periods of time. But the problem arises when one begins to progress through the game and continuously forgets what’s where and where’s what. A lot of the map is painfully basic (again, due to the literal linear nature of the Galar region) and the cities themselves kind of lack their own real originality. There was an attempt at unique cities that’s become iconic of the Pokemon franchise, but it doesn’t really stick. I think most people would agree with me that the only real memorable areas in the main game were Slumbering Weald, Ballonlea, and Spikemuth, and each of these areas have their own set of problems that also make them a bit difficult to fully enjoy. At their core, most all Galarian cities have the same basic set-up: basic green plants (if plants are in that area at all), the same brick roads that lead either to the gym or to a route leading in/out of city to another city, and a giant gym/key building in the center of it all. And that’s really about it. No real interesting buildings except for gyms and Rose Tower (and I guess technically the hotels), no extraneous locations that aren’t directly related to the plot or to gimmicks - it’s very bare-bones and really can take you out of the experience.

In a hard contrast, I’ll give the example of Generation 1’s region set up - every city has its own personality that also matches the feel of the region as a whole. Every city is based on colors, and each city is themed after that, respectively (i.e. Vermillion City, the city of sunsets themed around the color orange, is home to the Pokemon Fan Club and the kick-ass electric-type gym that initiates feelings of excitement; Lavender Town, the noble town themed around the color purple, is home to the Pokemon Tower and spooky spirits that inspire feelings of somberness and reticence). Obviously, this isn’t very realistic, but the trick isn’t to replicate reality - it is to inspire reality. The Kanto region is incredibly creative, and therefore is easy to immerse oneself into the world because it’s become a world we are actively interested in. We know that it could never truly be real or plausible, but that hardly matters when we are so enthralled with the colors and set-up and feeling of the towns. We don’t really get much of that in Galar. It probably isn’t such a great idea for your final city - being Wyndon - to feel blank and lifeless when compared to minor cities in the region. And even when we find cities that hold that uniqueness we desire like in Spikemuth or Ballonlea, there’s really no other reason to be there longer than just beating the gym. It’s sad, really. Spikemuth is such a interesting, creative-looking town home to such cool characters, and yet there literally is only one path to get in and out of the town - the town isn’t even given small houses to investigate like literally every other city in the region. It’s a waste of potential! The fact that I can’t investigate such a promising setting that inspires me really takes me out of the world, reminding me that this is just a video game in which you move from Point A to Point B. It’s no longer a fantasy world for me to explore, but instead a line at the DMV to get my Drivers’ License. The only real good thing about this is that fanfiction writers get so much free-reign when it comes to writing about the city - the only thing we really learn about the city is that it’s underfunded and gloomy and that’s literally it. I would have really liked to see more inspired cities around the region where things outside of the main plot can be done, but hopefully this is just a problem we’ll see in this region.

Probably the most important aspect of immersion (in my opinion) is the music. With the potential to make or break a game for me, I hold a lot of expectations on the music found in video games (I’ve been classically trained in music since elementary school, and have always had a fondness for video game music). Pokemon music has always been some of the most inspiring pieces of art in my life - whether it be the kickass battle suite of Champion Cynthia, or the somber piano melody of Emma’s Theme, the music of Pokemon has always been the first thing I notice and analyze whenever playing the latest title. That all being said, I have quite a few notes to make in regards to the soundtrack of SWSH.

I’ll start with the pros, first. Generally, every main title has had its own feel when it comes to the soundtrack - DPP was jazzy and smooth, Sun and Moon was based on popular Hawaiian music meshed together with classic Pokemon synths, RSE was all about the horn section (trombones and french horns all the way!). SWSH, at the end of the day, isn’t much different. The region is inspired by the UK, so it’s no surprise to discover that the soundtrack was inspired by popular British Rock. As a result, a lot of themes went really hard, keeping a hint of individuality even when some battle themes hosted similar instruments. The biggest appeal of the soundtrack, I believe, was found in the little moments, namely the cheers of the gym battle themes. I think it’s safe to say that most people get super hyped when they hear those rhythmical chants coming to life whenever in the final leg of the battle, right when you begin to Dynamax. That’s amazingly exciting, never failing to suck me into that exact moment to gather the power of God and anime to defeat my opponent. While I wasn’t totally rocking out to every single song that came on, I was pretty satisfied with the music of SWSH, overall. It’s not too bad, and hosts a few bops that I still seek out to get my blood pumping.

But, as to be expected, there are plenty of cons when it comes to the soundtrack of SWSH. I could go over this for hours and hours, detailing complex definitions of music theory and basic song comprehension, but I’ll just make this nice and simple: it was really bland.

Note that I said “bland” and not “bad” - the music is fine in my opinion, I just wasn’t feeling the same feelings as I had in previous Pokemon titles. It all felt like Pokemon music, but not much else. It was like remembering hints of a memory long-lost, but you don’t really care about to dig deep into your mind for context. Towns had music, routes had music, pokemon and characters had battle themes, yada yada yada, nothing really to write home about. If I had to pick a song that honestly, truly invoked emotions beyond “Oh it’s battle time, now”, it would have to be the Battle Tower Theme, and that’s most likely because it was written by someone else entirely (Toby Fox, also known as the creator of Undertale and composer of super hard-hitting jams). And the worst part is that I never would have even been able to hear the Battle Tower theme because I hate battle buildings (which is more of a personal problem, I know, but still). Honestly, I would have preferred hearing that theme as compared to Champion Leon’s battle theme - I feel like his champion theme was very bland and lifeless, simply holding all the required elements of a Pokemon battle theme just because that’s what has to happen. It’s uninspired, faceless, and corporate, only to be completely foiled by the unique blast of energy found in the Battle Theme, which just screams “Prove that you’re the best!” over and over to me (also known as a big theme in the Pokemon games, especially in SWSH).

That’s not to say that every other theme in the game was terrible. I much enjoyed Marnie and Piers’ battle themes, but for a different reason. As we know, Piers and Marnie host a more “punk rock” style when compared to literally everyone else in-game, a trademark of Spikemuth citizens. With their occasionally cold and prickly (no pun intended) personalities, their themes go a bit harder into rock-land as compared to characters like Hop or Bede. There’s no conflict of style there - it’s “punk” with “rock”, loads of guitars and bass with a hint of synths to keep that Pokemon flare, and fits a bit better in the setting of the world. Mild conflict arises when we start looking at characters who aren’t rockstars or idols - let’s look at Bede’s theme, for example. While it really isn’t a bad theme (it’s actually, dare I say, a bop), I wouldn’t exactly say that the resulting pieces fit neatly together like they do for the Spikemuth duo. Bede’s theme requires a lot of synths to accentuate his more flamboyant and immature personality, but also holds ties with the rock guitars while also trying so desperately hard to sound like a Pokemon song. Now, I don’t think “Pop Synth Rock” is anything bad, per se; I just feel like the added rock elements didn’t do much to add to the musical representation of our cliche jerk-face “rival”. It feels like the rock elements were an after-thought rather than a planned layer of musicality. I could really say the same thing about Hop’s theme, but then I would have to re-listen to Hop’s theme because I always forget what it sounds like even after listening to it a second before.

A big problem is that not many of these themes hold lastingly memorable motifs/melodies, which is a personal pet-peeve of mine in games where the music is highly esteemed. In pretty much every battle theme (except the generic pokemon encounter theme, which is the same melody in every Pokemon game, only with variations added to fit the music theme of the region) is just an on-going strip of notes that sound nice when playing the game, but if you tried to pick out the specific melody-line of that character, it’s a bit of work to really find anything. Let’s look at a more concrete example: Lusamine’s battle theme from Pokemon: Sun and Moon is up on my list of most memorable battle themes, and will do well without the extra influence of young me’s nostalgia seeping in like it would with earlier generations’ battle themes. Lusamine, as we know, was the elite antagonist of the game, being the leader of this esteemed Pokemon protection group who later is revealed to be using Pokemon for her own demented goals of perfection. Almost immediately, the player hears the signature accents of the harpsichord playing the prime motif before the piece digs into a full orchestration. It doesn’t sacrifice anything for the sake of “sounding like a Pokemon song”, nor does it sacrifice anything for the sake of keeping with the musical inspiration. Instead, it focuses on being exactly what it needs to be - a musical representation of Lusamine, hosting orchestra-based instruments (piano, violas and cellos, horns, violins, light pad synths, etc…). Most anyone can pick out a handful of memorable motifs from her theme (the main horns melody line, the harpsichord melody line, the mid-section cello and piano melody line, etc…), and those remain in our unconscious. So, it’s no surprise that when she becomes the “Mother Beast” later on, when the player hears hints of those signature melody lines becoming distorted in the madness of the new battle theme, it invokes a particular emotion that fits elegantly with the subject matter of the plot right then. In short, it’s musical storytelling done right. In SWSH, we don’t have that extra omph of emotionally-nostalgic motifs; instead, we just get songs that play in the background of this video game, and that’s really it. If you don’t like the song, good news - you’ll probably only hear it once or twice, depending on who the NPC is. If you do, then you’re out of luck for the very same reasons. This game lacks a very basic hint of soul to its soundtrack, which is really such a jarring idea especially when you realize that they paired up with a composer who arguably has mastered the idea of musical motifs (Fox).

This really isn’t just SWSH’s problem, either. I also went through a similar heartbreak in S&M during the final stretch of the main game; after battling Lusamine and saving the region from the threat of Ultra Beasts (more or less, anyway), we the player go to challenge the champion, who is revealed to be Profession Kukui since there really is no true champion for the newly-made league. It’s hard to go from an exciting, powerful battle theme like Lusamine’s to some generic, cardboard-cut-out version of a champion battle theme for Kukui. It’s hard to invoke any sort of emotional appeal when there’s no real inspiration to be felt in the music; with no emotional connection, there is no emotion. It’s, once again, just music that plays in the background of a video game. A similar experience happens in SWSH with the player’s match against Champion Leon; though we have the potential to gain an emotional connection to a Leon Theme motif, we don’t get that. Instead, we just get music that is programmed to be exciting for our championship match that will undoubtedly change our lives forever. Bland, boring, anti-climatic - all for the sake of coloring in the lines. This has been an on-going problem in Pokemon games for years in which the Championship Battle Theme is less interesting than the Evil Team Battle Theme, which probably isn’t a good idea. It’s annoying when your villain has a better theme than the literal strongest trainer in the region - it ruins the chances of likability for the region’s “good guys” and overall is anti-climatic when it is finally time to become champion.

Overall, the ability to immerse someone like me in a game is very important when it comes to retaining players. While SWSH isn’t the worst Pokemon game when it comes to immersion (considering the fact that I actually beat the main game, which I can’t say for other main Pokemon titles…), Game Freak certainly could stand to learn from the game’s shortcomings.

Creature and Character Design...

The monster design is arguably one of the most controversial topics when it comes to any Pokemon game. Some people only care about the designs of Gen 1, others accept everything but Gen 5, and a select few could rant for hours on the stupidity of literally every Pokemon design in the franchise. Regardless, the design of the Pokemon native to the Galar region is an important topic of discussion when analysing the potential for enjoyment of the game. After all, I’m an artist who loves drawing all my favorite characters as well as my favorite Pokemon, so understanding the designs of these beloved figures is vital to understanding the game in general. For sanity’s sake, I’ll only be discussing new Pokemon introduced in this region, and will be ignoring all previous pokemon that aren’t regional variants.

Overall, the designs of the latest Pokemon are satisfactory. Because of my tendency to always suspend belief in fantasy works, I’ve very rarely had much to hate about Pokemon designs (not even in Gen 5, though I don’t particularly like any of them aside from the game cover legendaries). SWSH didn’t really bring much to the table when it comes to brand-new Pokemon, but the ones introduced are fitting and interesting: the Dragapult line, all three starters (even if I did laugh for literal hours at the discovery of Cinderace’s typing), Wooloo and Dubwool, Yamper and Boltund - just to name my top favorites. And I was totally invested in the designs of the game cover legendaries, Zamazenta and Zacian, since they held cultural relations with the region’s inspiration and therefore had actual meaning within the game besides just being cool mythical creatures. Nothing really outright bothered me with the designs or pokemon choices in this game; as I mentioned earlier, I was okay with the idea of no National Dex for this region, and that all the pokemon allowed in this game matched with the region well-enough.

But, of course, it’s not without faults. I found there to be a substantial lack of original legendaries in this game - we only have three real legendaries to catch in the main-game, four if you consider the DLC. We had a similar problem in Pokemon: Sun and Moon, but it was later amended with the introduction of Ultra Beasts (which can technically be regarded as legendary Pokemon, albeit from another dimension and not technically Pokemon). In SWSH, we are only given the option of catching more than two legendaries if we buy the DLC - this is remarkably disappointing for those who are interested in seeing new, unique Pokemon designs. I know many fans are constantly frustrated with Game Freak’s tendency to overuse Gen 1 Pokemon, but the fact that nobody is bothered by the running trend of being able to easily catch a bunch of previous games’ legendaries is beyond me. It’s essentially the same thing, overly relying on the fanbase’s sentimental nostalgia rather than moving forward to create new creature designs. I know for a fact that so many people would have been excited to catch Pokemon with cultural significance (maybe like elf Pokemon that resemble that of Seelie/Unseelie fairies, or more Pokemon that resemble chess pieces, or maybe more Pokemon that follow a theme of medieval artifacts - there are many possibilities), so the fact that they skimped out in favor of making people pay for nostalgia is ridiculous to me. This was a majority of the reason why I rejected buy any of the DLC content - why would I pay for Pokemon I’ve technically caught before? I mean, I guess it can be more for the kids who have never encountered the older legendaries, but then again, wouldn’t it be more beneficial for your game to have Pokemon that actually represent the new region? Instead of just stealing other games’ legendaries for the sake of saying that you have them, they could have just worked a little harder to design maybe three or six more cool legendary designs and centered those guys around the two DLC locations instead of just having Calyrex for The Crown Tundra. At the end of the day, it’s really just a cash-grab; the only reason I could ever see myself understandably buying the DLC for SWSH would be because I wanted to interact more with my favorite NPCs, but then again, I can just look at screenshots on Twitter and feel just as satisfied.

But not all is lost in terms of designs. Now let’s get into my favorite design portion of this segment and discuss the NPCs.

First, we’ll dig into the rivals. Personally, I really enjoyed the rivals of this game; while Pokemon is definitely running on a formula, I still was able to find enough about the three rival characters to genuinely enjoy their presence whenever they came on screen. I suppose we can expect to keep seeing this new Pokemon Trainer Rival Formula: Kind of Annoying but Too Sweet to Hate BFF Rival (Hop), 2 Edgy 5 U Rival (Bede), and Some Pedo’s Waifu Material Rival (Marnie).

Hop is arguably one of my favorite Pokemon rivals of all time (right up there with Gladion from S&M). He’s one of the only Pokemon characters to get a realistic character development over the course of the game’s playable story, which really humanizes him and makes up for his occasionally annoying personality. Over the course of the game, Hop goes from silently residing in his brother’s shadow to learning to stand on his own without needed any outside validation; much to my surprise, it’s not some half-hearted transition. Hop doubts himself during the challenge, as evidenced not just by his dialogue but in the way he actively changes his team to try and be more competitive like everybody else. I remember feeling so heartbroken in realization that Hop stopped using his beloved Wooloo, which is rightfully paired up with the excitable boy. The idea that Hop uses Wooloo, a normal-type cute Pokemon that generally wouldn’t be used in a competitive team, really adds more dimension to his character; when he learns to enjoy himself instead of letting his doubts overtake him, he returns to using Dubwool and his favorite team, demonstrating how he would prefer to have fun as himself than be someone he isn’t. I found that to be a really wholesome theme to his character, one that we haven’t really seen in a Pokemon game yet - it was a pleasant surprise! Hop is sweet and kind, always wanting to motivate the player even when he’s in his own internal turmoil. With all that added with his adorable babyface and goofy/awkward preteen disposition, he really makes for a likeable rival character.

The next rival to be introduced is none other than our classic Mean Boy rival, Bede. He’s a character the fanbase is a bit more accustomed to due to previous titles’ rivals (i.e. Green/Blue/Gary Oak from in R&G/B, Silver from SGC, technically also Gladion from S&M…), so are quite a few expectations placed on his character as a result. Also true to the typical Pokemon Jerk Rival, he has a complicated homelife (he comes from an orphanage, as we later learn) and has a similarly complicated parent-child relationship to the leading antagonist of the game (in this case, Chairman Rose). Bede constantly assumes himself to be better than he is and isn’t afraid to be a total prick about it, choosing to bully Hop upon winning battles against him to boost his own inflated ego (though there’s hints pointing to Bede actually having rather low self-esteem). All things considered, I liked Bede as a character about as much as one can like a mean rival archetype, but I was more than pleased to discover his transition to a more likably mean-spirited character when he later returns to the game to challenge the player after being disqualified from the challenge. While we’ve had a likeable mean rival before (namely Gladion), Bede is something of his own entity with how he actually has an attempt at character development that leads him to a mini-redemption near the end of the game. He’s really the first mean rival to have a transition from total jerk to slightly-peeved tsundere, which was probably a good idea on Game Freak’s part so that we wouldn’t be left with a character we downright hated after the way Bede quite literally destroys Hop’s confidence. It’s nowhere near as impressive as Hop’s character development (which isn’t super impressive to begin with, but let’s ignore that fact for a bit), but it’s still interesting to see in a monster-catching game about being the best you can be.

And then, of course, we get to the cute-girl rival, Marnie, also known as the place where I get a bit mad again. I’d like to say that I absolutely love Marnie; she has an adorable design and interesting personality that captures my attention whenever she has screen time. But she serves one purpose in this game, and one purpose alone - being the main cute girl rival of the game. Marnie has the potential to be a similarly interesting rival (cute design that meshes “punk” with “cute”, has a wholesome and fun dynamic with her gym leader older brother, uses a Pokemon that isn’t considered to be a “competitive” choice as her ace, has a cool/cute personality…), and yet we probably only talk to her about five times over the course of the main game. Little is done with her character - in fact, the only real thing she does in the game other than becoming the next dark-type gym leader is that she helps the player sneak into Spikemuth after the gates have been shut by the remarkably-harmless Team Yell. I don’t think I’m alone in saying that I would have loved to have seen more done with her character. With the boy rivals being more fleshed out than her, it leaves a sour taste in my mouth because the female rival is the one left with a blank personality (and I’m not just saying that because she hardly smiles - that’s really one of the only things we get about her that gives her an actual personality). My frustrations are further exacerbated because this has always been an issue in Pokemon games, in which the girl rivals are so barebones for seemingly the only purpose of serving as some neckbeard’s waifu that they can input a personality they desire despite the fact that she’s canonically a minor. Why put in the time to give dimension to Hop and Bede, but not Marnie? And we know for a fact that Game Freak has to recognize the lack of personality given to Marnie, especially since they had previously come out with Lillie’s wonderfully sweet character arch in S&M and USUM. Personally, I feel that it was because they didn’t feel like having a more punkish girl character who also had traditionally feminine-coded interests (she’s known to have been distracted during the gym challenge by the boutiques) and ultimately decided to just not give her any further personality other than that, perhaps fearing that it would dissuade the gross creeper fanbase from latching onto her. But that’s really just speculation, so don’t take any of my nonsense too seriously. Really, I’d just rather we had a girl rival with more personality to match the other two rivals so it wasn’t so annoyingly unbalanced.

Moving on from the rivals, we get into the designs of the League Staff of the game. In most other Pokemon games, I’d never really been too interested in the gym leaders; they had always been more of minor bosses, just faces that you saw for a couple of seconds before pummeling their ‘mons and moving to the next city. But in this game in particular, there was a sudden transition from simple puzzle master to a full-on celebrity figure. I really enjoyed this! It was so nice to actually have some information on the gym leaders other than what type they sported; suddenly, they have personalities and interests - they become real to the player. Not to mention that there really is a gym leader for everyone to enjoy, thanks to their unique personalities and styles.

I’ll be a bit honest and say that some of their clothing designs are remarkably stupid for even an anime-based RPG game (I mean, I know we joke about Leon’s terrible sense of fashion in the fanbase, but can we just pause and ponder what Piers’ wears? I mean, a leather jacket with spandex? Metal boots and a work-out tank??? What is he wearing?!), but it isn’t exactly distracting. In Western cultures in particular, we can see a trend towards the glamourization of the “athleisure” style, or athletic wear designed more for everyday use rather than just working out. It was kind of fitting to see this be the primary style for the gym leaders, who can basically be described as hierarchical sports stars. Weird? Sure. But in the context of the world, it all fits together, and once again adds to the immersion aspect of the game.

Looking at our main antagonists, they are designed quite well. Chairman Rose is designed to be quite easy and fun to hate (at least for me) - he’s an important-looking businessman who’s very impressed with himself, paired up with a beautiful yet terrifying subordinate woman who does most all the hardwork for him (...actually, they kind of remind me of an antagonistic Cl. Mustang and Lt. Hawkeye from Fullmetal Alchemist…). They also had noteworthy battle themes that popped a bit more than other battle themes in the game.

While they hardly count as antagonists, I’d like to also make a brief mention of Team Yell. They’re more annoying than anything, which is a trend that I’m not too sure how I feel about yet. It was definitely more likable coming from Team Skull, that’s for sure. I would have liked Team Yell doing a bit more damage, having them be a bit more unruly and controversial before evening them out with the whole emotional appeal of them cheering on for Marnie in hopes of saving their ruined town. But they weren’t too terrible in my opinion.

I could talk for hours on the champion of the region, too, Champion Leon. He’s a really fun and charming character overall, less of the supremely wise and powerful champion that we’ve seen in older gens and instead being a more quirky but worthwhile opponent on the path towards the crown. But I definitely preferred him more as a character than as a champion; even though his team changes depending on your starter, it’s not too challenging of a fight if you know what you’re doing, especially when you immediately know what his ace pokemon is (something we don’t really learn in other gens about the champions). While I’m sure the idea of a powerful but transparent champion can be done, Leon doesn’t really stand up as a powerful trainer when compared to other champions in the franchise. But he’s definitely still a fun, interesting character concept that I am grateful for in this particular game.

When it comes to the designs of the primary NPCs and Pokemon, SWSH continues to talk that line just above mediocrity. Not too bad, not all that great, but definitely not something to be forgotten. I’d reason that the primary strength of this generation lies within the characters that are introduced.

Uniqueness vs. Status as a Pokemon Game...

