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sithsecrets · 4 years

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A Matter of Expediency - Part XII

After being married off to Kylo Ren in the name of securing an heir to the First Order’s throne, a princess tries to navigate the ins and outs of married life. As she grows closer to her new husband, the princess also carves out a place for herself in the Order, assuming control over her life when she thought she would have none.

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Part 12

4k words

Mentions: allusions to past/possible abuse, swearing, sad themes about pregnancy

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Final preparations for your charity gala are done in the snow, puffy white flakes falling from an overcast sky as servants bustle about the Palgoduan castle. You oversee some of the goings-on, a bit tired from your fitful night’s sleep. Kylo is elsewhere, preoccupied with some Order business of a different sort, and you cannot help but feel a bit thankful. Though you’re in better spirits today, sadness lingers at your core, and the last thing you need right now is Kylo asking you if everything’s alright.

Queen Eleanor is by your side for most of the morning, holding her pregnant stomach as the two of you walk about together. She is so sweet, this Queen of Palgodu, but you still feel a pang of jealousy each time you lay eyes on her, on her children and her body. You ty very hard to do as Miriam told you, to not dwell on your empty, fruitless womb, but that’s easier said than done.

At midday, the Queen declares that she is practically starving to death, and she very graciously invites you to take lunch with her and the children. Your first impulse is to decline the invitation, your raw heart wanting nothing more than to avoid sad reminders of all that you do not have, but you force yourself to accept anyway. It wouldn’t do to appear rude, and this childish little self-pity party must come to an end sometime.

You eat in a small, informal dining room in the company of Princess Maudie, baby Eli, and the children’s nurse, Mya. The meal you’re served is rich and heavy, lots of hearty meats, cheeses, and winter vegetables. Queen Eleanor practically inhales a slab of red meat all on her own, eating ravenously in a way that makes you believe that she really was starving.

Princess Maudie takes great interest you as lunch carries on, regarding you curiously as she munches on bits of shredded meat and little slices of fruit.

“Who are you?” the little girl asks after a while, head cocked to one side as she stares you down from across the table.

“Maudie, we talked about this,” her mother chides. “This is the Empress of the galaxy.”

“You met her yesterday, darling,” Mya adds.

Maudie seems perplexed by this revelation, though she moves past it quickly. Her next inquiry centers around why you’re here, asking next where you live after you tell her about your charity work. After serval minutes of intense grilling, Queen Eleanor and Mya tell Maudie that that’s enough.

“Nonsense,” you declare, amused by the little girl’s line of questioning. She’s quite intrigued by the fact that you live on a ship in space all the time, and she wants to meet Kylo again since she, quote, “forgot about him, too.”

You’re in better spirits when you retreat back to your chambers, but rather tired. A nap would do you good before the party, you think, so you draw the curtains and climb into bed. Sleep comes easily, and it’s some time before you wake again.

The room is no different when you open your eyes, sunlight still trying in vain to seep in through the thick curtains you shut tight. Everything is dim and dark, just as it should be, but you’re no longer alone as you were when you lied down.

“Good afternoon,” Kylo murmurs, the pad of his thumb soft and warm on your cheek.

Snuggling against your husband’s touch, you give him a sleepy, loose smile. “It certainly is now.”

---

The merrymaking is well underway by sunset, everyone drinking and dancing and chattering happily as if none of you have a care in the world. Many important officials from around the galaxy are strewn about the room, your cause’s most generous benefactor by far. Others are around as well, of course, lesser nobles from Palgodu, a few choice friends. To your utter joy, Lydia, Helda, and Joon could all make it tonight, and you’re practically vibrating at the thought of seeing them again. Comm correspondence just isn’t the same, and you can’t wait to hear all about what’s been going on in their lives in person.

You and Kylo’s arrival is met with thunderous applause, though you’re thankful that you don’t have to formally receive any guests the way you did at your wedding reception. Nonetheless, you do a fair bit of schmoozing out on the floor, greeting ambassadors and generous benefactors alike as Kylo accompanies you. He’s quiet, letting you do all the talking, but the adoration in his eyes is not lost on you every time you look his way.

Joon finds you first, mercifully saving both you and your husband from a rather droll conversation with a couple of diplomats. Her approach is slow and deliberate, though smile on her face is wide.

“I was going to just run up and hug you,” Joon says, fitting the both of you together in an embrace, “but Nobi said that two Praetorian Reds would probably cave my head in before I could explain myself.”

You can’t help but laugh at that, squeezing your friend soundly. Even Kylo cracks a little smile, though it seems he doesn’t know quite how to act naturally in this situation.

Joon has much to tell you, talking your ear off as she whisks you away from the party’s main staging area. To your utter joy, Helda and Lydia are waiting for you off to the side, nursing drinks and talking idly until they see you approach. Their embraces are painfully and spectacularly familiar, warm in the way that true friendship should make one feel. Stars, you think you might cry as you look upon their faces, upon Lydia’s dark eyes and Helda’s red curls.

Poor Kylo is nothing more than an afterthought for a few minutes as you and Joon and Helda and Lydia all make over one another, chittering like birds and grinning like happy children. Only when he gently grasps your wrist do you remember yourself.

“I’m going to speak with Hux, darling,” Kylo tells you, bending down to press a kiss to your cheek. You feel bad then, expression melting into something apologetic and you twine your fingers together.

“I’m sorry,” you say, “you really don’t have to go.”

Unbothered, Kylo shakes his head. “I want you to speak freely with your friends. Find me in while, please.”

And with one last kiss on your face, your husband turns on his heel to leave, striding off in a dark swirl of cloak. You can feel eyes on your before you so much as turn back to face your friends, all of them no doubt about to tease you mercilessly.

“So that’s the galaxy’s biggest tyrant?” Joon muses, one eyebrow cocked. Helda’s grin is as sly as she can muster, and even Lydia seems pleasantly intrigued for once in her life.

“He’s not so bad,” you murmur, glancing over your shoulder at the back of Kylo’s retreating head.

“We’re glad to see that,” Lydia declares, the look in her eyes uncharacteristically soft.

There’s no more talk of Kylo after that, or of men in general, for the four of go out onto the dancefloor together. It’s just like old times again, you and your friends spinning and jumping and holding hands in time to the music, wisps of hair clinging to your flushed faces. And though it’s all great fun, you tire of the activity after a while, thirsty and a bit too sweaty for your liking under the thick fabric of your gown.

Helda and Joon split off from you and Lydia, both going in separate directions. It’s grown a bit late, Helda’s mother beckoning her away, Joon’s boyfriend missing her by his side. Lydia and yourself grab something refreshing to drink and head outside, warm despite the chill in the air. Neither of you says anything for a while, simply sipping out of your respective cups as the two of you take in the night.

You turn your gaze Lydia’s way, studying her face, the set of her shoulders. There’s something lighter about her, something… peaceful. As long as you’ve known Lydia, you’ve seen her happy or content, but at peace? Never, not once. It looks beautiful on her, truly.

“What’s happened to you?” you ask, words coming out of your mouth along with an icy puff of air.

Lydia turns to you, eyebrows narrowed, her own breath fogging before her face in the darkness. “What do you mean?”

“You seem different,” you explain, “like all the weight’s fallen off your heart.”

Lydia rolls her eyes at that bit of poetry, but the smile that creeps over her face is rather telling.

“I’m… I’m with someone now.”

A noise of surprise escapes your lips, uncontainable as a bolt of unbridled excitement shocks your chest. Lydia shies away from your exclamation, but you won’t let her off that easily.

“Who is he?” you demand, grabbing her arms now. “Where is he from? What does he do?”

“His name is Jacob, he’s from our planet, and he owns a manufacturing facility,” Lydia tells you, answering all of your questions in one go. “We met a couple of months ago at a harvest party in the country.”

“’Months,’” you breathe, though you can’t bring yourself to be angry at Lydia for not telling you about all of this until now. She’s so guarded, always has been— you’d be a fool for expecting anything less.

“I know,” Lydia concedes, speaking quietly. Some of the light in her eyes flickers for just a moment, jarring you from your euphoric state. “I wanted to be sure it would be different this time.”

You cup Lydia’s cheek then, willing her to stop thinking of that vile man you’re sure she’s seeing in her mind.

“Is he good to you?” you ask, because that’s all you care about. “I mean really good to you.”

And, as if someone flicked a switch, that soft, soft light is glowing in Lydia’s eyes again.

“Jacob is kind,” she tells you, “with his words and with his hands.”

You can’t help the tears that slip down your cheeks, hot reminders of how truly happy you are for this friend of yours. For Lydia, who deserves all of this and so much more.

“Well that’s good,” you begin, swiping at your cheeks, “because if he wasn’t, I’d have to have him executed.”

Lydia lets out a little laugh then, a real one, not one of the humorless barks that you’re much more accustomed to hearing. “I assure you he has no reason to tremble at your feet, Empress.”

It’s a jab, the emphasis Lydia puts on your title, but a playful one. You shove her for it still, rolling your eyes.

“If I remember correctly, you told me you’d help me become a runaway bride at my wedding reception, Lydia.”

The both of you break down into chuckles then, laughing at yourselves and at each other. And though it’s cold, though the wind is biting at your back through your bodice, you feel so very warm, wrapped in the company of an old friend.

“So when do I get to meet this Jacob?” you ask, locking arms with Lydia as the two of you retreat back into the warmth of the party. Your friend shrugs, as practical as ever.

“Well, if you’re willing to endure Princess Mila’s wedding—”

Your whole body shudders to a stop, your feet nearly tangling in your skirts as you take in that particular combination of words.

“Mila’s what?”

Lydia balks beside you, obviously taken aback by your surprise. “You didn’t know? Mila’s due to marry in a month. Your uncle arranged it, I’m sure, some nonsense about making mineral alliances. I can’t believe no one told you. Rumor has it that you and the Supreme Leader were to be invited.”

You’re not sure about all of that, given how you left things with your uncle and his children the night before your wedding, but the news itself is still… discomforting. Mila hasn’t shown you an ounce of kindness in years, but you know good and well what her father’s capable of. Stars, he sold you off without so much as a second thought, not caring what became of you once you were sent to live with Kylo. Everything worked out in your favor, but how were you, or him, or anybody else for that matter supposed to know that? Besides, you don’t think your uncle could get so lucky twice.

Lydia submits to a virtual interrogation right there in the middle of the party, giving up the name of Mila’s betrothed, the exact date of her wedding, and a few other pieces of information that are more gossip than confirmed fact. Apparently, most of the maids and the concubines are saying that your uncle’s selling Mila off to pay some of his gambling debts, the matter made even more sickening by the fact that her future husband is nearly as old as your uncle himself. The mere of idea of this makes your blood boil, for your marriage to Kylo bagged him similar benefits just earlier this year. And, to your horror, the man’s raised taxes on his people yet again without explanation.

Knowing your uncle, he’s taking every single credit and putting it right back on the card table. You knew he was a man who liked to have a good time, but fuck…

“I have to go speak to my husband,” you tell Lydia, pulling her into a quick hug before you start walking off. “Thank you, Lydia, really.”

Kylo is thrilled to see you, tucking you against his side with one strong arm as the officers around him bow. While the affection does make your heart bubble a bit, the anxiety you feel is much more pressing.

“May I speak with you?” you ask Kylo, praying that he senses your urgency.

Your husband takes you away at once, guiding you through the castle and back to your shared chambers without so much as a word of question. He listens intently as you tell him everything, rambling about Mila and your uncle and how the taxes on your planet’s people were already astronomically high to begin with.

