#salt warrior stories

[salt-warrior]

I’m weeks late, but happy birthday, @cosmicnovaflare! Thanks for being my oldest and dearest tumblr friend. I hope you enjoy this fic, dedicated to you and all your ancientness<3

Wildest Dreams

Summary: Kai wakes up before Cinder, and she wonders what’s up with him. (WC: 1.3k)

Cinder awoke to the gentlest caress down her nose. In years past, a sensation of such a sort would have startled her—eyes open, body out of bed. But her head was filled with softest sleep, and she felt safe here, warm, as if all were right and good in the world.

She let out a soft hum, tilting her face upward as Kai’s fingers traced the curves of her cheeks, the line of her brow, the arch of her lips. She heard him laugh, a low sound so early in the morning. A smile claimed her face, and she opened her eyes to see Kai, propped up on one arm as he looked down upon her, hair clouding his eyes, the faintest blush decorating his cheeks.

“What are you doing awake so early?” Cinder asked, raising her chin to accept his kiss.

Kai rolled his eyes. “I can wake up before you.”

“You never do.”

“Now that’s just not true.”

Cinder propped herself up to look at him, eyes as level as they were mischievous. She poked him in the chest. “Name one time.”

“Oh, don’t you start.”

She laughed, then flopped back down on her pillow, pulling him toward her, his face pressing into the crook in her neck as he mumbled inaccurate words in his defense that only made Cinder laugh harder. Her fingers played with the ends of his hair, her spare arm creeping around him to hug him close.

“What?” Cinder asked when Kai mumbled something she couldn’t quite hear.

“I said I love hearing your laugh in the morning,” he said. “It’s the only thing that makes waking up worth it.”

Cinder felt her heart pinch, as it so often did where Kai was concerned. Once, she hadn’t been sure whether she was capable of love—whether she would ever have it in her life. Between Adri and Pearl and everyone else who regarded her as a monster because she was a cyborg, she hadn’t thought it possible that another person would want her. Would love her. Would be happy to wake up beside her in the morning. She didn’t think she would ever get over her own surprise. That she would get over how dearly she loved Kai.

Shifting, Kai pulled back, resting his face on her pillow, their faces only inches apart. The soft glow of the sun’s gentle haze bled through the window, shedding warmth and light on them both. Their hands, resting upon the bed’s cover, met and twined together. Kai brought the back of her hand up to his lips, then rested their joined fingers below his chin. She watched him all the while, until his eyes met hers, unmatched in understanding, and she wondered where she would be if not for him.

“Today’s our anniversary,” Kai said, voice quiet. “That’s why I woke before you. Although, let the record show that this is not the first time this has happened.”

Cinder blinked, her chest tightening. Her brain interface conjured the day’s date, and she shook her head, confused.

“Kai, our wedding was in—”

“I’m not talking about our wedding anniversary,” Kai cut in, rolling his eyes once again. Had her heart not been racing, Cinder would have told him—not for the first time—that if he continued to roll his eyes as much as he did, they might stay that way.

“Then what are you talking about?”

“The anniversary of the day we met. It’s been five years. Five years since I came to your booth in the marketplace. Little did I know I was about to meet the love of my life.”

Cinder scoffed. “If I remember correctly, you thought I was supposed to be an old man.”

“Once again, you were not what I was expecting,” Kai said dryly. “But if you had been an old man, I probably would have still fallen in love with you.”

“You were that desperate to get out of marrying Levana?”

“Definitely. But in your defense, I think you would make an attractive old man.”

“Gee, thanks,” Cinder said, struggling to maintain a straight face.

“But I’m glad you’re not an old man. To be clear,” Kai added. He blew a little puff of air at her face, scattering her bangs. She scowled at him. “I like you just the way you are.”

Cinder watched his face, that little piece inside of her that doubted herself—that piece that spoke in Adri and Pearl’s voices—waited for him to laugh. To say he didn’t mean it.

He did not laugh. Instead, he watched her intently, every action reassuring. His thumb rubbed the back of her hand. Her fingers squeezed his tighter.

“You’re my favorite part of every day,” Kai said, his voice completely sober. “I woke up this morning wondering where I would be if not for you. And I realized that I would likely be dead. My brain manipulated, my body and title used until Levana got what she wanted, before she killed me. A knife to the heart, the plague, my own hand turned enemy.” Cinder let go of his hand and pressed hers to his cheek, brushing hair and wetness from his eyes.

“I never thought I would have the opportunity to marry for love,” Kai continued. “I never thought I would be with someone that I even liked. In all my wildest dreams, I could have never imagined you. You saved me. You saved us all.”

“It’s not something I did alone.”

“But it’s something that no one else could have done,” Kai said. “Help or no help, no one could have stood in your place and united Earth and Luna. You did what both my father and I failed to do.”

“Kai . . .”

He smiled at her. “I’m grateful, that’s all. And proud. And so unbelievably happy.”

“Me too,” Cinder said. “Five years ago, the best I could hope for was my own emancipation. To run off to Europe with Iko. I never could have imagined you, or our friends, or intergalactic peace. It just—sometimes I worry that I’m going to wake up and discover that it was all just a dream.”

Kai shifted his face beneath her hand to kiss her palm, his own hand circling her wrist. “It’s not a dream,” he whispered. “My imagination definitely couldn’t have conjured finding Princess Selene at the marketplace. Or you escaping prison with an American convict. Or me being kidnapped on my wedding day. Or anything else that happened. It’s too crazy.”

“You’re right,” Cinder laughed. She wondered why, five years later, Kai was thinking of the first time they’d met. Not once in any of the other years of them knowing one another had either of them brought it up. There were always more pressing anniversaries to consume the mind in the middle of August. Rikan’s death. Peony’s. But perhaps time was allowing them to move forward—not to forget, but to make room. Maybe time—space, everything—let the light shine through, gave them the eyes to see the good that had happened with the bad.

Cinder would never not miss Peony, just as she knew that Kai would never not miss his father. That grief and pain would always be a part of them, but so would all the joy and peace that they brought one another.

She leaned forward, pressing her lips to Kai’s. It was a sweet, slow kiss, tangled with five years of knowing and loving one another. Of making it through everything, of proceeding in the world together.

“I’d do it all again,” Kai said when they broke apart. “Just to be here now with you.”

Cinder kissed the tip of his nose, a smile playing on her lips. “Me too.”

[blue-likethebird]

I wish puppet Zelda’s existence had some actual, tangible consequences in the story.

Like as far as anyone knows before the battle with phantom Ganon, someone they trusted and saw as an ally arrived to bring misery on their people. Surely they’re not all so busy worshiping the ground totk zeldy walks on that they all just accept that she’d decide to do that with no pushback whatsoever? Hell Yunobo is worried that the monster she summoned to try and kill him might hurt her instead of being pissed that she summoned a monster to kill him. Like what if a few of the elderly Zora, still grieving Mipha and now poisoned by sludge, take it as a sign that allying with Hyrule is a bad idea? Or Yunobo shakes off the brainwashing, sees what’s become of his people, and wants her to answer for it? Sidon learns that “Zelda” attacked his father and decides he’s not interested in hearing excuses for her actions if she’d go so far as to harm his only living family? Riju feels torn because she doesn’t want to believe someone she considers a friend would cause so much suffering, but the Gerudo are calling for justice and she has to place their needs above everything else? Tulin ends up at odds with his father because Teba insists on staying quiet so they don’t harm their relationship with Hyrule? There are so many juicy story threads presented by the concept of a fake Zelda that could put Link and the sages in conflict with their communities, loved ones, and each other that just never go anywhere because even the fake Zeldy Ganondorf built is too perfect to ever be questioned

[gensnix]

We don't really talk about how much they tripled down on the Gerudo needing to find a man in totk do we?

[magnusmodig]

ovo whispers menacingly abt his grandstanding .

[blueskittlesart]

i miss the champions so much i know there's like no logical reason for them to come back in totk but i wanna see my guys again even if it's just more memories or something. do you think there's any way they could pull that off based on what we know about the game already?

i really hope so! at the very least i hope the abilities you get in botw won't be removed bc i cant navigate that fucking map without revali's gale. even the lack of expedited cooldowns from the dlc starts to get to me after a while at this point LMAO. in terms of actual implementation i'm trying to think if there's an easy way to give us more champion content in totk. In theory, we could continue to recover link's memories and see more of the champions that way, but from a writing standpoint that might feel clunky & at odds with the rest of the story unless it's VERY carefully implemented. My honest answer from a writing & game dev standpoint is that i don't think we're likely to get many more memory-style cutscenes, especially with the release of hyrule warriors a few years ago sort of serving as an extra source of champions content already. that might have been the point of hyrule warriors from a game dev standpoint, actually, if they realized while in production that totk wasn't going to have a lot of room for champion-centric content, hyrule warriors would have given them an easy way to satiate fans who really loved those characters without compromising the integrity of their already-written story in totk. tldr realistically i don't think there's going to be a whole lot of champion-centric content in totk but for now we can pray that i will have to eat these words in 3 months

[estinininininen]

look i've read/watched/played a lot of fantastical stories and i love creative displays of how mind-boggingly alien different cultures can possibly get.

but there is something just. so viscerally frightening to me about ishgard and their communal table salt lick and i can't stop thinking about it. ishgard is already framed as a foreign place to the warrior of light/the player so everyone in-story is patiently explaining the importance of the church of halone and ishgard's history because everyone knows the big stuff has to be explained to an outsider. but something small the ishgardians think is normal would slip right past.

i'm ready to laugh myself sick any time of day at the idea of the warrior sitting down to eat at fortemps manor for the first time, emotionally drained and scared. and one of these finicky nobles you have to trust your life with just picks up a pale rock you thought was a centerpiece with a curiously smooth, maybe even already damp worn surface, opens their mouth, sticks out their tongue, and SCHLURPS

i would feel such visceral horror. briefly wonder if i had fallen in faerie-land/the dark world/the upside-down. it would only increase as i look left and right and everyone else continues eating calmly. only maybe if haurchefant were there would someone realize how weird that would seem to outsiders and laugh at my expression.

it's like in the simpsons when homer time travels, sits back down to dinner, and discovers the butterfly effect gave everyone lizard tongues. it's so close to a normal dinner time interaction and yet incredibly far. you think ishgard must have a weird supersition about it to explain. "what, is - is it bad luck to break up a salt lump?" you ask

"no" haurchefant says. "it's just always been done this way"

and so often in any society there is no better explanation than just that but this is so fuckkng weird it would briefly make you question all normal human instincts if ishgard thinks this is okay. that is such silly, terrifying, and superfluous world bulding. it's great.

[thesummerestsolstice]

People seemed interested in Library Orc Blorbo so I decided to write down my headcanons about him:

His name is Garthaglir (it’s Sindarin for “poem keeper”)

He renamed himself after discovering a love for library sciences, shortly after he moved to the valley

Rivendell’s head librarian

Used to be an extremely dangerous warrior, now considers himself retired

Extremely tall and buff, blue skin, salt-and-pepper hair and a well-trimmed beard

Very distinguished, very polite

Has a tiny pair of spectacles he uses to read because he's farsighted

He doesn’t look like an old man but he is one deep in his heart

He was one of the first reformed orcs to end up in Rivendell, so he helps other orcs adjust to living there

Basically invented Middle Earth’s version of the Dewey Decimal system

Look, Rivendell’s library is like, unfathomably huge, there’s 6000+ years of books in there, someone had to organize it

He, Elrond, and Erestor are the only people who have keys to the part of the library where they keep the cursed books

The three of them also have a monthly book club

He holds a weekly story time for the kids

(Yes, he does do funny voices, no, you are not allowed to comment on it)

Has tracked people down at 3 AM before because “M’am? M’am you have an overdue book, here, I brought my library stamp would you mind just checking this out again? You can keep it out for another month that way. Just a moment, ah, yes thank you, I’ll be on my way now. Excellent choice in reading material.”

He has a fancy sunhat he wears outside during the day so the sun doesn’t burn him, it was a gift from small Arwen and he cherishes it

He has a library cat, her name is Mittens and he would die for her

Uses his free time to teach himself different languages; there are hundreds in Rivendell’s books

Enjoys recommending books to visitors, he’s gotten really good at getting a read on what people will like

Personally, when he’s in the mood for fiction, he prefers a good mystery

[shera-dnd]

I have decided against my better judgement to be weird about the Dawntrail MSQ

and we can't talk about an expansion set in the fantasy americas without talking about

COLONIALISM

oh yeah, we're going there baby

So disclaimer that I may be brazilian, but my ass is white as hell, so take everything I say with a grain of salt. Also if any native americans have made posts on this please let me know so I can boost their analysis as well

Also also I'm more than happy to delete this post if I mess up. I'm genuinely trying to make a thoughtful analysis, so if I fuck up just say the word and this thing is gone from this website

Oh also also also, Dawntrail MSQ spoilers ahead!