In regards to the uniqueness - how well this game stands on its own as an individual concept rather than just another Pokemon game - I’m a bit divided. On one hand, I’m a bit saddened by the watering down of content and constant reliance on concepts from older games. But I can also see that SWSH introduced a lot of interesting ideas that have inspired so many fans for this generation. And while yes, this gen didn’t have much to offer in terms of new Pokemon, new scenarios, or new lore, I do think that it does hold its own when compared to the other games in the main series. New characters are introduced to the player, all of which having good (and bad) traits that allow for lots of fan-created content with their essence; a new look into a brand-new battle enhancer that requires a different strategy than those of previous battle enhancers; a new culture found within the Galar region that can inspire many more thoughts and theories on the Pokemon world as a whole in a number of ways. We cannot pretend that SWSH isn’t an influential game just because it wasn’t ground-breaking; even with my extreme distaste for the Black and White games, I still admit that they led to important decisions and ideas that led to the creation of games I did enjoy. So, as its own entity, I think that Pokemon: Sword and Shield really has a lot of offer and would probably be an amazing game for a younger player who’s just getting into the Pokemon universe.

But I think that a lot of us long-time fans can agree that this game doesn’t quite match up with the others in terms of giving those real “Pokemon game” feelings. The problem with big-titles like this is that the company tends to lose sight of what really makes a franchise so influential isn’t the stuff found at face-value. It’s not the creatures or NPCs or game mechanics or design or any of that garbage - it’s the feelings we get when all of those things reach that perfect harmony. It’s the rumble in my chest whenever I listen to that famous intro-sequence of my old Pokemon: Ruby game; it’s the fire in my eyes when I went back to challenge Pokemon Trainer Red for the tenth time that night back in my old Pokemon: Heart Gold game; it’s the tears I cried when I watched the only interesting character, N, leave my playable character after his emotional spiel following the defeat of Ghetsis in my long-since abandoned copy of Pokemon: White. At the end of the day, Pokemon is more of an emotion I get rather than a game I play, and I think this is an idea that few people can recognize for themselves. And while I’m aware that I literally just spent several thousand words bagging and praising this game for all those face-value aspects, I also know that when you add that extra little bit of care to your work, go a little further with a character you know someone will adore, or try something new with that new battle theme, there comes a sensation that goes beyond that of love for a silly fantasy game. I’d like to think it’s something akin to inspiration.

Conclusion...

In conclusion, Pokemon: Sword and Shield is far from perfect. With a number of faults and disappointments, I can understand why a lot of fans were less than interested in giving this game the time of day. But I also want to say that this game deserves to be understood and appreciate for what it is, for what it’s done. Who knows what sort of new ideas this game has inspired? Whether it be in the name Pokemon game or someone else’s passion project, I am confident in the potential that this game has to bring someone’s dreams to fruition. It already has inspired so much amazing fan-content from the community; after so many years of being away from the fandom, SWSH was the game that drove me right back, giving me the drive to once again indulge in my middle-school days of sketching out my latest comfort character or writing out a million headcanons in a way-too plot-heavy story. Many fan-creators in this community feel the same as me, I’m sure, so it would be untrue of me to say that this game was anything less than what it was: a fun, simple game that prides itself in its characters and potential rather than complex combat mechanics or some corkboard-plot nightmare. It’s a game meant to be enjoyed, so we must remember to find our enjoyment wherever it can be found. For me, Pokemon can’t really do much wrong, but also is held up to a level of expectations that I can’t quite understand even for myself. This, at the end of the day, is a video game from my all-time favorite franchise; so long as I can find enjoyment there in it, then it’s worth it. In a world filled with nihilism and cynicism, it’s nice to visit a land where you’re wise to try and be the very best like no-one ever was, to be the next best Pokemon Master.

#pokemon #Pokemon Sword and shield #pokemon swsh #swsh #sword and shield #game review #game #analysis #review #post mortem #(does this count as post mortem???)#casual gamer #essay #video game #food for thought

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dareinfernum2 · 5 years ago

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･ﾟﾟ･｡ ( ester exposito, cis female, she/her ) — 𝒉𝒐𝒈𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆 ALECTO CARROW, the NINTH year SLYTHERIN student ! i hear that the NINETEEN year old is known to be BEGUILING and AMBITIOUS and also very SADISTIC and DUPLICITOUS. however, if you ask me, the fact that they are a PUREBLOOD and leaning towards the side of the DEATH EATERS is a lot more telling.

disclaimer: names & details may change slightly but the end product remains the same so here we go. also the headcanons are all included from my application.

links.

biography.

statistics.

connections.

pinterest.

recap.

alecto was born and raised with the purpose to continue pure bloodlines. her childhood was filled with the finer things in life; galas, dinners and not to mention the never ending etiquette and dance lessons. she was taught to be attentive and intelligent enough, but not to show off.

it really hasn’t worked out for her parents the way they had planned. not because alecto doesn’t care about bloodlines. but, because she hates playing dumb for the benefit of someone else’s ego.

to top it off she thinks there are other ways, better ways, for her to ensure bloodlines in the wizarding community remain pure that don’t involve becoming a housewife and popping out children for a husband decided for her.

alecto has had a fascination with fire since she was eight years old and accidentally, somewhat on purpose, set her mother’s greenhouse on fire because she was told she was no longer allowed in there.

it extends further, and she wants to work with dragons.

personality wise alecto is pretty cold. she prefers solitude and her cat over rambunctious parties. but at the same time she is also very caring in a more gentle and intimate setting. she cares for a few and when she does her care goes deep.

she is unpredictable and chaotic, keen to set things on fire when distressed or upset about something, throwing things around and breaking whatever she can get her hands on when she falls into her fits of rage.

so while she seems calm and almost apathetic a lot of the time it is preferable to the opposite, because no matter what when alecto shows any feeling it is extreme.

alecto does not have the dark mark, yet, she is intrigued by it though and could very easily be convinced to get it now rather than wait longer.

connections.

just suggestions and highly wanted, all come from the connections page linked earlier in the post.

betrothal ;; her parents tried once before with a poor fellow from france. this time they've looked closer to home in hopes that alecto won't find a way to chase them off; they're betting on their own social circles to be enough to control her.

best friends ;; a partner in crime, the ying to the yang. the pair or more that are typically attached by the hip, consult each other, and couldn’t live without one another.

childhood friends ;; friends since the diaper days, could be a brother/sister or sister/sister type connection. may or may not still be friends.

frenemies ;; they’re nice to each others faces and act like friends but are constantly talking badly about each other.

friends with benefits ;; friends who hook up and either have or haven’t blurred the lines between the physical and emotional connection.

on again, off again ;; (ariana’s voice) make up, break up, total waste of time. this is basically a couple that you’d get whiplash from on whether or not they are together.

exes with lingering feelings ;; exes that broke up but still have feelings towards each other and can’t help but feel jealous/hurt seeing the other with someone else.

headcanons.

i. theodosia carrow - cat.

at sixteen years of age alecto walked through diagon alley a young woman on a mission. it was no mission most other people would not have found it as important as she did. but alecto carrow was about to buy her first cat, the first pet belonging to only her and not in any way any other family member. this wasn’t the owl bringing their mail she affectionately fed treats at the kitchen table only to get a light nip in return.

walking into the store alecto looked around at the cats, a small bengal kitten perking up at the sight of her, curious eyes staring into her own bringing a smile to her lips. after that there was no question about who was coming home with her, and moments later alecto carried the kitten in her arms as she made her way home.

alecto named the cat theodosia and since she came home with her they have barely been separated. the feline has chosen alecto over anyone else, often climbing up on her shoulders to wrap around her, purring softly in the crook of her neck as alecto reads in the common room. when alecto is distressed theo curls into her, meowing and pawing at the teenager to get her attention, refusing to stop fussing until she can feel alecto calm.

ii. herbology.

ever since she was a little girl life and death has intrigued alecto. she looks at the flowers blooming in spring before slowly decaying as the cold comes during the autumn months. when she was young she spent countless hours in the gardens around the carrow manor, she planted seeds of flowers and made sure they got attention, they got water and sunshine. alecto learned about life and death from plants, she learned how she had the power to keep them alive, but also how some of them had the power to take hers. she found beauty in all of it, and it’s been close to her heart ever since. even when she started school and it became about books and essays rather than lying in the gardens at the manor.

iii. fire.

if you play with fire you’ll get burned. alecto knows this, in part because she has literally played with fire and gotten herself burned more times than she can count on two hands before the age of thirteen. but, she understands it metaphorically as well. alecto understands that when people say fire they are referring to a chaotic event capable of ruining something good happening to people, something of your doing which can turn the world upside down.

alecto has always liked chaos. she has liked turning the world upside down. but more than anything she has liked fire. it’s been made obvious since she was eight and set her mother’s greenhouses on fire after the woman told her she was no longer allowed in them. in a fit of white hot fury alecto lost control of her magic and before she could react the buildings were in flames. instead of screaming alecto had smiled, she stood serenely watching the flames with a calm smile on her lips as if she was just watching a sunrise.

since then that’s the way it’s been, fire calms her. watching the flames dance and the smoke billow, watching how it can transform almost everything to ashes, she loves it.

iv. althea carrow - mother.

like any teenage girl alecto has had her fights with her mother. they have fought since she was a child. they have fought about alecto’s attitude, how she came home with ripped clothes and dirty elbows, how she didn’t speak to her elders with enough respect, how she didn’t speak to her peers with enough respect. then there was the potential fiancé from france, she definitely got in a fight with her mother about how she spoke to him. the fight they had after alecto scared him off is the angriest she has ever seen her mother.

but they love each other all the same. at least alecto knows she loves althea, at times she is unsure whether or not her mother actually returns the sentiment. it was her mother who introduced her to the art of herbology, her mother who taught her which fork to use at the dinner table, who reminded her of her posture, who protected her when she had a bad dream and checked for monsters inside her closet.

so yeah, over the years they have fought and when they do it is explosive. but alecto loves her mother. it is that love which has caused her to rebel so many times because, when alecto got older her mum stopped checking for monsters and stopped reading to her. the one thing that didn’t stop was pointing out her flaws so alecto makes sure her mother sees how flawed she is, that way she doesn’t loose her completely.

v. father - nicolas carrow.

when alecto was a little girl she had a tradition with her dad. while he was reading the newspaper she would sit underneath the table and once he had finished one section he would hand it to her, she would read it and fold it together before her gave her the next. it was their thing. she was his daughter and they read together every morning. until they didn’t.

alecto couldn’t understand when her dad suddenly appeared to stop caring about her. nicolas carrow didn’t look at her the way he once had, when she was six and came home with scraped knees crying he comforted her. when she was twelve he didn’t look her way beyond a disdainful glare. she was a disappointment and alecto could not even tell when it had changed, when she had started to do things all wrong in her father’s eye.

what she knows now is that she isn’t doing anything wrong. she is doing things her own way and her way isn’t compatible with the way her father wants for her. he wants her to marry, to have children, to carry on a pureblood legacy. alecto wants more than that and it’s not something her dad can come to terms with.

vi. amycus carrow - brother.

there is no one else in the world alecto thinks could ever really stand her the way amycus does. she knows she is a lot. she knows her mood swings from serene and smiling to hurricane like destruction is exhausting. she knows that her constant need to be right is annoying. she knows that it is too much when she tries to decide everything about everyone all the time. but those are things which makes alecto who she is and without her brother she knows she would be so much worse.

to alecto her brother is less of a sibling and more of an extension of herself. he knows her secrets and her flaws, he is her strengths and the sides of her that she actually likes. while alecto always wears her heart on her sleeve, she truly is terrible at hiding them, it is her brother who she actually opens her heart up to. amycus knows her and she loves him, throughout her entire life of protecting each other the only thing that has made sense is knowing they’re in it all together.

alecto looks at her brother and sees hope. she sees her ability to love and can be surprised that is even a possibility. she didn’t think she would be able to love someone like that. but, she looks at him and knows she is not a lost cause. she is not all destructive chaos, she is a person capable of opening up her heart if only to the right people and maybe someday that capability will let her fall in love as well. one thing alecto knows is if she ever does fall in love it will be because her brother taught her she is worth it.

vii. thestrals.

when alecto was thirteen years old she walked into the forbidden forest and stumbled upon a clearing. she had been upset. it was the anniversary of her grandmother’s death and she needed to get away from everyone, including her brother. so she ran, ran into the forest and hoped no one had seen her and was off to tell on her to one of the professors. they didn’t find her but she found the clearing and the winged, black, skeletal horse creatures standing there with understanding in their eyes.

her heart was captured the moment she saw them. alecto saw a beauty in their cold and harsh appearance. she saw the softness in how one of the younger ones bumped into her playfully with their head and kept doing so until she was laughing. they cheered her up and then hours later when she got back to the castle she went to the library and found out just what the creatures were - thestrals.

since that day the clearing in the forest is one of her safe spaces. when alecto needs a break she’ll go there, she’ll bring apples for the creatures and she will sit, watching them live their lives and it helps her ground herself in her own life.

viii. the future.

the future quite honestly terrifies alecto more than anything else in the world. her future has been decided for her since the day she was born. she is meant to learn how to dance and play the piano, and speak eloquently and stand up straight, know which fork to use at what point during a dinner, to take care of a home, to have children. she is meant to be the perfect wife. but since she was a little girl alecto has known that what she is meant to be and what she wants to be, have never been the same things.¨

alecto wants to go to mainland europe, or north america, she wants to work with dragons. she has read about the dragon sanctuaries, where they look after the creatures and rehabilitates them when they have been harmed by other witches and wizards. that’s what she wants to do. she wants to help these creatures that have been hurt and care for them.

#you'll understand why storms are named after people –〚 intro 〛#fd.intro

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red-wardens · 6 years ago

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DA Questions

Tagged by: @goblin-deity and @gothkimmyschmidt -- thank you :)

Tagging: @jaffa-keksi @chillyrose @dickeybbqpit @mocha-writes @the-dread-doggo @heraldofwho @keeperscompanionsdai @space-vashoth (if you guys haven’t done it already. if you have, tag me so i can see!)

–---------

01) Favorite game of the series?

Dragon Age 2. I love the bisexual disaster companions and how they have friends/relationships/lives outside of you. And I love Hawke and their tragic story. I also like having years passing with the same protagonist/companions instead of “my new companions and I had one crazy year together”. Plus fighting mechanics were my favorite in this game.

02) How did you discover Dragon Age?

I saw gifs of Morrigan on tumblr years ago (back when DA2 was still new) and thought, “holy shit, she’s pretty I should play that”, and just never got around to it till a couple years later till when I saw a lot of gifs of default Marian Hawke and thought “she’s gorgeous and funny and I would die for her” (I still can’t believe I used to think I was straight...) and then found out she’s not till the second game so I hurried up and bought Origins to play first. Then got hooked, Origins has such a great story.

03) How many times you’ve played the games?

I’m on my 4th and 5th (playing simultaneously) playthroughs of Origins, I’ve played DA2 either 6 or 7 times. Inquisition I’ve only played once and I skipped most of the side missions because that game is so long.

04) Favorite race to play as?

Elf. I love dwarves a lot though and if they could do magic they’d easily be the fave.

05) Favorite class?

Mage. I like healing and not having to get close to enemies.

06) Do you play through the games differently or do you make the same decisions each time?

I try to play differently each time and role play hard (ex: certain mage OC’s are only allowed to have skills in certain fields of magic even if it’s inconvenient for me, my traumatized-by-Carver’s-death Hawke who is triggered by seeing ogres can only “hold position” when one appears and I can only fight as the companions because she’s having a panic attack). In Origins I like to put someone different on the throne each time, side with mages once and templars the next, and have companions love/hate me according to my OC’s personality (and not cheat by using the Feast Day gifts). In DA2 I have a different personality Hawke each time and they make varying choices but in the end I have never sided with templars. I think in my 2nd Inquisition playthrough I’ll side with templars though out of curiosity.

07) Go-to adventuring group?

Always depends on who is the love interest and who are the closest friends of my protagonist. Even if the team comp is terrible.

08) Which of your characters did you put the most thought into?

Blue Surana was my first character ever so she’s had the longest time of me adding/subtracting/updating her and her story. That being said I like to think I’ve put a lot of thought into my Mahariel and Amell as well. Out of my Hawkes, Claira is the most developed.

09) Favorite romance?

Fenris.

10) Have you read any of the comics/books?

I've read all the comics and I’ve read “The Calling” and “The Last Flight” I plan to read the other books soon hopefully.

11) If you read them, which was your favorite book?

I really recommend The Last Flight if you’re a die hard Grey Wardens fan like me. The main character inspired the name for my Mahariel.

12) Favorite DLCs?

I genuinely forgot Awakening is DLC since it came with my game but, yeah. I love all the companions in Awakening and I wish it were longer. “The Exiled Prince” is also another fave since I genuinely like Sebastian Vael and he’s a kickass squadmate.

13) Things that annoy you.

The white-washing, what happened to Orsino, the way Inquisition doesn’t take into account Hawke could have been a blood mage, no healing as an Inquisition mage, the fucking Requisition Officer, the way you can’t be nicer to Sera, no dwarf romances, and how the Inquisitor can’t call Cullen out on certain things (Cassandra too, honestly, though I love her she can be really insensitive to other cultures). That’s just in the games, don’t even get me started on some of the fandom.

14) Orlais or Ferelden?

Frozen Dog Lovers > Snooty Elf Oppressors, any day

15) Templars or mages?

Mages, no contest.

16) If you have multiple characters, are they in different/parallel universes or in the same one?

I have 3 worldstates that I have playthroughs for, and a Multi-Warden AU

Worldstate 1 - Arcane Warrior/Battlemage/Fire Mage, mutual-pining-for-Sten, grey-sexual Blue Surana + Spirit Healer/Ice Mage, Fenris Romance, gay Akono Hawke

Worldstate 2 - Ranger/Assasin Archer, Zevran Romance, straight Isseya Mahariel + Blood Mage/Earth Mage, Sebastian rivalmance, panromantic/ace Henley Hawke

Worldstate 3 - Blood Mage/Spirit Healer/Entropy Mage, Leliana Romance, bisexual Alyss Amell (dies) + Shadow/Dual-Blade Rogue, Anders Romance, bisexual Claira Hawke

Multi-Warden AU: Blue Surana is main warden and recruits the others after Ostagar forming what I call the “Warden Squad”. Most thought-out world, that I have the most writing for but will probably never get around to writing the actual fic. We will see. Also, I need to make some Inquisitors for all these worldstates....they’re planned out I just need to force myself to actually play them.

17) What did you name your pets? (mabari, summoned animals, mounts, etc)

Mabari’s: Rabbit (Blue Surana), Dog (Isseya Mahariel), Teddy (Alyss Amell), Tor (Akono Hawke), Better Carver “BC” (Henley Hawke), Bear (Claira Hawke). Isseya Mahariel numbers her wolf and bear summons A-# for wolves and B-# for bears.

18) Have you installed any mods?

I play on xbox so nah, sadly.

19) Did your Warden want to become a Grey Warden?

Blue Surana didn’t want to leave the Circle and Isseya Mahariel didn’t want to give up searching for Tamlen so “no” for both of them, but they both were amazing at it. Alyss Amell, as much as it terrified her to leave to fight things, wanted to be free of Kinloch Hold.

20) Hawke’s personality?

Akono is almost exclusively Purple though he has rare Blue moments when speaking to Carver or sometimes Fenris.

Henley is solidly Red except maybe once or twice chose purple banter for talking to her only friend, Varric.

Claira is the most varied in that she’s split 60-40 between Blue and Red, meaning well and wanting to be all good/peaceful, but having a wild, passionate temper when defending mages and her friends/family. I also headcanon she has the foulest mouth of my Hawkes though she actively tries to stop cursing it’s an unbreakable habit. She’s also a shameless flirt and hits that heart button almost every single time it comes up (I wouldn’t consider her Purple at all though since she isn’t sarcastic and is the type to laugh at jokes rather than make her own).

21) Did you make matching armor for your companions in Inquisition?

I made Cole and I matching outfits because I love him ._.

22) If your character(s) could go back in time to change one thing, what would they change?

This could get long if I listed everyone so, Blue Surana regrets not telling Sten how she felt sooner, though she doubts it would have changed anything. Isseya Mahariel wishes Tamlen could have been found sooner so the Joining could have saved him.

23) Do you have any headcanons about your character(s) that go against canon?

My entire Multi-Warden AU is a big “fuck you” to canon because all those potential wardens deserve to live dammit.

24) Who did you leave in the Fade?

In this house we do not leave Hawkes in the Fade. So, sorry Loghain :(

25) Favorite mount?

I legit forgot I had a mount 90% of the time. At least I got to hear more dialogue I guess.

#about me #thanks for the tag!#long post

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theseviolentdelightss · 6 years ago

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Counting Paths XV

Series Summary: After a lifetime on the run from the Empire, Reader makes a move that could have drastic impacts for both friend and foe. A Reader insert/fanfic. Gifs belong to their respective owners.

Word Count: 6719

Author’s Note: So I’m not going to tip to around it, in the past few months I’ve gone through a very personal, horrifically traumatizing experience that I am still coming to terms with. Depression and anxiety have always been issues I’ve struggled with but I never thought I would one day experience the effects of PTSD. Seeing death, truly seeing it firsthand, changes you as a person and it has taken months for me just to come back around to some sense of normality. Writing this latest bit has helped and I know some of that inner struggle poured over into my writing. Hopefully it’s not too particularly jarring,and as always I am so thankful for those of you that have stuck around for this long. You have no idea how very much it means to me.

-Side note: I took complete unabashed inspiration from one of my favorite television shows of all time in this chapter. Shiny on you if you recognize it.

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII Part IX Part X Part XIPart XII Part XIII Part XIV

-8 MONTHS LATER-

You awoke to the loud sound of someone banging away in the cargo hold. Most likely Roland, busy securing yet another hidy-hole for whatever you had been sent to fetch this time. That man was like a magician when it came to securing supplies in the most unlikely of spaces. You once saw him retrieve a pallet of medicine hidden beneath your core containment unit. One miss step and he would've gotten a doze of radiation strong enough to kill him a thousand times over. None of that seemed to bother him, even as you watched on petrified, the older man simply shimmied beneath the small crawl space and flung the first container of vials over his shoulder. Leaving you no other option than to leap forward and catch it. This went on another two dozen times until Roland eventually crawled out from under the containment unit like a drunk toddler. Rolling carelessly as he dragged his larger bottom half upwards. The symphony of obscenities that awaited him as soon as he rose to his feet reminded Roland that though he may have surpassed you in rank Songbird was your ship and you were her captain. Considering your recent reinstatement into the Rebel Alliance Roland had no choice but to respect your terms.

That lasted for about a fortnight.

Rolling over you clung tightly to the sheets. Not yet willing to forego the warmth of your thick blankets to return to the waking world. No matter how elusive it felt at times you had grown to love sleep more in the recent months. 75 percent of the time it left you gasping for air, fumbling off the side of your bed and onto the cold floor below but that remaining 25 percent was the only true escape from reality afforded to you. Everything else was a just poor mans attempt.

Today had been no exception.

Thankfully in your clumsiness you had taken some of your pillows overboard with you and had softened the blow. Nevertheless, you had undoubtedly collected your share of bruises that would likely show their ugly purple faces over the next few days. So there was that to look forward to, how lovely...