“Do you have proof that he’s using the taxpayers’ credits to fund his lifestyle?” Kylo asks, coming to help you with the zipper on your dress. You shake your head as you slip your arms out of the sleeves, rushing to throw on something comfortable and warm.

“No,” you concede, “but I know how he is. When I came to live with him, I always wondered how he afforded the parties, and the women, and everything else that he fills his free time with. And it worries me that my uncle’s already angling to having his debts paid off again, especially at the expense of shipping Mila off to be with a man that he could have gone to school with. She’s supposed to be finishing her education, not helping him get out from under a bad habit.”

Kylo nods at that, though the look in his eyes expresses reservation. “My love,” he begins slowly, “why… why do you want to help your cousin? From what you’ve told me, she’s been awful to you all your life, and I certainly didn’t like what I saw of her at our rehearsal dinner.”

It’s a good question, and a hard one to answer at that. Kylo lets you think for a moment, pulling together some night clothes to wear to bed in the meantime.

“I want to help her because… because my uncle won’t live forever, and it’s not like he’s doing a good job of ruling as it is. My uncle may be impulsive, but he’s not stupid. Sebastian couldn’t pour water out of a boot if the instructions were on the heel, and Tensin is no better. Mila, though… Mila is cruel, but her wit is sharp. Without her working behind her brothers, the planet’s fucked.”

You pause for a minute, a bit irritated by your more sentimental feelings now.

“And, as a woman, I can’t send her off to marry that man. He’s old enough to be her father, and you know how all of those Valderan mineral barons are. I worry about what would become of her, what he would make her do…” You picture Lydia’s sad eyes, and something in your chest clenches. “Mila may be awful, but I can’t sell her out like that, not for my uncle’s bullshit. I remember how afraid I was when we got engaged, how much I feared not being able to please you.”

Kylo’s hand is warm on your face, the back of his fingers stroking over the curve of your cheek. You press into the touch, taking his hand in both of your own.

“But of course, all of my worrying was for naught because you’re more loving and gentle than I could have ever imagined. You respect me, and you want me to be happy, but I have a feeling that that’s not how Mila’s husband will feel.”

“If you think something must be done, then by all means, step in. I’ll have a ship prepared for you tomorrow at once.”

The both of you go to get in bed, more to relax than to lie down the night.

“No,” you say, waving Kylo off, “let me do some digging first. I want to be sure I’m right before I go off and make a big fuss at home.”

---

You’re back on the Supremacy by late afternoon, anxious to get to the bottom of all of this. Hux, ever the good friend, briefs the Board of Charitable Affairs for you, allowing you time to hole up in your office for most of the day.

You pore over financial documents, intel from First Order informants, and numerous reports, looking for discrepancies or abnormalities in your home planets spending and accounts. It’s no surprise to find that your uncle’s run up a long list of expenses, many of which are listed as “miscellaneous” or “personal”— or, to the layperson, stimulants and whores. However, no one’s cooking the books. It appears as though every credit is accounted for, every tax dollar where it should be— the money’s just being spent like it’s in the hands of a child. With everything correct (in an extremely technical sense) on your uncle’s end, you move on to Mila’s fiancé, a nagging feeling in your gut telling you that he warrants investigation.

Tarlak Tu’Iuni is middle-aged, decent-looking, and filthily, disgustingly rich. Mineral money, naturally, seeing that he was born and raised on Valdera. He’s never been married before Mila, but he has a couple of illegitimate daughters that he seems to care for in some capacity. However, Tarlak’s personal life matters little to you. It’s always the money with the mineral barons; they can be perfectly good people in their personal lives— real upstanding citizens, even— but they just cannot keep their accounts straight to save their lives. They always want a little extra, they’re always moving money around… Lets just say that paying taxes and being frugal are two things that do not come easily to the Vaderan elite.

But, well— you’re the Empress of the Known Galaxy. For every slick accountant a mineral baron like Tarlak Tu’Iuni has in his corner, you have five even slicker financial investigators in yours.

Your team comes to you with a report in a matter of hours, and you nearly fall down when you learn of their findings.

“You’re absolutely sure?” you ask the woman before you, clutching onto the datapad in your hands for dear life.

“We triple checked all of the transactions. These people are good, I must admit,” she affirms, shaking her. “This is the sort of fraud you have to really look for. I’m not surprised we weren’t tipped off until you made us start looking for inconsistencies.”

You blow out a huge breath, anxious and enraged all at once as you scroll through the numbers. Your companion’s right— even laid out plainly this way, most it seems legit.

“Would you like me to contact the Guard?”

“No,” you tell the woman, though you’re grateful for her loyalty and sense of urgency. “Tell no one of this. I’ll handle it.”

“Yes, Empress.”

And then you and your bearer of bad news are going your separate ways, she to brief the team on your wishes and you to find your husband.

It’s later than you’d realized, the intensity of your work sapping away time with little effort. The ship’s night cycle is well underway, guard shifts down to barebones personnel, most corridors empty and quiet.

Kylo is with his nights, just as you suspected, the lot of them stowed away in a dark corner of the ship that they like to frequent. Each one rises to their feet upon seeing you, the Knights bowing in respect as your husband comes to greet you.

“She’s been skimming off of the charity accounts,” you declare, holding out the datapad for Kylo to take before he can so much as say hello. “Her and all her fucking friends on Valdera. Mila’s fiancé is going to essentially paying off my uncle’s debts with money he and Chairwoman Evan stole from the Palgoduan donations and a couple of lesser projects in the Outer Rim. Millions of fucking credits, Kylo! Millions! And that’s just recently!”

You don’t mean to shout, but rage is hot in your veins now. Kylo looks horrified and bewildered all at the same time, scrolling through the information you’ve given him quickly. Not two seconds later, the air seems to crackle all around you, lights flickering under the influence of Kylo’s powers.

“Is your uncle in on this?” he asks you, eyes dark and wild as he regards you. The Knights stand at attention now, waiting for orders, waiting to be sent off for an attack.

“No,” you scoff, waving your hand flippantly. “They’d be stupid to involve someone like him in this. This is inside shit, crime committed amongst a tight-knit group of intelligent people. I wasn’t even looking for something like this, my team found it when I had them doublecheck Tarlak’s accounts.”

“It’s a good thing you did,” Kylo says, trying to stay calm even though you know an outburst is bubbling up inside him. His fist is tight at his side, shoulders tense and taunt. And the energy in the room… You’re just grateful he isn’t angry at you.

Finally, your husband hands the datapad back.

“We’ll deal with this issue at once,” he declares, and the Knights are ready to follow him out of the room without so much as a cue, the lot of them already grabbing for weapons and tools of destruction.

“Kylo,” you cut, stepping into his path. “Kylo, my love, let’s talk about this first.”

“That bitch stole money from the Order,” he spits, murder in his eyes. “All of those credits are for food, and medicine, and schools—”

“I know that, my love,” you soothe, though a fresh wave of rage does sweep through your insides at the notion of one of your subjects going hungry so that Evan and her cronies can play another hand of cards. “But we have an opportunity to make a statement here. Gutting Evan in her quarters may be satisfying now, but why not put let everyone else see what happens when they try to steal from the Order? Why not show the galaxy that we’re in control, that no one can just get away with things like this?”

Kylo draws in a shaky breath.

“I will have the offenders arrested at once. They shall be executed on a live broadcast tomorrow afternoon.”

You nod at that, satisfied with the statement. Still, you know your husband well.

“Well,” you begin, smoothing down the front of his shirt, pulling a few pieces of hair out of his face, “I never said all of them had to be executed publicly— just the important ones.”

Kylo’s hands come to rest on your hips, his grip tight on your body. Feigning innocence, you begin caressing his cheek in lazy, slow strokes.

“I also think it would be wise if we got a few of the main players to confess. You know, just so no one thinks we’re making this up. I’m sure you and the Knights could handle that, right, darling?”

#kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren fanfiction #star wars #star wars fanfiction #ame #my writing

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ofcacthuxandkylosaur · 4 years

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My Big Kylux AUs Tag List (part 4)

ABOUT

Go here to find an INDEX of every lists (including all thematic lists)

–> A - C (part 1)

–> D - F (part 2)

–> G - L (part 3)

Mad Max AU {part of Post Apocalyptic AU}

Mafia AU

Mage Hux AU (also see Fantasy AU)

Mage Kylo AU (also see Fantasy AU)

Magical Girls AU {includes Sailor Moon AU}

Maiden in White (the) and Death AU

Mall AU [see Retail AU]

Man from U.N.C.L.E. (the) AU (also see Agents AU, Agent Hux AU and Agent Kylo AU)

Marvel AU {includes Captain America AU and Guardians of the Galaxy AU}

Masks of the Ren AU

Matrix AU

Mechanic Hux (Star Wars setting) AU [see Engineer Hux AU]

Mechanic Kylo (modern setting) AU [see Garage AU)

Medical AU {includes Dentist AU, Doctors [both] AU, Doctor Hux (physician) AU, Doctor Kylo (physician) AU, Paramedic Hux AU and Paramedic Kylo AU}

Medieval AU

Meet the Parents AU

Mercenary Hux AU

Mercenary Kylo AU

Mermaids [both] AU {combines:}

Mermaid Hux AU

Mermaid Kylo AU

Military (modern setting) AU [or see Mercenary Hux AU, Mercenary Kylo AU, WWI AU and WWII AU]

Minister Huggs and Kinglo AU

Miraculous AU

Missing Hux AU

Mister and Misses Smith AU [see Mr and Mrs Smith AU]

Model and Photograph AU (also see Model Hux AU, Model Kylo AU, Photograph Hux AU and Photograph Kylo AU)

Model Hux AU

Model Kylo AU

Modern (unspecified) AU

Monster Kylo AU (also see Southern Gothic AU)

Moonrise Kingdom AU {part of Boyscout AU and Summer Camp AU}

Moths [both] AU {combines:}

Moth Hux AU

Moth Kylo AU

Moulin Rouge AU

Mountaineering AU

Mouse AU

Mpreg AU

Mr and Mrs Smith AU {part of Assassins [both] AU }

Mummy AU {includes Mummy (the, 1999 movie) AU}

Mummy (the, 1999 movie) AU {part of Mummy AU}

Musicians AU {includes Band AU, Eurovision AU, Jazz AU and Orchestra AU}

Mutant AU [see X-Men AU]

Mystical Pet Shop AU

Mythology AU {includes Celtic Mythology AU, Chinese Mythology AU, Greek Mythology AU, Norse Mythology AU and Slavic Mythology AU}

Nagas AU {combines:}

Naga Hux AU

Naga Kylo AU

Names in Marble AU (also see 10′s AU)

Nanny Kylo AU

Napoleonic Wars AU {part of XIXth Century AU}

NASA AU [see Astronaut AU]

Necromancers AU (also see Witches AU, Witch Hux AU and Witch Kylo AU)

Neighbours AU

Neon AU {part of Cyberpunk AU}

Night and Day AU

Nightmare before Christmas (the) AU

Night Vale AU [see Welcome To Night Vale AU]

Norse Mythology AU {part of Mythology AU}

Nutcracker (the) AU {part of Toys AU}

Ocean’s Avenue AU

Octopuses [both] AU {combines:}

Octopus Hux AU

Octopus Kylo AU

Office AU {includes Office (the, TV Show) AU } (also see Suit Porn AU)

Office (the, TV Show) AU {part of Office AU}

Olympics AU

Orchestra AU {part of Musicians AU}

Ordered to Seduce the Other AU

Over the Garden Wall AU

Overtaking Snoke AU

Overwatch AU

Oz AU

Pacific Northwest Fairytale AU

Pacific Rim AU

Paramedic Hux AU {part of Medical AU}

Paramedic Kylo AU {part of Medical AU}

Parents AU {includes Lost Son AU}

Papal AU [see Vatican AU]