So FFXIV has had a... messy relationship with colonialism over the years

The fact that the major antagonists for the first half of A Realm Reborn a literally called "beast man tribes" is absolutely not a good start to this story

Add to that the fact that The Twelve (Eorzea's gods) are shown to be kind all powerful deities, while the Primals (the tribal gods) are evil spirits summoned to bring destruction to the world

and yeah no ARR is not good with that shit. It's EXTREMELY not good. If I hadn't been told it got better later on I would have dropped this shit before I got to Titan

But they have been taking steps to unfuck things. First we're shown that even the "civilized societies" (in this case the catholic elves) can summon Primals, then that Primal summoning isn't an actual native custom but was introduced by foreigners with malicious intent, and that not all "beast man" practice that

Then they changed the names of the "Beast Man Tribe Quests" to "Tribal Quests" and then finally to "Allied Society Quest"

Which would have been an empty gesture had like half of the post-Shadowbringer patches, as well a lot of Endwalker, not been about forming alliances with those people and working together with them, recognizing that they have as much right to the land and to life as any Eorzean, this all culminating on the Primals being summoned with the express purpose of helping you protect the world you all share

I guess they realized that they couldn't have their big bad for most of the game be the evil expansionist empire, if they didn't like actually reflect in their own imperialist fantasies they were propagating

Then the teaser trailer for Dawntrail drops and everyone in the fandom is like "wait... are we gonna do a colonialism?"

And memes were abound of how all those lessons from before don't apply to the "New World" of Tural

THANKFULLY the actual questline leading to Dawntrail helped to settle some of those worries

We're not going to Tural to explore a new uncharted land, but are actually being invited over by the local royalty in order to aid them with their right of succession. We get introduced to the nation of Tuliyollal and how it's a thriving land with its own culture and not just a "terra nil" waiting to be colonized

Still there are some worries that this is gonna turn out poorly and that we're just gonna end up being white saviors

But I think they managed to avoid that pretty well

For starters neither the Scions nor the Warrior of Light are the protagonists of this story. You're all simply supporting character's in Wuk Lamat's story

A story that centers her people, her culture, and her family

And it's not even one culture. They don't portray Tuliyollal as this monolithic mish mash of every single native american culture

No, the lands of Tural are in fact comprised of multiple different people's and nations, each of them with their own customs and traditions which are informed by their history and the lands they live in

In fact learning about their cultures and partaking in their customs is the whole point of the Rite of Succession. It's all set up so that the next Dawnservant would be someone who understands and respects each of the peoples that comprise Tural

(I could, and probably will, write about what Dawntrail has to say about what makes a good ruler)

And our girl, Wuk Lamat, is shown to be the rightful heir because she really goes out of her way to understand each of the nations and show her appreciation for their customs

Putting her well above her Sharlyaboo brother Koana, The King of Unresolved Daddy Issues Zoral Ja, and whatever the fuck is going on with Bakool Ja Ja

(I joke, I love my two headed traumatized dumbass)

Tho I will admit that this does end up giving the tribes a somewhat "planet of the hats" vibe. Like their named NPCs are diverse and interesting, but you can just assume that most random NPCs of any given people are gonna act according to the stereotype

Which is unfortunate, but I have hopes that with the next few patches and the addition of Dawntrail's own Allied Society Quests, we'll get to see more to them

But that... is only up to lvl95 and the end of the Yok'Tural (southern Tural) segment

because then we get to Xak'Tural (northern Tural) and holy shit does it feel like they drop the ball there

Like they really COULDN'T keep themselves from making Shaaloani a fucking Wild West map

Instead of doing anything with the actual cultures and histories of Native North American people, they just do wild fucking west

Because there's ceruleum in them thar hills! And apparently Koana turned most of the region into Sharlyaboos too

So we get a bunch of Wild West frontier towns mixed with native american tribes and mud brick cities. We have trains and guns and a sheriff and a duel at high noon, but now everyone got native american names

At least there's one group off to the northern side of the map who seems to stick to tradition and live in harmony with nature, and that group is shown respect by the other people of the region

so we at the very least avoid the "cowboys vs indians" crap, but my god does that region just feel bad compared to everything else they had done so far

Then we get to the big twist: THE CYBERPUNK PORTION OF THE GAME

because yes, we go full fucking cyberpunk

so turns out that a whole segment of Xak'Tural got colonized by the kingdom of Alexandria, including the lands of the Shetona (Erenville's people)

And I feel like this is the most poignant section of the MSQ when it comes to colonialism

Because here we have Alexandria, an empire that has reached the limit of what it can do sustain itself on its own world, and so has decided to spread out and colonize others in order to gain resources

We see the Shetona and other natives of the region being separated from their families and kept in isolation from the rest of their people

And tho Queen Sphene is shown to be a kind and caring ruler who gives people a choice when it comes to joining the empire, WELL SHE'S STILL THE QUEEN OF A FUCKING EMPIRE

Like her form of kindness and just stagnant peace is put in stark contrast with Wuk Lamat's own love for her people and more proactive pursuit of happiness and harmony

(again with the "what makes a ruler theme")

Also the people that choose to be assimilated into the Alexandrian Empire? Yeah, they're doing so because Alexandria has advanced medical technology and you can only receive their aid if you're a citizen

Not only that, but you have to be a working citizen. We see later on a character being denied medical aid, because he lost his job, thanks to the King's decision and at no fault of his own

yeah this is cyberpunk, not just sci-fi

ALSO can we talk about how the technology used for that medical aid and the little gizmo they give you to signify you're now a citizen, will literally erase the memory of the people you lost

So the Turali who are assimilated into Alexandrian culture not only lose ties to their culture and their loved ones, but are not allowed to grieve their loss, because what they once had is slowly being erased

How their choices add up to survive on their own OR be assimilated

How this all takes place IN NORTH FUCKING AMERICA!

THE CYBERPUNK CITY IS LITERALLY SET IN THIS WORLD'S EQUIVALENT TO THE UNITED STATES

So yeah, I don't think is is accidental. I genuinely thing that they're making a point about the realities of imperialism and colonialism, as well as taking some shots at the US while they're at it

Of course this part is still centered around Wuk Lamat, and instead of having a moment of "the only ones who can stop the evil white europeans are the GOOD white europeans", we have Wuk Lamat be the one to save the day, defeat Sphene, and save her people from the colonizing empire

So I would like to argue that everything that happens from lvl97 onwards is them picking up the ball again and making a real point

buuuut that comes at the cost of us being unable to engage with the native peoples of Xak'Tural outside of the context of colonialism

Which genuinely fucking sucks, and I hope it will be remedied with the post-Dawntrail patches

As well as handling the whole shared land situation they ended up with and how this might end up in a Land Back sort of movement, and oh boy can they mess shit up royally there

So in conclusion FFXIV has had a messy relationship with colonialism and imperialist fantasies and tropes, but the devs seem to be making a concerted effort to undo their mistakes and show respect in their depictions of american natives

They still fuck up

boy do they

but they're at least trying, and I'd say Dawntrail so far has been quite well executed

so yeah, look forward to more insane rambles like this one I guess

[anghraine]

sea-salted-wolverine replied to this post:

Wdym Anakin mind tricking padme isn't real? You could chalk it up to bad writing from Lucas who isn't quite sure that women are people, but its pretty clear that by ep III that her grip on reality is toast. Whether or not it is a conscious effect on Anakins part is up for debate, but it is definitely a thing that happened

Not really the main point of my post, but no, that fan theory is not "real" in the sense of being remotely canonical for the films. It's nothing more than a popular headcanon nowhere even slightly stated to be happening in the actual films as written and produced. There's no reason in Lucas's films to suppose that the Anakin/Padmé relationship was coerced through a mind trick, that Padmé specifically would be susceptible to a mind trick, that she does not genuinely love Anakin or have any insight into his character, that her grip on reality is ever "toast," or that the mind trick (previously depicted as temporary and resistible) would work that way at all. Padmé is underwritten in ROTS in the way that cool girl heroines invented by men are often underwritten as grown adult women and especially as mothers, but that is not attributable to any character in the story.

Yes, Padmé is tired in ROTS and misses a lot of what's going on psychologically with her young secret husband who is in a cloistered order of warrior monks fighting a long-term war far away from her, but she sees the threat of Palpatine and recognizes exactly what his accession as emperor means. Her mind is fine. And in Lucas's films, also, Anakin is never shown using the mind trick on anyone. It's not really his style—it's a sneaky short-term solution whereas he's smart and resourceful enough most of the time, but mainly reliant on overwhelming power and skill. His signature "trick" is the Force-choke, not the mind trick, and it's the Force-choke that he ultimately uses against her—not because he's been using his powers against her the whole time (including when he's not even there, I guess?), but as a mark of how far he has fallen by that point. That's lost if it's not a drastic change from their previous relationship. Padmé's own choices also lose all meaning if she was mind-controlled by Anakin the whole time, and her arc becomes deeply boring.

Tl;dr - it is very far from "definitely a thing that happened." It is a headcanon that doesn't reflect anything the movies are trying to do (whether they fail or succeed at doing those things!) and is, IMO, a pretty terrible headcanon as well in terms of the overall coherence of the story and characters and how their world is shown to work.

[crimson-and-clover-1717]

I’ve read a few takes which view Izzy through a Marxist lens and paint him as a working class* hero. The premise being that this proletarian warrior is unfairly usurped in the affections of Ed by some upper class, monied, artsy type; and to not root for the grassroots character makes you somehow a bourgeois prick.

Izzy is never in Ed’s affections romantically. Ever. So the premise falls at the first hurdle.

But for the sake of argument…

If you’re truly going to view the show as a Marxist allegory, in which an individual overcomes horrendous class obstacles, then that character is Ed Teach.

Ed rises from extreme poverty to become the most successful and infamous pirate in history. It’s a rags-to-riches story.

The takes I’ve read on this completely ignore the fact that Ed is also ‘working class’. And the only conclusion I can reach is that Ed is ‘the wrong kind of working class’. Because what these interpretations do is separate the idea of the working classes into a ‘deserving’, romanticised, white, ‘salt-of-the-earth’ type, and non-deserving groups not worthy of recognition, usually representing people of colour.

And so we’re back to race. The Marxist lens as I’ve seen it applied here defines the white working class man as having had his toy stolen by the white bourgeois man. Ed is a just an object. And when Ed’s handed back rightfully to Izzy by the British Crown as payment, he is literally chattel returned to the correct owner.

A large part of the show is Ed’s fightback against an ownership narrative in order to claim his identity for himself. That to be with Stede is his choice; and Stede’s initial obliviousness is an extremely important part of that narrative. The agency has to lie with Ed first, and the writers clearly understand this. Else we might be setting up a power struggle over ‘who owns the brown man’.

Stede never lays claim to Ed because there is no claim to lay. He instinctively and intuitively falls into a reciprocal friendship with Ed, which eventually grows into an equal love and natural affection. Stede always sees Ed’s personhood. And it’s really important that Stede views Ed, at the very least, as an equal in terms of human worth. Societally they are not equal due to white patriarchy; however, Stede’s giving up of his wealth, his bourgeois status, is another step towards a truer equality between the two.

Meanwhile, Izzy views Ed as a valuable asset to be utilised for a certain masculine glory and riches. Izzy might not be bourgeois, but his worldview is certainly bent that way. He will willingly and violently take possession of another human being as an interpretation of owning the means of production - that isn’t exactly proletarian. It’s participatory enslavement and a bourgeois act.

We know nothing of Izzy’s past. We can presume he’s from a working class background because Occam’s razor would suggest as much. But we are never explicitly shown Izzy’s class in the way we are Ed’s, because Izzy’s class isn’t overly important to the story unless it serves the narrative of Ed and Stede. It has no independent meaning. He’s an antagonist. And let’s face it: he cosies up to Chauncey and the British establishment pretty easily when it suits him.

If you must apply a Marxist lens to this story, your working class hero is Ed. And if not, why not?

*I’m using ‘working class’ as a Marxist term. I realise in 1717, it was not widely used

Ed Teach, finally co-owning property and a potential business. It’s not a fairytale ending entirely, but it is an important practical ending to a lifelong journey from nothing. And Ed might never have to go hungry again.