Chirping somberly V1-S4 switched from his hibernation and rolled across the small space that was your cabin. Bits of decorations hung over the walls, the flag of your homeworld, a bouquet of Alderaanian flame lilies glowing on the bedside table atop a stack of books you had read easily a dozen times. It wasn't much but it was the closest thing to having a home as you could get; though, even as the thought crossed your mind you knew that wasn't entirely true. Like it or not a small part of you missed your cramped room on Yavin 4. At least there had always been something to do, a project to work on, someone to talk to... Sure you had Roland and the rest of your crew to keep you company but that was different.

You had told yourself you simply missed Theodren. He was your best friend after all and the two of you had missed time to make up for given how long the two of you had been apart in the past. To be separated again so shortly after reuniting felt cruel but war doesn’t wait for things such as sentiment.

War doesn’t wait at all.

You missed your lunches with Penelope. The sweet mechanic you had befriended after she taught you how to fix your port control a few weeks before your first mission. The girl was so cheerful that any time the two of you met up for lunch or worked on your ship together you couldn’t help but smile. Her kindness was infectious and a welcome change to the coldness you had experienced from other Rebels in the past. After you became one of them again all that changed. Suddenly you had amassed a fair amount of acquaintances during your time on base, most of whom you missed. Still, that did nothing to change the truth of the matter...

The person you found yourself missing the most was Cassian.

Any time something especially odd happened on a job or Roland got too drunk and began declaring his secret love for show tunes it was Cassian you found yourself wishing you could run to. The two of you had come to share so much of your time together that it felt foreign to have so much apart. As if some part of yourself was missing. This was made all the worse given how you had left things between the two of you. The memory of which you seemed incapable of getting out of your head.

As S4 inched closer to where you lay you're reminded of just how grateful you were to have the loyal droid by your side again. When you had finally been allowed access to him again after months apart it felt as if you were being reunited with a family member that had gone missing. Hands shaking slightly you reached out to place your palm atop the droid’s shiny dome shaped head before gently leaning your forehead against the smooth surface.

“I'm alright buddy.” You reassured S4 as if you were a mother soothing a child. “Just another bad dream.”

S4 hummed happily as you smiled, giving him a gentle pat on the side. Pushing yourself off your knees you gathered your blankets and tossed them back atop your bed before stumbling towards the shower. Hopefully you'll have better luck tonight...

The day passed by as per usual. Rolland had taken over the ships controls while you had busied yourself helping the crew encode your inventory manifest to hide your ship's true cargo in case you ran into Imperial scanners. Nine hours later and your dozenth supply run had went off without a hitch. If everything went according to plan you would be returning to Base 1 with a ship full of enough stolen Imperial power cells to supply an entire Rebellion division for a month.

Only problem was that flying with Imperial stamped cargo was a death sentence to anyone stupid enough to get caught. Even so, most pilots would rather take the risk of staring down the barrel of a trooper's blaster than traveling through raider territory. Low life pirates that sat out in the darkness of the outer rim waiting to attack and pillage any unsuspecting vessel that wandered their way. Still you had no other choice but to choose the later, set your scanners to their full capacity, and hope you could pass through long enough to make it to the nearest hyperspace lane. It had been months since you last returned to base, and even that had only been for a single night. Just enough time to make a drop before heading back out again.

After your return from Nar Shaddah you had been busy to say the least. Everything had happened so quickly, one moment you're swearing in as soldier in the Rebel Alliance, again, the next you're in the midst of a shouting match with Cassian. One that left you feeling shaken and uncertain as to where you stood with the captain. Not a word was said to mend what had been broken. Instead settling for uncomfortable silences and unresolved issues.

You had thought he would be happy. That perhaps it would make up for crashing his last mission so spectacularly. The next day you received your first orders; an immediate mission to help secure a shipment from a core planet that had been secretly aiding the Rebellion for months. Though you still had some reservations about committing to the Alliance's entirely, you were delighted to be doing something other than sitting around twiddling your thumbs. When the time came to leave you searched all over base for Cassian to say goodbye, but the dark eyed rebel was no where to be found.

Thus began a new strange chapter in your life. A smuggler for the Rebellion, who would've thought?

More often than not you and Roland simply served as a single link in a very long chain that connected various Rebel outposts. Picking up supplies from one location just to deliver them to another. It was all part of the Alliances attempt to keep the Empire from pinpointing any potential drop off points. Large quantities would be brought in by ships such as your own on outlying moons and planets with lax security to be smuggled into larger settlements in smaller quantities later. Essentially you were spice runners, only instead of smuggling drugs you were transporting medical supplies, power cells, food. This however was your last in a very long trek across the galaxy. Normally you preferred the sky to staying grounded but you couldn't deny that you were eager to return to Yavin 4.

Two weeks, Mon Monthma had promised you two weeks off the job if you managed to secure the shipments in half the usual time table. A task you had pulled off flawlessly. All that time working with Han and Chewie had made you adept in this line of work. Something you were sure Cassian wouldn't care for. Not that you would know. It had been weeks since the two of you had last spoken.

252 days to be exact.

Everything had been going smoothly. Roland and S4 had navigated a clear course as you triple checked your hyperdrive when suddenly the alarms began to ring over head. The bright white lights in the hallway illuminated off and on in a dizzying fashion as you ran towards the cockpit. S4 chirped erratically as you ducked your head through the doorway and hurried inside.

“What the hell is going on I thought you two got us around them-”

“It's not Imperial.” Roland said as he spun in his chair, keying into Songbirds own enhanced scanners to bring up a read out of the strange ship that had just entered a spacelane dangerously close to your own.

“Commercial vessel?”

“Looks like it.”

Chirping beside you S4 illuminated a hologram of the vessel in question.

“I'm reading it as an old 908 Trans-Q model.” Rolland's brow furrowed as he read the droid’s intel.

“That doesn't make any sense, I didn't think Trans-Q operated anymore. Weren't they bought out by the Empire?”

Leaning over Roland you tried to get a better look at the ships read out. Anything that might possibly explain why you had suddenly run into a passing ship, whose make was no longer in operation, while traveling an unmapped route, with a cargo full of stolen goods, set for the head quarters of the Rebellion. All of which seemed a bit too coincidental for your liking.

“Yea they were.”

“Do we have a visual?” You asked, S4's low hum quickly answered your question. He did however manage to pull up the ships internal system's processing data, instantly something about it struck you as odd. “Wait, look at their radiation level.”

Leaning closer Roland's eyes trailed down the screen to where you were pointing. The number was more than just suspiciously high, it was unheard of. Utterly unfit for sustaining human life.

“They're operating without their flux stabilizer that's ch'sei...that's suicide.”

Stepping back your eyes were drawn to a small spot in the distance. Growing larger with each passing second. It wasn't often that you truly felt fear. Not because you were especially brave but because the majority of the time you didn't much care if things suddenly ended bloody. Its what you had signed up for after all. You were back in the game. All it takes is one wrong step and you're dead. You knew just how dangerous what you did was; none the less, for the most part you had grown calloused to the fear of death. It was more an inevitability than a concern. That didn't stop your heart from dropping into your stomach as the first beads of cold sweat began to prickle your skin.

“Ravangers.”

Every childhood horror story, every supposed sighting from other pilots, every alleged encounter you had ever heard of Ravangers played in your mind like some twisted nightmare come to life.

“Oh fuck.” Roland swore breathlessly. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck...”

“We have to tell the others.” The blood in your veins felt suddenly frigid as you reached for the ships intercom. With trembling fingers you pressed the button at the base of your ship's controls. Eyes never once straying from the ship in the distance. Its rusty color and dilapidated state gradually coming into view.

“This your captain speaking.” You began, breathing in and out slowly in an attempt to keep your voice calm. In truth, for the first time in months you were completely, and utterly terrified. “We've intercepted another ship, appears to be Ravangers, most likely a raiding party. We haven't been hailed yet and we are holding course so everyone please remain calm. We should be passing them in a few minutes. We'll take it from there.”

Letting go of the intercom button you stepped back, eyes aching from staring so harshly into the dark distance. Digging in your vest pocket you retrieved your com link.

“Zara I need you up here, now.”

Stepping back you stood on unsteady feet for what felt like hours when the sound of Zara coming to a stop beside you shook you from your trance.

“What's going on why are we-” She began, eyes darting to the ship in the distance before falling eerily quite. “Who are they?”

“Ravangers.” You replied coolly.

“Ravangers aren't real.” The young girl scoffed gently. “My grandma used to tell us stories about them to get us to stay in bed at night or do our chores. They're just a myth.”

“Well if grandma says it then it must be true.” Roland muttered sarcastically, busy preparing the ships engines in case you were given no choice but to run.

“They're not myths.” You said, grabbing the young teen by the wrist and forcing her to look you in the eye.

“You're not lying?” Zara asked, all confidence drained from her voice. The majority of the time all the young girl did was glare at you, still fostering a mountain worth of reinstatement towards you over her sister's death. Now; however, the only emotion she wore was one of complete fear. “What happens if they hail us?”

“If they board us...” You sighed, trying to decide rather you should be utterly truthful in the face of impending danger or try and appeal to the young girls age. “They'll flay us alive, feast on our flesh, and sew our entrails into their armor...”

Zara's face turned white, even her darker complexion couldn't hide the noticeable rush of blood. Her hands began to shake as she looked up to you, still just a child, so much youth shone through her eyes that were now wide with fear.

“And if they're feeling generous they'll do it in that order.”

You finished, your grip on Zara's wrist loosening as you took her hand in your own. Pealing back her fingers you placed a small dark capsule in her palm. Though she shook her head at first you folded her fingers over the deadly pill and held them there.

“Just in case.” You spoke gently.

“What about you?” She asked, her voice steady though she appeared anything but.

“Songbird is my ship, I'm her captain. I won't abandon her.”

“They're hailing us!” Roland shouted, immediately sending a rush of adrenaline through your body. Letting go of the young girl you threw yourself behind the controls and began deploying counter measures.

“They've got magnetic grappling!” Zara exclaimed, pointing to the electric arm that had began to stretch out from the ships left side.

“Yes thank you I can see that!” Though your voice was laced with sarcasm you knew that if you wanted to survive this you had only one option. Slamming your fist against the intercom button you shouted a warning. “Quick, everyone find something to hold on to!”

“They're on us!” Zara's voice was becoming frantic. A sound you hadn't heard since the night the two of you met.

“S4 cut the hydraulics!” You yelled for the droid who made quick work of your order. Efficient as ever.

“What the hell are you doing?” Roland watched as you flipped various switches, unsure of what it was you were hoping to accomplish.

“You'll see.” You couldn’t help but grin at the absurdity of what you were attempting. “Roland as soon as I say so, you make the jump. Now hold on!”

Pulling the yolk tightly to the side you engaged your reverse thrusters on one side while going full burn on the other. Immediately the ship whipped into a jarringly fast turn that found you suddenly behind the Ravanger ship that had only seconds before been in front of you. Yanking the yolk back to the opposite side you managed to steady the ship long enough to align your coordinates, albeit backwards.

“Please let this work.” You prayed, switching the ships directional system into neutral. “Now!”

The moment you shouted the words you felt the force of the leap pressing you into your seat as your ship made its jump into hyperspace. Albeit in reverse. A moment of silence hung in the air before being quickly replaced with shouts and whoops of excitement. Most people go their entire lives without ever crossing paths with a Ravanger, let alone an entire raiding party. They were a rarity, even in the outer rim. They're community was such a small offset of a larger cultural species that it came has no surprise that most people thought of them as myths but you knew better. You had seen their handiwork before. Not a sight you would soon forget and yet you had left them burning in your wake.

“That was amazing!” Zara squealed as she leap up and down before wrapping her arms around you where you sat, still partially in shock, and pulled you out of your seat.

“As much as I hate to inflate your ego that was pretty damn impressive kid.” Roland smiled, a sight you usually only witnessed at 3 in the morning after two pints too many, or anytime someone fell. The man had an oddly specific sense of humor to say the least. As he ruffled your hair with his calloused hand you thought for a moment that perhaps you had actually died upon making the jump and this was all some sort of weird afterlife experience. It wasn't until you started to fall asleep that night, half drunk and giggling, did you realize for sure you weren't dead or dreaming. Puking your guts out will bring you back to reality all too quick.

As you broke into the atmosphere of Yavin 4 the following day you were still mildly hung over yet happy all the same. You hadn't seen Theodren in months and had been too far out to safely contact your best friend for nearly six weeks. You had expected him to be there waiting in the hanger when you returned. What you hadn't expected was for him to be surrounded by so many of your fellow comrades. One look at Roland was all it took, you really need to start taking his communication privileges away from him when he drinks. Apparently everyone on base had heard of your quick maneuvering with the Ravangers the night before. Though you should have known better you forgot how much of a superstitious lot a fair amount of the Rebellion was. It reminded you of your old grandmother, sitting in her knitting chair, reading the smudges left behind in her tea cup. This recent run in would undoubtedly have their interests peaked.

As Theodren spread his arms wide you returned his hug almost as tightly as you had the last time the two of you had reunited. This time though, when he pulled back to look at your face Theodren glimpsed more than just excitement. He saw exhaustion, anxiety, even a lingering hint of fear that seemed to dull the flecks of gold in your eyes. He wanted to ask right there what was wrong but knew better.

“You look ghastly.” He quipped, the corners of his mouth turning up in a grin as the two of you pulled apart.

“Still look better than you.”

“Hm, I don't know if I'd go quite that far.” Theodren continued. “I do believe there are some sects of society that would perhaps find this-” Taking his hand he gestured up and down your frame. You were covered in soot and grease from working on your ship all night. Trying to repair the damage done by your daring Ravanger escape. “Attractive. I'm sure you'd be a shoe in for a beauty pageant on Jakku.”

With that you gave your old friend a playful shove as you swung your bag over your shoulder.

“I get it! I need a shower.” You shouted jokingly as you made your way towards the open hanger.

“Why not two?” Theodren replied, cupping his hands around his mouth to project the sound of his voice as you stepped further away. “Make up for lost time.”

Chuckling softly you shook your head. Eyes scanning the nearby ships for a particular U-Wing. When you failed to spot it you felt a small surge of comfort, at least he hadn't simply known of your return and chosen not to greet you along with the others. Surely, he wasn't still that mad... Moving through the crowded hanger and hallways you were welcomed back by a number of familiar faces, some new. Perhaps word of your Ravanger escape had made the rounds more than you had originally thought. It made sense truthfully, other than war and work there wasn't a whole lot for people to talk about on base. Conversations could get dull fairly quickly so whenever something particularly unusual or spectacular happened it was typically the main topic of conversations until something else came along or people simply got bored.

Keying in your door code you were welcomed by the cool darkness of your room instantly. The only light came from the narrow windows and through it was still quite warm outside the inside was blessedly cool. Like a puppet whose strings have been cut you lost what little hold you had left the moment the door shut behind you. Your knees began to wobble uncontrollably, forcing you to grasp the corner of your bed as your bag tumbled to the floor. Stumbling forward your legs eventually gave out as you slid down the side of your bed. Now that you were alone, in a place you felt safe from prying eyes, the reality of yesterday's events hit you like a smack in the face. Leaving you shaking as you fumbled behind you to pull a pillow close to your chest. You had been so distant, so detached for weeks that this sudden burst of intense emotion was almost too much to bare. Burying your face inside the pillow you let lose the scream that you had been holding in for hours. The thick cotton did a fair job of muffling the sound of your screams but did nothing to hide the creak of the floor behind you.

In an instant you sprung to your feet. Turning on a dime and throwing the pillow in your hands directly at the intruders face.

“The hell?” Cassian's accent was instantly recognizable. Leaving you feeling like a fool as your hands flew to cover your mouth. It wasn't till you noticed Cassian's state that you felt your cheeks begin to burn as you turned your eyes towards the ceiling.

“I didn't think you were here.” You stuttered.

“I just got out of the shower you idiot!” He hissed, dropping the pillow in his hands to retrieve his towel from off the floor. Quickly securing it around his waste and holding it tight with one hand just to be safe.

“Yup, kinda put that one together.”

“You're not supposed to be back yet. They said you wouldn't get here till this evening.” Cassian shook his head as he turned away from you. Moving over to his dresser where he began to dig out his daily uniform. Trying his best not to pay you much attention as you sat yourself on the corner of your bed. Gaze still firmly in the opposite direction. Hopefully he had done a good enough job of straightening the comforter and pillows that you wouldn't notice the impression his body had left. Nearly every day he worked on base he would find himself taking his lunch hour to sneak away to his room, crawl atop your bed, and escape the world for a moment. It was the only time he felt any sense of peace and even after all these weeks a small hint of your perfume lingered in the linen.

“Made the jump quicker than expected.” You replied, pealing off your jacket before falling backwards atop your bed. Relishing the comfort of it as you spread out your arms to stretch.

“What happened? You run into another old flame you'd like to impress?” Cassian scoffed before instantly wishing he could take it back. In the reflection of his mirror he could see you spread out on your back. Pale curls cascading down your side as you clung to pillow he had always used.

“Ravangers.” You mumbled, kicking off your boots as you pulled the pillow in your arms tighter.

“What?” Cassian asked, spinning on his heal and stepping towards your bed. Surely he hadn't heard you correctly.

“We ran into Ravangers.” You repeated, sitting up to find Cassian standing noticeably closer than before and thankfully at least partially dressed. His shirt still gripped in his left hand. A look of confusion and something else washed over his face. For a moment you thought perhaps it was concern but that didn't much fit into the current state of affairs when it came to yourself and Cassian. As much as you hated to admit it, it seemed he was indeed still pissed.

Leave it to a man to hold a grudge after 8 months of zero communication.

“We had to run so of course they had to chase us.” You explained, keeping your hands busy playing with a fray in the threading of your comforter. Strange you hadn't noticed it before, normally little things like that would drive the perfectionist inside of you crazy. “Fried my hydraulics but I was able to make the jump. Shaved a few hours off my time.”

“Aren't you impressive?”

Though you had tried to hide it, you were hurt by Cassian's words. A truth that undoubtedly showed on your face. After everything you had been through the past few months, after everything you had done for his cause, and still he treated you as an inconvenience.

“Why do you have to be like that?” You muttered, turning up to face him. His own expression unreadable to you. “I just wanted to come home.”

And there it was. The slow knife that was gradually killing the both of you. Cassian knew what you had meant. What home truly was but that was not a responsibility he wanted. Not because he didn't share the same sentiment but because he couldn't bare to be the one responsible for taking that home away.

“Yea, well welcome home.” Was all he could think to say before tossing on his shirt and boots before hurrying out the door. Your very presence was suffocating to him. Leaving him no option but to hurry off in no particular direction.

Sighing you kept still for a few moments. Allowing it all to sink in as you stared blankly ahead. A part of you wanted to cry while the other half wanted to scream and break everything in sight. Instead you settled for reaching inside your duffel and pulling out a bottle of Tevraki Whiskey. A parting gift from your crew for getting them out of a particularly sticky situation. Pulling out the cork with your teeth you spit it across the room where it rolled beneath Cassian's bed. The inside of the refresher was still warm as you stepped in and turned on the shower. Discarding bits of clothing as you gulped down the smooth whiskey. Allowing it to burn your throat as you cherished each swig.

An hour later you had dried your hair and slipped into your usual casual attire with the full intent of meeting Theodren and the others at the cantina on base. All it took was sitting down to pull on your boots and you were out like a light. Head crashing into your pillow as the exhaustion you had fought suddenly overtook you.

When your eyes finally began to flutter open a handful of hours later it took a moment for you to gather your surroundings before remembering where you were. Home. Except something felt off. Unnatural. As your gaze drifted around the room your heart dropped into your stomach before returning with a vengeance. It was him, again. After all this time.

Instinctively you willed yourself to sit up, to leap out of bed but you were frozen. You couldn't move, couldn't even scream for help. It was an old sensation, and one you hadn't missed. Of course you had been told what it truly was: just a simple sleeping sickness that wasn't entirely uncommon, particularly in those suffering from past trauma. Still, waking up to find yourself paralyzed, staring at the bloody specter of someone you loved, is not an easy experience to rationalize.

As the door swung open, casting a warm glow into the room you felt as if you were drowning at sea and had spotted a ship in the distance. In walked Cassian, nonchalantly as ever, hardly so much a glance in your direction. Already you could feel the tears begin to swell in the corner of your eyes. As he turned towards the refresher you prayed he would catch a glimpse of your face, perhaps see the anguish burning beneath your frozen exterior. You thought for sure all hope was lost and that you were doomed to ride this one out alone; however long it may last, when Cassian's feet came to an abrupt stop. Slowly turning his head to peer through the darkness in your direction.

Cassian had been grateful when he came in to find you sleeping. Thankful that he would have more time to think of a proper apology, not some drunken slurred excuse which was currently all he had to offer. He even thought you were talking in your sleep again. Right up to the point that he was about to walk away entirely when he heard it. Such a pitiful whimper, like a fawn separated from its mother. It wasn't the normal chaotic mumbling of your sleep talking. This sounded deliberate. Desperate. Stumbling forward Cassian switched on your bedside lamp and found the look of terror on your face far more sobering than any cold shower he could've taken.

“What is it?” He asked, kneeling at your side. As much as you wanted to turn your head to face him all you could do was peer out of the corner of your eyes. Trying to focus on him entirely, ignoring the other pale face that stared out from the darkness. Cold dead eyes looking at you and seeing nothing. “What's wrong?”

Cassian did his best to speak calmly as he settled on the edge of the bed. As his hands fell to your shoulders he found them tense as stone; yet, he could see the rapid rate of your heart as the vein in your neck throbbed with each passing beat. His fingers found their way to your wrist in the dark. Easily taking your pulse as it thumped against the tips of his fingers with far too much force and speed. You were more than just terrified, you were petrified. Nearly on the verge of shock. He knew you had issues with sleep, he had even witnessed some himself, but nothing like this. It broke him to see you this afraid, this helpless.

“You're okay.” He whispered, rubbing a hand up and down your left arm while the other maintained its grip on your right shoulder. “You're okay, just breathe in and out.”

The more Cassian spoke the calmer you felt, as if each word had been a tiny doze of peace, of comfort. As he inched closer, the warm light washing over his face so that you could finally see him clearly, you felt your strength returning. Taking your hand in his own Cassian could feel as each digit began to crawl across his palm. You could sense your body shaking as you drew on every ounce of strength inside you to propel yourself upwards. Arms draping around Cassian as you fell into his grasp. In the haze you couldn't think of anything else that had happened between the two of you. None of the bickering or resentment even registered. In that moment he was all you had.

A life preserver in a sea of nothing.

Your only tangible connection to reality. The one thing you could feel other than fear. So you clung tightly to him. Fingernails digging into the fabric of his shirt as your body continued to shake.