Persephone and Hades AU {part of Greek Mythology AU}

Peter Pan AU

Peter Rabbit AU

Phantom of the Opera (the) AU

Photograph and Model AU (also see Model Hux AU, Model Kylo AU, Photograph Hux AU and Photograph Kylo AU)

Photograph Hux AU

Photograph Kylo AU

Pillars of Eternity {part of Fantasy AU}

Pilot Hux (Star Wars setting) AU [or see Airline AU and RAF Pilots AU]

Pilot Kylo (Star Wars setting) AU [or see Airline AU and RAF Pilots AU]

Pirate AU (also see Sailors AU)

Planes AU [see Airline AU or RAF Pilots AU]

Pole Dancer Hux AU {part of Dancers AU}

Police AU

Pokemon AU

Pool AU {includes Divers AU and Swimmers AU}

Porgs AU

Possessed Hux AU

Possessed Kylo AU [or see Force Consumed Kylo AU]

Post Apocalyptic AU {includes Fallout AU, Last of Us (the) AU and Mad Max AU } (also see Zombie AU)

Post TROS AU

Praetorian Guard Hux AU

Prehistoric AU [see Cavemen AU]

Pride and Prejudice AU (also see Regency AU)

Priest Hux AU

Priest Kylo AU

Princess Diaries AU

Princess Mononoke AU

Prison AU

Prohibition AU (also see 20′s AU)

Prostitute Hux AU

Psychic Kylo AU

Punk Style AU

Pyatochka AU

Quarantined AU

Queen of the Damned AU (also see Vampires [both] AU, Vampire Hux AU and Vampire Kylo AU)

Rabbits AU [see Bunnies [both] AU, Bunny Hux AU and Bunny Kylo AU]

RAF Pilots AU (also see WWII AU)

Rapunzel AU [see Tangled AU]

Raven Kylo AU {parted from Birds AU}

Red Dwarf AU

Regency AU {part of XIXth Century AU} (also see Pride and Prejudice AU)

Reincarnation AU

Renaissance AU (also see XVIth Century AU)

Renaissance Fair AU

Restaurant AU [see Chef AU and Fast Food AU]

Retail AU

Revenant (the) AU

Reverse AU {combines Dark side AU and Light side AU) (also see Role Swap AU}

Rich Hux (and Delinquant Kylo) AU

Rise of Skywalker Fix-it (the) AU [see Post TROS AU]

Road Trip AU

Rocky Horror Picture Show (the) AU

Rogue One AU

Role Swap AU (also see Reverse AU)

Roman Empire AU [see Ancient Rome AU]

Romcom AU

Romeo and Juliet AU

Roommates AU

Royalty (unspecified) AU

Russian History AU {part of Slavic History AU}

Russian Mythology AU {part of Slavic Mythology AU}

–> S - Z + # (part 5)

#kylux au #kylux #kylux tag list #my tag lists #my big tag list #tag list #alphabetical tag list

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clairen45 · 6 years

Note

i heard that the throne room scene in TLJ was a metaphor for sex ? Is there a meta about it ? Why does this fight conveys this idea ? Luv your blog by the way :)

There was @skysilencer’s awesome meta but unfortunately this seems to have been taken down. I think she went AWOL and her metas, this one in particular, is not anywhere I can find it. If anyone had a copy, maybe? Such a crying shame because she did an amazing job. Anyways, to enlighten you, dear anon, this is how you can sum it up, and honestly, if you haven’t seen it so far, you won’t be able to watch that scene anymore without fanning yourself…

This will certainly cover some of what @skysilencer has said, but I will put my “spin” (wink) on some of the material. @raven-maiden I think you are also the one who did something on Rey’s virginal fear at the end of the scene but I can’t find it anywhere, please, please, rec your work! Or if I am wrong, please, other meta writers, rec your own takes on this scene!

First, always keep in mind, that this scene is about

empowerment

giving the other what he/she needs

trust

release

freeing yourself/ letting yourself be free

intimacy in the midst of utter chaos

Which works on many levels, but as a sex metaphor, most absolutely.

We start with this little private conversation, which works as foreplay, in the elevator, as they reestablish their connection when physically standing next to each other, alone, for the first time since the duel on Takodana. It is important to note, that, every time, Rey is the one making a move. As established since TFA: she is the one determining the relationship and where it is going every time. Here, in the elevator, she gets into his space: his space on the Supremacy, but also his personal space as she approaches him and eyes him up and down. Even though she is manacled, she is still very much an agent. Even more so, that the girl, as has been pointed out many times, really prepped up for her big date: mascara, lipstick, new clothes and new hairstyle, with her hair let down. The manacles have many possible meanings that are mutually not exclusive:

on a symbolic level, they remind us that she threw herself at his mercy. She put all her trust into him by shipping herself to him right into the lion’s den.

on a more specifically sexual level, they also represent Rey’s own fears and limitations when it comes to her sexuality. She is still confused and upset by it, as the whole experience on Ahch-To is about (yep, it is not just about Jedi training, you guys. I did something about that on my Crait meta, see here). The manacles are an omen of what will happen at the end of the scene. Even though Rey is tempted (girl got a makeover and is clearly attracted by the dude), she is not so sure she is ready for the whole experience. Rey is not as free as she thinks she is. She still has to deal with her own limiting beliefs and fears (another one shows up on Crait via the boulder scene). So at this particular point in the story, some of the shackles are really more in her mind than anything else.

it’s the lazy good girl gets too close to bad guy transcription. Looks like more than she wanted to bargain for. Blame it on 50 shades being mainstream…

Plus, let’s not overlook the practicality that RJ had to deal with. If he had left his two space babies in the elevator utterly free to themselves, what would have happened, may I ask you, what would have happened? Rey would have been all over the guy, touching him, his hair, his face, and how could we have coped? And how would they have been able to maintain the suspense? The sexual tension? The “will they/won’t they”? Nope, Rey had to be physically restrained to avoid touching Kylo. Period. That’s my final take.

Also not so subtle close up:

There is a lot to say about the hand fest that RJ gave us in that movie. Convenient close up of their hands in front of their private parts, with Kylo holding a saber in clearview. Yes, I know that it is lazy to compare a phallic object to well, a phallus. But the way they “play” with the phallic quality in this scene merely says it all. The way he crosses his hands show that he is hiding something, but at the same time, his stance gives away an impression of calm and confidence. As we know from the novelizations, he has already made up his mind about what he is prepared to do for this girl. And when we see his face, again, calm, resolute confidence. She is stressed and anguished, as she should be given her situation. Her hands are not totally open (her thumbs are inside, kind of protecting herself), she is resisting somewhat, which also gives away the end of the scene.

Ok, so back to the very unsubltle use of our phallic symbol. I must stress out how GENTLE Kylo is and how solely invested in her he is the entire process. He doesn’t let out much about his emotions except when Rey is concerned, which is quite a feat from someone who has been portrayed as explosively explicit about his feelings since TFA. The only moments when he flinches are when Rey gets tortured by Snoke and you can tell how repulsive this is to him, and when Rey gets wounded by a Praetorian guard. Otherwise, he is again, cool and collected. So, the saber… What a hoot! Rey calls to herself Kylo’s saber and the boy doesn’t flinch. He lets it happen. Well, that sword looks mighty fine in her hands.

The same saber that was so explicitely used in TFA as, well, an “extension” of Kylo, and that totally freaked her out on Takodana:

A saber which comes with a particular design of big red vein showing up on the hilt. It doesn’t take that much of a filthy mind to make you wonder about this specific add-on and what they had in mind when they came up with it. Sometimes a saber is a saber, but, there are also times when a saber is clearly NOT JUST a saber.

It gets better… In the Junior novelization, when Rey reaches towards Kylo’s saber, the writer uses this interesting choice of words “It unfastened from his belt and sprang into her hand, its fiery blade igniting”. Unfasten belt, something springing into someone’s hands, ignite…. Boy… do I need say more. But then, the saber goes back to his owner who puts it to use in a very interesting way…

She is on her knees, with a deliberate close up which is so obvious that it should be censored. The saber boner comes up so intently towards her face, while the fingers are doing something, well, stop me from talking about the fingers. And if you think this is, well, just a coincidence, oh no. They knew. Look at this outtake from behind the scenes where Daisy Ridley can’t help but laugh at the goofiness of it all. In my mind it goes: “So, are you sure about that one RJ? I am on my knees and Adam just shoves his saber in my face??? Ok!”

What you have to appreciate is the wonderful intimacy of the moment. Because they never take their eyes off of each other one moment. And RJ just creates this moment for just the two of them as the camera doesn’t show the Praetorian guards at all and Snoke even closes his eyes on what is going on. And there is the panting, her calling his name… the anticipation… This is their moment. And then, well, the rest is epic. The thigh grabbing. The burning down of the red veil around them (much like a symbolic hymen being broken open), it is a sweaty, chaotic moment, full of grunts, pants, and cries, where they each get caught up in the fear of losing themselves. But he always looks out for the girl, ensuring that she is ok. And she finishes first, what a gentleman, finding her own release before turning towards him, calling his name, and letting him find his own release. With the ultimate puff of white at the end. Enough said. Go get a shower! We all need one.

#reylo fandm #reylo meta #reylo fam #reylo #star wars the last jedi #the last jedi throne room scene #sex in star wars #star wars symbolism #sometimes a saber is NOT a saber

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samueldays · 5 years

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Speaking of 40K.

Here is an excerpt from Praetorian XVI’s last stand, a piece I love for what it represents about the Warhammer 40K franchise. You have the brave space soldiers firing their space guns at the space aliens, and everything is played very straight and dead serious until it becomes silly from the sheer over-the-top-ness, rather than from any subversive twists.

The space soldiers: ‘The (Imperial) Guard does not surrender, it dies!’ The space aliens: Ravening green monsters that live only for carnage. The space guns: both laser guns and bullet guns, and at least one guy has so much gun he’s got muzzle flashes on his laser gun, which is gunning so hard that apparently there’s a second muzzle flash where the shot goes through an ork’s head.

And of course there are pauldrons. Impractically large, spiky pauldrons

#all #WH40K

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tinybibmpreg · 6 years

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Day 79 // ft. Amla, Kreax, Christi, Skip, and Neena

#82 / Reconsideration

“I want you. Right here. Right now.” Hands grabbed his hips and pulled him backwards. Sharp teeth bit at his neck, and Kreax hoped no one was spying on him, because he didn’t push the other man away. He leaned his head back, and Amla huffed through his gills, his species’ version of laughter.

Kreax liked when his lover reacted in ways typical of the unknown species he came from. Amla acted oddly human at times, and Kreax despised the annoying mammalians. They shoved themselves into everyone’s business, and acted like some kind of self-appointed guardian of the universe.

Amla had adopted their mannerisms, perhaps because they were familiar to most species, as many knew a fair amount about humans.

“I’m seeing a doctor later… Will you stay till then?”

That made the other perk up. He turned Kreax around and looked him up and down. “Have you been experiencing any symptoms?”

“I’ve been feeling fatigued, and my appetite has been…”

“Hungry all the time, are you, my darling Praetorian?”

Kreax nodded. “My people crave nutritious foods when we are gravid. Since you’re a predator of some kind, I suspect your people are similar.”

“Oh, those people just turned ravenous. Insatiable. Those with my shape descended from the great predators of their oceans. Then they took those beasts’ place at the top of the food chain.”

“And now?”

“We’re forbidden from returning to where we came. No attachments, after all.”