[salt-warrior]

Ok so basically Kai starts getting really bad headaches at one point not knowing why. (Like REALLY bad. Like makes him vomit bad) and he tries to just bear through whenever it happens and hide the pain, but sometimes he will be talking to torin or something and either have to stop talking or it gets hard for him to talk. Then one day it happens torin just pauses and goes “you know, your dad had migraines too.” Then Kai realizes what it is and goes to the doctor and also learns more about his dad

So I wrote half of this forever ago and then decided to finish tonight. Woohoo! I also took a lot of liberties with this prompt, but I like where it wound up, and I hope you do too:)

Burden

Summary: Kai feels like he's failing as an emperor. Torin reassures him. Set during Scarlet. (WC: 1.1k)

Kai pressed his palms to his eyes, trying his very best not to whimper. He had a two-hour digital conference meeting in less than ten minutes, but the idea of looking at a screen for even two seconds made him want to puke. His head was throbbing and his brain felt like a mess of knotted string and he just wanted to lie on the floor and cry.

“I can’t do it,” Kai whispered to himself. He pressed his forehead into his desk, wrapping his arms about his head. “I can’t do it. I can’t do it.” Tears began to slip from his eyes. His chest felt tight with misery. Somehow, his head hurt even more than before.

A knock sounded at his office door. Horror washed over Kai as he scrubbed at his eyes, but the pain within his head stole most of his anxiety away. What did it matter anymore? He was failing everything. He was failing with the search for Linh Cinder, he was failing to make peace with Queen Levana, he was failing to give his people safety. And yet, Kai still didn’t want people to know.

“Your Majesty?” Torin’s voice called through the door. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Kai replied. “Yes, I mean. Everything is fine. I know I’m running late. I just . . . I just need a minute.” He balled his fists and pressed them to his eyes, trying to relieve the pain there. If only he could get rid of this pain. If only he could find a way to concentrate on something other than the gut-twisting, life-quenching pain he was feeling.

The door opened, and Torin stood silhouetted in the frame. He flicked on the light, but when Kai gasped, he shut them right off again. Quickly, he closed the door then moved to Kai’s side.

“Your Majesty,” he said, “what’s wrong?”

Kai looked at his advisor, barely managing the feat despite the darkness of the room. He wanted to be strong. He wanted to put on a brave face and tell Torin he had it under control. He wanted to be able to do everything on his own. He wanted to be his father.

He couldn’t be his father.

“My head,” Kai said. He pressed his palms to his eyes once again and tucked his knees up to his chest. “My head is killing me. I can barely think of anything other than the pain. And even if I could, looking at my port is agonizing. I don’t know why, but the light just . . . it hurts. And standing feels about as possible as winning this war right now.” He sucked in a breath, trying desperately not to cry again. “I can’t do it, Torin. I’m not my father. I’m a failure. The net is right. I’m too young and inexperienced. I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m a failure, Torin. I am a failure.”

Torin pulled up a chair beside Kai, then rested his hands on Kai’s face. Then, without another word, he pulled Kai into a hug. A sob broke through Kai’s throat.

“You are not a failure,” Torin said. “You may not be your father, but you are not a failure. The Commonwealth needs you, Kai. I’m sorry that you were given a near impossible job—it is not what you deserve—but you are the only one who can do this.”

“But I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.” He patted Kai on the back and then sat back in his chair. Kai brushed his hands messily across his face. Torin watched him, a sad look in his eyes. “When’s the last time you slept?”

“I don’t know,” Kai said, rubbing his nose with a tissue. “Last night.”

“Not the last time you fell asleep. The last time you got more than a couple hours at a time. When was the last time you had a proper sleep?”

Kai laughed, though it was a mad sound. “Definitely not since before all of this.” Kai gestured at the desk, and while there was nothing there, Torin seemed to understand. “I don’t have time, Torin. People are dying every day of Letumosis, and if that’s not enough, now there are wolf-people from the moon attacking Earthens as well. We still haven’t found Cinder, and I’m not sure if we ever will. Levana is breathing down my neck for a marriage alliance. And I’m scared. There are billions of people looking to me to take care of them, and I don't know if I can do it.”

Torin leaned forward, elbows on his knees. Kai felt almost as he had as a child, looking up into Torin’s lined face, trying to understand why his father’s advisor was so serious, why his eyes always appeared exhausted. Now he was the one looking down upon his advisor, wishing for that seriousness—Torin’s wisdom—to bleed into his veins and pull him through this crisis.

“Your father was scared too.”

Kai scoffed, then coughed, choking on the excess phlegm in his throat. “Only at the end.”

“Always,” Torin corrected. “And his head hurt too. All the time.”

“No it did not.”

“Kaito,” Torin said, “your father was not a god. He was not a pillar of strength. He was just a man—like you. Life tore him down, and he chose to build himself back up. Over and over and over again. From the day he was born, he was destined to rule billions, and there wasn’t a day that went by in which that knowledge did not petrify him. Did not weigh upon him. Did not threaten to crush him.” Torin placed his hand on Kai’s shoulder. “In the end, his biggest regret was leaving you with that same burden. With the sleepless nights and headaches that feel like the end of the world. But he knew you could do it, and so do I.”

“But what if I fail?”

“Then this world never stood a chance.”

Kai let out a choked breath, then placed his hands over his face, wiping the moisture from his cheeks. Then, as if possessed by some strange, unintelligent demon, he laughed. “Stars, Torin,” he said, “how did we get here?”

“Now that is a question I cannot answer.”

Kai laughed even harder.

Torin stood, but the corner of his mouth quirked up. “I’ve had your meeting pushed back by half an hour. Close your eyes. Breathe. Build yourself back up. Would you like me to send Nainsi up with anything? Tea? Soup?”

“Tea would be lovely,” Kai said, leaning back in his chair. “Thank you, Torin.”

“Of course, your Majesty.” Torin gave him a slight bow. “I’ll send her with something for the pain in your head as well. It will only be temporary, but hopefully everything that’s happening will only be temporary.”

“May we all hope,” Kai said, closing his eyes and feeling strangely hopeful.

[bonefall]

Bones Bones Bonesss wc Star full book spoilers already out in the wild (forums)......... Looking forward to your thoughts when it officially comes out (or whenever!) cause. I will not say. But ohhhhhh it sure was a book............ :33

You know I'll also be doing a full read when I get my grubby paws on a copy, but I do have some strong feelings assuming that the leaks are totally accurate!

The no-spoiler version of my opinion; BOY this ending is a stinker. This arc truly was a blundering mess of lost potential and wasted time. As someone who still feels the first few books were STRONG setups, from 3 onwards I feel like I've been watching a train run out of track and derail in a slow, pitiful fashion.

It's not even a FAST trainwreck. The ending was predictable insofar as they clearly had no good climax or message in mind. Infact it's kind of a marvel how utterly bloodless this arc was, and how any violence they DID show came out of left field because they failed to build up to it.

HOWEVER. I am not just a reader, I'm a scavenger. This stuff is GREAT for BB. The ending gave me the most important pieces I need, and now I know how BB!ASC is going to rework it.

But I'll not get ahead of myself; quickly, I'll just talk raw first impressions of the spoilers.

(As always, take this with a grain of salt and the knowledge that the spoilers may be incorrect. Opinions may change once I read the book myself.)

Splashstar is a garbage villain. He is absolutely bottom-tier for me.

His "amorality" comes out of nowhere and quite frankly he reads like a Chick Tract Evil Atheist.

I don't get how people can accept the way the characters call him "manipulative" when his plots are utterly brainless.

He is the type of naunceless evil that makes me want to hurl. Splash reads like a writer trying to "repeat" the evil of Tigerstar without any of the intelligence of early TPB.

Tigerstar was a RESPECTED warrior. He leveraged his standing in the Clan to secretly carry out his assassinations and forge alliances. He was established strong to begin with.

Splash is like cat-18 and able to kill-no-miss strong warriors with his Evil Jump, and then keeps the Clan in line by holding his siblings hostage.

It makes me not understand how he has ANY followers, because he has no consistent ideology or rhetoric.

Anything they did use (like claiming he'd make the Clans strong and saying tigerheartstar wanted to take over the whole forest or whatever) isn't consistent because they failed to establish these over the SIX BOOKS THEY HAD.

It feels like he was only a legitimate threat for like 2 out of 6 books

And then he's dead in chapter 13. Halfway through the story. Incredibly lame.

I want to reserve my judgement on the Frostpaw vs Splashstar battle, but it's absurd on its face. Harelight went down in 1 hit but Frostpaw musters all her strength to use his move and overcome him?

I have to see it first before I conclude if it's something I want to salvage though. Sometimes fights just come across better when you're reading them.

But on the note of battles, it's frustrating how bloodless this arc was. We started off with tigerHeartstar invading and occupying RiverClan-- yet we're looking at a total body count of 5, with one heart attack and one illness.

And speaking of deaths.

Whoever decided to give Berryheart a redemption death should get offscreen greencough.

UTTER shite. You have this whole arc with radicalization as a major theme, show Berryheart trying to brutally murder her in-law with a snake, grabbing at power desperately to the point where she CHANGED CLANS to be Splash's deputy, and decide that her ideal ending is "she would die for her baby :(((("???

Ffffuuuuuck yoouuuuuuuuuuuu

This is why we can't have good, nuanced villains, these writers trip over themselves the MINUTE they have a sad parent. It could never actually STAY about power or politics, they cant allow a parent to truly be willing to sacrifice their child for their own ends.

No matter how badly or violently they treated you, They're Still Your Parent. Hogwash. I'm sick to death of this thought-terminating cliche.

Being a parent does NOT automatically mean they'd die for you. They already did this earlier with Curlfeather, and the absolute insult it is to the theme of radicalization aside, having Berryheart repeat that sacrifical death cheapens hers.

Now it's not that CURLFEATHER is the one who would never go so far as to allow her daughter to die for her own ends, contrasting Berryheart. It's Just What Moms Do.

And furthermore if they were going to do a "redemption death," it REALLY sucks that they decided to have Berryheart refuse to kill Yarrowleaf and not FRINGEWHISKER.

It's not even indicative of GROWTH or RECONSIDERING HER BELIEFS or anything. She won't kill her SISTER.

It might have meant something to have a chance for revenge and refuse it, but nooooo. Yarrowleaf. My god. Yarrowleaf.

and don't @ me about Yarrow being ex-kin, they both joined and rejected it at different times.

All that said...

There are some things I like here!

Frostdawn and Whistlebreeze getting their names at the same time was really sweet. I like them a lot.

Sometimes a predictable choice is the right one. Icewing becoming leader is a good move. Icestar my beloved.

I'm personally excited to get to Icey's leadership ceremony in my own rewrite, the canon one was as fanservice-wanky as you'd expect of modern arcs but I LOVE rewriting those.

Though I would have preferred Froststar, I'm ok with this.

The fracturing of RiverClan is a great move. I love the idea of there being a mass exodus following these events. It's wild we haven't gotten that before.

While I bemoan the awful politics and lack of setup, I do LIKE the idea on paper of there being "ex-Splash Supporters" to cause problems in future arcs. Not that these writers know what setup and payoff is, but hey, more for me.

I liked the sort of desperate feel of Frostpaw being exhausted in StarClan and deciding if she wants to go back or not. Im a little iffy on how much other cats PRESSURE her, though.

I need to read the chapters myself but I fear that it might not read like her own choice, but another thing that she's being forced into.

Shut UP Tree why are you HEREEE

The part where they all point out that without her, RiverClan wont have a holy messenger and that's bad, fits the consistent way the writers try to portray StarClan as a good thing when they're really not... but.

I think it would have made a fascinating moment for Frosty to realize that SHE is the one who really holds the power in this situation. What spirituality is going to look like in the future of her Clan is in HER paws now.

They are absolutely going to toss this potential away, but I guess the things I like most about the ending are the ways it kinda softly threatens the status quo.

The fracture of RC and the exodus of cats, Frostpaw deciding she will return and fix RiverClan, Icestar accepting help from the other Clans to fix the camp...

It's not ALL bad, it's just that the negatives outweigh the positives and this is exactly the kind of ending I feared. I hope that this isn't just a tease of a change to the status quo, but I've learned to not get my hopes up.

And, lastly, Owlnose deputy and Nightheart's ending chapter are just straight up beyond parody. I can't even be mad, they're such bad moves they're funny to me at this point.

[thepagansun]

Hi! I know your favorite Iliad character is Agamemnon (I love him too) and I would like to ask, what’s your opinion about Menelaus and his personality? And their relationship with each other?

Thank you for your answer in advance! :D

Hi! Thanks so much for your question! I love Trojan War questions! Especially regarding Agamemnon or his family! 😁

I do like Menelaus, especially in the Iliad. He shares similarities with Patroclus in that they're both kinder than Agamemnon and Achilles respectively and are underestimated as a result.