“It's alright, it's alright.” He repeated softly into your ear, arms inching around your waist as you pulled yourself closer until you were practically sitting in his lap. He could feel your chest rise and fall against his own. Your panicked breath against his neck. The warm tears that escaped your eyes to cascade down his cheek from where your faces were pressed against each other.

Cassian tried to remember the last time he felt this close to someone. It was only a moment later, as he buried his face into your hair, the sweet smell of your shampoo filling his senses, that Cassian realized the last time he had been this close to anyone was you. The memory of that night came flooding back to him, filling his head with all manner of thoughts. He wasn't sure how much time had passed before your body finally began to still, the grip of your hands loosening as you slowly lent back to face him. Instinctively Cassian found himself pushing the stray strands of hair out of your face. Reaching up you took a hold of his hand gently. Your gaze now locked with his.

“Thank you.” Your voice was barely a breath, so quite that had Cassian not been so close you aren't sure he would have heard it.

“Are you alright?” He whispered, rolling his hand over in your own to hold it gently between the two of you.

“Yea I'm...” Damn you wished you could lie to him, tell him that everything was fine and that he could go to bed. Not to worry about you considering you weren't his problem. He had been so cold to you earlier after all. But looking into those brown eyes of his all you wanted to do was stay fixed, planted exactly where you were until the tenderness that hid beneath his gaze had rid you of every terrible thought, every horrible memory. “I was so afraid...”

“It was just a bad dream.”

“No I-I mean the Ravangers.” You stuttered. Cassian furrowed his brow, looking down for a moment as you struggled to catch your breath. Your body still trembling gently beneath his hands. “I saw that ship and I was terrified.”

“Anyone would be.” Cassian assured you, his voice soft as he spoke.

“It wasn't just that I was scared of dying Cass, it was...” Chewing your bottom lip you found yourself at a loss, unsure if this was the sort of thing you should be sharing with someone, let alone Cassian of all people.

“What?” He asked tenderly, once again reaching up to tuck another rebellious curl out of your face.

“It was everything I was leaving behind.” You sighed, looking away from Cassian's piercing gaze. “So much left unfinished, so many words left unsaid...”

The moment the words left your lips you felt the heavy thump of Cassian's heart against your chest. Neither of you had moved more than an inch apart since you had awoken entirely, a realization that seemed to only strike you now as you became hyper aware of how the close the two of you were. It had been months since the two of you had last been this close yet it wasn't until now that you realized just how much you had subconsciously yearned for it.

How very much at home you finally felt.

“Can you stay?” You asked hesitantly, nearly certain that you had over stepped your bounds. “Please?”

As Cassian sat there, allowing your words a moment to sink in he thought for a moment that he surely must be dreaming. How many times had he fallen asleep after a long day to find himself in a moment similar to this. How many times had he wished he could have gone back in time and been honest with you about everything. About his job, about his fears, and how he hadn't felt like himself since that night the two of you had kissed. How he had lied to himself by convincing you it meant nothing. All he could think to do was touch you. Gently he rested his palm against your cheek, thumbing away a single delayed tear that had fallen. Looking you deep in the eye he nodded softly.

Cassian maneuvered the two of you smoothly, maintaining his hold on you as he laid the both of you back onto your bed. Moving your arm out from under him you waited until he had kicked off his boots and pealed off his outer shirt to leave only a cotton tank underneath before pulling the blankets over the two of you. As Cassian laid back down you weren't sure if he intended to keep his current distance. As if he had read your mind the Captain turned his head to face you, trying to read your expression in the dark before turning his attention to the ceiling. His heart suddenly in his throat. He felt like a teenager again, too scared to speak up. Instead he inched his hand closer to yours, bit by bit until he felt the soft flesh of your fingers aside his own. Like two dancers in sync each of you laced your fingers together. A feeling like warm liquor filled your stomach as you rolled onto your side, mustering up the courage to pull the captain's arm around your waist as you nuzzled yourself into his chest.

The sigh of relief that left your lungs was only mirrored by Cassian's as his arms again wrapped tightly around you. Bringing your body flush against his own. With your ear pressed against him you could hear every beat of Cassian's heart. The comforting repetition easing you into a sense of calm. His strong arms around you made you feel safe for the first time in months, allowing sleep to quickly creep up on you. Your eyes had almost closed when you looked up only to find Cassian watching you. Too tired himself to make an attempt at hiding it.

“I missed you.” Smiling softly, your eyes flutter once, twice before closing entirely. Calm, steady breaths escape your lips as Cassian tries to get a grip on himself. Just that morning he had sworn to himself that he would not allow himself to fall back into whatever it was the two of you had going on. He had even forced himself to say those rude, hell mildly cruel things to you, in the hopes to stave you off. Eight months he had spent convincing himself that there was nothing between the two of you and not even twelve hours after landing you were back in his arms. The one place he swore he wouldn't find you. The one place he so desperately wanted to keep you. It was torture feeling this way. A sweet pain that he found himself wanting again and again. There was a word for it, he knew that for certain, he just wasn't ready to say it. Not even to himself. Instead he settled for pulling you closer if possible, relishing the way you instinctively shifted in his arms, hands gripping the fabric of his clothing as if even in sleep you wanted him closer.

Just as he had that night on his ship so many months ago he found himself leaning down and pressing his lips against your forehead. That same surge of adrenaline pulsing through his veins leaving him with no hope of denial. Giving in, if only for tonight, Cassian rested his head atop yours and slept soundly for the first time in years.

#cassian x reader #cassian andor x reader #cassian andor imagine #rogue one reader insert #rogue one fanfic #cassian imagine #SW Fanfic #swfanfic #sw reader insert #Counting Paths

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mentalanalyzer · 6 years ago

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Unadulterated Uncensored Bigotry

Maybe it’s because I’m tired, maybe it’s because I’m pissed at the world around me, but this has been on my mind for quite some time. Does your ethnicity define you? Are they ingrained in your genes? Nature vs. Nurture? While I find many parts of my personality are due to the American environment I have been brought up in, there are aspects of my personality, that I only see in Persians, despite the lack of that upbringing. Aspects that I only see shared amongst those back in Iran. How could have such aspects of my personality if I’ve never been exposed to it? And that brings me to the topic of the day. Profiling.

This is for me, my ideas, this page is seen by me (I don’t even know why I get followers when I post once in a blue moon). I will not use politically correct terminology, because my terminology comes from a universal language, and that is the fact people are defined by their appearance. Black is black, not african american. Everyone in the world calls African Americans black people. Most consider Asians almond eyed people. This is how people are defined. I will be using generalization and stereotypes, and yes there are exceptions to everything, but generalization exist for a reason. Observations are not inherently racist, unless used as such. I have nothing against races of people, there are aspects of each culture I dislike and like. However, as stated before, people do seem to be potentially defined genetically by their culture. Without further ado.

We shall start with Persians. Never have I met a group of individuals so arrogant with such a lack of humility. They are smart, crafty, intelligent, even attractive and physically fit. And they know it. And yet, we always fall. Because we are always arrogant, always thinking we’re better than everyone. We have no sense of humility, doing whatever we want with no regards to others and the consequences. Our society always rises because of our innate abilities, but always falls due to the flaws inherent in our personality. Our women, vain. They also have intelligence, and beauty, and they know it. Never have I met a group more vain than Persian women. Always striving to better than other women, insecurity rampant, and always jealous. Persian women have the most potential in all races of women, and yet I despise them the most out of all races of women. Their intelligence is rotted away with their obsession over looks. Their definition of power defined by their man. They are dominant, but become submissive as they are unable to do anything without their man. The women is battling her man, other women, and herself. A war on 3 fronts, is a war you cannot win. And it is for this reason, they always lose. The worst part is, Persians know this. This upsets me the most. They are aware of their arrogance and intelligence, and yet do nothing about. Like an alcoholic who refuses to quit.

Asians, smart crafty devils, with an absolute lack of compassion for other races and usually severe racism as well. Robots? Not quite. Robots would be indifferent, Asians are not indifferent. Similar to Persians in intelligence and their understanding of it, but without the arrogance. The feeling of superiority, masked by humility, by sub-conscious racism (giving them the benefit of the doubt). They’re quiet, and always make themselves seem less than they are, but are always planning to best their competition. Drive and determination, but with a flawed premise. No love to bring others up with them, but rather leave everyone in the dust. To use the common man for self use, and make sure he doesn’t get to the same level. A comrade has no meaning. The women are the same, but their disdain for others is even worse. The perfect counter-part as they support and go hand in hand with their man. However, often times, they find themselves weak against their man. They are driven and determined, but as soon as they find an Asian man who stands to oppose them, they crumble. As if admitting superiority. See that’s the entire problem here with Asians, the concept of superiority. Persians are always brought down by our stupidity induced by our arrogance, but Asians always see themselves as superior as above. As soon as that image is crushed, they crumble. As if being below anyone is the realization of failure. This is what I mean by a flawed premise.

Black people. Incredibly emotional, and lazy. Quick to anger, rash, lashes out easily. Uses great effort to build something, only to quickly destroy it. Hardworker...and yet I said lazy? Works hard, but not smart. Not that they can’t, just that they don’t want to. Life is hard, and yet if it’s simple, it’s not too bad. Yet complains that it’s not better, that they want it to be better, and yet doesn’t want to put the effort to make it better. Living in dreams, but never wants to make them a reality. An uphill battle that they can fight, but just that they don’t want to. Let someone else fight it for them, let them reap the rewards. Only fighting when they become emotional, but fighting out of anger, is a short fight. The fuse is only so long, and after it burns, back to mediocrity. Mediocrity isn’t a problem, if they didn’t find it a problem. Like a slouched spine. Works hard to keep you upright, but never quite does the job right. The women are similar to the women. Unsuprisingly, the women actually have more drive than the men. A culture so driven by emotions, it makes sense that the gender with more emotion is more driven. Dominant, aggressive, demanding....yet with all things extreme, easily broken. Unlike Persians with it being a fight against others and their own insecurities, and Asians with it being a fight against superiority and intelligence, with black people, it’s the fight of emotions. Don’t attack a black womens confidence or intelligence, attack her heart. That’s the walls weak point.

Arabians, all the bravado of Persians, with none of the attributes. Take the arrogance of Persians, and take away the craft and intelligence, and you get Arabians. There is a difference though, see Persians arrogance is against everyone, including fellow Persians. This causes conflict amongst Persians, which is why we are always bringing ourselves down. Arabians create a heirachy, with arrogance designated towards others that are not Arabian. Targeted arrogance you might say. A shared ideology and common belief, is all it takes to becomes uneasy friends with Arabians. You are part of the “cool kids table” now as they say. They have no superior quality outside of numbers and co-operations (which may be a quality in and of itself). One of the most unified cultures out there. This is what makes extremism so likely however. A unification of simple ideals is all that is needed to make one part of the cool kids and having disdain and arrogance towards everyone else. But who defines the cool kids? This is the infighting for Arabians, and makes it so they always form unified groups fighting unified groups; whereas for Persians it’s always a free for all. The women are basically the same. Lack of intelligence, lack of looks, and yet vain and demanding. Inferior in every way to Persian women. I’d feel bad for their conditions, if it wasn’t the fact that they treat the men just as badly as the men treat the women. They’re submissive state is only due to the fear induced by the mens aggression. Against any other physically submissive group, they would dominate. There are other cultures with men physically dominant (like black men), but they only tolerate Arabian men.

Indians. What is there to say? Racist, sexist, aggressive but weak? Out of all the groups, Indian men are the most sexist and treat women the worst. They make Arabian men look like angels. They have an inferiority complex, that they take out on the weaker groups due to lacking the balls to take someone on their own size. Their cowardness is unmatched in the world. Like the Asians, they too have a heirachy, and they strive to be the top. Unlike Asians though, they have compassion, and guilt. They will screw you over to get to the top, but they will feel bad about it (doesn’t mean they’ll do anything about it). Like Asians, they are quiet, but not out of disdain and contempt, but out of fear. They don’t bring themselves down like Asians (strategic), but rather only see themselves as lower due to the inferiority complex. This doesn’t mean they lack drive however, as they will still compete to be the top of their heirachy. Take the intelligence of Persians, but without the arrogance, and add the heart the Asians are missing, and you get Indians. Indian women on the other hand, are incredibly racist. The potential to be smart, but kept ignorant by their Indian men. Demanding, aggressive, insulting. Whereas Arabian women are physically abusive, Indian women are mentally abusive. They are like a peach, soft on the outside, but hard on the inside.

Finally....the white man. Individualism as an ethnicity. Congregation by like minds for a greater purpose, but for everyone else below them, they are tools. The white man will not come above others like Asians, but will bring others down below him. The white man doesn’t look to live like the black man, or to congregate like the Arabians, or look to fullfill a superiority complex like the Asians, or to fight off an inferiority complex either. The white man looks to control for the aim of bettering his life. Arrogant, but aware enough of that arrogance to curb it to the point it is still deterimental, but not as severe as Persians. As for the women, they are used as tools just as everyone else for the white man. The women are emotional, ignorant, arrogant, with little drive and purpose outside of be the useful tool of the white man. A blanks slate....literally. Easily influenced and written, by the white man, or other cultures. This makes it so the white women is able to congregate more easily with other cultures; if the other cultures racism allows.

Now, this may all appear negative, and it may appear I just hate all cultures, but that is just not the case. As is with everything, each culture has it’s positives and negatives.

Persians have so much potential. Their men are smart, intelligent, and can become experts in any field (as many are). Their women have the most potential out of any group. Looks and brains, can’t beat them. Asians are also smart and intelligent, always raising the bar, always increasing the competition. The women as well. Smart and determined, but humble and quiet. As long as they are empowered, they can achieve just as much if not more than the man can. Everyone can learn from black people. From all the groups, I love being in the company of this group the most. They have....soul.. would be the best way to put it. They are what it means to be human, to express yourself, and to live. Arabians demonstrate the power of Unity and tolerance. With their empire being one of the most peaceful and prosperious for it’s residents. The ability to set the petty aside and focus on the main ideals that unite all of us. Their women demonstrate how despite being oppressed and put down, you can always keep that drive and determination to be better. That no one can stop you. Indians are the nicest people in existence. Bettering their neighbor, and always trying to live with love and compassion. Their women are in fact the reasons this is the case, with mothers who teach the importance of loving oneself and ones neighbors. The white man, the centerpiece of all of this. Having the potential to unify all the groups, and have them cordially work with one another. While Persian woman are born with the most potential, white women are designed with the most potential in mind. The blank slate, combined with beauty and grace, enables them to create their own personality, and to be influenced by other cultures. Allowed to fluorish on their own, the white woman is one of the purest in all the groups.

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1997onepiece · 7 years ago

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Im that anon that requested for headcanon :D sorry i took so long. Can i get a headcanon of each of the strawhats drinking habits? Like how do each if then act if they get drunk? How much can each if them drink before getting drunk? What is the most embarrassing thing they did while drunk? Do they prefer wine or beer or any other alcoholic beverage? I Was always curious on this one because theres a couple of drinking scenes in op

thanks for this request! it was an interesting one. this ended up being really, really long so im putting it under a read more(probably due to all the pics of evidence i put in from a bunch of different arcs. ive been working on this since 7:30am and its 5:15pm now lol. dont worry though, i took a meal break!)

anyways, i tried to stick to canon/what could be plausibly canon as much as possible for each character (including the embarrassing bits). the headcanons go through jinbei!

i hope you all enjoy the read & if any of you feel differently/have some bit of contradictory evidence, feel free to send it in! im open to suggestions, i tried my best here but i know i probably missed some stuff

also before i start please note that all of them drink beer. all of them. theyre pirates, they kind of have to. pirates sing and pirates drink beer, thats just how it is in luffys mind, so thats the default drink for everyone at parties (i imagine thats how oda feels too)

though beer is the default drink, theyll drink anything. theyre not really that picky. like:

with that out of the way, ill talk personal preferences and experiences of each crew member now

also i will only be using manga evidence from here on out since thats what im familiar with/thats whats canon

luffy:

luffy is usually seen drinking in conjunction with eating a shit ton of food. he doesnt really drink for the sake of drinking alone, he likes food more than he does alcohol lol. he even says this in dressrosa:

so yeah, luffy drinks for the occasion (parties mostly). the only time i see him potentially drinking alcohol by itself outside of a party is maybe if he wanted to sing some tunes with the crew or something (again, based off that whole image of what it is to be a pirate)

like, look at his face here lol. idk whether thats coke or rum but he is not liking it

drunk personality - tuckered out and easily annoyed, after hes done partying. probably goes straight to sleep. itd take a lot to get him drunk though like, do you see how much he has to eat to get full? lol

drink preferences - beer mostly

heres luffy with some alcohol:

an embarrassing thing that could happen to him while drunk: hes made to wear something that insults his masculinity. basically like what happened to him at amazon lily

luffy doesnt really get embarrassed all that much in other contexts in the series, unless his friends are praising him, so this is what i went with

zoro:

he breathes alcohol and everyone knows it. just check out this panel of luffy trying to wake him up at thriller bark by enticing him with a fucking barrel of the stuff:

and also mihawk withholding alcohol from him while he masters haki:

as for his preferences, you see zoro drinking a lot of beer throughout the series but he goes for hard alcohol a lot of the time too. id like to see him on soju or vodka lmfao.

anyways heres some zoro drinking beer:

oktoberfest zoro! he looks so happy haha

heres him drinking some hard stuff:

note how hes supposedly drinking tea in this last one but hes got an alcohol bottle next to him. either hes pretending to drink tea or he spiked the shit lol

zoroll drink anything though hes greedy for alcohol lmao like:

as for his drunk personality, i dont think hed ever allow himself to be truly drunk. as you can see here, his morals get in the way:

thats not to say he cant get buzzed the fuck up though like:

drinking, however, does result in lowered inhibitions so i guess the most wed ever get out of him is some dumb decisions

going off of that, an embarrassing thing that could happen to him while drunk:he says/does something earnestly and someone makes fun of him for it. like what happened at thriller bark with pirate docking 6:

either that or he wakes up having done something he finds beneath him:

to sum it all up, watch this silly ass amv i found about zoros drinking habits lol

nami:

drinking habits/drunk personality: this woman can outdrink a horse like holy shit.

as you can see, shes a boisterous drunk. loud and happy, as well as a little competitive:

sidenote: ZORO AND NAMI ARE THE BEST DRINKING BUDDIES!! just imagine them goading each other on haha how cute

drink preferences - anything. she loves alcohol. shes the alcohol queen

although she can get down and dirty, she loves looking classy. we actually see her drinking fruity stuff/wine more often than beer (but again, shes the alcohol queen so shell do anything):

shes drinking apple juice here in this last one but the point about looking classy still stands

an embarrassing thing that could happen to her while drunk:hmm, i dont really see her doing anything she doesnt want to do tbh. the only time she gets embarrassed is when someone praises her really

i guess maybe going back to her cabin and trying to draw a map drunk, only to spill ink all over her maps? although thats not embarrassing so much as frustrating really

usopp:

drinking habits/drunk personality - he seems like more of a social drinker than anything else. you dont really seem him drinking unless its a party

when he does drink, he has fun though

he doesnt really have a high tolerance for alcohol though lol just look at him here:

an embarrassing thing that could happen to him while drunk:he gets caught telling a big ass lie and has to pay for it dearly lmao

drink preferences - doesnt really seem all that adventurous outside of beer tbh

sanji:

i imagine he taste tests a lot of stuff as a chef but his favorite seems to be red wine:

thats not to say he cant appreciate a good ass beer when the occasion calls for it though:

going along with this panel, hes a flirty drunk. hes also flirty when hes not drunk though, so its not as if theres much difference

an embarrassing thing that could happen to him while drunk:his vision is so blurry that he ends up slutting it up with an old woman/a man

i dont imagine he gets drunk easily but hes definitely no zoro or nami

chopper:

drinking habits - he wouldnt go out of his way to drink on his own. hes more of a social drinker honestly. hed just take whatever his crewmates shove at him haha

going off of that, hed prefer beer usually (since thats what everyone else is drinking)

drunk personality - he has a little body, so hed get drunk rather quickly comparatively. hed still try to keep up with his friends though so hed probably pass out early. poor little guy would get tuckered out so quick. at some point he would probably learn to change his body size when he plans on drinking a lot lol

an embarrassing thing that could happen to him while drunk:someone praises him about how good hes gotten at holding his beer and he claps his hooves together without thinking, causing him to spill his beer all over himself and drop it

robin:

drink preferences - shes classy. on her own, she usually seeks out wine, maybe something fruity occasionally, but mostly wine

look at that fat fucking glass. shes having a fun time lol

its important to note that half the time at a party even shell drink wine. take these examples from the dressrosa and post-enies lobby parties:

drunk personality/an embarrassing thing that could happen to her while drunk: shes quiet but i can imagine everyone thinking shes sober and then she falls over lmao

drinking habits - i like to imagine her winding down with a glass of wineafter a long day. i can also see her drinking fine wines for the tasteof it. she doesnt really seem like the type to get drunk much

sidenote: honestly i like to think of robin, nami, and sanji as the classy drinks club lol. sanji likes giving the ladies the good stuff

like look at this. i could guess pretty confidently who those drinks are for lol

franky:

drinking habits - mostly with the crew. he probably drank more in the past when he was more ‘hard-boiled’ lol

drink preferences - he drinks cola more than anything else, so i would headcanon his tastes running more towards rum and coke

not to say that he doesnt drink other stuff though:

drunk personality - prone to slapstick humor, as per usual. kind of like this:

an embarrassing thing that could happen to him while drunk: his speedo getting stolen again lol

brook:

drink preferences/personality - he has no taste buds, so he has no preference! yohohoho!

nah but just kidding, jokes aside, it was confirmed he can taste and digest stuff like anyone else. i can see him indulging in some fancy wines while on tour as soul king, he doesnt really drink besides with the crew though

however, i can imagine him during his years alone getting sad and drinking in memory of his old crew, reenacting how they would sing and get drunk together LOL god thats depressing. consider the fact that he would play alone in the middle of the ocean with these panels to back that up:

lol sorry to dump sad shit on you. now he drinks with a happier purpose though

anyways, i guess these days around girls i could imagine him being a horny drunk, a la “let me see your panties”

BUT, of course, hes also a musical drunk! happy to sing and play for his friends

an embarrassing thing that could happen to him while drunk: he removes his soul from his body to go look at some panties but he has no idea where hes going because the alcohol fucked with his sense of direction so his souls just lurching all over the place and then he gets lost & it takes him a few days to find his body again

jinbei:

drinking habits/drunk personality - hed go for a buzz. hes not the type looking to get fall-on-your-ass drunk so much lol, hed know when to stop. i imagine him to be a happy drinker - all smiles and warm compliments

drink preferences - sake. we havent seen him drinking much but when he does drink, hes drinking what seems to be rice wine, based on what its contained in. though of course hes gonna be drinking more beer once he hangs out with the mugiwara crew in full haha

heres happy jinbei with some sake:

note that the character there, 酒, is sake (fun translation note: in japanese, 酒 refers to all varieties of alcohol, but in english it refers to japanese rice wine)

an embarrassing thing that could happen to him while drunk:he tells everyone in sight awesome luffy is and how hes gonna give his life to him and talks about literally nothing else. the next day everyone teases him about it haha

and thats it! i had fun writing this haha hope i was able to elaborate on their drinking habits to an extent that was satisfactory

i tried my best not to come up with ooc stuff but you all will be the judge of that i suppose

i hope the wait wasnt too long for you specifically, anon, & i hope youll forgive me for taking a few days to respond!

thanks for reading, for those that stuck this one out :D

#one piece #if you like this post let me know i slaved over it lol #myheadcanons

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dat-town · 7 years ago

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In chains of the Crown

The cast: Yan An (Pentagon) as Prince, later King Yan An Mark Tuan (Got7) as King Mark (also mentioned as Tuan Yien) Cheng Xiao (WJSN) as the female lead

Setting: historical au, royal au

Genre: romance, angst

Warnings: violence, blood, minor character deaths, implied mature themes

Summary: Under the weight of the crown, will you break or will you bend? (Inspired by: "Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown" - Henry IV by William Shakespeare)

Word count: 14.5k

Notes: takes place in China, during the sixteen kingdoms’ times but has nothing to do with the actual history. it’s basically scenes following each other with time gaps between them because i imagine this whole thing as a historical kdrama, #sorrynotsorry. Also, long live Chinese/Taiwainese idols, they deserve more love.