What’s wrong with you? the rest of the Detached asked Amla as he returned to their gathering place beyond where Kreax and the other primitive beings existed or could truly exist.

“I don’t feel well,” he answered.

But we healed you. Heal yourself.

He tried. “I can’t. It still hurts.”

Why?

“The child’s mother says it’s guilt.”

That’s attachment. We feel nothing.

“I feel guilty.”

A b e r r a t i o n .

Kreax was keeping a sharp eye on the nervous doctor as the smaller man waited for the results of his blood test. Amla stood nearby, looking at the different medical instruments in the room. He picked up a pair of surgical tongs and clacked the ends together, gills flaring out in excitement. “Look, Kreax!” The doctor startled, and Kreax glanced over, hand on his blaster. “It’s like a crab.”

“What’s a crab?”

“An Earth creature. They have claws that snap together like this. Click, click, click-” He continued to click them together, until noticing a pair of tweezers he could entertain himself with. He picked up those, and began to pluck at various things.

“H-have you been to Earth?”

“Oh, I’m a real traveler. I’ve been just about everywhere you can think of, and more.”

“How long ago did you last visit Earth, Amla?” Kreax asked.

“Some years. An intriguing planet. The diversity is astounding. So many things to enjoy.”

The doctor’s blood test beeped, finally finished scanning. He brought up the results. “Well, uh… Praetorian, it looks like you’re pregnant. The readings are a bit strange, though…”

“We’re going to be parents, my dear!” Amla grinned down at him, and Kreax wasn’t very sure how he felt about it. They had succeeded very quickly, and he’d been hoping it would be a useless endeavor, even though he hated to fail in anything.

“A hybrid. That explains the odd readings… What would you classify your species as, sir?”

“Hm, once upon a time I would have called myself aquatic. We’re fairly close to the Earth shark, as a matter of fact.”

“If you’d like, Praetorian, I can do a full prenatal exam and an ultrasound, to make sure you and the egg are healthy.” He gave his approval, and let the doctor examine him and ask questions about his health. Though he was loathe to reveal any information about himself, he knew it was important to ensure that he was fit enough to carry the child. Though a long pregnancy would disrupt his work, a miscarriage or complication could put him completely out of commission, or just kill him.

The examination had the doctor concluding he was in excellent shape, though somewhat stressed. He laid down for the ultrasound, removing his shirt and then his under armor. Being without the blaster-proof protection made him tense, but he ignored the instinct that screamed at him that he was being foolish to let down his guard like this.

“Ah, it’s… not an egg.”

“See, my darling Praetorian? I told you our child would be live young.”

He stared at the screen, at the small form of his child, and a sinking feeling inside of him told him that by the time the baby was born, he’d be attached to it, just like he said he never would. He already wanted to protect and care for it, the little life developing inside of him.

The embryo looked healthy, and the medical visit was concluded. The doctor downloaded all the information from his exam to his personal device, and then Kreax drew his blaster and shot the man. Amla laughed like a human, cackling.

“Three blocks down, twenty seven more to go, my dear, my darling.”

“This will be an interesting season… Now, I’m famished. Shall we eat in my quarters or in my office?”

Christi was freed from her invisible restraints as soon as Amla disappeared back to his people. She rounded the table and knelt down in front of Kreax. He was staring down at his lap, at the only thing that remained of his child. The pink headband Andre had given them.

“Praetorian?”

“Captain.” His voice was quiet, empty.

“I… I’m sorry. I wasn’t able to convince him to change his mind, this time.”

“His mind was made up the first day. There was nothing we could have done.”

It was true, but Christi didn’t want to believe it. “But-”

“There is nothing I will be able to do to stop him and the other Detached from killing our next child, either.”

“I’ll help you. We’ll think of something.” He shook his head, putting the headband on his wrist, twisting it like a hair tie until it was secure. The pink looked odd against the rest of him, all muted and dark colors. She refused to give up. “I’ve changed their minds before! Praetorian, I know Amla. I know the Detached. I can-”

“Captain, please.” He looked up at her, eyes brimming with tears. “I don’t really care about what you think you can do. I just- I just want to go home.”

She stopped, and then nodded, a quick, singular nod. Quietly, she said, “Okay. I’ll have the ship head for the Ophidrian border. We’ll transfer you to one of the ships there.”

Her superiors would want to kill her later for not dragging a war criminal like him into custody, and she knew she should have him locked in the brig while she directed the ship towards the nearest maximum security penal colony or ship. But she wasn’t going to force him into punishment, not when he was grieving because of the Detached. Amla and the rest had caused so much harm, that Christi believed this was punishment enough, though she wanted Sweetling back as well.

Skip argued with her when she told him they were changing course, until she told him that she was the Captain, and her orders would be followed. The Ophidrians were very territorial and patrolled their border with warships, firing on almost every ship that came too close. Most steered clear of the border, but Christi knew they would be safe as long as Kreax gave his identification codes and got them permission to rendezvous with an Ophidrian ship.

It was easy for everyone on the bridge to tell that the Ophidrian Centurion they were speaking to didn’t really believe that they had Praetorian Kreax on board, though he’d stopped charging his weapons out of curiosity and answered their signal. “He’s been out of public view for almost four years now, what would he be doing on a human Eco Ship?”

“Heading home. Would you like to speak with him?”

“I rather would.”

“Skip, would you go get the Praetorians from his quarters? Tell him a Centurion doesn’t believe his identification codes are valid.”

“Sure, Captain.” After a few minutes, Skip returned, Kreax in tow. He didn’t look well, scales a pale purple, hands on his heavy belly. He leaned against Christi’s counsel as he came to stand next to her. His expression was hard as he glared down the Centurion on the screen. Out of the camera’s range, Skip mouthed to her ‘he needs medical attention.’

“Praetorian! It’s really you.” His eyes dropped down to Kreax’s belly, but he said nothing of it.

“Of course it’s me, you imbecile. I sent my identification and security codes to the Head of Patrol, sent a DNA sample as well, and you have the audacity to tell this Captain, who is doing our people a service by betraying her own, that she’s lying.”

“Forgive me, sir. I thought it was a trick.”

“I need transportation to the Jeiruai system as soon as possible. It is a matter of utmost importance, and I refuse to be delayed.”

“Your transport shuttle is already prepared, as the Head of Patrol ordered.”

“Good. Captain Ferraday, you may now cross the border and properly rendezvous. Commander, accompany me to the shuttle bay.”

“Ah, sure, Praetorian.” The video shut off. Kreax leaned forward, wincing. Skip stepped forward to steady him. “You need to see a doctor.”

“I just need rest, but there will be one on the shuttle. I will have them examine me.”

Christi stopped them before they could go. “Kreax. Where are you going to go?”

“To my family, on Jeiruai’s seventh planet and a coastal colony.”

It’d been years since he’d last seen his family, and though Kreax knew they would welcome him back and let him grieve in peace and comfort, he had no idea if the welcome would be genuine. For all he knew, they had heard of what he had done and not seen it as heroic accomplishments for the betterment of their people’s republic, but as horrific and unforgivable. They’d always been fairly spiritual people, and he’d been the first to embrace violence and power when he joined the military as little more than a child.

Just before he’d reached the rank of Praetorian, he’d forced them to relocate to Jeiruai, so no one could try to use them against him. They hadn’t been happy about it, and the last time he had spoken to them, he’d gotten into a big argument with his grandmother, uncle, and some of his cousins. It hadn’t ended well, and they’d never contacted each other again, though he checked on them occasionally via discreet means.

The doctor on the shuttle had told him the pain he was feeling was just strong false contractions caused by his grief. She had him lie down, and told him to stay off of his feet as much as possible. He planned to do that as soon as he got to his family’s home.

It took a day to get to the Jeiruai system, and his dread built up inside of him to the point where he felt sick just thinking about trying to face his family again.

Still, he got off the shuttle and declined an escort when the ship landed in the main port of Jeiruain 7. He found a speeder driver that would take him to the small town his family lived in, and spent the night-long drive drifting in and out of sleep while watching the scenery go by.

Early in the morning, he stopped the driver, and then asked someone where he could find his family. They directed him to a larger house at the edge of town, and the driver took him there. He paid the driver, and watched as the speeder drove off. There was no going back now.

No one was outside, so he took a minute to try and calm his nerves. It didn’t really work, so he forced himself to go to the door and knock. There was silence, and just as he began to wonder if no one was home, he heard footsteps. A lock unlocked, and the door opened slightly. His grandmother peered through the crack. “Neena?” he said. “It’s me, Kreax.”

“Kreax?” she echoed, opening the door all the way. “Is that really you?”

“Yes. I’m back.” He hated how empty his voice sounded, but he’d been forcing himself to bottle up all his grief while he was on the human ship, and it resulted in that. “How are you?”

“Oh, same as always. Just a bit more tired than I used to be. How about you?”

“I…” He dug his fingers into his wrists to try and keep from breaking down, but he looked down and saw Sweetling’s headband, and recalled how he always wanted his next visit with his family to be him introducing them to his relatives. His eyes burned as they filled with tears. “I lost my child. Their father killed them.”

Feeling is attachment. We are Detached.

“I can’t stop feeling. Please, help me.”

We cannot.

“It hurts.”

Our decision… was it wrong? It wasn’t worthy. We cannot possibly have been wrong.

“Please…”

But it made one of us feel. Now one of us is separate. Different. Attached.

“I don’t want to be.”

There are stars in your eyes.

#Oblio's fics #original #mpreg #male pregnancy #Praetorian Kreax #Captain Christi #Amla (PA)#Skip (PA)#Neena (PA)#Paradoxical Attachment

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warsofasoiaf · 7 years

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Traitor Primarch Ask: Alpharius Omegon and the Alpha Legion (even if they may or may not be secret Loyalists)?

As might be expected, definite things regarding Alpharius, Omegon, and the Twentieth Legion are in very short supply. The Alpha Legion is full of both absent information and deliberate misinformation which makes pinning anything down hard, even their origin stories are fake, but there are some real concrete pieces of information there when we look.

Alpharius and Omegon are twins, but they shared a telepathic connection which meant that the two were never truly alone. This concept is writ large across the entire Alpha Legion, best emphasized in the metaphor of the Pale Spear. The Pale Spear can be disassembled and carried by the members of the individual Legion, but the Pale Spear itself isn’t broken, it remains the Pale Spear. Thus, even when an Alpha Legionnaire is alone, he is never truly alone, because he is still the Legion and can strike with the force of such.

The Alpha Legion borrows a lot from modern day non-nation militant groups including insurgency tactics, focus on sabotage and assassinating targets of opportunity, especially in their cell-based structure and largely independent commanders, meaning that the Alpha Legion cells can enact their own plots without knowing of the other or betraying the Legion, meaning that some Alpha Legionnaires may oppose another Alpha Legionnaire with a different idea or compete over the same resource or mission space. Thus, some members of the Alpha Legion could be actual Chaos Space Marines, worshiping Chaos and accepting their foul blessings, while others might be Renegades and still others secret Loyalists, fighting for the Imperium in the way that they know best.

The Legion isn’t just insurgency though, they also have some very strong Cold War vibes to them, including a Manchurian Candidate-like process of planting deep cover agents to be deployed when needed. While the Alpha Legion can (and has) fought conventional battle, they love to deploy false flag operations, attacking using enemy uniforms, and other means of PSYOPS to undermine the enemy.