Combat: Menelaus probably ranks as the 10th strongest warrior since he wasn't included among the top 9 who volunteered to fight Hector. But he was still quite courageous. He dueled and curbstoped Paris. He was the one who asked Big Aias (Ajax) to help a wounded Odysseus and with Athena's help, he was able to protect Patroclus' body and briefly stand against Hector before getting Big Aias again. So he's definitely impressive.

Relationship with Agamemnon: I love their relationship in the Iliad! Their scenes together are brief but sooo touching! Agamemnon really did seem to go to war for Menelaus' sake and not as most modern (far more inaccurate) portrayals that make it seem like he just wanted Troy's wealth (as if Mycenae didn't have more than enough gold). In Book 4, Agamemnon freaks out when he thinks Menelaus got wounded. In Book 6, Agamemnon is so angered by the injustice Menelaus suffered that he kills a Trojan prisoner Menelaus himself was willing to spare. And in Book 10, they share such an emotional, touching scene where Agamemnon defends Menelaus from Nestor's criticism and subtly warns Diomedes against choosing Menelaus for the night raid. He even lends Menelaus his mare so Menelaus could participate in the chariot racing for Patroclus funeral games! Their love for each other was so genuine. And for his part, despite the heartbreaking quarrel Menelaus and Agamemnon had in the Odyssey, Menelaus is inconsolable when he finds out Agamemnon's fate and he erects a barrow for him in his memory.

Relationship with Helen: I do think Menelaus genuinely loved Helen and she loved him. As early as Book 3, Helen makes it clear she regrets leaving with Paris and we find out it was heavily influenced by Aphrodite. And in the Epic Cycle, Menelaus spares Helen's life. And the Odyssey, they seem to live contently (although still grieving their loved ones) and are predicted to live together forever in the Elysian Fields.

Other Notes: But I think sadly, Menelaus' story gets lost in the bigger story of more powerful characters like Agamemnon, Achilles, Big Aias, Diomedes, Hector, Odysseus and even Helen. The quarrel he has with Agamemnon in the Odyssey seems almost necessary for Menelaus to finally have gotten his own story/epic that sadly is lost to us. We only have a glimpse of his wanderings in Egypt through the Odyssey and the play Helen by Euripedes. But the Athenian plays should be taken with a grain of salt for his portrayal because the Athenians were biased against Spartans due to the Peloponnesian War.😔

In short, I think Menelaus was a tragic epic hero whose story sadly gets overshadowed by others. But I love that the small bits that survive prove that he was almost as fascinating as Agamemnon. I hope this helps! 😊

[fakescenariosbeforesleepblog]

By fire and heart.

Pt.3

Daemma Targaryen. Second daughter of King Viserys and queen Aemma, you're the living portrait of your mother with the character of a true dragon, as a second daughter you don't have right to the throne but certainly, you will protect your sister's succession by heart. (You are one year younger than Rhaenyra.)

Warning: Credits of this images goes to whoever they belong to! Grammatical and spelling errors, maybe this won't be good enough but In my head the story was a good one.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Pt.4 here

It's curious how a war can make you change, years have passed and you're not a little young lady in those ridiculous dresses, you're not a girl running through the castle halls anymore, you remember the day you arrived at the step stones and the smell of dirt, ashes, blood and sea salt, was something that you would remember perfectly.

Daemon was furious, he almost dragged you back to your dragon to send you back home.

- WAR IS NOT A GAME, DAEMMA! THIS IS NOT A PLAYGROUND AND IT'S NOT A PLACE FOR A LADY.

- I'M NOT HERE BECAUSE OF THAT, I'M HERE TO HELP. YOU TOLD ME TO GET STRONGER TO SUPPORT MY FAMILY, YOU ARE MY FAMILY AND I'M HERE TO SUPPORT YOU.

His anger lasted for days, but eventually he understood why you were there, it wasn't only to help, it was because you wanted to be near him, after all, he was more like a father for you than your own dad, you also as a second child understood pretty early that you would have to build your own path.

He was a proud uncle, you were fierce and strong all those hours training and practicing helped you, you're not a scared deer, you're a dragon, pure fire runs inside you, a true Targaryen warrior.

«Careful! The dragons!!!»

All the mercenaries were screaming and running to escape from the flames of Caraxes and Whitefyre.

- WHERE ARE YOU DRAHAR, COME HERE AND CONFRONT ME!

- Don't be a coward, leave the Shadows you bastard!

Fire, death and destruction surrounded you and your uncle, meanwhile your father was living his best life with his new child.

You and Rhaenyra communicate frequently, you made her a promise and even if you are so far from home you still keep that promise, you would fly home if she called you.

Your little half baby brother, Aegon, catches all your father's attention. Your sister feels lonely, but tries to keep strong, a Targaryen never shows the sorrow that grows inside.

The news of the war arrives at your father's door frequently too, but he doesn't care, he refuses to talk about the crab feeder and refuses to send ships or any kind of help, the influence of the Hightower doesn't help much either.

«they started this war by themselves, they'll have to win it by themselves»

Rhaenyra is not in her best time, she constantly argues with your father, every letter is pretty much the same.

«Our father reminded me again about my responsibilities, as if I were an idiot, lucky you that escaped from here... My apologies Daemma, I know the circumstances for you are not any better than mine, keep yourself safe, sister, i still need you at my side.»

The rest of the letter was about what she heard about the war, how she put those old fat ladies in their place, her encounter with that wild boar, about what she saw in the forest... the white stag, and the worse comes when your sister mentions you about how you and her are now in age to marital arrangements, you couldn't contain your laugh when you read that part about the Lannister man and his proposal.

-We still can win this war by ourselves! We don't need the king's help.

- Oh trust me, Princess, we need help, soon enough we will not be capable of fighting, we're less and less.

- We do not need the king, Lord Vaemond. We'll find another way.

- If you don't ask for it, I will.

- if you do it, I personally will cut your throat.

- Enough, Daemma.

A hand squeezes your shoulder and makes you step back. Your uncle appears just in time before you and Vaemond started to yell at each other as you usually do, you're brave and smart but still you don't understand many things about war, you're learning, your refusal to ask your father's help is a clear proof of it, Daemon refuses to receive help because he already knows how to win, but, for unknown reason he still doesn't decide to give the final hit.

Meanwhile Vaemond Velaryon ran like a scared little mouse and asked for help, your father after years ignoring the pleas, finally accepted and sent a letter and a float.

Early in the morning, dragons fly over the stones and the beach, smoke and ashes, you, Laenor, Corlys, Vaemond and some other men are counting and planning what to do, there's no food or resources enough, you have to find a solution.

- We're weak and that triarchy knows it! Continue sending the dragons.

Corlys looks exhausted and anxious and exasperated, observing the map over and over, he feels hopeless.

- It is useless.

You're tired of flying around without reason, it is useless, Laenor knows it too.

- Indeed, father, the archer defend the skies while the rest protect their position, when the dragons attack they hide in those caves.

- We have to make them leave the caves...

- But they don't have reasons to leave the caves.

Vaemond complains and once again Laenor talks, he has a good plan, better than continuing flying and not obtaining nothing.

- Then let's find a reason. Someone needs to risk.

- Who? Who will be crazy enough to risk is own life?

«A dragon returns!»

- Daemon.

- Daemon is the reason why we're in this position.

- At least he's doing something, he's fighting while you only complain, Lord Vaemond.

Suddenly Corlys is in the middle of you and Vaemond.

- Enough. Listen Vaemond, I will not allow a revolt.

Daemon joins the small group, he's quiet, looks the opposite of all of you, he looks relaxed, annoyed but still with a calm mind, he's observing all the men around when a new group appears at the view, a messenger.

You instantly looked at Vaemond, you were ready to stab him over and over, you know what the message brings and obviously you know what your uncle will say.

Your uncle takes the piece of paper and reads it calmly, he's pissed, truly pissed. Just when you thought he would not react negatively, he takes his helmet and starts to hit the poor messenger over and over, Laenor and you contain him.

Moments later, your uncle takes a boat and goes to the beach, the plan would be executed. He would pretend to give up, distracting everybody so the rest of you will take advantage.

He walks through the beach with a fake white flag, the crab feeder finally leaves his cave, there's no dragons in the view, mercenaries approach your uncle, while archers point at him.

Suddenly, you appear behind him, fighting side to side, mercenaries appearing out of nowhere, rain of arrows falling over you, your legs are burning, your lungs need more air, but the adrenaline increases, Daemon falls in the sand, arrows hit him and mercenaries are on the way, it's just you and him, call it whatever you want, but the bond between you and your uncle is reason enough to make Daemon stands up, he will not let those men touch you, he knows you can defend yourself but at some point you will not have strength enough, that's why he stands up, he forgets about the pain and runs to protect your back.

Drahar thinks he already won, but once all the mercenaries are out, a wave of your soldiers are running to them, a river of flames puts you and Daemon safe, your dragon, whitefyre, lands and you quickly jump on it, all the arrows are on you, nobody has seen Laenor and his dragon until it's too late, you and Laenor eliminate the archers, while the rest is fighting at the beach.

You lost your uncle, you can't see him anymore, the anxiety is taking the best of you, where's he? What if...?

Coming out of the cave, Daemon appears there's blood covering him, he is dragging a head and a half body with him. Drahar's body, it's done, it's over.

[lunarobyn22]

Here's the fic for those of you who want to read it on Tumblr instead of AO3! (I'm tired so this is my peace offering in place of today's Faebruary post 🙃) Check out @cloudninetonine 's "A Player's Aid" au, it'll give context for this!

Legend Gets What (He Thought) He Wanted

tags/warnings:

Threats of Violence, no y/n, Reader-Insert, Mention of making murder look like suicide, no one actually wants to die so don't worry, The others are there briefly, reader gender not specified, Kinda death threats but not exactly, Legend Needs a Hug, Reader Also Needs a Hug, They both get one tho don't worry, Resolved ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending

Summary: Legend is convinced that modern!reader is a traitor and a danger to the chain. He wants to get rid of the threat...Reader just really wanted to use the bathroom, but they somehow end up at sword point.

You all sat by the campfire after yet another long day of long walks punctuated by not long breaks and long fights. You were exhausted, from both the physical toll taken by the day as well as from dealing with Legend’s near constant attempts to make everyone hate you. Heck, you were almost starting to hate yourself because of him. You had to forcibly remind yourself that he’s likely only lashing out because your knowledge of everyone’s adventures probably made him feel vulnerable. You yawned and turned your focus to other things.

Your mind relaxed as you looked around. Your head was leaned to the right on Wild’s shoulder, and Hyrule sat curled up in front of you with his head in your lap. Wind had finally tired of regaling the chain with yet another tall tale, and thus had retired to intently watching Sky as he worked on a new carving. Twilight, Time, and Warriors were conversing in a relaxed manner, laughing at stories of Time’s shenanigans in the War of Eras as “Mask.” They told some embarrassing stories, and Time held a near perpetual blush in his ears and a fake annoyed expression thinly veiling his amusement. Four was quietly polishing his various weapons, making sure they were well-maintained for any future skirmishes. And finally, there was the chain’s resident salt shaker, the Veteran. Legend sat a few feet to your left, not-so-subtly eyeing you with jealousy and what you might label “loathing,” probably because Hyrule had chosen you as his pillow instead of his predecessor. He pretended to sort through his myriad of magical jewelry, but you knew better. You also knew better than to call him out at the moment.

Everyone (mostly) was at peace, full from a good supper provided by Wild, happy from the stories Wind had told, and now content to do as they pleased until it was time for the first watch to start. By your guess, each of the three watches lasted three hours, 9 PM - 12 AM, 12 AM - 3 AM, and 3AM - 6 AM, or just after sunrise, depending on the season. It was about 8:30, and your eyes had been drooping for an hour already. You let your mind wander as you stared into the fire, pondering where the tips of the flames disappeared to as they peaked and vanished, dipping back to the firewood just to jump up once more a second later.

All too soon Wild was nudging you and Rulie back to your own bedrolls as Sky set up for his watch period. You hazily recalled meaning to clean the mud and blood off your shoes as you took them off, but decided to just do it in the morning before you all set off again. It’s not like the stains were going anywhere while you slept. You were out almost as soon as you pulled up your blanket to your chin. You didn’t even hear Wild’s small chuckle as he tucked you in before he walked away to his own sleeping spot.

Your faint dreams of red eyes haunting the dark corners of endless mazes were interrupted by a twig snapping by your face. You inhaled sharply as your eyes flew open to assess the situation, but relaxed once you saw that it was just Sky going to wake Legend up for his shift on watch. He glanced down to you and offered a sleepy smile of apology, which you returned in kind, before nuzzling deeper into your pillow (which was unfortunately rather thin and small, but you figured that even if you had brought a full-size memory foam pillow from home, it wouldn’t stand a chance of fitting into your bag, no matter how enhanced it might be).