I hope you love it, my dearest @restlessmaknae! Wish you the happiest B-day!♥

There is a courtesan house deep in the forest behind the mountains of Jianfeng. It’s hidden from common eye and only exceptional people know about its existence. The place is a safe haven for girls who were left alone after the war because their own families who sold them for money or rather because they became orphans. The place is an institute as well. The inhabitants are taught vital things about the cruel world outside. They are trained to be the centre of attention: to be unearthly beautiful and talented in various fields. They are still slaves in the eyes of the society but once bought they are on a higher level. They worth plenty of gold because they ought to entertain, pleasure and practice all kind of arts: music, dance, poetry.

But unlike any other courtesan training institute, this one teaches the art of killing as well.

“Don’t worry, your Highness, she’s our best. She will take the Crown Prince’s life without a problem when the time comes,” the owner of the house claims in a loud voice, proudly. His tone is honeyed while he tries to sweet talk their newest potential client into buying their services or even better, one of the girls.

One of the courtesans of blossoming age sits in her room, listening to the conversation that’s going on in the hallways in front of her closed door. Maybe it’s on purpose as if the owner wanted her to hear it. The unique beauty with her golden locks blinks towards the dull voices, unfazed. The master of the institute has wanted to give her away ever since she came of age so it’s nothing new. But she’s still here because the price he set on her is too high, even for such a talented and gorgeous virgin. So the girl stays still and silent even though the polite form of address and the Prince’s mention piques her curiosity. Not many royals dare to set their foot into a courtesan house publicly, much less to talk about killing a prince. What Crown Prince anyway? The royal family only has the King left.

“I want to see her,” a deeper, thicker voice speaks up and the young courtesan looks up from her book when the lock of her door opens with a click.

Two tall men figure steps into her simple room. It mirrors the other courtesans’ small chamber. It has nothing more than a bed, a candle, an ink container and some books. The few dress she actually has hang in a wooden wardrobe. For work or when they have performances she gets expensive clothes to wear but just for then. She doesn’t have an income, all the money people pay for her services as a ballad singer, musician or story teller goes straight to the courtesan house’s owner because that’s how he keeps track of the costs her training caused and how much is left until she can set herself free.

The peculiar golden haired girl isn’t ashamed of the little she has but when she recognizes the King’s notorious uncle in her visitor, the colour of her rosy cheeks drains.

“Bow before His Royal Highness!” the owner orders and she does as he says. She always does as she’s told.

She sinks onto her knees, not caring about worsening the condition of her already strained dress and bows until her forehead touches the ground. It’s common courtesy in times like this, symbolizing that the slaves can never be good enough to be on one level with them. They can’t even touch their toes.

“How old is she?” she hears the royal ask about her and she gulps, closing her eyes, fingers digging into the fabric of her skirt. She’s scared for a reason because everyone heard the gossips about the older man. He had experience with women, a lot actually and most of them included various things that weren’t for eyes of an innocent girl. What happens if he really buys her? Would he use her, hurt her and force her to kill the Crown Prince so the throne would be his heritage after all?

“Turned eighteen not long ago,” the owner answers plainly, fully aware that this is well past the age virgins are usually sold.

“Perfect. She even has the same hair colour as the King,” the royal man claims and the girl in question furrows her brows. She doesn’t understand why this detail is important enough to point out. Commoners usually don’t even know about the late king’s son’s appearance. “What do they call you, slave?”

“The Nightingale, your Highness,” she lifts her head up because being finally directly addressed allows her to do that but she keeps her gaze fixed on the floor. The name they gave her tastes sour on her tongue no matter how long she has it. She knows the meaning behind it, the bird’s beautiful song that can almost only be heard at night even if it sings during daylight, too. Does she dare to hope to be different? To be heard whenever she wants?

“How fitting,” the man clicks his tongue in a satisfied fashion and steps back, away from the slave but he still talks to her when he continues: “From this moment on, you are Cheng Xiao, Princess of the Tuan Kingdom.”

The name rings familiar in every Chinese person’s ear, recalling stories of the rebellion against the Tuan court twelve years ago. The princess was only six years old when displeased commoners attacked the palace shedding noble blood on the white marble. The Queen entrusted a maiden to help the child escape the kingdom, to raise her far away from the intrigues so she can come back when she reaches adulthood. People have been hoping for her to come home and fulfil the promise her parents made: marry the Crown Prince of Yan dynasty, end the war and create a Great United China again. But as years passed, there were no news about the youngest jewel of Tuan dynasty and the tension between the two kingdoms was worse than ever. Rumour has it that she was killed immediately during the escape. Others claim that the maiden sold her for gold. It’s just like a shot in the dark, nobody has facts, nobody knows the truth.

“The… the lost princess?” the courtesan croaks out taken aback by hearing this name and she recklessly commits the fatal crime of looking a royal straight into the eyes. Yet, the late king’s brother doesn’t seem to care, he just smirks as he stares back openly.

“Yes, we will make everybody believe you are her so you can marry in her place. If you play your part well and do as I say, you’ll live in riches for all your life and you don’t have to be a slave anymore,” he promises light-heartedly, offering her the whole wide world on a silver plate as she nervously sucks in a breathe. She’s waiting for the ‘but’ in dreadful anticipation. There’s always a ‘but’ part because nothing’s free these days and she isn’t mistaken. “If you don’t, I will personally make sure to take your pretty head.”

The Nightingale gulps, she knows she can’t afford to fail now. If they get caught by anybody, she can end up dead easily but she doesn’t have a choice, she never does. This deal at least can make it worth it. If she can become a Cheng Xiao nobody doubts. She smiles slyly at the thought, confidently. She isn’t their best for nothing after all.

She is given two days to prepare: to pack everything she needs and to transform into somebody who can be mistaken to be a princess. Since her mission is a secret and nobody should know about it, she does everything alone. Her long, wavy golden looks already bear resemblance to the rare blondeness that runs in the Tuan family but she cuts her fringe to look similar to the late Queen who died during the attacks a decade ago. She powders the scar on her wrist and wears the dresses the rich client sent her. Each bodice, dress and cape is made of expensive silk, the purest pearls brought from the deepest part of the oceans human can reach and decorated by gold that worth more than the courtesan house with everything in it. Maybe it’s the clothes or the gossip that started not long ago about the lost princess but everybody gapes at her in awe as she steps into the carriage sent for her. Even her fellow courtesan friends believe that she’s the princess miraculously found.

“First, we are going to see the King,” her buyer declares as they approach the royal palace in Xianyang. “You don’t say a word until you’re asked. And you absolutely cannot speak about the murder we plan.”

Tuan Yien is a kind-hearted and wise king despite being only twenty-four years old. He has gotten sick with weak heart condition since the wars between the sixteen kingdoms started and the search expeditions for her sister proved to be nothing but waste of time and money. It hasn’t even crossed the courtesan’s mind that he has anything to do with the evil plan.

The plan that, if carried out well, is worse than being stabbed into the back. Because the uncle doesn’t want her to marry the other kingdom’s Crown Prince, the soon-to-be-king, just to make allies but he also wants to poison him not long after his coronation so the Tuan King and the ‘Princess’ can unite the two biggest kingdoms of China.

So it’s hard, standing in front of the King and lying to him by not saying anything. But she’s selfish enough to not want to die.

“Is she the one?” the newly-crowned young king asks stepping down from his high podium, walking closer as the thumps of his steps echo in the throne room. The Nightingale knows where she belongs in from of the monarch and she doesn’t look into his eyes even if she should act like they are siblings. No, the client would definitely not approve that bold move.

“Yes, Yien, isn’t it marvelous? Even I would believe she’s your sister if I didn’t know better,” the man’s suggestive tone sends chills down the girl’s spine. Talking about the lost princess like this? How dares he?

King Mark, who is only called by his birth name by his closest relatives and allies, doesn’t say a word. He wordlessly observes the girl brought in front of him. Someone who has the same blonde hair and fair skin the rightful princess bore when she was only six and taken away from the royal family. He wishes he would remember her better but sometimes he’s even afraid of forgetting his own parents’ faces. Yet, there’s something about this girl, maybe the way she stands tall or the golden powder is hinted over her lashes but she’s nothing like the innocent little sister that lives in his memories. However, he doesn’t voice it out loud. At least, not with several people watching their every move.

“Can you leave us alone, uncle?” he asks politely, yet there’s firmness in his tone and it’s obvious that he doesn’t take no as an answer.

“As you wish,” the older bows slightly and then leaves with a smirk hiding his offended expression.

“You, too!” the king orders his soldiers authoritatively, slightly implying that questions asked aren’t appreciated. When even the last man leaves, there’s only the two of them left. But they can never be truly alone, in the palace even the walls have ears, after all. They cannot behave around each other like they used to. Not yet.

“It’s been a long time, your Majesty,” the girl bows again with a shy smile, testing out the new name, searching for his gaze.

The skinny boy she once knew has grown up well since they last met. He was merely a teenager then but now he’s a man, leading a country, more handsome and confident than ever. She isn’t sure how she should act around him: a slave like she is legitimately or an old acquaintance?

“It has. You have gotten pretty.”

Mark’s sudden compliment makes the girl blush furiously. It’s been a time since anyone said something like this to her. And coming from the king of House Tuan, it makes it even more special. “Thank you.”

The young man takes a deep breath as he doesn’t take his eyes off of the girl as if he has been seeing a daydream and she could disappear in a blink.

“Look I know uncle plots something but if you don’t want to…”

“It’s okay,” the Nightingale does the unforgivable and cuts off the monarch. He, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to mind, he’s rather interested in what she has to say. He hangs on every word that rolls off her tongue. “I just have to marry the Crown Prince. It’s the least I can do for peace.”

There are way worse ways than marrying a prince who will be a king soon. She would have settled for worse so she’s grateful. Even if it means she would have to kill to take what hers: freedom. In times like this murder is everyday occurrence, only the reasons vary: fear, anger or greed? People have them all and sometimes they act on instinct. If they don’t die in the war, they will be stabbed in the back. They live in cruel decades and harsh times have hardened the heart like steel of those who want to stay alive.

The courtesan gulps, thinking back of her training, every step and movement of defence and attack. But she doesn’t move when the King steps into her personal space and touches her wrist lightly.

“Do you still have it?” he wonders thumb sliding across the small scar that burnt permanently in her skin. She sucks in a breathe.

“It only fades with time but doesn’t disappear.”

Just like memories. It crosses both of their minds but they don’t say it out loud. There’s no need. The I’ve missed yous are lingering in the air. The older boy clears his throat as he steps back. His voice is formal again when he speaks up.

“I hope I can see you soon.”

The cold tone makes the girl shiver but she has to play her part well.

“We will meet at the wedding, your Majesty,” she promises, yet, it feels like goodbye and those always taste bitter. Maybe that’s why both of them prolong the last moments.

Something insecure crosses the man’s face and he’s biting his lower lip nervously. A bad habit he seems unable to grow out of.

“Xiao... Should I call you that?” His voice is significantly warmer and gentler than earlier when he forms the vowels and consonant of his sister’s name.

“It would make me delighted, Yien,” the girl smiles brightly, eyes sparkled and lies don’t sour her words. She should get used to it anyway.

According to the tradition, the bride should be carried in a sedan from her family’s house to the future husband’s. Since the distance between the two royal palaces has grown too wide, the journey takes days. Until then a messenger notifies the Yan prince that they found the princess, the one he was engaged with at an early age. Since the agreement is already made, set by the late Kings, there’s not much formality left. The wedding day can happen anytime soon.

Cheng Xiao is grateful because at least she gets to meet the groom before the ceremony. It doesn’t make her less nervous though. So when she steps out of the sedan and her gaze slides through the glamourous palace, she’s holding her breath in anticipation. And then, a boy, merely a man comes down the stairs walking over to her. First, she mistakenly thinks he’s only a servant since royals rarely do such things as greeting the arrived guests in person. However, he wears a traditional black attire with a golden dragon on it, the Yan’s symbol for their Crown Prince.

“Princess Cheng Xiao, I’m glad to have you here. Finally,” the prince bows a little and the girl does the same without saying anything. She’s still astonished by the man she should marry.

He is much younger than she’s expected him to be: an old crackled prince with dozens of wife already. Somebody ruthless and evil enough to make the kingdom starve and force every last capable man to die for him. Yet, Yan An looks like a kid with too heavy shoulders and too much responsibility on them. The sparkles in his youthful eyes are fading but with his delicate features as smooth as silk, sleek hair coal black like moonless nights and genuine smile that holds wonders, he’s still as handsome as the gossips whisper.

“The pleasure is all mine, Your Highness,” the girl bows down deeply, gripping on the edges of her breathtakingly pearl white dress.

“You must be hungry after such a long journey. You should join me on dining. Of course, we provide food for your men, too,” the prince hurries to ensure her about his hospitality.

The princess nods in gratitude and orders the soldiers who accompanied her to take a rest. She’s not afraid at all to stay alone with the Crown Prince.

He leads her farther into the gorgeous monument of building among massive towers and bright blue lakes and pastel green gardens until they reach a decorated common place with a large table and two settings. It looks like nobody else will dine with them and Cheng Xiao comes to know of the reason by the whispering maidens: there’s no other royalty in the palace, just them since his younger brother is down the southern front line and the prince has not yet married. The thought of being the first one scares her a little because then there would be nobody to hind behind, nobody to turn to with questions. On the other hand, it’s a soothing thought that probably he has never been with a woman either. Maybe the plan will be already over by the time he dares to lay a finger on her.

The dinner is quiet even though the prince is trying to broach a conversation relentlessly. He’s nothing but polite and understanding, kind and gentle, someone who would make a great king one day but maybe it’s all an act. So she stays silent.

After they are well-fed, they ought to take different paths, the new guest should explore her suite, change her travelling clothes and prepare for the night-time. But Yan An can’t seem to let her slip away without knowing:

“Are you really the princess?” he asks bluntly, chewing on the bitter taste of suspicion.

He has every right to doubt her even though it’s a dangerous thing to accuse a royal with lying. But special events require special approach. Isn’t it strange that after all these years, the princess was suddenly found now, when he’s supposed to take the throne after his father’s unexpected death. But he isn’t harsh or rude about the question and he bashfully looks away as he apologizes. “I’m sorry, I heard you were kidnapped and kept in a courtesan house. You probably still haven’t gotten over the fact that they freed you and now they practically sold you just to strengthen our allies. I understand if you hate me.”

The girl’s eyes widen in surprise. She has never expected him to genuinely care for her, about what the princess supposedly went through. She has learnt that people only care if they can use you.

So she says “No.” firmly and with all honesty.

She can’t hate somebody who seems so observant yet so naively trusting that he welcomes her in the heart of his kingdom not going back on the late Kings’ promise and not questioning the Tuans’ intentions.

“Pardon?” he looks up at her again, confused with creased forehead while his eyes bright up that she finally spoke up.

“No, your Highness, I don’t hate you,” she repeats and boldly looks straight into his almond eyes. “I feel sorry for you.”

The young prince doesn’t understand what it means. He doesn’t even suspect that she will stab him in the back or poison him the first chance she gets. The poor boy has no idea how it’s going to end for him. That the Nightingale will kill the prince once he carries the heavy weight of the crown on his head. By that time, as his first wife, the queen, it makes her kill the king.

They are bloody and dark times. The Great Chinese Empire on verge of falling apart. Splitting into multiple little kingdoms out of which only two had real power: the Tuan and the Yan dynasty. The two of them are having wars without end, without break, without sparing lives. When the Tuan king died a few years ago, the Yan king wanted to take advantage of the foolishly young new monarch and take over the country. Without a fair deal, King Mark refused and a new war started.

The Yan kingdom has the money but no real military force that could devour countries. The Tuans’ people on the other hand have been nothing but great soldiers without enough supplies. Both parties were struggling yet neither of them stopped this insane and meaningless battling. It was the matter of pride, it still is. So when Yan An’s father died in an accident (or who knows?), he tried to make reasonable choices, sign the peace but even his younger brother, the general thought that even without fighting, they can win if they wait until the other army weakens enough. The counsellors all supported the idea and Yan An as a new and inexperienced ruler had no say in it. He could only watch in silence as his people died.

So when he heard that the Tuans found the lost princess and they are willing to renew the marriage contract, he took the chance immediately. Because it meant the end of the war, finally the peace he yearned so much. Even if he thought it was merely a desperate attempt of the enemy to save their own people from dying of hunger, he didn’t care. Even if the princess wasn’t the real one. They just needed to become allies so together they can become the greatest kingdoms without putting a sword to each other’s neck.

They are in the middle of having breakfast when they get the news that the fights stopped at the fronts and General Sicheng is heading back to the palace. Since the coronation and the wedding both has to wait until him, the younger prince comes back, the royal court is waiting. Some think that only him who was born by the late Queen is the rightful heir of the throne while the oldest son, a bastard born out of wedlock shouldn’t claim the crown. A few counsellor hopes they can convince him to turn against his brother and lead the kingdom to victory in the Great War.

Yan An knows this, he is aware that even his people doubt his place on the throne but this is responsibility, his burden to bear. A promise he made to his father on his deathbed: he will protect his brother, everyone's favourite prince and he will let him form his own destiny instead of driving him into becoming a king too soon.

A week later, a group of soldiers arrive greeted by flowers and clapping commoners who think this means the end of the fights. Perhaps they are right or this is just a sweet delusion they cannot escape.

"Your Highness, we have heard the wonderful news. Will you really marry our enemy’s sister? Congratulations!" the second in command chimes ironically but he earns a sharp glance from the general for his disrespect.

“They are not our enemies. We merely fight over a misunderstanding. There shall be peace once they comprehend that they are wrong,” Sicheng says softly, his tone is much lighter than you’d expect from a soldier. He seems delicate and fragile, yet he’s mastered martial arts since young age to the point he can blindfoldedly defeat his master. His strategy skills are excellent and he cares for his people so he’s a perfect general just like his father has always wanted him to be.

“Brother,” he bows in front of the Crown Prince and the other man follows as Yan An acknowledges their presence in the throne room.

“How was your journey, General?” he asks politely, formally like he should no matter how much it pains him to greet his younger brother so coldly after he hasn’t seen him for so long.

“Great, thank you. How is your fiancée? Are you treating her right?”

The older boy smiles. So typically Sicheng, always worrying about the ladies. Especially, since this one will save him from having to rule. The younger has never wanted the throne and the crown to himself. His brother has always known this but being born like they did, counsellors tend to choose sides: favouring either the older but bastard son or the true-blooded but younger prince.

“She hasn’t complained yet. You can see her at lunch.” Yan An promises, his smile faltering a little as he thinks about the princess who walks the hallways pridefully and alone, not caring about dangers at all. Her quiet shyness during their meals also comes to his mind. She rarely speaks up but when she does all the attention is on her. She’s smart, she’s good at board games but doesn’t want to win. During all the time he was watching her closely, the prince has come to the conclusion that she’s watching him too. The first words they have exchanged still echo in his ears: I feel sorry for you.

“I can’t wait to meet my soon-to-be sister-in-law, our future Queen. I heard the rumours about her. They say she’s more beautiful than all the stars of the sky.”

Yan An takes a deep breath as he recalls the princess’ appearance, her fluttering lashes, the black holes of her almond eyes, those rosy cheeks and pretty, shiny lips along with the thick blonde locks framing her heart-shaped, lovely face. She can most definitely be compared with the wonders of the celestial sphere.

“She is,” he agrees and wouldn’t dare to take his words back even when Sicheng uses this against him not much later.

“Princess Xiao, you are just as beautiful as my dear brother said,” he coos as he kisses her hand when they finally get to meet. The Crown Prince catches himself blushing when the girl’s curious, dark eyes wander to his face.

The coronation along with the wedding is held on the feast of the God of harvest. The palace is dressed in the colours of celebration: red and gold. Dragon patterns all around and the double xi character for happiness and richness. Chinese people are deeply religious people in the age of wars and death, afterlife is just as important as their life here so to hope for a better era, a great dynasty, they have to make sacrifices of all kinds in front of the statue of the gods on the marketplace. The golden temple behind them is full of royal guests and other influential people who are eager to see the new ruling couple.

One of the guests is the monarch of Tuans, King Mark himself and his delegacy. Their presence is both feared and admired. A lot of ladies gush and swoon over the famous king’s handsomeness while grieving families of dead soldiers blame him for their sufferings. However, no matter the rage and hate, to bring the ruthless war to an end is far more important for now, so nobody dares to make a move.

The ceremony is like every other, vows and speeches on the newly crowned king’s part while Cheng Xiao sits beside him in silence. Everybody in the temple bows before them, even the other king nods a little towards their direction. Yan An, now a legal King, steals a glance at his wife, the Queen and he isn’t surprised that her gaze is set on her brother and uncle instead of him. They are the family she never really knew and she will be separated from again from now on after all. He hates to think about how lonely she must feel. Surrounded by these walls and gold but all alone. Just like him.

Long ago, once he had a bird, a beautiful songbird. It was supposed to die because it fell out of the nest and broke a wing but he kept it and took care of it. He personally nursed it, fed it and helped it to learn how to fly. Yet, he cried so much when the bird finally flew away. But aren’t they all trapped birds in a golden cage? Even if he doesn't know her that well, how would he feel if she just left? Like everybody around him.