This style of warfare annoyed plenty of Alpharius’s brother Primarchs. Konrad Curze despised the dishonesty of the Alpha Legion’s approach, his own terror tactics were certainly striking from ambush, but left no uncertainty as to what it was and why it was happening. Rogal Dorn considered the Alpha Legion to be assassins not worthy of bearing the Emperor’s mark. Roboute Guilliman felt that Alpharius’s approach left conquered areas seething with resentment, requiring resources to build them back up and maintain them. Mortarion and Leman Russ thought that the approach was cowardly and dishonorable. Horus was noted to have valued Alpharius’s approach, praising Alpharius’s panache and forging a close bond with Alpharius. It was speculated, of course, that Alpharius’s friendship with Horus was what led him to side with the Warmaster in the Heresy.

Dan Abnett’s Legion tells us that this is a lie, that the reason he joined the Heresy was due to the Cabal, a collection of xenos with prophetic powers. According to them, if the Emperor wins, he would give his life and become an undead monstrosity, then his Imperium would stagnate, feeding Chaos with the misery of humanity and empowering them. Eventually the spirit of the Emperor would fail and Chaos would consume the galaxy. If Horus won, the short-term victory would empower the Chaos Gods, but Horus’s guilt would cause him to embark on a cleansing crusade, fracturing Chaos, ending with the obliteration humanity and the Chaos Gods both. Alpharius made the decision to side with Horus because he believed that the Emperor would want such a sacrifice to stop the Chaos Gods.

Alpharius’s conduct during the Heresy is very interesting. When working with another legion, such as in the Dropsite Massacre, they cause great damage to the Loyalists, but they permitted the Raven Guard to escape with their Primarch (though with a few Alpha Legion plants mixed in among them). By the later stages of the Heresy, Horus couldn’t trust Alpharius with missions, stating that Alpharius had his own plots, thus Mortarion had to handle the Khan. During the Chondax campaign, the Alpha Legion delays Jaghatai Khan, allowing him to receive the missive from Rogal Dorn, but they attack the Space Wolves after the Burning of Prospero and do significant damage to them at the Alaxxes Nebula. In fact, when it came to his enemies, he fought the ones who disparaged him (Dorn, Russ) much harder than the ones who had not (Jaghatai Khan was one of the most live and let live Primarchs there was). While that almost seems too petty, remember that Lion knocked out Russ over a laugh and Magnus started his folly in part because he wanted to prove sorcery could be a benefit. The Primarchs are titans, and have titanic egos to match; Alpharius seeking validation from those who mocked him was not beyond reason.

The question is, was Alpharius, Omegon, or both secret loyalists, did they ever fall to Chaos, did they change their mind during the Heresy. The Alpha Legion at times even fought itself and prevented some loyalists from turning, and Alpharius and Omegon seemed to be of different minds about the ultimate goal. By The Unremembered Empire, the Cabal is convinced that the Alpharius gambit has failed (and Alpharius kills their representatives after Deliverance Lost, stating that he would act on his own initiative). Certainly, Alpharius also hindered the plans of the Chaos Gods, by refusing to destroy the genetic Astartes material Corax used after sabotaging his plans to rebuild the Raven Guard, but he didn’t turn over the material to Fabius Bile, instead giving him ultimately useless information that prevented Bile from creating newer and better Chaos Marines.

Rogal… I did this so that you would understand… So that you would see that you cannot win. I am not here to kill you, brother. I am not here for Horus. I am here to give you victory… I know the enemy, I know your weaknesses, and theirs. I know the truth… I can give you victory, brother.

What he does in Praetorian of Dorn is very fascinating. Alpharius launches his greatest Harrowing yet, challenging Rogal Dorn directly and using every weapon in his arsenal to subvert, destroy, and undermine Dorn’s defenses of the solar system. However, when the two Primarchs finally come to blows, Alpharius quite pointedly says that he was not there for Horus, and he references the enemy as not being the same person as Rogal. It hints that the “enemy” is Chaos, and that Alpharius can give Dorn victory, but what does that mean? Did Alpharius change his mind and now wished to return to the loyalists? If he had, why did he not deploy his Alpha Legion against the Traitor Legions, and why did he do damage to Dorn’s defenses and make it easier for Horus to attack Terra? Was he attempting to recruit Dorn even to the last hour in hopes of strengthening the Traitor Legions that would eventually scour the universe of Chaos at the cost of themselves? Or was it Alpharius’s addiction to complexity that led him to craft an overly elaborate plan instead of a straightforward one that ended up getting him killed at the hands of Rogal Dorn? Indirect and endlessly open to interpretation, Alpharius was true to himself all the way to his death.

When Omegon finally sensed that Alpharius was gone, what did that mean for him? Why did he take up the mantle of Alpharius, and why did he continue to work to prevent reinforcements from reaching Terra. Was Omegon a traitor the whole time, despite the fact that he seemed to be the one to oppose the switching to Chaos? Did he become Alpharius because he couldn’t stand being alone, and acted the way that he believed Alpharius would act? Or did the loss of Alpharius cause Omegon to accept Chaos into his heart? We may never know, and it might be better if we don’t ever know, so that fans can endlessly discuss what the Alpha Legion is.

Thanks for the question, Necromancer. I think only the arch-traitor is left.

SomethingLikeALawyer, Hand of the King

#warhammer 40k #the primarchs

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curiouslich · 7 years

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Aftermath: The Weak Die

The front being held by the Phoenix Guard was a bloody mess to be put lightly. A felscape hell of retreat and terror. The Legion crashed in with their demons before proper defenses could be established. Cleaving through the ranks all they could do was fall back with each demonic advance.

Zanarian’s Green eyes darted over the field. As their front line crumbled the Crushers moved on clearing room for their war machines. Praetorians and Faithbreakers took command of the assault shouting out orders and delighting in the havoc.

“Those shields won’t last much longer, they are going to charge up this hill, and if they don’t that cannon fire will” Running his hand over his face he shook his head. Against his better judgement he had stayed back to defend the healers. Two of his favored among the cabal and a contingent of Light users.

“Enough of this, If someone doesn’t help they’ll be over run. I am not waiting for them to upon us. I think it’s time for a snack.” Sliding off the rock he was perched on he walked over to Mara. A warm smile on his face. “The price is paid my Seer, so long as your heart beats I will keep going.” Leaning down he slid his thumb over her ear before giving her a kiss. First her lips then her forehead. Moving on he marched over the other illidari.

Claws wrapping around the back of Vilesun’s neck Zanarian knit his fingers into his friends hair. Holding his forehead against the ink binder he nodded. Felseared eyes boring into the other man. “Whatever happens, you know my orders.”

“I won’t disappoint Overseer.”

Releasing the man Zanarain nodded a second time. “See that you don’t, when this over gather who you can, we’ll have a party like we’ve never seen.” The joke never seemed to let him down and he smiled at his humour.

Turning to the field he charged down the hill his foot fall became heavy. Each step wider, each landing with more force. Blackened scales spread across his arms as spikes began to reach out from under his armor. By the time he slammed into the first demon he had finished the transformation.

Biting into his first target his draconic jaw clamped down hard on the fel lord. Closing on its neck he wrenched the flesh from the demon and with a spray of blood they hit the ground. Where one now struggled to breath the other was looking for his next meal.

In a battle he never had to wait long. The infernal let out a shriek as the construct greeted him. The lumbering machines were slow. Zanarian had more than enough time to dodge its ‘arm’ and capitalize on the strike. Claws aimed forward he pierced its vulnerable spot. The armor was weak below the chest. It was all too easy to grab onto its core. Pulling back he dislodged the molten center of the beast. With a second shriek it came undone and fell to pieces on the ground. He always liked the taste of Infernal, and with a delightful crunch he devoured the treat.

With the way open his real target was in sight. The Fel Cannons. Each war machine was pointed at a different location. Some near the healers, some at the front, and another at the casters.

The battalion of magi rained spells of all schools on the demons. This of course gathered their ire and as the cannons all changed to put an end to that threat.

With the force of the freshly consumed infernal Zanarian crashed into one of the cannons shattering it in his wrath. Tail flinging out he choked the operator before throwing him like a rag doll at the second cannon. He lived for this, and lept at the next one. In the midst of his wholesale slaughter he barely noticed the darkening of the sky, but the searing smell of fel-ionized air was a give away.

In a battle against the forces of the Legion the unexpected had to be prepared for, and when Baal’s forces marched on the Dawnspire there would be no difference. What was the point of a stable front line when facing aerial superiority.

The cry to look above rang out almost too late. In a rain of fire the green meteors shattered the clouds With a cataclysmic slam the sphere of stone and fel crashed into the ground. The final moments were here and Baal’s elite guard had arrived. Just as soon as the craft had obliterated the earth beneath it the behemoth inside surged outwards. Double edged spear swinging in wild arcs melting away the lines of casters.

Runes on the monster’s glave shimmered as he sent frost, flames, and lightning back at their casters. Sweeping the spells from the sky he advanced further into their back line.

Giving off a deeply satisfied roar the demon pierced another magi. Hefting their body up on the tip of his halberd he smiled as the weakened mage squirmed. “Your magic won't save you now wurm.” Plated hands clamping down on his target he dragged him forward on the spear until the reddened spike erupted from his back. “Pathetic”

Tossing the corpse aside the Praetorian was only able to react just quick enough. Slicing through a bolt of frozen fel flame he turned on his next targets. A pair of Suncasters one with hair like flowing honey, the other a raven’s quill. “Is that the best the Dawnspire can muster!” To end the sentence he sliced the second volley. Clearly the Dawnwards weren’t keen on talking. Eager to meet the Felravens the demon lept at them.

Glave held high in the air he was on them in an instant. With a cackling howl the Praetorian slashed at the pair. His spear stopped short and he was furious that instead of a clean cut and tattered cloth his blow was halted.

It wasn’t in Zanarian’s nature to protect people. There were only two types of people, the strong and the weak. If you couldn’t protect yourself you were weak, if you were weak you died…

At least that's what he always told himself, but he broke that rule often. Curling his arm he did the best he could to met the slash with his shoulder. Metal met demonic armor with a loud ring.

Dirt ground up over his feet as Zanarian was punished back with the blow. The sound of cracking scales filled the air followed by a wet thud the Praetorian was stopped in his tracks.

Blood flooding his mouth Zanarian coughed up the red fluid. His trio if eyes fell down on the fel steal of the spear.

It was strange to see a weapon sticking out of your stomach. The blazing hot sensation of split skin, the piercing ache of cracked bones, and the sense of what felt like frozen metal drinking in your blood. Though, to his surprise it didn’t hurt. Stumbling in shock Zanarian struggled to keep standing.

The Praetorian recovered far more quickly and went to free his blade from the lizard that clung to it. With a grunt he yanked his hand back, but to his dismay the Illidari insect refused to let go.

Biting down on his inner jaw Zanarian dug his feet further into the dirt. Wrapping his tail around the Praetorian’s arm his white knuckles held fast to the blade. Blood flowing from his mouth he gave a toothy smile. “The~ fuck you think your going~”

Dragging the spear deeper into his gut he knew the plan already. The taste of frozen air was one he had become well acquainted with, even missed it. As the ice began to race along the blade's edge it froze his tail in place around the Praetorian’s arm. The thought that neither would escape what came next was his only solace.

The worst of the ice didn’t touch him. Lovete’s magic merely helped to cement them in place. She was always kind to him, but for the praetorian there was a more sinister result of the freezing. His armor, his flesh, and no doubt his blood all ran cold.

From his dealings with her Zanarian knew that Melanei wasn’t exactly one for mercy… or restraint. With a score to settle with them both the heat of fel was only inevitable.

Sure enough the air began to crack as it was suddenly sparked ablaze.The bright green was a welcome sign, maybe she would calm down after venting this out.