You faintly heard the Vet bemoan his fate as second watchman before his blanket rustled and he walked to the fire. You’re pretty sure he intentionally stepped on the same twig as Sky had when he passed by you, but you didn’t give him the satisfaction of a flinch. Through half-lidded eyes you could vaguely see the grouch circle the camp before sitting on a log before the fire and facing the woods that surrounded your camp. He was even more grumpy tonight, because not only was he designated for the worst shift ever, but he didn’t even have a choice as Time forced it upon him due to a particularly scathing remark he’d made towards you earlier in the day.

You tried not to focus on his insults and apparent hatred, you really did, but recently it was getting harder to ignore. His questioning of Hyrule’s sudden loyalty to you turned to questioning everyone’s desire to not kick you out or abandon you to the next monster camp they found. He seemed convinced you were either an evil witch who forced Hyrule and Wild to love you, a monster disguised to destroy them, or even a direct agent of Dark Link (who you’d not-so-affectionately dubbed “Dink”) and planned to betray them all any day now. You, in turn, had stopped vehemently insisting you were harmless, and eventually resigned yourself to simply not rise to the bait of his stinging statements of distrust. You knew he’d been through a lot of pain and loss through his many journeys, but that didn’t excuse his treatment of you. Only your mother’s advice kept you somewhat sane — “bullies only prosper when you give them a reaction. If you don’t react, they have less reason to target you.” And yet, Legend’s berating only continued.

You silently huffed a sigh and turned around to lay on your other side, facing away from the fire. You didn’t really love the idea of turning your back to the one person who very clearly wanted you to cease existing, but you knew he had enough sense not to literally stab you in the back when you were both surrounded by witnesses who would decidedly not appreciate such a thing. Plus, the fire was too bright for your sleepy eyes anyway. You started a breathing exercise, prayed you’d assumed correctly about not getting murdered by your upset comrade tonight, and closed your eyes again.

——

An hour or so later you quietly groaned and sat up. Not only could you not fall asleep, but your bladder was beginning to rebel against the idea of waiting until morning to relieve yourself. The chain had made camp just a ways off from a wide yet shallow creek, and you decided that since you were already awake, you might as well go ahead and rinse your shoes off, too. That way they’d be dry in the morning and you wouldn’t have to worry about walking around in shoes that made your socks cold and wet. You shuddered at the thought and slowly stood, stretching your arms above your head and popping your back, then bending down to pick up your shoes and a bar of soap you’d bought in the town you all just passed through.

Legend spared you a calculating glance from his seat, saying nothing. You simply waved with your free hand and then signed “toilet” before walking away to take care of business. You didn’t have to look over your shoulder to know that he was staring holes into the back of your head; you could practically feel him doing so anyway. You sighed, choosing to instead focus on the foliage you passed on your walk, faintly illuminated by the fire back at camp and the dim glow from a bracelet Wild had given you. He said he’d used a brightbloom seed to make it, and you had been sure to express your gratitude. It was much easier than having to carry a torch, which was not only difficult if your hands were full, but was also very bright to your still-asleep eyes. That, and you’d almost started a forest fire last time you’d been entrusted to carry a torch when you weren’t yet fully awake (once the crisis had been averted, Legend of course claimed that you had done it on purpose, but you were so tired that you just gave him a deadpan stare with a raised eyebrow and plopped back onto your bedroll to resume sleeping).

After answering nature’s call and washing your hands, you sat criss-cross by the creek, took off your dirtied shoes, and started splashing them in the frigid water. It was colder than you’d expected, but everything barring your hands was still warm enough, and it helped shock you to be more awake and aware. You used some more of your soap to aid your struggle against the grossness crusted onto your shoes, thankful that they were made from something like leather, so it wouldn’t be too difficult to clean once you actually got started. As you washed, you listened to the sounds of the world around you, now returned since you were no longer disrupting their peace.

A sound like cricket chirps mixed with owl coos set the backdrop for the soundscape, while the occasional breeze played with leaves and stuck them in your hair. If you listened closely enough and stopped your washing, you swore you could almost hear the life within the flowers and greenery by your feet, the very soul of the land of Hyrule, its perseverance, growth, progress and patience, all poured with a parent’s care into each and every living thing it supported, down to the smallest weed by the creek bed where you sat.

The water before you seemed to whisper, not in the way the Sheikah technology would, but more like it was a living feeling, as if it wanted to impart to you the knowledge it had picked up on its journey to this place. You had heard a story, once, that water could hold memories; that every molecule of water in the world has existed since creation, for it cannot be created or destroyed by those who need it to survive. Every single drop had a story to tell, an event it had witnessed, a place it had once called home. Perhaps some of the water burbling and giggling before you was the same way — some of it might have seen the rise and fall of entire civilizations, the existence of every single hero, princess, and villain up to that very moment — and it would continue to amass these secrets, both big and small, every detail it would pass by, and no one would ever fully decipher its stories, its warnings, its wisdom and playfulness. And even so, it would continue to exist and endure, trickling on through the ages and epochs.

You were somewhat prone to these random philosophical trains of thought, and had thus been unknowingly sitting, unmoving, almost unblinking, in the same place for the past twenty minutes. If anyone were with you, they might have thought you to be having a memory episode akin to the ones Wild sometimes had. Indeed, you were so lost in the wanderings and ramblings of your own mind that you had no idea you were being watched. You had no clue until a sound was made that caused you to spring to your feet with a gasp and reach for the dagger you’d sheathed at your hip.

Legend stood at the tree line a few feet away, posture tense and, dare you say, predatory, unsettling stare boring into your own wide, surprised eyes. “What are you waiting for? Or should I say, who are you waiting for?” You blinked away the black spots at the edges of your vision from standing up too quickly, and relaxed the hand that held your knife as your brain worked to understand the situation.

“What?” you tried to be quiet, still recovering from being shaken out of your reverie. “Why would I be waiting for someone? They’re all asleep last I checked. Ooh shoot, did I wake someone up? I’m so sor-”

“Cut the crap, [Name],” he stood up even straighter, the line of his shoulders taught with anger. “I know you’re waiting for someone to give all your collected information to. Don’t pretend you’re all so goody-goody. I’ve seen the way you ask too many questions, always looking for more details to collect, more ways you can betray us, betray them. I knew you were a snitch, and I don’t know how you bewitched them all to trust you, but they’re all too blind to see it. But I’m not. I see right through you, I have from the start.”

He had stalked closer during his speech, his voice dropping to a threatening whisper you had only ever heard in movies. His approach had caused you to back up until your still bare feet felt the water’s lapping edge. You had dropped your boots, you weren’t exactly sure where, but that was only a vague thought in the very back of your mind. Your eyebrows scrunched together as your mouth opened and closed, trying and failing to come up with a good enough response. You weren’t spying, you were trying to find answers! You came from a completely different world, of course you had questions! He of all people should understand that, and yet he still accuses you? This finally snapped your patience, and you decided to just spell it out him:

“Look, I know you hate me, but this is too far, Legend. I am not some evil being to be defeated like in your adventures, I am not planning to cause trouble for you all, and I sure as anything would never betray you guys, especially not after the trust that has been extended to me by some of you. This group took me in, saved my life, helped me learn to defend myself, protected me time and time again, and I’ve only ever tried to help you, or at the very least not get in your way. I get that I’m not some ‘chosen hero’ with crazy butt-kicking skills, I know that I’m only okay-ish at fighting, not nearly as good as any of you, and I understand that my extensive knowledge of your adventures puts you on edge, but I swear on everything that I’m not a traitor, and the main thing that I just really don’t know is why you despise me when I’ve never even given you a single reason to do so!”

Your voice had steadily increased in volume, not quite to the point of shouting, but certainly not whispering any more. He seemed a bit surprised by your willingness to defend yourself, but he hid it quickly with a scowl and what sounded almost like a growl. You noticed dully that the forest had fallen tensely quiet.

“Oh drop the act, turncoat ,” he spat, “you have never been one of us, and the only reason I didn’t drop you off a bridge yet is because Hyrule would have my hide and Wild would poison my food. But don’t mistake my inaction for acceptance or ignorance. You’re no better than any of the enemies we fight on a daily basis. You’re actually worse, because you’ve wormed your way into my group, my allies, my brothers. You think you’re something special just because you got some of them to trust you?? You’re a parasite, a threat, and tonight is all the proof I need. I knew I should’ve spoken up more from the moment you oh-so-conveniently happened to stumble into our lives. You’re going to regret ever messing with us, and Dark Link will soon know without a doubt that he cannot ever send his agents into my family without dire consequences.”

His expression twisted to a hateful snarl, showing some of his teeth in an almost animalistic display of animosity. Your face, on the other hand, was flickering through countless expressions too quickly for even you to comprehend. You knew some of what you felt, pain, sadness, anger, guilt (even though you had no reason for that one), confusion, denial, and eventually a sort of raging, spiraling emptiness that screamed inside your chest. Your breathing quickened to an almost hyperventilating speed, and your eyes grew blurry with tears you’d been suppressing for weeks. Your hurt, misty eyes locked with a pair of violet, violent, volatile ones, and you realized that he was waiting for your response. His next actions could depend solely upon your response; your very life could depend upon whatever words next left your mouth.

You had tried so hard to be friendly to the group of Links, to not aggravate Legend too awful much. You had tried to help out wherever you could, to not be a burden, to not slow them down. You tried to let the pain of rejection roll off of you like water, to not let it get under your skin. You had tried so, so hard to be one of them; but you weren’t. It was at this point you realized what he’d said without actually saying it — he was afraid . Afraid of losing the only family he had left. He’d already lost his uncle, Marin, the whole island of Koholint, and almost all the people of his Hyrule viewed him with disdain at best and outright hatred at worst. He’d had to leave Ravio and Fable back in his Hyrule, and he never knew when (if) he’d ever see them again. You realized on an even deeper level the true message behind his words — ‘you are a threat to those I love. You are dangerous. You bring pain and that is all you’ll ever do. You are not worthy of any trust, comfort, protection, or love from anyone, least of all my brothers. You would be better off never having met us, having never existed.

You would be

better off

dead.’

You had tried so hard, and yet… You had never actually brought anything to the group but problems. You thought through your interactions with them all, but all you could see is the many ways you’d caused them worry, stress, or even anger. You were another mouth to feed, another bed to pay for at inns, another liability in fights, another person to slow down for as they walked. You were a burden. No, worse: you were a danger. What if they were so busy looking out for you that they didn’t see an enemy until too late? What if you slowed them down to the point where they couldn’t get where they were going in time? What if you drained their food or rupee supplies too fast? What if you got hurt again and caused stress and tension to rise, causing fights and even divisions to break out. You were a problem. Not a traitor, no, and not intentionally endangering, but they couldn’t afford to have you around any longer. And you couldn’t just leave, you’d die within a day if Dink didn’t find and torture you, but Legend wouldn’t be satisfied until he knew for a fact that you were out of their way. Permanently. He didn’t just want you to disappear; he wanted you gone. And finally, with a sinking heart, you realized just how right he was.

 At this final revelation, a tear finally did slip past your lashes down to meet your quivering chin. You felt your thoughts scatter like startled deer, your heart thundering in its cage, pounding in your ears, scaring away the life in the forest around you. And you decided. You were a danger. You had no power here.

“I - I’m so sorry , I - I never meant to drive you apart, I -” you paused to hiccup and take a breath. You knew you were breaking, your composure deteriorating, but it was too late to stop. “Legen- Link. If you truly see me as a threat, if you truly believe that I will bring nothing but harm to you, to my-your friends, if…if you think that - that I should - I should never have met you, that I should never have…existed, I…I know I can’t force you to change what you so deeply believe, I -” You gasped a little shuddering inhale, and you made your final decision, the choice that you knew would be your last. You steeled yourself, and spoke. “If you honestly believe that you would all be better off - be safer - if I was gone, if you believe I’m a threat, that I would hurt you, that I - harbor ill intent, then…” you swallowed, still taking short, stuttering breaths. Then you turned around, held your hands palm-outward and arms open to the sides, and bowed your head; you left your entire back and neck, your spine, completely exposed to the man who wanted you dead. You leveled your voice, and accepted your fate. After all, he was an experienced hero, while you were just an inexperienced nobody. He would know what he’s talking about, what would be safest and best; you wouldn’t. He was not prone to emotional decisions; you were. If that was the case, then he was right. You were a threat to your friends.

“If you truly think that I should die for the good of the group, for their safety and happiness, then…then I… I trust you to do what’s right for your family. I would never willingly hurt any of them, I never wished any of you ill but…maybe I do just bring bad luck. Maybe I truly am a curse, a threat, a liability. If that’s the case, maybe - I know I can’t just leave, since Dink is after me and I know too much so - maybe I really am better off dead.”