“The time has come,” as a king, he declares. “Peace is here. Thanks to my marriage with the lovely Princess… now Queen Cheng Xiao, the two greatest kingdoms of China are now allies and we will fight side by side against any shared issue of ours but not against each other.”

The guests are clapping and there’s no faking in their relieved smiles. The war is over, they can finally breathe. However, there’s always somebody who isn’t quite satisfied and while the cheering crowd tastes the fine wine, a young, reckless soldier steps forward.

“You are not worthy of that seat, bastard,” the kingdom’s own second in command protests and everybody gasps in shock. Even the guards are taken aback, not knowing what to do but they point their weapons towards him to protect the king at any suspicious movement. It doesn’t help their case that the reckless warrior is a son of a nobleman, one that respects the sacred bone very much so it doesn’t take anybody by surprise that he wants the General as the king.

“Step down, Yifan. It’s an order,” Sicheng commands despite being younger and he stands up from his seat not far from the new king and queen. He keeps his hand hidden, probably ready to strike his friend if he threatens the newfound peace.

“Sorry but for the sake of true pure blood, I can’t let him rule,” the man shakes his head but starts to walk backwards without taking his eyes off of Yan An. His cruel, crazy smile seems out of place until a swoosh sound resonates through the temple and screams fill the void.

Only inches from the king's face, his younger brother catches the flying arrow aiming to take his life. Sicheng’s often lovely face changes to the one he wears on battlefields, cold and distant, as he turns his head towards the traitor. He waves his men to stand by and not interfere while he throws away the arrow cutting his hand.

“We learned everything together. You have to be better to beat me,” he shouts after Yifan who is now in a circle of armed and masked men. One of whom tried to end the king’s life, a deadly crime.

“You two, get out of here,” the General looks at the royal couple one last time and then marches into the chaos of scared crowd with the king's soldiers to seize the traitors. The Tuan guards join him but even though their number is greatly outnumber Yifan’s, the stubborn rebel doesn’t give up. They start to fire more arrows and on cue, the royals are ushered into safety.

It doesn’t matter how fast they move, farther and farther away from the temple, Yan An stops on his tracks when he notices the abrupt halt in the light steps following him. Looking back, he sees the Princess - the Queen, he has to remind himself - calming down a crying kid and searching for his parents in the midst of tossing, sweating mess of bodies. Her tiara is halfway down as her always perfect hair is tangled and falling in front of her face. She doesn't pay attention to her surroundings so she isn't aware of the archer and his arrow pointed at her fragile figure from afar.

They don’t know each other yet and Yan An knows there’s nobody a king should die for. But he isn’t only the ruler of his kingdom but also a husband and a honourable man. He can’t just watch her die.

“Cheng Xiao,” he cries out when the bow snaps and the metal is on its way to pierce through her heart. The girl looks up, startled. Maybe because she thought he left without her or because he called her by her name for the first time but she doesn’t move and Yan An doesn’t think when he hurries to her side.

He doesn’t feel the pain at first, it hits him only when he has fallen to his knees and blood paints his coronation outfit where the arrow hit him.

“Your Majesty,” she gasps in a panicky voice and hurries to help him. She’s looking around to find the attacker but there’s nobody on the rooftops, not anymore. He has probably already fled away. “Come on, let's go,” she takes his arm and puts it around her shoulder not even giving him a chance to say no. She pulls him closer so she can help him carry his weight.

Because of the blood loss Yan An dizzily wonders how she can be so strong. While he is painfully aware that this is the closest they have ever been and what a pity that it happens like this. He’s dazed, his sight blurred and he’s sure that he has fainted a few times already when he wakes up from this nightmare.

The characteristic aroma of aloe vera and alcohol fills his nostrils but the sharp pain is gone. He feels numb yet he remembers the blood. Is he dead or dreaming? Both can be true if an angel like his wife looks at him with such saddened eyes.

“Your Majesty, you are awake! Uhm… sorry for my inappropriate behaviour but I had to cut your clothing so I can look at the wound and...” she’s rambling and takes her hands off the the herb leaves placed gently on the side of his ribcage. For somebody who should be used to being washed and dressed by maidens before rituals and ceremonies, he feels naked without the upper part of his formal attire because now, there are Cheng Xiao’s beautiful eyes on him. On his pale and weak body, one that shouldn’t be a king’s. Maybe Yifan’s right and Sicheng should rule instead. He’s more capable for sure and everyone would accept him as a rightful heir. But he’s doing this for his sake, so that his brother can have everything he can’t.

“Thank you,” he interrupts the bashful girl in a raspy voice, trying to sit up while looking around. Since he doesn’t recognise this dusty, old place, they are surely not in the palace. “Where are we?”

“In a pharmacy close to the temple. The owner helped me get you here. He’s gone to the palace to tell the General you are here,” Cheng Xiao answers putting one last layer of cream on his aching chest. Yan An exhales slowly as he watches her work.

“Where did you learned all this?” he asks curiously because he has never seen a royal know about such things.

“I wasn’t brought up as a princess, remember?” his wife reminds him with a soft smile and there’s something bittersweet in her tone. Her fingers don’t even tremble as she dress the wound and they brush against his delicate skin.

The king has to realize, again, that they don’t know each other at all. He knows it’s common with arranged marriages but he has never thought he would marry a stranger. If the princess hadn’t been lost all those years ago, they could have been raised together. They could have been friends. But what are they now?

“You should tell me about it one day.”

“Maybe, I will,” she says but it sounds like never. Something nobody dares to tell a king. Yan An knows that he has to be an iron-handed monarch if he wants to keep his place, if he wants his people to respect him and his choices. However, he doesn’t want them to fear him and it’s an almost impossible thing to do if even his own wife doesn’t tell him the truth. Maybe he will never know who she is for real.

“You are bleeding, too,” he blurts out too lost in her pretty features while she helps him arrange the pillows behind his back. She’s so close, he can almost taste the salt of her (or maybe his) sweat and blood but her flowers scent is the strongest, enchanting him. The king finds himself mindlessly moving even closer and his thumb brushes over the tiny wound on her rosy cheek.

Cheng Xiao doesn’t move, doesn’t avert her eyes and he feels his blood burning his veins as the starry night is looking back at him.

“You stopped to help a little boy. Somebody who wasn’t even your people. Why?” he asks, curious. Pure kindness of a heart was such a rare thing to see these times but the queen seems to have this quality. Even her answers sound sincere:

“They are humans, neither my people, nor yours,” she claims, oddly believing in the power of individuals. She seems fragile but also strong at the same time, hopeful and hopeless, a mystery of full moons as he stares at her. A riddle he may never solve.

“Why did you save me?” she asks pleading, barely above a whisper yet it sounds like a cry out in the silence settled between them. It's almost hypnotic, the intimate closeness of them and maybe between their immortal souls. too.

“You are my wife now, I have to protect you,” Yan An tells her, remembering his mother, a commoner artist’s words. She believed in goodwill and people and every year on his birthday when he could see her (until death did them apart), she told him to care about those who lean on him so in need, he can also lean on them. “But you saved me, too.”

“I barely did anything. The royal physician would have done much better job,” she protests but he shakes his head because he didn’t mean it like this.

“You could have left me there, on the square, but you didn’t.”

At that the queen turns her head to the side and walks away. As she stares out of the curtained window, she looks like the goddess of moon and Yan An is already dreaming when she whispers those fateful words: “Maybe I should have.”

But oh, the stars keep her secrets so well.

The Tuan king isn’t happy, to say the least, that his so-called blood sister was also endangered but he keeps a straight face at dinner. Luckily the rebellion got cut short as soon as they captured the instigator but they couldn’t earn safety and peace so easily. Fear and doubt poisoned the thick blood of people.

“My sister told me you saved her life. I wanted to thank you,” Mark breaks the uncomfortable silence settled in the gardens guarded by the temples of gods and guards.

Cherry blossoms are swirling in the air as if it was a day like any other but a lot of things changed since the morning. A prince became a king, a courtesan became his queen and they saved each other’s lives.

“No need to thank me. I didn’t do it because of our ally or some hidden intention. I simply don’t want her hurt.”

He is being nothing but genuine but in times like this, full of rage and blood, being so selfless is unheard of. Especially if the person is a king. They should be ruthless, strong-willed rulers, not caring about anybody before their country and themselves. But there’s a crack in Yan An’s perfection, a flaw so fatal, his enemies could strike him in one go if they knew: he cares too much and he bonds too easily. Because he’s trusting a traitor and a killer, the one who will draw his royal blood once a new chance arises. That’s the plan, right?

King Mark glances at the girl still dressed in her formal wedding clothes and watching the tint of blush on her cheeks while her expression is lifeless. Could she be the same girl they all have heard so much about? The best pupil in that courtesan house in the desert? Could she be the same he once knew? It feels like another life and maybe it was, looking at the distance between them. It feels as vast as the deep blue oceans and he’s not sure he can sail through the wild waves to set foot on her shores.

As things are currently, he might never find out the answer because being a King doesn’t mean he’s almighty. There are a lot of things he isn’t allowed to do, his hands are tied because of profane things like diplomacy and formalities. For one, having actual emotions is a luxury for people like him. They only complicate everything. But it seems, he isn’t the only one who is affected. Both him and the new Yan king are men of emotions unlike their brutal fathers. Maybe it’s the start of a new era, a peaceful one, he hopes but he doesn’t back out on their cruel plan. It’s for his people after all, for their safety he swore to protect.

It’s hard to say whether he could consider Xiao under his custody but he was more than delighted to hear that her husband means no harm to her. It also surprised him how gentle the boy was, especially in the way he looked at her. Oh a naive, young king, he will bring doom to his own kingdom.

It’s later that night, well after twilight when he can finally be alone. At least, almost alone since his guards are always following him in the shadows but in discrete distance. That’s all he needs because he doesn’t want anybody to disturb his conversation with the Queen of Yan kingdom. The maids before her chamber bow to him and fling the door open without question. The scene that welcomes him is dumbfounding and infuriating the least. He can see his uncle towering over the vulnerable girl ready to strike as a predator.

“I organized everything for you, but you still missed the perfect opportunity,” he growls and slaps her as quickly as a viper attacks its victims with a hit so hard, it makes her gasp. Before he could make another blow, Yien grabs his arm and twists it behind his back.

“Don’t you dare hit her again,” he snaps at him angered like a wild animal and grits his teeth, pushing his uncle away from the girl that’s supposed to be his sister. He is bitter and mad out of his mind which is certainly not good for his weak health.

The goodhearted king had no idea that it was his uncle who supported those rebels and didn’t even care about if the courtesan got hurt in the middle of the action. He even paid for them to make a chaos out of the celebration. Even better if she was targeted because then nobody would suspect that she’s his little doll. He never cared about those who are endangered, just him, only him.

“This little princess act isn’t the only thing what we got her for,” his uncle hisses and yanks his arm out of his nephew’s tight grip. His gaze is furious as if he was questioning how the younger dared to tell him off and humiliate him in front of a mere slave. Mark may be the king but his uncle has a big influence on his reign. He couldn’t just forget what he should thank him for and why he’s keeping him so close.

“No, but if he died without any other witness, everybody would suspect an attempt of dethronement. It wouldn’t help our reputation,” Yien protests calmly and shoos him away patiently like a parent would do with a child. “Patience.”

The man curses under his breath and strolls out of the suite like a madman. Neither the boy, nor the girl looks after him.

“Are you alright?” the king asks in a worried tone, stepping daringly close to examine the bruised area.

“Yes,” the courtesan answers bashfully, looking down so she could avoid saying the things she knows she shouldn’t. Like that if he didn’t come, she would have killed the older man. She wanted to slice his throat for humiliating her even if she knows she can’t. King Mark wouldn’t forgive her so easily if she did.

“He won’t stop until he gets what he wants. And now it’s Yan An’s head,” the king sighs disappointed because he spent the whole journey arguing with his uncle about the real plan he found out about. He wasn’t as stupid and naive as the older thought.

When the girl looks up at him from under her fringe, he looks so young. His blonde hair messily falling onto his forehead and his hand freezing in mid-air not sure if he should touch her or not. Would it be too inappropriate?

“Why is it so important for him?”

“Who knows? He just really wants me to unify the two kingdoms and to be honest, it would be better that way. We wouldn’t have to worry about wars anymore, at least not against an army as big as theirs,” the young man’s hand falls back to his side. “Are you sure you could do it? What he wants you to do?”

Before he could say another word, the girl moves. So quickly he can’t even react and in the next moment, there’s a sharp hairpin digging into the soft skin of his neck.

“Do you doubt me, Your Majesty?” she quirks an eyebrow, clearly not amused.

“Never, xiaojie,” he touches her cheek in endearment, fear never crossing his handsome face.

She smiles as she drops the pin and leans into his touch. “Good.”

King Yan An hisses in pain as the clothes detaches from his body tearing the skin and opening the wound again. Even if it’s only a surface scratch, thanks to his luck, it hurts and hardly heals. The royal physician is treating his bruise severely, taking it a lot more seriously than she should but maybe it’s understandable. Now, he isn’t just another crown prince in the line for the throne, he is the ruler of their kingdom. He shouldn’t be that careless to let it happen again but he doesn’t regret saving Cheng Xiao at all. If he let her get hurt, he wouldn’t be able to look in the mirror without despising himself. What kind of man that would have made him?

“Keep an eye on her,” Lady Meiqi warns him while changing the old bandage to a clean one after applying some heady smelling cream on the damaged skin. She doesn’t have to say the name out loud, Yan An already know who she’s talking about. Is it because of the recent events or that his wife is always on his mind nowadays? Who knows?

“Why?” he asks confused. Mostly because the physician doesn’t seem like she’s worried about Cheng Xiao’s well-being. More like that she’s worried about his, that maybe he will be stabbed in the back if he’s not looking. It’s an absurd assumption, isn’t it? What would she do to him? And why? Especially after she practically saved him? What’s more, the peace is a beneficial deal for both parties. So it just doesn’t make any sense.

“Don’t underestimate her just because she’s a girl, Your Majesty,” Meiqi explains vaguely and gulps. As the physician she was there when Xuanyi bathed and dressed her to the ceremony to examine her health. She saw the map of torture on her back: constellations made of scars. It was even more suspicious that she did an excellent job with the wound on His Majesty after the arrow hit him. How did she get those ugly scars? And where did she learn medical stuff?

“She isn’t our enemy, Lady Meiqi. Don’t forget, Cheng Xiao is your queen now,” the king warns her firmly with a slight edge in his usually soft voice. It isn’t a threat but it does sound like one and the girl bows deeply.

“I am sorry, I didn’t intend to make accusations,” she apologizes heartily and adds, even knowing her head could be taken for saying this out loud: “I just think you should be careful who you trust. The Tuans has never been trustworthy.”

Yan An opens his mouth to reply but nothing comes out, his words taste like bad wine and are swallowed by the dryness of his throat. After finished patching him up, Meiqi exits the room with a final bow, leaving him completely alone with his thoughts.

The palace is a colossus, big enough for two people to accidentally avoid each other but sooner or later, the king should meet with his legal wife especially if they didn’t consummate their marriage. They are both aware that they should soon since both kingdom is waiting for a heir, a future king to reign both lands with equal rights but Yan An busied himself with royal duties instead of husband ones. But they couldn’t keep it up forever. Weeks passed and rumours got around that the queen is always alone in her chambers. One day it even reaches the king’s ears and he’s ready to prove them wrong. Arranged marriages are always come to this point. Most of the times, sooner than later.

When he knocks on the gilded door, he’s surprised to be greeted by the queen dressed so little it’s almost obscene. He waves at the maids and guards to leave and they obey right away, pulling the door shut behind them.

Silence stretches in the spacious room as they look at each other. The king’s mouth is dry, the queen is fiddling with her clothes. Neither of them moves, not for a long time but then the girl is reaching out with her right hand, beckoning him closer. The silk robe she wears barely covers her breasts and only reaches her knees, showing off her ankles and Yan An can’t help but stare. He’s not sure how he’s still functioning when he takes her hand and let her guide him to the big, soft, baldachin bed.

“Did you...” he starts uncoolly and his breath hitches, “... know I was coming?”

Cheng Xiao looks him straight in the eye, standing up so they are only inches away. Her eyes seem blown and lips appear to be shiny and soft.

“The maidens, they told me to change. To look pretty for you.”

The king frowns bitterly, searching for her eyes.

“You are always pretty,” he says and he doesn’t lie. For him, it’s obvious just like the fact that the Sun is coming up every day. Yet, the girl looks taken aback as if she has never heard the compliment before, but she must have! A beauty like her should be showered with love.

She doesn’t answer. At least not with words as she leans closer and closer until there’s no more space between them and places her lips faintly on his. He trembles when she pulls back, catching her breath and Yan An automatically follows her body shift. It’s an entirely new sensation, something he hasn’t experience in all his life. Not even the innocent touch of lips.

Even as a prince, he has always been shy, never approaching any pretty lady while girls simply didn’t dare to approach him because of his lot higher class. He has only ever met with maids and relatives. He has never felt those sparks of flame when he looked into her eyes, his palms have never burnt to touch that honeyed skin of hers and adore her at the altar of her body. She tastes so sweet he believes he could get addicted on it, he’s already lightheaded when they fall onto the bed with a loud thud.

Cheng Xiao takes the side of his head into one hand guiding him to a better angle and Yan An couldn’t care less about the embarrassing noises he probably makes when she feels so good, so soft and warm against him. The smooth slide of their lips suddenly change into something more messy and desperate as she takes his hand into hers and places it on her bare thighs under the skirt and both of them gasps at the new feeling of hot skin on skin.

“Back then... did they force you to… you know...” Yan An’s panting barely an inch above her, searching for answers in the dark abyss of her eyes.

He’s selfish and he knows this but the thought of anybody else touching her this way makes him angry and sad. But otherwise, how could she know all this? That how and where to touch to make him all bothered? How to kiss him to take his breathe away?

“You mean to ask if I was a sex worker as a courtesan?” the girl mutters, not at all ashamed as she lies under him and receives a slight, uncertain nod as a reply. He may be the king but Yan An is just a boy, inexperienced with women, it’s pretty obvious. “They made me do a lot of things I didn’t want to do but my virgin price was too high for anyone. So no, Your Majesty, I was not.”

Everything she knows, she knows from stories of older courtesans and books a girl her age shouldn’t read under normal circumstances. But they made sure basically all her life that she was ready. However, she has always believed there would be no emotions, not even harmless fond ones.

“I’m sorry,” her husband whispers, a tight gut forming in his throat just from imagining what she had to have been through even if he didn’t know her back then.

“No need. You have every right to know,” Cheng Xiao shakes her head, her lips slightly brushing against his in the most intimate way, the puffs of her exhaled breath warming his already blushed cheeks.

“Not just that. But that you had to suffer,” the king corrects himself while stroking her jaw tentatively but oh so lovingly. “Now that you are here, I want to make sure you are happy.”

They live in such cruel times, selfless golden hearts are hardly heard of... but could it be? That the king of Yans is gentle like a cool breeze in spring? How could he rule a country then? How could she not getting weak for him?

“Why are you so kind to me?”

Don’t! You are just making it harder, she wants to scream at him from the top of her lungs but she can’t when he looks at her with those melancholic eyes.

“Because I know how it feels to be unwanted in the palace,” he says softly, genuinely and Cheng Xiao lets him kiss her everywhere, including that never-fading birthmark on her wrist.

Once upon a time, there was a golden haired girl. She had a tiara on her head, a brother by her side and crystal jewels all over her body making her a valuable target for any enemy. A victim or merely a show-off prey, because the more gold meant the bigger price on her head. So she was sent into hiding, waiting to reveal herself when the right times comes. But she had enough of lazing around, soon she will take back what’s hers.

"Have you heard the gossips, Your Majesty?" Chenle pries quietly at the next big family dinner. Relatives all over the continent from different kingdoms came back to congratulate on the coronation of the new king and discuss the tasks he had in mind for them. But somewhere along the way in-between drinks and majestic meals, the conversation’s topic soon changed.

"What?" Yan An looks up from his plate searching for the eyes of his second cousin. The younger doesn’t look at him, instead he shares a meaningful look with his brother, Yukhei who continues with a nonchalant shrug:

"They say that the Tuans just bought an orphan girl to play the part. That she’s not the princess we have all been looking and waiting for."

But yes, she is. The king argues silently. For him, she’s the one he searched for and didn’t even know. She was everything he ever wanted and more, a fair queen, a sincere but lovely woman and a passionate lover. He couldn’t help but fall for her. And the more times they spent together, the more he fell.

She’s still a mystery, an enigma nobody could ever solve. She’s quiet but observant, gives him good advice about not only household matters but politics, too. But sometimes, at night, she looks like the devil disguised as an angel with that fire burning in her eyes but he keeps letting her in to share a bed. Sometimes nothing happens, they just talk but on other nights, when the moon is out, they make love and he kisses each of her scars while telling her how beautiful she is.

"Never speak about the Queen like that, you hear me?" he fumes even though he is very well aware that the younger royal only voiced out the worry of people. They love their queen very much and maybe that’s exactly why they don’t want to acknowledge that she came from a house that led numerous wars against them. Still these kind of talks can be harmful, so Yan An would rather not have Cheng Xiao hear about these.

Since that night, the awkward tension between them has gone and been replaced by a different atmosphere. One that’s filled with fleeting touches and stolen glances.

"But... don’t you see? She has been manipulating you," Kun, one of his older relatives on a side-branch of Yan’s family tree, dares to add and everybody, even Sicheng eyes his reaction carefully. They all know what it means to have a puppet king controlled by a foreign queen. Maybe even the end of their kingdom.

“No, she hasn't,” Yan An objects and prorogue this ridiculous conversation by saying the wine tastes bad and it took away his appetite. Somewhere far away, the Tuans might smile in satisfaction because he really has no idea what they plan for him.

As the Moon Parade is coming up, Yan An suggests going to her home kingdom for the celebrations. Lately, he has seen Cheng Xiao looking quite down, so melancholically sad, especially after she read her brother’s letters. It’s only natural that she misses him, a sibling she only got back now and also lost him to the other king pretty soon. He just wants to make his wife happy, he reasons when he announces the journey to the eastern shore and the palace physician also approves. Meiqi told him that the queen is in good enough health physically to bear a child despite having being malnourished during her teen years and the reason why she hasn’t conceived yet may be in her head. The change of atmosphere might help.

But the queen is quieter than usual as they approach the place she was born in. She has sorrowful grey nostalgia in her eyes as she stares out of the carriages’ window, looking around, mapping the scenery as if she has never seen it before. However, Yan An doesn’t doubt her, doesn’t even want to. She has been lived away for more than ten years after all, these forests must be foreign to her even if she once knew the sprouts.

“Your brother...” Yan An’s gentle voice breaks through the silence and draws her moon eyes to him. “You two are quite close, aren’t you?”