An Inferno that could probably rival the core of Argus met the iced surface of an instant glacier. The result was a shattering blast that shredded the pair caught in the attack. Thrown to the ground in the violent reaction Zanarian had no idea what happened to his rival demon. No doubt he was in worse shape. As his armor was replaced with burnt skin he would have laughed at the situation if he could manage anything but ragged breaths. Darkness creeping into the edges of his vision his charred head slid to his left. Where he expected to see his arm he found the singed look of what appeared to be his legs.

Before the black took him he pursed his dry lips. “Fffff….”

….if you were weak you died…

@stormandozone @captainswingbeard @sakialyn @jessipalooza

#Battle of the Dawnspire #Bye Zanarian #Mara #Vynthius #Melanei #Lovete #TW: Violence #TW: Blood #I mean I guess #I have no idea these things

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asktheadeptus · 7 years

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Iron Hands - Morlocks

The Morlocks were the veteran Space Marine Battle-Brothers of the Iron Hands Legion who served as Primarch Ferrus Manus' personal Honour Guard. These elite Veterans of the Iron Hands' 1st Company were so-named for the fearsome visage they presented like the vengeful predators of the same name that howled across the frozen tundras of their Legion homeworld of Medusa. The Morlocks were all members of the Iron Hands' Clan Company Avernii. The Morlocks were the deadliest and most experienced warriors of the Xth Legion, and whatever force was arrayed against these black-coloured Terminators could not hope to survive their wrath. The Morlocks were the bloody tip of the spear that drove hard into the vitals of the XthLegion's foes.

History

As the personal honour guard of Ferrus Manus, the Morlocks often stood sentinel aboard the Primarch's flagship, the Battle Barge Fist of Iron, the mightiest of them protecting the gates of the Primarch's inner sanctum, the Iron Forge, located within the ship's Anvilarium, the large audience chamber where mighty deeds were planned and unbreakable bonds of brotherhood were forged. The Morlocks were led by Gabriel Santor, the Xth Legion's First Captain and Equerry to the Primarch. Santor hailed from the Avernii Clan on Medusa, as did all of the members of the Morlocks.

Shortly after the corruption of the Emperor's Children's Primarch Fulgrim, his IIIrd Legion was ordered by the Warmaster Horus to rendezvous with the Iron Hands' Primarch and attempt to sway Ferrus Manus, Fulgrim's closest friend amongst the Primarchs, towards the cause of the Traitors. The two Primarchs met aboard Ferrus Manus' flagship. Great bonds of friendship and brotherhood had long existed between them, and Fulgrim felt that he could convince Ferrus of the righteousness of Horus' cause. Fulgrim's hope proved disastrously wrong and the meeting of the two Primarchs in Ferrus' private inner sanctum in the Anvilarium did not go well. Ferrus was outraged that his brothers would dare to turn against their father the Emperor.

The meeting ended in violence as The Gorgon made his difference of opinion known to the Phoenician with his weapons. Ferrus was determined to stop Fulgrim's betrayal of the Imperium before it could even begin. Ferrus used his silvery necrodermis hands to attempt to destroy Fulgrim's sword Fireblade, but the resultant explosion knocked him out. Fulgrim intended to kill his brother with his own weapon, the warhammer Forgebreaker, but proved unable to kill his oldest friend despite the promptings of the Slaaneshi daemon that now throttled his soul. Instead he took the Gorgon's beloved warhammer, a reminder of the bond the two Primarchs had once shared. When Fulgrim emerged from Ferrus' inner sanctum, he gave a signal to his Phoenix Guard who instantly, and in perfect synchronicity, beheaded all ten of the Iron Hands Morlocks who served as Ferrus Manus' bodyguard with their Power Halberds. The Emperor's Children's First Captain Julius Kaesoron struck out against his Iron Hands counterpart, Gabriel Santor, and very nearly killing him with his Lightning Claws. Fulgrim successfully fled the Iron Hands' expeditionary fleet in his personal assault craft, the Firebird, when he ordered his flagship, the Battle Barge Pride of the Emperor and its Escorts, to open fire upon the ships of the 52nd Expeditionary Fleet. This surprise attack crippled them and provided a distraction while Fulgrim and the Emperor's Children fled into the Warp to rendezvous with the rest of their 28th Expedition in the Istvaan System.

Things eventually came to a head at the Drop Site Massacre of Istvaan V. Led by First Captain Gabriel Santor, ten full companies of Morlocks hungered to confront the Emperor’s Children and make them pay for the dishonourable murders done to their number in the Anvilarium of the Fist of Iron. The Morlock Terminators, led by The Gorgon, formed the centre of the Loyalists' assault as the Primarch of the Xth Legion sought out his fallen brother Fulgrim. Finally the forces of the Emperor’s Children and the Morlocks came together in a riot of bloodshed and death. The Morlocks' superior armour and experience gave them an advantage over the rank and file Astartes of the Emperor’s Children, but they were greatly outnumbered. While Ferrus Manus and Fulgrim clashed in a final confrontation, the Traitors' revealed their trap, as the second wave of the Loyalist assault, composed of the Alpha Legion, Iron Warriors, Night Lords and Word Bearers, revealed their true allegiance to Chaos. Fulgrim's own honour guard, the Phoenix Guard, answered with a terrible war cry and leapt to meet the Morlocks in a searing clash of blades. Electric fire leapt from the golden edges of the Power Halberds and the Lightning Claws of the warriors, and a storm of light and sound flared from each life and death struggle. Now surrounded on all sides by Traitors after the second wave had revealed their treachery, the Morlocks were circled by the Traitors and in the midst of cries of pain and roaring savage glee, the Morlocks of Ferrus Manus were slain to a man. It is unknown whether the Morlocks were reconstituted by the Iron Hands Chapter after the events of the Horus Heresy.

Notable Morlocks

Gabriel Santor - Gabriel Santor served as the Equerry to Primarch Ferrus Manus as well as the First Captain of the Iron Hands Legion's elite 1st Company and elite Honour Guard, known as the Morlocks, during the Great Crusade and the opening days of the Horus Heresy. When the Emperor's Children were corrupted by the Warmaster Horus of the Sons of Horus Legion, they attempted to sway their fellow cousins, the Iron Hands, to the Warmaster's cause. Gravely miscalculating Ferrus Manus' response to his offer, the Emperor's Children's Primarch Fulgrim callously attacked his brother, leaving him gravely wounded, as well as having ten of his elite praetorians cut down in a cowardly attack that left Gabriel Santor near death. Enraged by this base betrayal, Ferrus Manus led his Honour Guard in the initial first wave assault during the tragic events of the Drop Site Massacre on Istvaan V. Overextended and cut-off by the Warmaster's treacherous trap, Gabriel Santor was confronted by the Chaos-corrupted Emperor's Children First Captain Julius Kaesoron and was slain by that vile servant of Slaanesh, just as his Primarch Ferrus Manus was slain by his former brother Fulgrim.

Vermanus Cybus - Vermanus Cybus was the senior surviving Morlock veteran of the Drop Site Massacreon Istvaan V. Gathering with the remnants of the Iron Hands Legion that had fought their way out of the killing grounds of the Urgall Depression on Istvaan V, he joined the ad hoc group of survivors of that battle aboard the Iron Hands Strike Cruiser Sisypheum as it fled the Istvaan System. Cybus possessed multiple chimeric bio-modifications and had been viewed as nearly pathological in his reverence for the machine and his loathing for flesh. In truth, Cybus was a warrior not even his Battle-Brothers could be around for any length of time, for adherence to the doctrines of augmetic superiority had already spread through many of the Battle-Brothers of the Iron Hands Legion even before the death of Ferrus Manus and his warning against such beliefs to the Xth Legion. Before the betrayal at Istvaan, Cybus had fought beside the warriors of the Emperor's Children Legion on numerous occasions. He had always respected the IIIrd legion's devotion to the attainment of perfection, finding much to admire in the Emperor's Children's martial ethos. Many years earlier, Cybus had argued long into the night with a young officer of the IIIrd Legion named Rylanor on the merits of organic strength against augmented power, mocking the Legionary’s faith in his flesh while extolling the virtue of iron. Cybus was an uncompromising man of little personal charisma, but he had a secutor's grasp of the methodology of combat.

Septus Thoic and Ignatius Numen - This duo of Morlocks veterans were some of the very first Iron Hands warriors to make planetfall on Istvaan V, having marched alongside the best and bravest of the Xth Legion. Gathering with the remnants of the Legion that had fought their way out of the killing ground of the Urgall Depression on Istvaan V, they joined the ad hoc group of survivors of that battle aboard the Iron Hands Strike Cruiser Sisypheum as it fled the Istvaan System. The Iron Hands and their mortal serfs formed the bulk of the survivors to take refuge on that starship, but warriors of the Salamanders and a single Raven Guard Astartes were counted amongst their number as well. The months that followed saw the Sisypheumembark on a series of hit-and-run attacks on Traitor forces on the northern frontiers of the galaxy, wreaking harm like a lone predator against the hated Traitors of Horus. Like all those who had escaped the Drop Site Massacre, they had cut their warplate with the names of the fallen, and the black armour of these two Morlocks was inscribed with intricate scriptwork, each name inscribed over the cuts, tears and burns inflicted on Istvaan V. But these warriors had a name acid-etched on their shoulder guards that marked them out as special even in a brotherhood of remarkable warriors, that of Ferrus Manus, for they had seen their Primarch die at the treacherous hands of his brother Fulgrim. Like other veterans of the Xth Legion, they had refused to repaint or repair their armour until the Traitor who had murdered the Iron Hands' Primarch was dead. Thoic’s face was bisected by a curling series of scars inflicted by a laughing swordsman of the Emperor's Children, while Numen’s features had the plasticised sheen of synth-skin after a close-range plasma detonation had seared the ceramite of his battle helm to his skull. His flash-burned eyes had been replaced by simple targeting optics, but his hearing was almost entirely gone.

Frater Thamatica, "Ironwrought" - Frater Thamatica was an Iron Father of the Iron Hands Legion, a member of the Morlocks and a survivor of the killing fields of the Urgall Depression on the world of Istvaan V. It was Thamatica who helped establish contact with the disparate groups of Loyalist forces who had escaped the Drop Site Massacre, and he helped develop a stratagem for their survival. With the Xth Legion too scattered to function in a traditional battlefield role, its surviving commanders found their own way to fight back. Thamatica escaped alongside the remnants of the Xth Legion and joined the ad hoc group of survivors of that battle aboard the Iron Hands Strike Cruiser Sisypheum as it fled the Istvaan System. Following the Drop Site Massacre, Thamatica had become the longest-serving Iron Father left alive in the Xth Legion.

Vaakal Desaan - Vaakal Desaan served as a Morlock and the 9th Clan Company Captain during the Great Crusade and Horus Heresy eras. Desaan was known to be a staunch adherent to the Creed of Iron, which espoused that "Flesh is Weak." His ostensible elitism and lack of human empathy often spilled over into disdain for mortals, and sometimes worse. Desaan's grizzled face was a patchwork of scars from the numerous campaigns he had taken part in during the Great Crusade.

Erasmus Ruuman - Erasmus Ruuman served as a Morlock and the Captain of the 13th Clan Company Ironwrought during the Great Crusade. Ruuman was killed by xenos forces during the difficult Imperial Compliance action on the world of One-Five-Four-Four.

Source: http://warhammer40k.wikia.com

#warhammer 40k #horus heresy #adeptus astartes #adeptus mechanicus #adepta sororitas #adeptus custodes #adeptus arbites #astra militarum #Adeptus Astra Telepathica #officio assassinorum

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screamingatthevoid · 7 years

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Ravens and Wolves, Part II

The long-awaited (at the very least, long-promised-and-not-delivered) Ravens and Wolves, Part II Electric Boogaloo is finished. Part III coming eventually, probably.