There was a moment of silence, and then you heard him unsheathe his sword. The back of your neck prickled with danger, but you didn’t dare look over your shoulder. You counted the seconds as they passed, and you realized you had made it to thirty and nothing had happened yet. Why the hesitation? You assumed you’d be dying by now. Perhaps…perhaps Legend feared taking the blame for your death? Causing more division within the chain? Well, you shouldn’t let that stop him if your friends’ lives and safety were at stake. You would do anything to protect them, no matter what. Legend was right, and this had to happen. He had to do this. So why hadn’t he yet? You decided to offer some support, try to speed it along. You were never one for fearing the future but you really wanted this to be over, since you could feel the dread clawing up your throat, numbing your words and preventing any cohesive thought, forcing you to stand still and hear your blood thundering through your ears.

“You could, uh, you could make it look accidental, if you want?” You suggested. “Maybe - maybe I slipped, hit my head on a rock in the creek, maybe I drowned after I fainted or something, maybe I was playing with my knife and - and accidentally hit an artery.” At this point you started to hyperventilate again, desperate, but unsure as to why. “Maybe I was surprised by an enemy, a - a stalfos! - and I was too slow,” you continued, “or - or maybe I was kidnapped, maybe I was gutted by an enemy, maybe I - I just hit my head on something, maybe I had a - a - a hidden injury,” you were nearing hysterics now, “maybe, maybe I just — maybe I did it myself? Maybe I just couldn’t go on? Maybe, maybe I, I just - what if - I,” you lost your sense of words for a moment, “I can’t, I - what about if I just - just - You don’t have to take the blame, you know? You - you could cover it up! Maybe you just were doing your final rounds at the end of your watch and just found me - m-my body, maybe -”

“[Name] are you serious?” He cut through your rambling and you guessed he thought you sounded rather impertinent. You were trying to tell him how to do his job, and you’d kept on repeating what he likely had already worked through in his own mind.

Your mouth clicked closed so quickly your teeth almost clipped your tongue. Perhaps he wanted you to die quietly. You realize you were panicking and might’ve been too loud. Oh no, what if you woke someone up? Then Legend would get caught, and you would be the cause for even more trouble for everyone, and things would get even more tense, and if they were more distracted then they’d be in more danger, then…

…

…

…

You were still alive for some reason, although if you hadn’t been breathing so heavily you would have heard someone else’s suspiciously loud breathing behind you. As it was, you continued to hold still, arms sore from being held out, but you didn’t dare move. Even you knew better than to rob a predator of his prey, especially when he is so close to the killing blow. You were no fool, you knew he’d likely planned this for a while, and you knew better than to irritate him further. You just wanted to say one more thing, one final reassurance.

“I only want what’s best for them…best for you. I don’t hate you, contrary to what you probably think. I’m so sorry for any pain I’ve caused you, I truly am…I - I only ask that you make it quick, not for my sake, but if I was too loud a second ago and it woke anyone up and they found you kil-” your breath hitched, “killing me, it — it might make things worse for you all, and the last thing I wanna do is make things harder for all of you guys, I love you all and I—”

“Just SHUT UP!” Legend’s voice crashed through your pleading, and you stopped. And through the suddenly deafening silence, you realized something. Had his voice cracked? You listened more intently. He was breathing unevenly, almost gasping, almost…no, no your soon-to-be-killer couldn’t possibly…

He inhaled deeply and hoarsely whispered, “ Why? How, how could you just, just…” And in his struggle for words you heard something you would never have considered possible.

You had offered to die, just like he wanted, and

Legend —

Link —

was crying .

The man who wanted you dead, who planned to watch the light leave your eyes, was crying.

Perhaps he was just so happy you’d stopped resisting? Or perhaps he simply disliked the idea of causing someone pain? Yes, that was likely the reason; you were still a person, after all, and you knew that the Veteran, despite his callousness, did in fact have a heart (however guarded it might be).

“…It’s ok, Link,” you whispered reassuringly, “I’ll probably hardly even feel it, and if you’re right, and I’m sure you are, then…I deserve it anyway, and…I trust you to do what’s right, because…well, you’re a hero. You’re Link. I’m just… I’m nobody , nothing, so…It’s okay…” You stopped there, you knew he didn’t want you to talk, but darn it you always had a weak spot for people who cried, and you just had to try to reassure them, even if this particular person was planning to send you to meet your Maker a bit earlier than you’d thought you would.

But…there was still no sudden pain, no sword through your chest or severing your head, no sudden hit to the skull, nor were there hands forcing your face into the water until the bubbles stopped, nor any cutting, no slitting your throat, just…quiet sobbing?

Your mind froze for a second, and you held your breath to see whether the crying was actually from you. And it wasn’t. So, you waited. What else could make Legend wait? He was a hero, right? Maybe he just needed to psych himself up? It couldn’t be easy, you figured, literally stabbing someone in the back —

OH! Maybe that was actually the problem? Maybe he wanted to be at least a little more honorable and kill you face-to-face? After all, back-stabbing has a rather negative connotation attached to it. Facing forward and watching your killer do the job wasn’t really what you’d prefer, but it’s not like you had much choice in the matter. After all, he was the one with the sword.

In order to solve this newfound problem you slowly turned around and faced your whole body towards him, eyes closed, arms still out in a sign of surrender, tense muscles still ready for whatever method he would choose to end you. Maybe it would be kind? Likely not, seeing as you were a threat to his family. 

Tentatively you opened your mouth and quietly reassured him, “If you want to do it head-on and not with my back to you, that’s…cool too? I-”

“Oh goddesses,” he practically choked on the words, “you…you actually are serious…?” His voice was rough with…emotion? Confusion? But why? You were giving him what he wanted, right? You were keeping your frien- his family safe…right?

Right?

And then you cautiously cracked open your eyes a little bit, and then opened them all the way, and you lifted your gaze and actually looked at him, rather than just listening.

And you saw that he was an absolute wreck.

Rarely seen tears now freely flowed from his violet eyes, and he had to sniff to keep his nose from running too much. His chin quivered slightly and his adam’s apple bobbed as he tried to find words without openly sobbing. He dropped his sword as his posture went slack, a hand raising to cover his mouth, his watering eyes wide with disbelief and something remarkably akin to grief. Your confusion turned to concern for the man before you. Why was he crying? Was he hurt somewhere? Surely that was the case, for no one could change their mind as abruptly as he seemed to, right? 

He finally whispered hoarsely, “You…do you really…you’re actually willing to just…let me kill you?” He seemed shocked at your actions, but you didn’t know why. Unless…oh gosh, had you misread the situation?? You weren’t sure how you could have, but what if you did? What if you were the one to make him cry? How awful of a person could you be?

“I — I’m sorry, I — yeah, I meant it, really. I mean, I still do, but — I-I’m sorry if I misunderstood, I really am, I just wanted what was right, and I — I just figured you’d know better than me, that you’re right, but I didn’t mean to upset you, I swear, I’m sorry for making you cry, I never wanted that, I just wanted to keep them — keep you all — safe, but if I—”

“Just…stop… please .”

And you froze. Because Legend…he’d said please . He had never said please in the entire time you’d known him, and certainly not while addressing you of all people. So, you stopped. Your arms were in pain, however, and you risked slowly lowering them so they could lose their pins and needles. He didn’t react. He just brought his fist to his eyes in an attempt to get rid of the tears. He was no longer actively crying, so you counted that as a win. You continued to look at him, confused, but not trying to talk any more. You figured he would decide what to do in a minute. Maybe, you thought, he was crying with relief that he could finally stop fighting you.

And then he finally spoke again, in a very small, very subdued, almost unbelieving voice. “You’re telling the truth, aren’t you?” He seemed to hardly believe it.

No, you denied the small spark of hope trying to take root in the void of your chest. There’s no way. It’s too late. He’s going to kill me. He can’t have been wrong. I’m supposed to die, right?

He raised his eyes to meet yours once more, and it was all you could do to nod in agreement. After all, you had never tried to deceive any of them. You’d only ever endeavored to tell the truth, and you weren’t going to stop now of all times.

“You’re not…a witch?” He seemed to almost be thinking aloud, not actually talking to you anymore, but you nodded along anyway, just in case. “You’re not actually a traitor, are you?” He murmured, “You’re…goddesses, you’re not even evil, are you? An enemy would never turn their back to me, Dark Link would never surrender, but…that means you…you’re just a person…just…” Then, in an even smaller voice and with an emotion you couldn’t quite place, “You’re…just you? Was I about to — to kill — an innocent?”

And at that moment you recognized his emotion: horror.

Link was mortified, absolutely horrified that he, a hero of courage, one of Hylia’s chosen, a bearer of the triforce, savior of realms and countries, Link, was about to kill you, a person who had never actually harmed him or his brothers, someone he’d been so set on not trusting that he’d tried to twist you into something that you’d never been. You had tried so hard to protect them where you could, to ease their burdens, to not cause problems, to bond with them, to ignore his acidic hatred, and you’d been through so much pain and loss, and been targeted by Dark himself, and he still had tried to make everyone reject you. You were traumatized, hunted, injured, afraid, and he still hadn’t held back. Your questions had never been any sort of interrogation, but simply confusion. The trust you gained from the others was simply friendship, not any sort of witchcraft or manipulation.

And, with mounting terror, he finally, deeply, truly realized that he had somehow even convinced you — sweet, innocent, confused, traumatized, eager-to-help, optimistic [Name] — that you actually were the problem, that you should — 

Oh goddesses, he’d convinced you that you were better off dead, that you should want to die — that you should just let him kill you. And for some heartbreaking reason, you had not only agreed, but then you’d exposed your most vulnerable points, without any sort of armor or protection, dropped your weapon, lowered your guard, closed your eyes, and told him to do what he believed was right…

You thought he was going to kill the person he should have been protecting this entire time. And you endorsed it only because of ignorant trust in someone who was supposed to be a hero.

And when he panicked, you’d tried to help him kill you .

He looked at you and saw your pain, your sadness, your survival, your resignation, your scars, your desperation to help others, he saw YOU, and not a trace of what he’d so firmly believed you to be. He was planning your death, and you’d tried to comfort him.

And Legend broke.

He did something neither of you expected; Legend, the one who had tried so hard to hate you, vaulted over the small distance between you, wrapped his arms around you, and held on so tightly he thought he might never let go. You had stiffened at first, halfway expecting a knife in your back, but when that didn’t happen you relaxed, almost dizzy with relief and swirling emotions, and you hugged him back just as fiercely. His face was on your shoulder, head bowed so that the fabric of your shirt muffled his increasingly panicked sobs and hiccups. And through those noises you could hear him apologizing relentlessly,

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, goddesses I’m so sorry, [Name] I — I’m so — so sorry, I’m sorry, I was so blind , I’m sorry, I was wrong, I was so, so, so — wrong, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” and so he continued.

You finally breathed for what felt like the first time since he’d snuck up behind you. Your heart was pounding and, now that you held Legend in your arms, you could feel his heart thundering just as quickly as your own. You gently lowered the two of you to the ground, trying to comfort him even as you worked through your own dissolving panic. You held him as if he were a child, gently rocking back and forth as you tried to imbue him with a sense of safe-secure-trust-okay.

“Shhh sh sh shh,” you whispered, “it’s okay, it’s okay, you’re okay, I’m okay, shh shh shhh, it’s okay, I…

I forgive you, Link.”

At this statement he began to sob even more heavily, and your own tears soaked his tunic as surely as his did your own.

“NO! No, you shouldn’t! You — you — I almost killed you!!” He pulled back and looked at you without letting go. “I would have killed you, [Name]! You — you can’t just forgive me! I — I’m so sorry, I can’t ever explain, I — I was so sure you weren’t trustworthy, I didn’t even give you a chance, I — gosh I basically just tried to freaking kill you, and you just…you can’t just — just —” he fell into hysteric hiccups once again, allowing you to interrupt.

“Well then, it’s a good thing you don’t decide what I can and can’t do, isn’t it?” You released your hug to hold his face in both hands, using a thumb to brush his tear-stained cheeks. “I’ll admit…I was, for a moment, scared, but,” you cut off his heartbroken and shattered gasp, “I get it. I don’t excuse what you’ve done, but I do somewhat understand and I forgive you, Legend. I choose to forgive you, Link.”

…

His world stopped in that moment. He stared into your eyes, so open, brimming with tears that he had caused. You shouldn’t forgive him. He was going to murder you, literally stab you in the back, in cold blood, right outside the safety of camp where his own brothers, who trusted both him and you, slept peacefully, placing full faith in him to keep the monsters at bay. And yet here he was, more of a monster than any of their Ganons or Ganondorfs could have ever hoped to be. He was despicable.