Such a strange thing to ask, some might say but in royal houses tainted by the hunger for power, brotherly love is so rare. Not to mention that in their case, the miracle of finding his little sister was quickly followed by marrying her off. It was like he only used her as a property but the loving smile she kept just for him didn’t make sense.

“Yes, we are,” she whispers into the awaiting space and unconsciously touches her wrist. Now it's covered by her dress but they have spent together enough nights for the king to know that she has an ink spot-like scar there. “As a child, we played a lot in the gardens, just running around. I looked up to him, admired him but now we are both adults and we should stop playing hide-and-seek.”

That’s what you were doing? Hiding? Yan An wonders, marvelling at the lovely frame of her face. Of course, the courtesan house is the last place anybody would have searched for her. But… did it worth it?

The king brushes a thumb over his wife’s right cheek lovingly and she instantly leans into his touch, perfectly fitting like the yin to the yang. He almost makes the mistake of asking what it was like and how they found her but now and there it isn’t the time or place for questions like this.

“We are here,” the rider announces loudly as the horses halt and they make their way out of the carriage. The peasants welcome the royal couple with cheers.

Luckily, the reception is better than expected but they walk into the glorious palace with practiced smiles. When they are offered moonflowers in honour of the feast, Yan An takes both with a fond expression on his face and turns towards this beautifully dressed wife.

“May I?” he points at her hair that’s already decorated with diamonds and golden accerssories. What could a tiny white, trivial flower add to the sight? Still, she smiles, brighter than the Sun itself and nods.

Yan An’s fingers don’t shake anymore when he touches her. Yet, his breath still hitches when their eyes meet after he’s done with placing the flowers among her locks. The adornment she treasures the most out of all the jewels she wears.

The flowers are stepped on where they lay on the floor trashed and useless. Cheng Xiao is shoved to the ground as well while barbaric hands tear at her pretty outfit and the palace guards are nowhere to be found.

“Why can’t you just obey and do what you were ordered?” the man riots and the girl had always known that Mark’s uncle didn’t need much to snap.

Now, it seems like he certainly had enough of the games the courtesan played. Who did she think she was anyway? They had an agreement and if she didn’t keep her word and promise to fulfil her part of the deal, he might as well throw her into the dungeon she, as a slave, belongs. But he needed a plan, one that ensures that the reputation of the Tuan kingdom doesn’t get damaged. He wouldn’t want that merely because of a silly, silly girl. They can always make it seem like it was the Yans’ fault. But at those times they lived in, even a king killing his wife wouldn’t have been obnoxious So who cares?

“You can’t even do that much! I have to take the matter into my own hands, you stupid slut. You would deserve to have your tongue cut off for your lies and that bastard you protect so much, he should have an arrow through his heart before you could break it,” he growls into her face with so much spite, it makes her nauseate. “I made sure that he will be dead by tomorrow. Then Yien will rule and I will let you rotten in the dungeons. But first I will make you watch your precious husband die. Slowly. Painfully.”

The man grabs her hair and yanks it so hard she has to grit her teeth not to scream. But she won’t because she doesn’t need help. She has never been that weak, innocent thing they thought her to be.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do!” she glares at him just like a mad goddess full of fury and he doesn’t even feel the first stab, it happens so fast. He gasps and his grip turns into a desperate hold on her shoulders as he loses his balance. Blood already coats the girl’s hand scarlet red as she twists on the fancy hairpin, another gift from Yien, deep in his chest. Every tiny flick of her hand is emphasized by a word she hopes he will remember even in the afterlife. “I. Am. Your. Queen.”

She has fire in her eyes and a soul as black as the night. She’s the warrior now they raised up in the courtesan house. She’s like the man himself wanted her to be: a ruthless killer and she has become the ruin of him.

There’s still blood on her hands when the Tuan king finds her with a dead body at her legs. The guards following him draw their swords immediately but Mark stops them with the wave of his hand.

“I’m sorry,” Cheng Xiao looks at him pleadingly, not being able to read in his masked expression but the king calmly offers her a handkerchief. It’s white and clean. May it be the symbol of forgiveness?

“He would have never stopped,” he sighs looking over his glassy eyed uncle who has always been obsessed with the idea of their golden age. Look where it took him: defeated by a girl he dismissed.

“I know,” she agrees with a sigh and gets onto her two feet. Her left cheek is angry red where the man hit her earlier and the blow left scars across the pearl skin due to his rings. It will be so much trouble to cover it with makeup.

“You did the right thing. I don’t want war or rebellion. These previous weeks have been tranquil, we didn’t have it that way for so long,” the king says knowing fully well that his uncle worshiped chaos in the name of greatness. He would have done anything to take the throne from the Yans. No wonder why he despised the fact that the match for the marriage seemed prosperous.

Silence has never felt so odd between them before but now, they both are immersed in their own thoughts that somehow shift into the same direction.

“Will you tell him?” Yien asks and the queen knows right away that it’s not about the uncle anymore. Memories of big, bright, hopeful eyes appear in her mind and her heart threatens to break if that fond look turns into a frown. However, lately even him, the oh so loving Yan An seemed suspicious of her and he has every reason to be doubtful.

“I should. Even if it makes him hate me.”

Mark chuckles lightly.

“I don’t think that could happen. But just know that you’re always welcomed here,” he promises as generous as always but his serenity is sincere. He thinks of himself as someone who can read others well and he saw how the Yan king looked at Cheng Xiao. It would take a lot of him to push her away. Especially now.

“I have missed you,” she confesses, almost tearing up. She looks more like the 6-years-old girl that lives in his memories than a queen with cranberry red blood on her hands. Her beautiful doe eyes bore into his with the same adoration they held all those years before.

“I know. I missed you too, my little Nightingale,” he smiles at her sweetly and dips down to press a feather-like kiss to her forehead. Siblings should stick together after all, don’t they?

Another king stands tall in an all blue outfit in front of the wide window of the shining palace. His hands are curled into fists by his side, the letter he got earlier teared apart and burnt by the candles he found in the room. Chaos would arise as soon as its content got out and in this uncertain era, even a rumour would be enough to bring him doom. But what if it’s really nothing more than hearsay? Why should he believe somebody he has never spoken to? Well then why does he feel so unsure?

Maybe because the letter was right about a lot of things and suddenly everything makes sense. Still, he doesn’t want to believe it. Why would King Mark go through the trouble of paying for a high-level slave to marry him just to kill him? Why would he lie about his sister? But again it would explain a few things. For example, that mystery around her.

There’s no knock on the door, nor announcement, so he wouldn’t even heard the noises if he didn’t pay close attention. The girl comes from the shadows, like ghosts in old folktales but she’s real and solid like the marble she steps on.

“You are brave for coming here so boldly,” he speaks up firmly, not looking away from the window.

Nobody should disturb a king in his chambers without invitation. Nobody. So he tries to keep his tone cold but it sounds rehearsed instead. He doesn’t have to look, he has her portrayed in his head so detailed, he can literally imagine her standing in the corner in a dress fully black just as the night when there’s no moon up. Oh the irony.

Her long blonde hair falls onto her back and shoulder, the contrast so ethereal like a painting. Though, Yan An blames the gods that such beauty could even exist in human form. It’s weakening. Especially since she is here, it means the letter was right. Then why does he still has doubts?

He forces himself to stay put, accepting his fate but he has to ask that one tricky, heartbreaking question: “Are you here to kill me?”

The question takes Cheng Xiao by surprise and she almost slips. To the Hell with the slippery floors of these palaces. She tries hard not to tear her gaze away from his nostalgic form. He’s just standing there, not at all like a majestic king but a boy waiting for her next move. He doesn’t even try to defend himself or call the guards. Is it because he trusts her too much or because he’s okay with dying?

“Would you let me?” she asks fingers closing around the sin-tainted hairpin in her hand. It’s still wine red and sharp, ready to kill, yet her fingers tremble and her throat is closing in discomfort.

There’s nobody around. It would be the perfect opportunity to fulfil her original purpose but she can’t. She cannot bring herself to do it even though she did the same thing with cold-blood earlier.

Although Yan An has the answer on the of his tongue, he doesn’t reply but the slope of his shoulders goes rigid as he turn around to face the sudden visitor. There she is: oh so beautiful and more dangerous than ever.

“Why now? You could have killed me dozens of times,” the king inquires further, seemingly cannot drop the topic until he gets his own answers. He’s eager to know what happened, even if he doesn’t dare to hope that the reply will satisfy him. Especially if they only shoot questions back at each other.

“How do you know about this?” the girl furrows her brows, taking a few careful step closer, idly looking around in the majestic guest room her brother had prepared for the Yan king. Since only a handful of people knew about the plan, she wants to know who ratted them out. And what if he knows more?

“I got a letter from your uncle…” he says letting out an awkward laugh, “But he isn’t really your uncle, is he?” Yan An corrects himself quickly, back straightening. His voice is suddenly cold, formal and Xiao flinches at the unfamiliarity of it.

“What did he tell you?” she’s ignoring his question. Again, and it makes the king sigh exasperatedly. Always those damn secrets. It’s getting tiring.

“Just that you are an impostor,” he sums up the content of the letter he had read more than four times before burning it. The words engraved themselves into his brain haunting him, mocking him. They never found the real lost princess, just picked one of the girls who looked like her and paid her to play the part, the letter said and he wondered how could he love a liar?

Cheng Xiao takes a breath of air sharply at the accusation as the king watches her closely, drinking in every feature and wondering whether her smiles were genuine at all.

“Is it true?” he can hear that goddamn hope in his voice and he curses himself for being weak and love? But what if she says no and he’s being paranoid for no reason?

However, the queen has that sad look in her pretty eyes, It’s unfair, nobody should look so unearthly beautiful if they are guilty as charged.

“No,” she answers finally and looks straight into his eyes, voice steady and sure but isn’t all courtesans trained actresses, professional liars? Maybe she faked the whole thing just to trick him into loving her, getting high on her kisses and intoxicated by her scent. He’s burning in the inside to believe her but how could he? Where are the facts and proofs? And why would her uncle lie then?

“But he didn’t know,” she adds at last, answering his last silent question but the past tense makes the boy furrow his brows in suspicion.

“Where is he now?”

Despite the nonchalant look on her face, silence tells it all and it shatters into pieces when she drops the bloody pin.

“He was the one who wanted you dead, I had to,” she starts explaining when the tension becomes too much and too heavy on their chest. She isn’t that well put together queen anymore, she seems rather desperate to confess her sins. “I never really intended on killing you after I got to know you. If I did, you would be dead already. I just wanted back what I was taken away.”

“So you’re telling me that you’re the real princess but your uncle didn’t know and you went along with his crazy plan? Why would you hide in a courtesan house in the first place and why didn’t you just tell him you are the one? Why did you need me for getting back what was yours?” Yan An snaps at her, more confused than ever and he feels like yanking at his own hair in frustration. He should despise her for killing his relative since he shouldn’t love a killer after all. But it doesn’t matter at all because desperate times require desperate measures and everybody is a murderer on their own. He led a war against her kingdom that shed so much blood it could fill his bath. They are all monsters in the end.

According to King Mark, with the marriage offer they let him choose his own destiny. He could have rejected it and keep the rage and carnage going. But since he’s weak for young, pretty and innocent, his choice was obvious: he couldn’t say no to the lost and found princess who has been engaged with him since birth. He’s said to be a good man. He thinks he can save anyone but who will save him then? Will it be her?

“Once you asked me if I would tell you my story one day. I tell you now if you’re willing to listen,” she says slowly, hoping he would at least listen to her before kicking her out. He would have every right to do that and restart the war with their kingdom. Yet, he simply nods and ever so politely offers her a seat to take.

Cheng Xiao bows and sits on the sofa. Every movement of hers is tentative and respectful, with no intention to invade his place or offend him, so she doesn’t sit too close or too far. Still, it feels like they are strangers again.

“He wasn’t my uncle because I’m not the late king’s daughter,” she confesses the secret only a few people knew in the court. Affairs aren’t unusual in their class, but women keeping company for themselves seems a much more despicable thing rather than when men do the same. “But don’t worry, the queen was really my mother so it makes me a princess. I got my hair from her, Yien as well. Also, we both have a birthmark on our wrists here. That’s how he knew I’m really his sister,” she adds and to prove herself, she rolls up the sleeves of her dress to reveal her bare wrist. Even though she knows he has already seen it, he never asked what it is or why she keeps it hidden sometimes. But if it was the proof, wouldn’t it be the best to let the world see? What is she afraid of?

“I was never really lost, I was just in hiding,” the girl continues, gaze filled with nostalgia drifting afar. “When the rebellion broke out, a maid rescued me at my mother’s request. She took me to the courtesan house of Jianfeng because she knew the owner and paid him a lot of gold to keep my secret and train me. His job was to teach me how to protect myself until the time comes. So when Yien’s uncle came to get a girl to kill the Crown Prince, we knew my time is close but I couldn’t reveal myself, not until I was sure he or other traitors wouldn’t kill me if he knew the truth.”

“Why would he have done that?” Yan An suddenly interrupts her, confusion colouring his strict expression.

“Like I said: I’m not his brother’s child so I’m basically a danger to their bloodline if I claim the throne after Yien’s hopefully very far future death.”

“Alright, I get it,” the king nods and he really does but the little pieces still don’t make up the big picture. It seems too much work just to get him killed. “But... wouldn’t it have been easier to pay for an assassin to kill me rather than going through all this procedure to find somebody to marry me?”

Cheng Xiao gulps and looks at him sharply. It’s a warning look, the one that says he doesn’t want to hear the answer but he doesn’t take the question back. So she sighs.

“I think you know the answer already. If people believe that I’m pregnant with the king’s child, both kingdoms can be ruled by the Tuans.”

“Of course, it’s always about that damned crown,” the boy hisses looking wounded as if the words hurt him physically. This time, when he looks at her, he’s angrier than ever. Disappointment glowing in his eyes like never before and it’s a scary look on him. It might be the first time when the queen is afraid of him. “Did you feel anything for me or was it all just part of the plan, to bear a king's child?”

The blame burns and she retorts with equally hurtful words:

“And did you? Or you just wanted to become a king as soon as possible so you were okay with the first princess thrown at you?”

Yan An’s jaw tightens but he knows two can play this game.

“Well, somebody has to rule,” he says harshly because he won’t say sorry for doing the right thing no matter how selfish it sounds.

“And somebody has to fight for what they have,” the ex-courtesan argues, tone just as rigid.

They stare at each other, flames in their eyes, hearts beating fiercely and then the queen stands up. It happens so fast: she hears the movement of shuffling before she hears the bow’s snap and she turns, quickly like lightning and throws a small dagger, hidden under her sleeve, towards the unwanted visitor. It hits the masked figure straight in the chest and blood bubbles up from the dark haired girl’s mouth as she drops down dead. It’s been a while she had to use her skills but her aim is deathly, they used to say. It doesn’t look like it changed.

Cheng Xiao remembers the girl with glazy eyes from the courtesan house, always quiet and observant, great in archery but she also remembers the uncle’s words about making sure to end this. Of course, he didn’t do half work, he didn’t pay for only her to do the job. This is the reason why she doesn’t feel regret, only pity… and pain. A pain so awful that it makes her grasp and losing balance as her knees go out under her. It’s only then when she looks down on her own chest, staring at the dark dress getting darker and darker each passing second. The blood is like a waterfall going down, down, down and she feels like drowning.

“Xiao!” the king cries out in panic and crouches down beside her. With a hand holding her back, the other tries to suppress the bleeding from the fresh wound. “Somebody help!”

Even in the haze of pain, the girl feels warm all over. It’s not the first time he called her that but she considers herself lucky to be able to hear it again.

She coughs a little and her voice becomes raspy when she opens her mouth to speak. “They won’t come. I sent them away.”

The arrow just above her heart makes it hard for her to breathe and she’s grabbing on her chest to ease the sore but it’s like swimming against the current. Beyond reason.

“Ssh don’t talk, it’s alright. I will get help,” Yan An makes another promise he probably can’t keep but he cannot just sit and wait. He’s holding her close not wanting to let go and the frustration of his helplessness hits him hard. What’s the point of being a monarch if you can’t save those you care about?

“I love you,” Cheng Xiao forces out desperately, not to run out of time. She can barely keep her eyes open and her trembling fingers are closing around the king’s shirt as if he was her only anchor. Her blood-covered lips are quivering as she’s confessing. “You should know... It was a-all real. I loved you from the day y-you saved me. We are even now.”

She touches his face lovingly, a sad smile forming on her pretty features but instead of goosebumps, she’s only leaving bloody handprints behind.

“No. Don’t say it like you are saying goodbye,” the king, acting like a lovesick boy, can only protest and shake his head as he pulls her closer. No, it can’t be, it can’t end like this. There are still so many things left unsaid between them. “Please, don’t leave me. Not yet. I love you,” he whispers it like a prayer, kissing the words into her sweaty skin.

Maybe he has always loved her. The girl he was supposed to marry. But then he met her, the shy yet brave princess and when he fell, he fell hard. He knew it’s love when nothing could come between them anymore. When he read that letter and didn’t care who she was. For him, title doesn’t matter. She could be a queen, a courtesan or a commoner, he would love her the same.

“We are more alike than we originally thought, Your Majesty, we both have scars people can’t see,” Cheng Xiao mutters with her last breath hitting his cheek and then her lashes flutter closed. Darkness welcomes her with open arms as she loses consciousness, falling limply into the arms of the man she loved in secret but oh so dearly.

It’s a rare sight. The two kings in the same room, silent, waiting. Everything smells like herbs, even the heady air around them and it darkens the gloomy atmosphere even more until Yien can’t take it anymore.

“How is she?” he asks quietly but with loud concern. Without their crowns, they are just two young men who gave up a lot and lost even more in the process. Neither of them is ready to lose another loved one and nothing has ever brought the two kingdoms closer than their love for the same girl.

“According to the physician, it will take time but she’ll recover,” Yan An nods towards him, momentarily looking away from the unconscious girl lying on the cosy bedding. If there wasn’t a bandage on her chest, it would look like she’s only sleeping. Or hiding like summer’s beauty, the flowers, during the harsh, ice-cold winter.

“She is a survivor,” Yien notes relieved and turns to the younger king, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Take good care of my sister or I’m going to change my mind and agree with my uncle about killing you.”

He’s talking threateningly yet it feels like he’s giving his blessing and not only as the king of his country but also, as Cheng Xiao’s brother. It makes Yan An smile.

“We will take care of each other,” he promises and doesn’t let go of her hand.

Never again.

A year later, the Queen gives birth to a healthy son, the rightful heir of both Yan and the heirless Tuan throne. It takes almost two decades but with his reign, the era of sixteen kingdoms is coming to an end and they welcome the dawn of a new age. May it bring peace finally.

History books will remember the rule of Yan Yalun as one of the most flourishing era of China and the monument he built for his parents will make sure that people never forget: true love conquers all even under the weight of the crown.

#kkreationsnet #angstykpopnet #pentagon scenarios #pentagon oneshot #yan an oneshot #yan an scenarios #yan an pentagon #got7 mark scenarios #got7 mark oneshot #royal au #royalty au #historical au #wjsn scenarios #cheng xiao oneshot #long live china line #stories

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impracticaldemon · 8 years ago

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Gajevy of the Shinsengumi: The Oath of the Exiles, Part IV

FINAL CHAPTER! This concludes my official contribution to Gajevy Week 2017. (Really, really, really late.) (Sumimasen.)

Author's Note:

This is the fourth and last part of the chapter-arc "The Oath of the Exiles" for the story Gajeel (or Gajevy) of the Shinsengumi. Just as the first part of the chapter-arc marked a turning point for Levy, and her place in the Shinsengumi and the Fairy Tail Guild, the final part marks a turning point for Levy and Gajeel as a couple.

I do plan to write an Epilogue at some point, and I think that I will likely do a series of side-stories or arcs featuring the other characters. I know that many of you are curious about several things including: - Where is Lucy and what happened to her? (And related matters, such as (1) why the change in Natsu's day-to-day personality? (2) where is Happy, if he exists in this AU?) - What happened to Juvia and is she still alive? (Related matters: why the friction between Natsu/Gray/Gajeel, since it seems to relate?) - Who/where is Pantherlily (if he exists in this AU)? - What is going on with Laxus, Freed and (presumably) Bickslow and Evergreen? - What about Mirajane and Elfman?

And so on. Even when it was only tangential to my immediate plot (Gajevy), I have built up a framework around many of the Fairy Tail characters, in order to keep reactions consistent across a semi-complete tapestry.

In any event, this is the final chapter (apart from a probable epilogue) for Gajevy Week 2017.

The Oath of the Exiles: Part IV Prompt: Marriage / Living Together

Gajeel arrived about two hours later, just a few moments after Wendy had left. Knowing that the other page was a Dragon, with outstanding hearing, Levy wasn't surprised by the coincidental timing. In fact, Wendy's sudden departure had made her nervous, and Gajeel had found her tending to a lamp that was already glowing perfectly.

"Thanks for this," the new captain said in a soft growl, looking around appreciatively. "I've a pretty good guess what it was like before you and your friend got to work on it."

It wasn't an especially large room, but it was significantly more space for one person than Gajeel had had in a slightly bigger room occupied by three men—two of them massive—plus Levy.

There was a short silence, while Gajeel continued to take in his new quarters and Levy tried to come up with something to say. Eventually, she gave up fussing with the lamp and knelt to one side of the open door, facing Gajeel. She had a strange lump in her throat, and her nerves felt as though they were buzzing slightly. When had she become so aware of the man's presence? She felt as though she couldn't quite breathe properly.

Gajeel glanced out at the courtyard beyond the door. Some distance away, Gray and Natsu were discussing something—without acrimony, apparently—and although they both raised a hand in acknowledgment, they seemed to be deeply involved in whatever it was they had to talk about. There was nobody else in evidence.

"Levy-chan," Gajeel said quietly. "I know it's a little awkward and all, but it'll be fine. Come on shorty, cheer up. You've put up with me for two months, I'm sure you'll cope. Besides, there's more privacy for you here, and that's a good thing, right?"

"Are you sure?" Levy instantly turned red. Not only was the question inane, but her voice had squeaked.

"Am I sure about what?" Gajeel sat down and leaned his broad shoulders back against the doorframe opposite Levy, so that he could keep an eye (and ear, and nose) out for any potential eavesdroppers. Closing the door wouldn't do much other than close in the heat and any residual moisture from the cleaning activities.

Levy eyed her mentor's crossed arms and impassive expression, noting that his posture was actually more alert than it looked at first glance. Maybe she wasn't the only one who was a bit nervous? Or maybe he was just tired but trying to be kind to her. The two lamps provided a warm, steady glow, but the soft light just accentuated Gajeel's rather craggy features and made his red eyes stand out vividly within dark pools of shadow. Was it really possible to fall in love—there, she had finally allowed herself to think the words—with such a man?