Leman Russ is haunted by the past, and the Space Wolves face an uncertain future.

[Part I: Nevermore on Tumblr] [Ravens and Wolves on AO3] [My Works on AO3]

Part II: For the Wolftime

211.M31 Fenris

IN THE SPACE of a moment, the world had been turned upside down. Bjorn, called the Fell-Handed by his kith and kin, was the fulcrum about which it twisted and bent. Unmoving, yet lost. There were two thousand others in the warrior-hall of the Valgard. Did they not sense the nauseating wrongness as he did? Perhaps they were no longer there after all. Perhaps he was alone. Bjorn could not tell. Two words filled all of his being. Not you.

The primarch ascended through the upper levels of the Valgard, heading inexorably toward the docking platforms at the pinnacle of the Aett. Behind him came the Einherjar, two-score of the greatest warriors of the Rout. A shadow of their former numbers, perhaps, but every one of them was a veteran of the Heresy War. Though there was a dark mood upon many of them, others laughed and boasted as though this were any other hunt. All knew that it was not. At their head, Grimnir Blackblood walked in silence at the primarch’s side, his features grim and his grip tight about the great maul Malanan. His one eye looked sidelong at his lord, and wondered.

As Huscarl of the Einherjar, Grimnir had been closest to the primarch when he had entered his fugue. He had watched the primarch’s lips, and recognised the names upon them. Curze. Angron. Curze was long dead, but Angron? Russ had a score to settle there. Grimnir remembered their last battle, and his brow furrowed. It may have been a lesson, but the Wolf King had not let Angron defeat him – never that. Neither will stand, Russ had said. Lesson, or prophecy? A giant hand slapped Grimnir’s shoulder, pulling him in close. Grimnir flinched at the touch of his primarch, and at the chill of the armour Elavagar. “What’s on your mind, one-eye?” “You had the look of a man experiencing a vision.” He didn’t ask what it was – such things were better left to the gothi – but perhaps Russ might reveal something of what it meant. “Aye, it is so.” Russ chuckled, shaking his head. “All that time spent reading the runes to no avail, and a damned vision comes upon me when I’m just trying to have a drink. The wyrd is a real bastard sometimes.” Had the wyrd finally answered the Wolf King’s question, then? “Where are we going, Jarl?” Russ hesitated. “To find my brother.” “Which one?” There was a distant look in the primarch’s eye as he looked ahead, as if checking to see if a landmark he expected to lay on his path had come into sight. “I don’t know.” Grimnir scowled. If a primarch needed to be found, there was only one place for the hunt to begin. It brought the cryptic last words of Kva Who-Is-Divided to Grimnir’s mind, the old gothi beckoning him close, dark eyes like drops of blood frozen in amber wide with revelation. The Eye is in the Well, and the Well is in the Eye.

The Fell-Handed stood alone, seemingly rooted in place on the edge of the dais where the great table stood. Bjorn was called many things – the Fell-Handed, the Bear, Daemonslayer, Wyrd-Marked, Youngest, Jarl of Onn, Shield-Bearer – but of all of them Einherjar seemed a bitter irony for the last of Russ’ guard. It was usually rendered blood sworn in Low Gothic, but lone warrior was just as accurate. The rest of the Rout let him be, treating his manner as if it were merely his usual brooding. Could they truly be so blind? Wild speculation as to the fearsome beasts the primarch would slay and the mighty trophies with which he would return from his hunt echoed in the hall of carven stone. They drank and ate, boasted and brawled as though nothing had changed. Perhaps they did not yet comprehend that it had. “Who pissed in your mjod, Winterclaw?” The bass rumble at his shoulder intruded on Thrain Winterclaw’s thoughts. He turned to see Haldor Twinfeng grinning at him from behind his greying beard. The jarl of Tra – once Bjorn’s own Great Company – wore a gilt-edged suit of power armour in the blue-grey that was slowly replacing the old legion colours, heraldry of the sabretooth snarling on his shoulder. His namesake, a pair of curved fangs each as long and sharp as seax blades, hung from his gorget alongside those of a dozen xeno-beasts slain in the centuries since. “Hjà, Jarl,” Thrain replied half-heartedly. He had no retort to offer. “Skitja, your mood is black!” Haldor pressed on, throwing an arm around Thrain as if it would impart a measure of his levity. With his other hand he rapped his knuckles against the newly blackened ceramite of Thrain’s breastplate. “Have you taken the priesthood’s colours not just on your armour, but to heart?” “I’m not the only one.” Thrain gestured to Bjorn. “And what of it? Bjorn’s been a miserable bastard for years, no reason you should join him.” Thrain hesitated, wondering if he should continue. The first jarl only to have known the chapter, never the legion, Twinfeng shared perhaps the closest bond with the primarch outside the Einherjar. “It’s not like you to keep a leash on your tongue.” “What becomes of us now? We are not like the other chapters. It was only the will of Russ that kept us together. Yet we cannot fracture, the Wolf Brothers taught us that.” “You speak as if the Wolf King died.” There was an edge of threat creeping into the Jarl’s voice now. “How many of the others returned?” Thrain snapped. One by one, the primarchs had fallen or disappeared. With Russ’ departure, only Dorn would remain – the Emperor’s Praetorian to the last. “For all we are likely to see of him he is as alive as Guilliman.” “Guilliman? Do not speak to me of Guilliman,” Haldor spat, corrosive saliva hissing as it ate into the flagstones. He had been at Thessala the day Roboute Guilliman had been laid low. He had been the one who brought home the saga of the primarch in his living tomb. He shuddered at the indignity, and the memory of the Wolf King’s fury. Russ had raged for days – threatening to march into the Temple of Correction and tear his brother’s stasis-coffin down. “Propped up like a trophy on Macragge.” It was no way for a warrior to end. “Because they could not let him go.” Haldor bared his fangs with a growl that warned he had at last been pushed too far. “The Wolf King will return.” He spoke with conviction beyond faith. He didn’t just believe it, he would defy reality itself to make it true if he had to. After all the madness the galaxy had seen, it might even work. “I recognise my failing, and will be sure to correct it,” Thrain muttered, though his thoughts remained defiant. The Rout would not be held together by an empty throne and an absent king.

The Lord of Winter and War seemed to bend the very elements around him. The fur of his great wolf pelt stirred in disrupted air currents, bristling with impatience just as she had in life. Carven bone totems and ingots of raw metal rattled against the plates of Elavagar, cacophonous in the stillness at the top of the world. Beneath his feet, hoarfrost covered the exposed mountain peak. For the most part the mountain concealed the vast bastion that lay beneath the surface, but the upper kilometres of the Valgard were marred by spires and docking piers enough for several star forts. Atop the highest of the sky-bridges that wove between the mountain and its towers, the Einherjar grew restless as the minutes passed and Russ remained unmoving as the mountain beneath his feet. A stormbird idled on the landing platform at the other end, the sound of the engines swallowed by the thinness of an atmosphere that tested the limits of the space marines’ genhanced physiology. None reached for their helms. They were the Wolf King’s own honour guard, and they would not show weakness in the presence of their liege while he stood alone and unhelmed at the very pinnacle of Fenris. From his vantage point, Russ looked out over the jagged peaks of the volda hamarrki that rose from the storm clouds of Asaheim like the scattered islands of the worldsea. None came close to rivalling the Fang, but even the Father of Mountains did not quite live up to the legend that the World Spine pierced the void itself. Not by the Imperial reckoning, at least. The Imperium took things too literally, as ever, but Fenrisians understood the paradox. The mountains were the pillars that held up the sky-dome, and that limit defined the boundary between Fenris and ginnungagap, the space between stars. The stars are bright, he thought. They are calling you. Russ put the thought from his mind, for it was not his own, even as he paid no heed to the figure who was, and was not, standing beside him. The crippled king in battle-scarred bronze equalled his stature, even hunched against a broken spine, empty hands forever twitching, grasping for the bladed staff that had fallen from them centuries ago and light years away. Russ learned long ago to ignore the spectre that had haunted him since their duel on Prospero. It was easier to face the monster that his brother had become than to look into the blood-filled eye of Magnus as he had been on that day. That it had begun stepping into the waking world did not change that. The wheel of life and death had turned again. The last links to the old age, when he had walked the ice with the first Einherjar, were gone, and even the age that followed – that he had once believed would last forever – was a fading memory. The Allfather no longer had need of an executioner. Still you linger. “Does he wait for some sign?” “Perhaps he is having another vision.” Russ made no move, ignoring the unrest of his Einherjar and the silent whispers of the brother he murdered. He would move when the thread of the wyrd pulled him, and not before. He closed his eyes, frigid air threatening to freeze his nose, throat, and lungs as he pulled in a slow, deep breath. The death world had shaped him, and he had recast the Sixth Legion in his own image. It had been so natural, for all the primarchs, he had never stopped to consider whether it was wise. Now the wars they were made for were over. Where other legions had adapted to the new way, Fenris would not let the Rout change. Her ice was in their veins, her claws lodged deep in their hearts. Their fates were intertwined now. Perhaps they always had been. But his was not. An impossible distance away, a raven cawed. The smell of blood and brimstone filled Russ’ nostrils. His ears pricked up at the sound of the second, strangled cry. The third was a rasping death rattle. Eyes snapped open, focused with a predatory intent. The Wolf King threw back his head, and howled.

Infinities away, within turning wheels of thought and memory, the single eye of Magnus the Red was fixed on the world of ice. If his daemonic form had possessed a face, it would have been smiling.

#warhammer 40k #leman russ #magnus the red #space wolves #fanfic #fanfiction

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holoir · 6 years

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The Justin Larson revealed the fourth card of the Frostspark Collection: Karthspire Scout, a 1-cost 1/1 Orc in the purple Endurance attribute. The card has an interesting Last gasp effect: it draws a card but increases the cost of that card by one magicka. Hm, is this good? Should you play it? I think the answer is yes – let’s look at it’s uses and later at it’s synergies.

Evaluating Karthspire Scout using Quadrant theory

Disencourages Opponent to remove it as it has card draw so has some stickiness

Opening: Pretty Good, when supported by Items

With a cost of 1 magicka you would expect Karthspire Scout to be strong in the opening of the game to get you to an advantageous board position. It’s certainly not a strong body, so it can trade with only a few creatures that have one health. So that’s not great.

However, it’s Last Gasp effect discourages your opponent from Firebolting or Executing it on their turn one, as you would get card advantage through the card draw.

Instead, your opponent might be inclined to play a 1/3 or 2/2 or 2/3 creature in the same lane to trade into it.

This “stickiness” of Karthspire Scout can allow you to equip the Orc with an item to trade favourably into two cards to gain more card advantage. Even if Karthspire Scout were stalled by Shrieking Harpy it wouldn’t be terrible, as you would still have the card advantage if you could trade into the Harpy on a later turn.

Hence, the card is relatively strong in this quadrant if you can get it equipped with an item.

Parity: Generally Weak, but good in Orc Warrior or Betray Scout or Telvanni

At Parity, Karthspire Scout does not make a big impact. The 1/1 body will make very little difference in turns 4-6. To be good in this phase of the game, the card will need to be supported with stronger cards that synergise with the Orc. And in fact, there are several Orcs, that required other Orcs to be presented for their special effects to become effective. Hence, the cheap Karthspire Scout can actually be a good bridesmaid for a few male members of the tribe. But for itself, the card is pretty weak.