And then you even went so far as to offer him a watery smile that tugged gently on the Sheikah scars adorning your face, the scars of what you’d endured and survived. Oh goddesses, you were trying to comfort him — him — instead of yourself. You opened your arms and offered him another hug, and he was suddenly so thankful you were alive, that you were there with him, and that he hadn’t killed you. And he finally, fully, completely collapsed, releasing the pain he’d hidden away for so long from so much betrayal, distrust, and loss, burying his face into your shoulder once more. His stuttering breaths and hiccups prevented him from speaking, from begging you to hate him back, from telling you to strike him down then and there as surely as he planned to do to you, from screaming until his voice gave out simply because of his pure loathing toward himself, toward this monster he had let himself become.

You gently nudged him back toward camp, all the while holding him and tracing pointless patterns along his back, caressing his hair and whispering forgiveness in his ears. You fell asleep trying to keep watch for him by the fire, both of you tangled up in the other’s embrace, resting in the safety of someone you loved.

You both slept soundly and without nightmares for the first time in weeks.

….

And as the two of you sat there after crying your souls out to each other, having realized how much you actually cared for one another, the sounds of the forest slowly filtered back, joining with your sobs in a beautiful melody of mourning and life, shame and forgiveness. Your rivers of tears mingled together and joined the small creek, the whispers of your pain, relief, salvation, and reconciliation joining the water’s ever-increasing library of whispered memories and silent emotions. And it would never tell a soul, for no one could know what it knew; and you would never, ever know just how happy it was to gain your streams of tears and joy instead of the rivers of your life-blood. 

And if the third watchman woke to find the two most bitter of enemies curled up together asleep by the fire, tear tracks on their red-splotched faces, hair unkempt and, in your case, feet bare, and if he simply draped a blanket over you both and almost cried himself, well…who needs to know?

[winxanity-ii]

⌜Godly Things | Chapter 10 Chapter 10 | proposed union⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

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Telemachus wiped the sweat from his brow as he stepped back from the training ring, his muscles aching from the relentless sparring session he had just endured.

Despite his father's age, Odysseus still fought with the strength of a warrior in his prime.

Each blow carried the power of years spent on battlefields and journeys across the sea. Every strike, every counter, every feint—all of it left Telemachus reminded that the man before him was still a force to be reckoned with.

His father may have grayed, but there was nothing frail about his frame, nothing slow in his movement. He felt proud, yet also deeply sore, his body protesting as he made his way towards the courtyard.

The bright sunlight greeted him as he stepped into the courtyard, the warmth soaking into his skin, making his sore muscles relax slightly. He raised his hand to shield his eyes from the brightness, blinking against the sharp contrast after the dimness of the training ring.

The air was fresh, filled with the scent of blooming flowers carried by a gentle breeze. The courtyard was quiet, and for the first time in a long while, Telemachus found himself able to simply enjoy the moment.

There were no suitors darkening his home, no cloud of sorrow hanging over Ithaca.

The palace, which once echoed with tension, was now filled with peace, and Telemachus found himself savoring it. He let out a slow breath, his shoulders loosening as he stood there, taking it all in—the sound of birds singing, the rustle of leaves in the wind, the feel of sunlight warming his face.

After a while, though, a thought crept into his mind, nudging at him until he could no longer ignore it. He had completed all his duties for the day, and now he found himself with unexpected free time. But what to do with it?

He stood there for a moment, considering, his eyes drifting over the courtyard, searching for something to occupy himself with.

And then, almost instinctively, he thought of you.

A smile tugged at his lips before he could stop it, and he felt warmth spread through him, a gentle heat that had nothing to do with the sun above.

He could almost picture where you'd be—your usual spot around this time of day—and without even realizing it, he began walking in that direction. His steps were light, a sense of excitement bubbling up inside him as he moved through the palace grounds.

The sun shone down, bathing everything in golden light, and the air smelled of grass and distant salt from the sea.

Telemachus' heart quickened in his chest, his thoughts filled with images of you—your laughter, the way your eyes seemed to catch the light when you smiled, the calm determination that you carried even in the hardest moments.

You were gentle, but there was a strength in you that had always amazed him.

You were beautiful, inside and out. And your voice—gods, your voice. It could soothe even his worst fears, each word like a melody that stayed with him long after you'd spoken.

Telemachus sighed softly, a lovesick smile spreading across his face as he continued to walk, his thoughts wrapped up at the thought of seeing you.

Most nights, he found himself lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, his thoughts twisting and turning, always finding their way back to you.

He didn't know when it had started—this feeling that seemed to take over his every waking moment, but he knew it now—he wanted to be yours, and you, his.

He hoped to share something that went beyond mere friendship or affection.

He hoped to give you the kind of love he'd heard stories of, the kind of love his parents shared—deep and unwavering, a love that could withstand anything.

But more than anything else, he hoped that you felt the same.

Soon, the familiar cypress tree came into view, and just as he predicted, you were settled a few feet away, your lyre in your hands.

His eyes immediately zeroed in on you—the way your figure was framed by the soft sunlight filtering through the leaves, your head slightly bowed as you plucked the strings of your instrument.

It made his heart swell just watching you, the simple peace of the moment making him feel like the luckiest man alive.

Telemachus didn't even notice his footsteps speeding up, his stride becoming almost a bounce as he made his way toward you. He was eager, almost too eager, his heart fluttering in his chest at the prospect of hearing your voice, seeing your smile directed at him.

But just as he was about halfway to you, a firm hand suddenly grabbed his shoulder, halting his progress. Telemachus stilled immediately, instinctively whipping around, his grip harsh as he grabbed onto the wrist of whoever had stopped him, his face hardening into a cold mask.

But then, he saw who it was.

"Lady Andreia?" He blinked, surprised, his eyes moving over her form. She was wearing a dress in a shade that looked somewhere between turquoise and sea-green, the fabric flowing around her in soft waves. He cleared his throat, his expression softening as he quickly dropped her wrist, giving her a small nod. "My apologies, Lady Andreia. You startled me."

The princess only giggled in response, waving him off as though his reaction hadn't fazed her in the slightest. "Oh, no, it's my fault. I didn't mean to startle you, Prince Telemachus," she said, her voice light, almost teasing.

Telemachus shifted awkwardly, glancing behind him to where you still sat by the cypress tree, oblivious to his presence. He could feel a pang of frustration at the interruption, but he quickly turned his attention back to Andreia, doing his best to remain courteous. "Is there something I can assist you with, Lady Andreia?" he asked, trying to keep his tone polite.

Andreia's eyes seemed to brighten at his question, and she clasped her hands together, her smile widening. "Actually, yes, there is," she said, and before Telemachus could react, she had reached out, grabbing his wrist. "Come, let's chat!"

She tugged at him, her grip surprisingly firm as she began to pull him away, her laughter ringing out in the quiet courtyard.

Telemachus let out a small yelp of surprise, stumbling slightly as he was dragged along. He almost protested, almost telling her that he had somewhere else he needed to be—someone else he wanted to be with.

But then, he remembered his mother's words. Be kind to her, Telemachus. She's a guest in our home, and she has lost much.

So, he bit his tongue, forcing himself to swallow down his frustration as he allowed himself to be led away.

Still, he couldn't help but glance back over his shoulder, his gaze lingering on you, sitting peacefully beneath the cypress tree, unaware of how close he'd been.

His heart sank slightly, a feeling of longing settling deep in his chest. All he wanted was to be near you, to hear your voice, to share even just a small part of his day with you.

But for now, it seemed, he would have to wait.

☆

☆

Your eyes snapped open at the sound of laughter echoing in your ears. You blinked quickly, bringing your focus to the source of the sound.

Your gaze lifted just in time to see Telemachus being pulled away by Lady Andreia, her hand gripping his wrist as she laughed. Your eyes tracked them, watching as the prince's figure grew smaller and smaller, swallowed by the distance between you and the lively courtyard ahead.

When he looked back, you quickly looked down, and after a few seconds, you glanced back up, only to see them disappear from your sight altogether around the bend.

You let out a sigh, looking back down at your lyre, your fingers tracing the familiar strings.

It wasn't the first time you'd watched Andreia intercept him like this. It had happened more than once since her arrival, her presence always lingering close to the prince, her laughter ringing out a little too often for your liking.

You hated how easy it seemed for her, how naturally she took up space in his day.

It made you feel small in comparison, like an afterthought, a shadow on the periphery of his world.

You told yourself it was ridiculous, that you had no claim to him, no right to feel this gnawing ache in your chest. But the feeling remained, stubborn and sharp.

The song that had been on the tip of your tongue faded away, your fingers now motionless against the strings. The mood to play had left, leaving behind an odd sense of emptiness.

You shook your head, trying to dispel the unease settling in your chest. There was no sense in dwelling on it.

Telemachus had his duties, his responsibilities, and you had yours. He was a prince, and you were—well, just you.

You forced a small smile, letting your fingers pluck a few lazy notes, but it was half-hearted, even to your own ears.

"Are you the official musician?"

The sudden voice startled you, and you nearly jumped out of your skin, the lyre clutched tightly to your chest as your eyes widened in surprise.

You looked up quickly, your gaze landing on a figure squatting just a foot away from you. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion—how had he gotten so close without you noticing?

He wore Bronte's colors—green and yellow. His skin was olive-toned, warm under the sunlight, and his dark brown hair fell just past his shoulders. His eyes, equally dark, studied you with a kind of quiet curiosity that made you shift where you sat.

Realizing you hadn't answered his question, you cleared your throat, trying to steady your voice. "U-um, no," you stammered, your fingers fidgeting against the lyre strings. "I'm actually Queen Penelope's personal handmaiden." The words trailed off awkwardly, and you glanced down, picking at a blade of grass as if it were the most interesting thing in the world.

The young man hummed in response, and, without any hesitation, he plopped himself down directly in front of you, crossing his legs. You blinked at him, startled once again by his forwardness. His eyes were still on you, staring down at you as if he were trying to figure you out, his gaze curious, almost intense.

"I saw you play at the feast last night," he said after a moment, his voice carrying an ease that made you slightly envious. "You were incredible. Honestly, I couldn't look away."

You felt your cheeks heat up, and you waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, no, it wasn't just me," you said quickly, glancing down at the lyre. "I played among others. It was nothing special."

He shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Doesn't matter," he said, his tone light but sincere. "You were great, regardless."

Before you could think of a reply, he extended his hand out to you, his gaze unwavering. "Callias, at your service. I've come along with Princess Andreia from Bronte."

You blinked, staring for a second at his extended hand, your mind taking a moment to catch up.

A handshake? Here? Between servants?

Your eyes darted to his face, searching for any hint of mockery, but he just kept smiling, waiting patiently as if there was nothing unusual about his gesture.

Hesitantly, you wiped your hands on your dress before tentatively placing your hand in his. His grip was warm, firm, and he shook your hand with an ease that almost made your face heat up.

It was so casual, almost as if you knew each other for years, and the boldness of it threw you off-balance.

"I'm ____," you said softly, feeling the words stumble out of you.

He smiled again, broader this time, as if your awkwardness amused him. "____" he repeated, as if testing your name on his tongue.

You nodded, your hand still tingling from the unexpected contact. The handshake had felt strangely intimate—too bold, too modern for servants, especially in Ithaca.

You weren't quite sure how to react, so you just smiled politely, hoping the flush on your cheeks would die down soon.

"Well, um, welcome, Callias. I hope you find things to your liking here."

Callias gave you a nod, his smile turning almost conspiratorial, as if you shared some private joke. "I think I will," he said lightly, before casually leaning back on his hands, his gaze drifting up to the clear blue sky above.

You shifted slightly where you sat, unsure of what to say or do next. The unease from earlier had yet to fully disappear, replaced now by an odd mix of curiosity and apprehension.

Callias seemed comfortable—far more comfortable than you felt—and you couldn't help but wonder why he was here, sitting with you, instead of mingling with the other guests or tending to his duties.

"So, the Queen Penelope's personal handmaiden," he mused after a moment, his eyes flicking back down to you, his gaze soft but inquisitive. "That must be... interesting. Busy, I imagine."

You nodded, your fingers still fiddling with the strings of your lyre. "It is," you admitted. "The Queen is kind, though. She makes it worthwhile."

He hummed thoughtfully, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he were trying to piece something together. "And playing music—is that something you do often?"

You gave a small shrug, your gaze shifting to the lyre resting in your lap. "Whenever I have the time. It's more of a hobby than anything else."

"A hobby," he repeated, his tone light, almost teasing. "Well, it's a good one. You're talented—clearly."