"Levy?"

Not shorty, or shrimp, or even Levy-chan. Just her first name, short and familiar. Inside her head she was yelling at herself to move, to talk… to do something. She managed to clear her throat.

"I mean—do you want me to stay here instead of with the others? I wasn't sure."

Gajeel gave her a slightly cynical look. "Your skin must be crawling, shorty, 'cause that's not true. You knew I wanted you here with me."

He was right. Her skin was prickling badly—or at least, that was the nearest she could describe the uncomfortable-almost-painful sensation that she always got when she lied. Except that she hadn't realized she was lying until the words came out. She hadn't known the way he implied. Irritation overcame her strange shyness.

"Well I didn't know that I knew," she muttered, rubbing her arms to make the twitching go away.

There was a deep sigh from Gajeel. "Fair enough. I keep forgetting that you still don't always know how to understand what your senses—your gut instincts—are telling you. You've only had two months to make up for twelve years." Levy saw him look up at the dark sky for several seconds, and then out into the courtyard. "You don't have anything to fear from me. You know that, right?"

"Yes." The answer came automatically. "Well, mostly."

"Only mostly?"

Levy shifted uncomfortably, but answered honestly. "There are different ways of being hurt."

"I guess we both know about that, don't we? You know what it's like to lose everything when you're just a kid. Makes it hard to trust anyone." His eyes were back on Levy now. "Problem is, words aren't really my strong suit."

"Fine," snapped Levy, surprising them both with the note of anger in her voice. "You just sit there and dance around the point and tell me to be patient, and I'll just sit over here trying to put the puzzle together with no idea what the picture looks like!"

She saw Gajeel's expression darken perceptibly, and he seemed to grip his lips and arms together with an effort, as if to prevent himself from saying or doing something he'd regret. For her part, she was suddenly deeply afraid—not of physical violence, but of being responsible for forcing something out into the open that was, just maybe, better left unsaid for a while longer. She started to open her mouth to say something—to apologize, probably—when Gajeel finally responded.

"We're not human, Levy. Not even the Yōsei are all that close to being human, even though they blend in the best and get married and have kids with humans sometimes. And the problem is that close relationships—friendships, love affairs, whatever—between the Fae are kind of… intense. I've seen it go right, an' I've seen it go wrong, an' it's usually messy, for good or for bad."

"That's a lot of words for a man who doesn't do well with words." Levy tried to force herself to think what was best to do now, but she was suddenly exhausted. "Gajeel? I'm confused. Do you think you could just tell me what's going on?"

"What's going on…" Gajeel looked down. "Alright, I won't pretend not to understand. The problem is that I've never fallen for anyone like I have for you. Never so hard or so fast. But I'm also responsible for you, and it's not like you've grown up around the People and know what you're getting into."

"Oh." Levy was mortified to find tears prickling her eyes—she never used to cry so easily! "I… didn't know that you felt that way."

"Better for you to know your own mind first. Also, I can wait, and you wouldn't have felt safe around me before if you'd known."

The last part was unanswerable, because it was true.

"So, um, do you think I know my own mind now?" Levy's voice sounded timid, even to her own ears, which bothered her.

There was a soft huff of air—a quiet, amused sound—from the big man in the doorway.

"I told you what you wanted to know because you asked—not very clearly, mind you, but that's okay for when it's just between us. An' it's fair for me to put my cards on the table first anyway, under the circumstances. But you're the only one who can say for sure what's on your mind, even if I can make a good guess."

Levy was at a loss. They obviously couldn't just go back to the way things were, but she wasn't sure how to move forward. Her understanding of relationships between men and women was fairly basic: men took and women gave (usually whether they wanted to or not). Nothing that she'd seen in twelve years at the Ikedaya had taught her any differently. Only the last two months here had suggested that a relationship with a man could mean something other than complete subservience and a kind of unspoken struggle to maintain one's dignity.

"The idea of being… of caring… that way, makes me nervous," Levy admitted at last. She knew that she was blushing furiously, but she couldn't help it.

"Seems reasonable to me, kid. Sounds like you think you know how you feel, but you aren't sure what to do about it."

Levy nodded, deeply relieved to have her thoughts put into words for her. "Yes, thank you, Gajeel." She risked looking up at him, and found that his eyes were intent on her face.

"How about we go get our stuff then, shorty? It's getting' late."

It was anti-climactic, Levy thought, as she trotted along beside Gajeel. A man had confessed his feelings to her for the first time in her life, and instead of doing something romantic she had more or less sat there like a scared little girl.

She was so deep in thought that when Gajeel stopped in front of the door to their former room, she crashed into his back. He smirked at her.

"Thought you were lighter on your feet than that, Shrimp." The door slid open, and Shimada filled the doorway.

"Here for your stuff then? Hello, Yukimura."

"Good evening, Shimada-san."

Neither sleepy-eyed Shimada nor sharp-eyed Lahar made any comments as Levy collected their belongings and Gajeel picked up their futons. Levy thought Gajeel might want to chat with his friends for a bit, but they must have already spoken earlier, because it seemed like everyone just wanted to get ready to sleep.

"I'll see you here tomorrow morning, Yukimura," Lahar told Levy when she turned to close the door behind her. There's a lot to do and you still have a great deal to learn."

"Yes, Yamazaki-sensei," Levy replied automatically.

When they got back to their new room, Levy couldn't help but look around with satisfaction.

"Looks pretty good compared to what we had, huh," said Gajeel, sounding pleased.

"So much better," agreed Levy. "I can put more of your things out now, and maybe bring in a bowl of flowers—what? Y-you don't like flowers?"

"That's not it, Shrimp. Although—go easy on the flowers, okay? I have a very good sense of smell, plus, most pages don't do flower arrangements, you know? Just try to keep it simple."

"O-oh, r-right." Levy was blushing furiously again. It had finally occurred to her that Gajeel looked amused because she had sounded so domestic. She squeaked when she discovered that he had come to stand beside her as she looked around trying to decide what to do next.

To Levy's surprise, Gajeel put a heavy arm around her shoulders. It felt good there, despite the persistent muggy heat, and after a moment's panic she relaxed.

"We're going to be okay—okay?"

"Yes?" Levy's heart rate seemed to be increasing. She turned slightly and peered upward. What on earth was so attractive about ruby-coloured eyes and masses of black hair? Nothing, right? But she couldn't deny how good it felt to stand so close.

Almost as though he could tell that her thoughts were wandering, Gajeel gave her a quick pat on the head and went back to laying out the futons. Levy just stood there, trying to decide if she was most disappointed, irritated, or confused. She decided that it was a toss-up. Focussing her mind, she picked up a bowl and conjured water. Then, as a test, she tried a new word she had learned recently from Lahar: ice. It still gave her a quiet thrill that the magic responded so quickly and effortlessly to her now that both her writing and her control had improved.

"You've been practisin'."

Levy was pleased that she started but didn't squeak this time—damn the man for walking so quietly! She composed her face and handed him the water, trying not to drop it when she realized that he'd stripped out of everything but the short, lightweight under-kimono that he slept in. She glared at him, but resisted the urge—the strong urge—to conjure ice water right over his head. If nothing else, he'd probably enjoy it, and that would spoil the effect.

"Lahar-san says that I'm doing much better. According to him, my calligraphy is now better than yours, which is to say that with a bit more work it would acceptable for a ten-year-old boy."

Gajeel put his hands on his hips and grinned down at her. "Ouch! I'd be offended, but I don't think Lahar has a clue what my writin' looks like. He's just guessin'."

"He's probably guessing correctly then," snarked Levy, quickly making herself a fresh bowl of cold water. She told herself that she needed to calm down, get the lights out, get changed—best not to think too hard about that—and go to sleep.

By the time she'd finished her water and collected her thoughts—again—Gajeel had put out both lanterns and had stretched out on his futon, still awake, but quiet. The darkness was soothing. Levy made sure that the window was open enough to admit the night breeze, made her way carefully around Gajeel to her bed, and forced herself to take off her hakama and hakamashita. (1) She reminded herself that she'd done this many times before—often when it had just been the two of them there—and besides, her under-kimono was practically like wearing a yukata anyway. (2)

Unlike Gajeel, she still preferred the feel of at least a thin blanket over her, despite the heat, so she tucked herself into the futon, and tried to quell the nagging doubts that told her that she should have stayed elsewhere. She closed her eyes for a few moments, but her thoughts made her restless, so she switched to watching the dim moonlight make patterns on the ceiling instead.

"How about a little history to pass the time?" Gajeel suggested, in a low voice. "I know you're curious about a lot of things still."

"Alright!" Levy's response might have been a trifle over-enthusiastic, out of nerves, but the interest was unfeigned. She turned so that she could look at Gajeel, smiling to herself at how comfortable it was to see his now-familiar shape in the dark, even with the gleam of red eyes under half-closed lids. She relaxed, mentally shaking her head at her earlier fears, listening as Gajeel began to talk about the Guilds. Then she remembered how she'd felt when he'd said that he'd fallen for her, and she tensed up again. Was it wrong to feel so ridiculously pleased about something that she'd never made any effort to achieve?

Gajeel sighed. "Yer mind's wanderin', short stuff. I thought maybe I could distract you... but I didn't mean quite like that."

With a start, Levy realized that she had moved closer to Gajeel and had one hand wrapped around—or partially around—his sinewy, muscled forearm. She vaguely remembered doing something like this when she'd been drunk, and she snatched her hand back in embarrassment.

"I'm so sorry! I was probably half-asleep, that's all!"

"It's okay. It's not like I mind. It's more that I know you'll mind, once you notice. Thing is, Levy-chan, I want to stay close to you to keep you safe, but I'm not really the safest person for you to care about. Like I said, I haven't always been the nicest guy, an' on top of that the Shinsengumi aren't exactly paid to play nice with the enemies of the Shogunate."

"What on earth is that supposed to mean?" Levy sat up, frowning, her blue hair falling around her face and over her shoulders. "You can't just tell me that you—well, about how you feel—and then tell me you're a dangerous guy who I shouldn't get involved with! That's just wrong! It's completely inconsistent!"

Gajeel stayed where he was, although he had turned to look at Levy. His eyes were fully open now, and seemed almost angry somehow.

"I'm not the only one. Sometimes yer still scared of me—or scared of somethin' anyway—and sometimes ya keep touchin' me. I thought we could just, kind of, see how things went, but I guess that was a mistake. An' I really couldn't keep imposin' on the others, could I?"

"Imposing?!"

"Well… I kinda dumped ya on them an' then had ta go an' fall for ya—"

"And that inconvenienced them?!"

"They're both very, very good at knowin' how people are feelin'. Means it's not all that easy to be around people who are kind of feelin' strongly about things."

Levy buried her head in her hands.

"So they've always known how you were feeling?"

"Yep."

"Even when I didn't notice?"

"You knew too, you just didn't know that you knew."

"Ugh."

"Levy?" Gajeel seemed to pull himself together, and he sat up. "You don't have to answer this, but… how do you feel about me?" His diction was firmly back in place and his eyes were steady on her face.

"I don't know—ah!" It felt like scalding water across raw skin, and Levy had to blink back tears of pain.

"It really hits the purebloods hard, doesn't it? Not so many pureblood Yōsei families around these days, but everything about you says you are one—pureblood and from some old, remote Yōsei clan that never interacted a lot with humans. Telling a straight-up lie is hard on your system."

Levy glared at him as the pain subsided and her nerves stopped twitching. She hated this feeling of not knowing—not knowing who she was, or what was going on, or even how she was feeling. She was a person who liked to know and right now she wanted to pitch a screaming fit and demand to be told everything. Since that wasn't an acceptable alternative, she settled for scowling at Gajeel, confident that he could make out her expression in the darkness. He exhaled slowly.

"I didn't want to tell you this, because you get embarrassed easily, but since you're already mad we may as well get it over with. Dragons have keen senses—yes, I know I already told you, but you didn't think it through very well. It's really hard to lie to us, because even if we can't see how you're feeling, or hear what you're thinking, we can smell the scent of it. Sweat, adrenaline, whatever. With a bit of experience, feelings get fairly obvious—I can hear it when your heart rate goes up, I can tell the difference between fear and anger and—other things."

"So I've just been some kind of open book to you all?" Tears of rage stung Levy's eyes. "I've been trying to work things out and thinking I'm doing okay, but it turns out you've all been laughing at me behind my back wondering how I can be ignorant enough not to notice!"

"No, that's not it. Most people had no idea. And those of us who knew what you were dealing with—and you were living with the Shinsengumi's best spies, for crying out loud!—well, we saw how well you were handling things and we stayed as quiet as possible. No laughing involved, I promise. What went wrong wasn't your fault. We just both ended up caring a lot about each other. Which isn't wrong, it just complicates things. To be honest, I have no idea what you see in me."

Levy bit back a harsh retort. She had a temper, but she'd learned to control it a long, long time ago, since getting angry usually meant going to bed bruised and hungry. Right now, she was thinking that she'd rather take a chance and be happy—whatever that meant—instead of staying angry and defensive. She'd been taught some harsh lessons in her short life, but something had always kept her looking for a good side despite it all.

Mutely, she held out a hand to Gajeel. He gave her a look of intense surprise, but closed his fingers around it gently.

"I really like you a lot, Gajeel," said Levy. Her cheeks were hot with embarrassment, but her voice was more or less steady. "You're important to me. I think you already know how I feel, but you wanted me to say it, so there it is. I'm not exactly sure how you feel about me. I mean, you call me rude nicknames, pat me on the head, and make fun of my swordsmanship."

When Gajeel immediately tried to protest, Levy leaned forward and put her free hand over his mouth. "Not done yet, Captain." She managed a grin, although Gajeel could tell that a lot of her attitude was for show. She was almost shaking with nerves. "It's possible that you're just as bad as you paint yourself—that doesn't matter, since I was raised to believe that all men are complete bastards who can't be trusted. So from that perspective, I may as well have you as any other, right? I'm mentioning all this, by the way, so that we can skip to the end and get some sleep."

Levy dropped her free hand and bit her lip. Gajeel watched her for a moment in silence.

"You're pretty amazing," he said at last.

"Thanks."

"Actually, no matter what you think, you're a lot better than I deserve but… since you're willing to try to put up with me I guess that's okay?"

"Seems like it."

"Levy… you're still so scared—no, don't jump down my throat, I just don't understand what's wrong and I'm old enough to know better than to make assumptions."

Levy reclaimed her other hand and shoved both hands into her hair, as if that would somehow help her explain. Then she wrapped her arms around her knees, leaving tendrils of hair across her face. Gajeel found it almost painful to watch without picking her up and holding her.

"Being a woman… it's like being a little bit scared all of the time. You have no control over anything. Even girls in rich families—they have to obey their parents and then their husband and their mother-in-law and eventually their own sons. There aren't any options. I guess the luckiest women are the ones who know a trade or somehow inherit a shop; they might be allowed to get away with living their own lives, maybe. I'm guessing they still get a lot of unpleasant attention though. Working at the inn, I kept wondering how long I had before I'd have to run away. I had to get really good at smiling while trying not to get pinched or groped or just touched all the time… You can't imagine how important Keiko-san was to me because you can't imagine what my life would have been like without her. Or maybe you can sort of imagine it, but being a man you just can't really know what it's like, day in and day out."

Mercifully, Gajeel heard her out without interrupting; Levy didn't think she could have managed otherwise. She didn't want to sound like she was whining, but for some reason she wanted him to understand—maybe just so he'd know that it wasn't a case of jumping at shadows.

"Alright," Gajeel said at last. "Let's see if I've got some of this: you grew up—as far as you can remember—always worried about when you were going to be jumped by some guy or just sold to him outright. Most days involved a kind of ongoing preview of how bad it could be. And there weren't a lot of options, since you had to eat. Once you were here, you found out that you had some skills you could use, and maybe some people you actually belonged with. You don't want to mess that up. Getting involved with any man has always been at the bottom of your list of good choices."

Levy nodded slowly. "That's a pretty good summary. But—"

"Levy, I know you think the People are a bloodthirsty, overly-secretive lot—and you aren't completely wrong—but we're a lot less hung up on the whole male and female thing, for the most part. Quite a few of the strongest Fae are women and pretty damn independent. We're not perfect by a long shot, but... Look—Erza would literally kill me if I touched you against your will—not that I would. You could just ask her, you know."

Levy's arms and body loosened a little. Everything he said matched what she'd seen, at least so far.

"Can I ask you something… and you won't tell anyone I asked?"

"Yes. Unless you're planning to kill somebody I have to protect."

Levy ignored the feeble attempt at humour. "Wendy-chan told me that she might have been forced to marry somebody. How can that be true, if you're telling the truth about women being better off with the People?"

Gajeel stared at her.

"Levy? You're a smart woman right? Erza fought a war for her. Think about it."

"A war? But I thought that was about who would get to rule?"

"Sure, on the biggest scale. But there's a hell of lot more to it than that. I mean, you're right: Erza would have fought for the Master, and her friends, no matter what. But we were all part of Fairy Tail Guild—it was a coup more than an invasion, y'know? Reality is that it was the tactics the other side used, and their plans for the future, that pretty much set the battle lines. Erza offered Wendy a home with the Guild when Wendy lost her own, and Erza takes that stuff really, really seriously. Laxus wanted the Guild, but he also wanted Wendy as his mate, once she was older. There really aren't a lot of female Dragons around, and Laxus has some funny ideas about power and dynasties; I don't think it was personal. Thing is, none of us had thought about that—there'd been no sign of it before—so we weren't expecting Wendy to be a special target. When she got captured is when things got really messy, because Erza went ballistic."

Levy waited to see if Gajeel was going to add anything, but he didn't. There was obviously an awful lot about the Split that Levy still didn't know. Erza-san and Natsu-san and Gajeel's "rain girl" were all involved somehow, and Gray-san. Reluctantly, Levy left that conundrum to return to more pressing—and personal—issues.

"The women here are very united, aren't they?" she finally said.

"You could say that." Gajeel had seemed withdrawn, as he always did when mentioning the Split, but now he smiled a little. "Erza and Kana remind me of sisters, I guess—they love each other, annoy the hell out of each other, and they've got each other's backs. They really miss some of those we lost track of in the Split, but in a lot of ways that's just made them closer."

"I think… there's at least one more woman, though? I won't ask about her, since I know that's a forbidden subject… Besides, we need to get some sleep, right?"

"We can get some sleep once you tell me that you're going to work hard at getting your head around the idea that you are protected and respected here—by me and by quite a few others, including Titania, and Lahar and even Jellal the high'n'mighty Vice Commander." Gajeel waited to see a nod from Levy before he continued: "Jellal pretty much always knows what's going on; it's irritating, but true. I know everyone spent a lot of time telling you that our code is pretty much "don't betray us or die", but now that you've taken the Oath and have your mark, you should also understand that any attack on you—by anyone—is also punishable by death."

"What?" Levy was genuinely startled.

"Actually, that's part of the Shinsengumi Code: no personal fights between members of the Shinsengumi. And although it's true that general scrapping isn't enough to warrant a death sentence, a personal attack of any kind will be reviewed by the Vice Commander—and the Commander and Deputy Commander if necessary—and it's always, always dealt with harshly."

Levy leaned forward, face serious in the gloom.

"I trust you, Gajeel. I can't always help the, um, anxiety I feel sometimes, but it's not directed at you personally—I really hope you'll believe me. I don't need Erza-san to protect me from you, or the Code, or whatever. But knowing about those things does make me feel better, a little. Overall, I mean."

"It's okay, Levy, I think I get it."

There was a contemplative, surprisingly comfortable silence between them then for several minutes, at that point. Levy wasn't sure what Gajeel was thinking, but she tried very hard not to worry about it. She was feeling a bit raw—in an exposed kind of way—and more than a little self-conscious, but she also felt surprisingly light-hearted.

Very slowly, Gajeel reached out and ran a hand over Levy's hair. It was something much less casual and more intimate than anything Levy had experienced before, and she froze. A calloused finger gently brushed her cheek, and then the hand was withdrawn. She closed her eyes, trying to process her reactions. The good far outweighed the bad, she realized—and then she had to try not to let that unnerve her further.

"Sorry…" Gajeel's voice was a quiet rumble, and clearly anxious. Any frustration was self-directed, though. Anxiety didn't really suit him, Levy thought.

"Īe. Please don't be sorry. I'm not."

"So… we're okay?"

"Yes, I—I really think so." Levy finally relaxed enough to look fully at her room-mate.

Curious brown eyes met slightly worried red ones, and then Gajeel smiled slightly, his pointed canines visible even in the dim light. He nodded, and then stretched out on his back once again.

"Okay then. And feel free to hang onto my arm whenever you want—though maybe not on duty."

Levy blushed a little—but only a little—as she settled back under her blanket. Fortunately, her wits seemed to be returning.

"I think I can manage to restrain myself," she said, in reassuring tones.

There was a brief silence from Gajeel, and Levy smiled to herself.

"We're not on duty now," muttered the Shinsengumi's fierce Seventh Division Captain.

A small hand curled around his arm just below the elbow.

"Yes, Gajeel, I noticed."

[END]

Notes:

(1) A hakamashita is a men's kimono designed to be worn with hakama pants. Note that the hakamashita is still belted like a regular kimono before the hakama are put on.

(2) A yukata is like a lighter, less ornate kimono. They were worn to go bathing (especially at a hot springs), or as early-morning / before-bed casual-wear, or even as night-wear. These days, yukata may be seen being worn as summer-wear. Like a kimono, a yukata can range in style from very casual to fairly formal, depending on the design and the complexity of the obi (belt).

Author's Notes: As always, your reviews and comments are much appreciated. Thank you for reading!

Don't forget to send me a note (in whatever form) about things you like and would like to see more of. (Or things you don't like, as long as it's constructive!)

I have had amazing support for this story, which is why I'll probably continue to write about these characters, and this Fairy Tail / Shinsengumi AU in the future (and yes, it will likely continue to have a slight Hakuouki tie-in, while being a Fairy Tail AU). If you'd like to see more, please send me your comments (through whatever forum/medium you prefer, even on Anon); if nothing else, I'd like to know what people are most interested in.

Thank you to everyone for your comments, reviews and general encouragement through favourites and follows and on Tumblr. I apologize for not responding to everyone who has reviewed. Please know that your words means a great deal to me and truly brighten my day!

~ImpracticalOni

P.S. And I still intend to get back to the people who have sent comments and reviews if possible!

Tag team:

@shell-senji @fury-ous @queen-mizera @kazama-hime @hakusaitosan @very-x-vice @sabinasanfanfic @hakuokifirst @eliz1369 @canadiangaap @moon-faced-pear-shaped

--sorry if I tagged people I shouldn’t!

#fairy tail #gajevy #gajevyweek #gajevyweek2017 #ficsforvera #fanfiction #impracticaldemon #shinsengumi

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