Certainly, the last gasp card draw effect will also be useful at Parity, however, you will need another effect to trigger the last gasp effect consistently. If we are now thinking about Betray-decks, or self-damage effects, we might be on the right track to make this card shine. House Telvanni fans should have a big smile on their face.

Winning: Meh… Unless Used in Abomination Scout, Orc Warrior or Telvanni Where it can Shine

How can a 1/1 body be good in the Winning quadrant, when you are already on a three turn clock to win? The answer again – Orc synergies and more deck cycle…

Losing: Digging for a Solution…

A 1/1 body without Lethal or Guard is obviously useless when you are already losing the game. However, the card cycle effect can help you to dig for a solution if you don’t have one on hand, but you have to be able to trigger it very much on the same turn that you play Karthspire Scout. This actually does give the card decent utility in this quadrant when you can trigger it consistently. Again, Betray or self-ping decks might find uses; other decks should stay away.

To summarise: the card can be good in all quadrants, which makes me predict that this female Orc will see lots of play in a few archetypes. First one being:

Synergies

Orc Warrior

Wrothgar Kingpin

Stoneshard Orc

Bangkorai Butcher

Woord Orc Headhunter

Militant Chieftain

Orcs fight better together. A low-cost Orc like Karthspire Scout is a really great bridesmaid for some of the more powerful Orcs that rely on another Orc to be on the board, for example:

Wood Orc Headhunter: Yesterday, at the Warpmeta EU#10 tournament, one player would have won his semifinal game, if he had had a Karthspire Orc to trigger the charge effect on a Woodorc Headhunter. Bad luck she wasn’t around.

Wrothgar Kingpin gains +1/+1 from his beautiful bridesmaid and with the last gasp effect triggered on same turn you might be able to draw and play yet another Orc. Too bad for the marriage but maybe you find her twin sister?! Orcs

Stoneshard Orc let’s you remove a slightly bigger creature if you have Karthspire Orc on board as his bridesmaid,

Bangkorai Butcher – if he marries her at Parity you will see these Honeymooners be on a trip of joy, because the Butcher is now a lot bigger… (+2/+2)

Betray and Altar of Despair

For Betray decks, Karthspire Scout can be sacrificed easily, as it will immediately draw you another card (although that card is slightly made a bit more expensive). This allows you to cycle your deck faster while looking for combo pieces or stronger cards.

In addition, as a 1-cost, in an Altar of Despair deck you get a 2-cost body and another card to hand which will give you card advantage and help you in thinning your deck further.

Self-ping

It might not be the kindest way of dealing with the Orc-beauty, but if the Ravenous Crocodile damages her, you get another card draw, but a 3/4 body for 2 magicka. Could be a nice combo in Warrior or even Conscription

Redoran (Orc) Conscription

Let’s think about Karthspire Scout in Redoran Conscription: Karthspire Scout, Ravenous Crocodile, Stoneshard Orc, Ambitious Hireling, Orc Clan Captain. Praetorian Commander… no need to say more?! Could be nice, right?

Card draw in Ramp decks

Endurance is the weakest attribute when it comes to card draw options (see Card Draw #7: Card Draw Options in the Endurance Attribute). In a ramp Spellsword or Ramp Scout deck, the last gasp draw effect can get you to the cards that increase your magicka a little faster. The increase to the cost of the drawn card, might not even be as bad in a ramp deck. So, I would expect some will experiment with this

Petamax Abomination and other Cycle decks

Another opportunity for Shadowmarking sits with card cycling decks, relying on the deck being cycled almost completely in a short amount of time. Thieves Guild Fence, Disciple of Namira and Necromancer’s Amulet are some of the key cards in this case. Karthspire Scout could be a good addition to this type of deck as well.

So, another good card in the Frostspark Collection strengthening a few deck lists and giving us more room to experiment with. I am looking forward to this one.

And… Justin Larson – just amazing card reveal – thank you!

youtube

Frostspark's Karthspire Scout - Uses and Synergies: The Orc Warrior Bridesmaid, who opens with weapons, and supports her kinsmen winning. The Justin Larson revealed the fourth card of the Frostspark Collection: Karthspire Scout, a 1-cost 1/1 Orc in the purple Endurance attribute.

#Frostspark Collection

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kylosupremeimagines · 5 years

Text

Kylo Ren X Reader: Do I Want To Know? {Part One}

Request 1: I'd like to request an imagine based on Ben's official transition into Kylo Ren under Snoke. Also, the TLJ visual dictionary mentions that Snoke had another apprentice at the same time as Kylo and it would be interesting to see how that relationship would have gone down. Thanks.

Request 2: Hi! Can you please do a one shot about the reader training with Kylo? please and thanks.

Master List

A/N: I’m doing this with the reader being the other apprentice! And for your outfit, I found a photo reference that I thought was really nice. The headpiece is optional. I thought that these two requests would go great together to make a short series. Probably about 3-5 chapters. I hope that’s okay guys! And sorry if this chapter is a little short, the next one is going to definitely be longer.

It had only been a few months since Kylo had burned down the Temple. His past. The haunting image of the flames as they reached the bodies of each fallen padawan, the screams of his fellow peers following them being cut down. It just wouldn’t seem to leave, only coming back and tainting his dreams - or rather nightmares - every night.

Kylo’s mind ceased to stop pulling him right back to that night, forcing him to face doubt that it was even the proper decision. With the numbing, dismal emptiness in his stomach, there were moments that it was all he could really think about. Was he truly justified? Part of him said no, but what was he going to do about it now when there was no turning back?

Sitting on the end of his bed, a hand ran through his raven black locks, detangling a few knots with such ease. The contemplation only grew, questioning where his future would take him; not just what would happen a week from then, a year, but in the long term as well. Oh, what was he to become?

His one true anchor was his grandfather, a person in which he could look up to in admiration. Everyone else he cared about failed him, from his parents being absent for parts of his childhood and pushing him off to the side, right up to the most recent events of his uncle coming close to killing him.

Luke, when Kylo figured out their relations to Darth Vader - Anakin Skywalker - he questioned why he wasn’t good enough. If Luke refused to kill his own father and even was able to redeem him, why was he prepared to kill his nephew? Was there really no hope from him?

Clenching up his left hand, he balled up the soft fabric of his sheets in his fist. Luxury was most certainly something that came along with joining the First Order. He actually had his own private chambers, and not some measly hut, where he finally had a kitchen that did not just consist of a flame and a pot. And finally, a bed to sleep on, with luxurious bedding and sheets to enjoy.

His favorite change had to be all of the food he now had access to. Since he was the Supreme Leader’s apprentice, Kylo had full access to the High Command kitchen. But of course, he always went with ordering his own ingredients to cook for himself rather than having a meal prepared for him. One of his comforts was getting to cook his own food.

Kylo’s chestnut brown hair flickered up to observe the star through the window to his room, admiring the luscious beauty that came with them. It astonished him how much there was out there, after spending the longest amount of time out in space. Always on the move, the start of his training took place in Supremacy, considering that Snoke spent the majority of his time within the colossal ship.

His gaze glanced to his nightstand with a buzz of his datapad. Using the Force, he brought the small device over to him and bit his lower lip upon acknowledging it to be a message directly from his Master. Much to his surprise, it was a request for his presence, instructing Kylo to meet with him immediately. Very rarely did he see the Supreme Leader for purposes other than training, and he already did his usual rounds for the cycle.

Reluctantly, he slipped it into his tunic pocket and stood from the bed to let out a heavy sigh. As he always carries his saber, Kylo clipped the weapon to his belt. The door closed with a hiss just as fast as it opened. What in the galaxy was he needed for?

As per usual, he paid little mind to the other officers around. Considering that the was not too immersed within the Order itself just yet, not many even acknowledged who he was. If anything, none of them respected him all because he was, what they may call, Snoke’s lap dog. To Kylo, they just didn’t know the importance of having someone like him or the other Knights of Ren working with them.

The Force was always such a powerful tool and something pushed back in many societies. After the Sith and then finally the Jedi were wiped out, the Force being brought up as something of high importance became less of an occurrence. Just from what he knew, it as a mysterious source of power that none should ever dismiss.

His nose crinkled for a moment as he approached the doors to Snoke’s Throne Room, waiting a moment before pushing them open with the Force. Praetorian Guards stood all around, nearly blending in the with blood red of the surrounding walls. “Ah, I see that you finally join us, young Ren,” Snoke spoke, voice booming throughout the room.

As Kylo grew closer, he took notice a black-clad figure kneeling before the Supreme Leader and an instantly Force connection he had never once felt, even with his time on the Supremacy. Just as always, he too knelt before Kylo, right beside the new entity. Glancing over, his eyes locked with your (E/C) eyes, noticing your brows raising a bit. “What… is it that you summoned me for?” he inquired, gaze returning to Snoke.

“I thought that it was about time that I had you meet someone,” Snoke explained, leaning forward and gesturing to you with his right hand. “you aren’t my only apprentice, as this here is the first I ever took in, only but a couple of years ago,” For the first three months Kylo was learning under him, Snoke never found reason to reveal it to either of you about one another, leaving not just him in surprise but you as well.

“Master, why am I only finding out about this now?” you had to break into the conversation.

“I did not believe it was appropriate for either of you to know about the other’s presence just yet. He needed time to get used to the transition amongst our ranks. But now, you two are ready to start your training together.”

“How am I supposed to work with him if I’m only finding out about him now?”

“Do not question me!” he spat out, standing up from his throne to approach the pair of you. “the likes of you two are the only beings in the entire First Order in which I recognize as full-fledged Force users, the only two in which I willingly train. You will learn to work together and prove to me and the rest of the galaxy you are forces to be reckoned with. It does not matter to me how you feel about having an equal but you will learn to work as one, upon my orders.”

“Of course, Master,” you and Kylo responded in unison.

“Good, good,” a smirk formed across his pale, deformed features, stopping before you and gesturing for you two to rise. Obeying his command, Kylo stood up the moment you did as well. “Kylo Ren… (F/N) (L/N)... I will mold you two into the perfect soldiers, two of the most powerful beings in all of the Galaxy. So, as I mentioned, you are now to train with one another, as equals. Where one of you lacks, the other will fail to thrive unless you catch up to the other’s ability. You are to trust each other with your lives and work together to grow in strength. I can only take you so far, the rest is up to you to discover for yourselves. Individually is one thing, but together? You will be able to accomplish so much for the First Order.”

“What should we do to start training?” Kylo wondered, unsure of where things would even begin. With dozen of thoughts racing through his mind, he wasn’t entirely sure how to take things in or what to make of it all. Another apprentice? He was lead to believe there was something important about him, so was that not really true.

“I believe that you must have a better sense of each other’s Force Connections, so I will not be having you go right into training,” he told you. “instead, I would advise you to get to know one another, considering you will be working very closely,” when it came to all the Knights, he was not opposed to them sharing personal connections since it made for better cooperation, a flaw that he saw within the Sith before who would be at each other’s throats for even the littlest things.

Kylo shared yet another gaze with you, both frozen in place for a moment before he nodded. “As you advise, Master.”

“Now go, do as you please. Just remember that your training will be joined from now on, you will be informed of your lesson and training for tomorrow later in the evening.”

Without saying another word, Kylo turned on his heels to make his leave of the throne room, shortly followed by you. Once you two were out and the doors hissed closed behind you, he turned to face you. The corner of his mouth twitched ever so slightly before turning in your direction. “I know it’s a little informal, but why don’t we talk with some lunch?”

There were some doubts that played at your thoughts, a bit skeptical when it came to the idea of having what you could call competition for Snoke’s approval. But if you were to work together, what would be the harm? “I don’t see why not.

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