You felt your cheeks flush again, and you ducked your head, letting out a soft laugh. "Thank you," you said quietly, unsure of what else to say.

Callias watched you for a moment longer, his gaze lingering before he finally looked away, his eyes once again drifting to the sky. "I think Ithaca's lucky to have someone like you," he said, his voice almost too soft to hear. "Someone who brings music and warmth to a place that's been through so much."

You glanced at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice, and for a moment, you weren't quite sure how to respond. "Thank you," you said again, the words barely a whisper, your heart giving a small, unexpected flutter.

Callias' eyes then trailed down to the lyre sitting comfortably in your lap. His eyes brightened, a spark of excitement lighting them up as he leaned forward slightly. "What else can you play?" he asked.

You shifted a bit, unused to talking so openly with someone new—especially someone from another kingdom. After a moment, you answered, "Uh, well... I can play the sistrum, the aulos, and a few others." You trailed off awkwardly, your fingers absently toying with the strings of your lyre, the delicate notes barely audible.

The male let out an excited gasp before rummaging through his tunic. He pulled out a small instrument, a panpipe, holding it up with a cheeky grin on his face. "Can you play this?"

Curiously, you reached forward, and he placed it into your hands. You turned it over in your fingers, examining the little wooden instrument, its simple form somehow feeling significant.

You tilted your head, eyes narrowing thoughtfully as you studied it. You had seen panpipes before—they were common—but for some reason, you hadn't thought to learn it. Almost as if the idea had simply slipped your mind.

You looked back up at Callias, humming softly as you held it back out to him. "I'm not sure. I don't think I've ever played this."

Callias just grinned, the teasing glint in his eyes growing even brighter. Without warning, he leaned forward, his larger, calloused hand covering yours, gently closing your fingers back around the pipes. "Wanna learn?" he asked, his voice a bit lower, almost conspiratorial. "I could teach you."

You blinked, taken aback by his closeness, the warmth of his hand on yours making your heart stutter. Your mouth opened and closed, no words forming as you tried to process his boldness.

Callias' grin grew even wider before he pouted playfully, his head tilting to the side as if pleading with you. "C'mon, ____. It's a fair trade—you teach me the lyre, I teach you the pipes. Deal?"

You stared at him, your eyes widening slightly at his audacity. But there was something disarming in the way he spoke—something almost childlike in his enthusiasm—that made it hard to say no.

Slowly, you nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. "Alright, deal," you said softly.

The brunet beamed, his entire face lighting up with excitement. "Great! We'll start now then!"

Your eyes widened in surprise. "N-Now?" you stammered, glancing around the courtyard. It wasn't exactly crowded, but the thought of practicing a new instrument, here, in the open, made you nervous.

Callias chuckled, his gaze softening as he watched your apprehension. "Don't worry," he said, his voice gentle. "It's just me. No pressure." He leaned back, giving you some space as he gestured toward the pipes still in your hand. "Give it a try," he urged, his smile encouraging.

You took a deep breath, glancing down at the Panpipes, your fingers brushing over the smooth wood. Slowly, you brought it to your lips, hesitating for a moment before blowing softly, a gentle note escaping the pipes.

Callias clapped his hands together, his eyes shining. "See? You're already a natural!"

You couldn't help the laugh that escaped you, shaking your head at his enthusiasm. "I doubt that," you said, but there was a warmth in your chest now, the unease from earlier finally beginning to fade away.

"Here, lemme show you a simple song," Callias said, grabbing the pipes from your hand. He positioned them against his lips and began playing a soft, lilting melody. The notes flowed smoothly, the sound filling the air with a gentle charm.

You watched, entranced, as he played, his mouth moving deftly over the pipes.

After a few moments, he paused, looking at you with a grin. "See? Just follow along with the rhythm—nothing too fancy. It's simple enough. Here." He handed the pipes back to you, his smile encouraging.

You hesitated, feeling a bit of nervousness returning, but there was something so genuinely encouraging about Callias that made it hard to refuse. You took the pipes and held them to your lips, trying to mimic the way he had played.

The notes that came out were shaky, uneven, and you winced at the sound.

It felt... off. Not quite right.

You tried again, huffing slightly when the sound didn't come out as smoothly as it had for Callias.

With a pout, you pulled the pipes away from your lips, glaring down at the instrument. "Here," you muttered, holding it back out to him. "I can't seem to get it right."

Callias just laughed, his eyes twinkling as he took the pipes from you. "Aw, don't be too hard on yourself," he said teasingly. "Looks like there's finally an instrument you can't master."

You gave him a playful scowl, rolling your eyes. "Very funny," you mumbled, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed your amusement.

Callias placed the pipes back into his tunic, patting them gently as if they were some treasured item. He leaned back further on his hands, his eyes closing as he let the sunlight warm his face. "It's okay, though. We can practice more another time," he said casually, as if he were already planning on spending more time with you.

You chuckled, raising an eyebrow at him. "Oh, really? How can you be so sure there'll be a next time?" you teased, your voice light.

Callias grinned without missing a beat, his eyes still closed. He gave a lazy shrug, the corners of his lips quirking up. "I don't know... just a gut feeling," he hummed, sounding entirely too pleased with himself.

☆

☆

The two young royals walked slowly through the palace gardens, their feet crunching over the pebbled pathway.

The sun was bright, its golden rays filtering through the leaves of olive and laurel trees, the air filled with the scent of thyme and blooming myrtle. The gentle hum of bees and the occasional chirp of birds added a pleasant background, giving the illusion of perfect serenity.

Telemachus cleared his throat, trying to shift the awkwardness away. He turned to Andreia, offering her a small, polite smile. "So, Lady Andreia, what is it you'd like to talk about?"

Andreia sighed softly, her gaze drifting as they passed by a bush of narcissus flowers. She paused, reaching out to gently touch the soft petals, her fingers lingering there.

Telemachus couldn't help but think back to when you'd called them daffodils—what a silly name, he'd thought then, but now the thought made him smile.

"I must say," Andreia began, her voice almost wistful, "Ithaca is even more beautiful than I'd imagined. The people here are so kind, and everything is so... peaceful." She turned to look at Telemachus, her lips curving into a bright grin. "Despite the unfortunate reason for my visit, I find myself grateful for the chance to experience your homeland."

Telemachus blinked, taken aback by the sincerity in her voice. He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, Andreia had already begun walking again, her gaze fixed forward. As she moved, she glanced over her shoulder at him, her eyes twinkling with a teasing light.

"I hear the prince of Ithaca is known for his hospitality," she said, her tone playfully challenging. "Does that extend to entertaining lonely guests as well?"

Telemachus found himself chuckling, the sound escaping him before he could even register it. It was strange—he hadn't expected to laugh, not in this moment, and definitely not with Andreia.

With a soft sigh, he followed after her, shaking his head slightly as he tried to push away the lingering thoughts of you beneath the cypress tree.

As they continued walking through the garden, Andreia engaged Telemachus in conversation, her voice warm and charismatic. She asked about the palace grounds, about his duties as the prince, and even about the people of Ithaca.

Her interest seemed genuine, her laughter light and easy as she responded to his answers.

Telemachus answered her questions politely, describing the routines he carried out to support his father and the responsibilities he had to the people of Ithaca. Andreia listened intently, her eyes never wavering from his face, and she nodded along, occasionally humming thoughtfully in response.

"I must say, my prince, for someone to be the son of a legend, you must be plenty prepared if trouble to arise, no?" Her eyes flickered back to Telemachus, her expression smoothing into one of respect. "The way he reclaimed his throne with such strength, such... resolve. It's rare to see a man so certain of his purpose, so willing to do whatever it takes for those he loves. It's admirable."

Telemachus blinked, watching her as she spoke.He cleared his throat, unsure how to respond. "My father has always been... determined," he said cautiously, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied her face.

Andreia turned back to him, her expression brightening once more, her smile easy and warm. "Indeed. And that determination is something that runs in the family, I'm sure." She reached out, lightly brushing her fingers against his arm in a gesture that seemed casual yet deliberate. "After all, Ithaca is in capable hands with you, isn't it?"

Telemachus forced another smile, nodding. "Thank you, Lady Andreia. I... appreciate your confidence."

She gave him a final, lingering look, her lips curving into a smile that held just a hint of mystery. "Confidence is easy when one knows what to look for, my prince."

After a while, the conversation took a more serious turn.

Andreia turned to face him fully, her steps slowing as they neared another flowerbed. "Prince Telemachus," she said, her voice softer now, "I know that there has been tension between Ithaca and Bronte in the past. It's unfortunate that we meet under such grim circumstances, but I cannot help but think that perhaps this is an opportunity."

Telemachus' brow furrowed slightly, and he tilted his head. "What do you mean, Lady Andreia?"

She smiled, her eyes glimmering with something that seemed both hopeful and calculating. "Well, your mother, Queen Penelope, spoke of the importance of peace between our kingdoms. She spoke so warmly of a future where Ithaca and Bronte could coexist without distrust or resentment. And I agree with her." Andreia stepped closer, her gaze never wavering from Telemachus' eyes. "Peace can be achieved, and strengthened, through alliances." She paused, letting her words sink in before continuing, her tone almost coy. "Perhaps even through marriage."

Telemachus blinked, taken aback by the suggestion. For a moment, he was unsure if he had heard her correctly. "Marriage?" he echoed, his voice filled with disbelief.

Andreia giggled, waving her hand dismissively. "Oh, don't look so surprised, my prince. It's only a thought, after all." She leaned in slightly, her smile widening as she added, "A very practical thought, wouldn't you say? A formal alliance would ensure that our kingdoms remain on good terms."

Telemachus could feel the weight of her words settling on his shoulders. It was as if, in that single moment, everything had changed between them.

Lady Andreia was no longer just a guest in their home—no longer just a mourning sister seeking refuge. She had become a player on the board of politics, and suddenly, he too felt like a piece being maneuvered.

His role as her host, her supporter in a time of grief, had shifted—now, he was the prize, the potential bridge between two kingdoms.

The realization left him uneasy, an uncomfortable tightness in his chest. He forced a smile, though it felt a bit strained. "It is... certainly something to consider," he said, his voice careful, diplomatic.

Andreia's eyes sparkled, as if pleased by his response. "That's all I ask," she said, her tone light once more. She turned and continued walking, her fingers brushing against the leaves of a nearby shrub as they moved along the path. "I only wish for what is best for both our homes, Prince Telemachus." She glanced back at him with a teasing grin. "Besides, who wouldn't want to secure peace in such a charming place as Ithaca?"

Telemachus found himself chuckling again, though this time the laughter felt more like a reflex than genuine amusement; Andreia's suggestion had taken him off guard.

He hesitated, looking at her with a hint of curiosity. "Why are you so certain of this, Lady Andreia? We've only just met, after all," he said, his voice tinged with both hesitance and genuine curiosity.

Andreia paused, a playful hum escaping her lips as she tilted her head thoughtfully. She stepped closer to the flowerbed, her eyes catching sight of a cluster of blooms.

Without another word, she reached toward a bushel of vibrant flowers and plucked a stem delicately.

It was aconite, with its hooded, deep blue petals—though Telemachus couldn't recall its name. He watched as she approached him, the faint scent of the flower wafting through the warm air.

Andreia moved in close, her red tresses tumbling over her shoulder as she stood on her toes. Her perfume, light and sweet, mingled with the fragrance of the garden. She reached up, tucking the stem of the aconite behind Telemachus' ear, her fingers brushing against his skin.

The touch was gentle, almost intimate, and Telemachus found himself momentarily frozen.

A soft smile rested on her lips as she gazed into his eyes, her head tilting to the side in an endearing manner. "You could say... just a gut feeling," she murmured, her voice playful yet soft. And with that, she twirled away, her laughter echoing lightly as she continued along the garden path. "Now, I wonder if the anemones are in bloom," she mused aloud, as if her previous words hadn't left a strange tension in the air.

Telemachus watched her go, a mix of emotions swirling in his chest—confusion and perhaps a touch of unease. He reached up, touching the flower she had tucked behind his ear.

The gesture, the closeness, her words... they all left him with more questions than answers.

The prince wasn't sure what to do next—he knew he would have to tell his parents about this conversation, and the thought made him uneasy.

For now, though, he simply kept his thoughts to himself before following the young royal, unsure of what direction this unexpected turn would lead.

A/N: ahhh, i had so much fun with the lil hints thrown in here blahhhh, y'all i literally researched so many meaning and stuff cuz im a nerd and wanted to see if i can try my hand at suspense/tension building, anywho ignore my rambling, hope you enjoy the new OC Callias... [A/N: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐚 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐧 𝐎𝐂 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐝 "𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐬" 𝐈 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐀𝐫𝐭𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐫. 𝐇𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦~]

callias: