#she's a character who died long before the story but still has bearing on what's happening

[project-aphelion]

07.23.2023

I feel like every excerpt I share from Rian’s chapters are like, dark and gruelling, so here’s a bit from his flashback instead.

Onto Chapter 4! Total word count of this new version is ~11k.

An exciting thing about this new version of the story is that we’ll get to see more of Marl, Rian’s bodyguard! He’s still a minor character by all means, but an important one, so him having almost nothing to do in the original version made little sense. I love having all this room to explore more stuff.

[dragonagecompanions]

hello, this is my first request :) unsure if your still taking requests but I was wondering how the companions (maybe romanced maybe not) would react to finding out the Inquisitor has a dead kid? I think the only way the party would find out is in the fade via the fear demon, and then maybe the advisors find out on their own ┐⁠(⁠ ⁠∵⁠ ⁠)⁠┌

idk but I would be truly honored to see you answer this request, and even if not than thank you for reading over it <33

- 🍡

WARNINGS For CHILD LOSS YOI HAVE BEEN WARNED

Cassandra: When the fear demon, gleeful in it’s telling of their leader’s loss, reveals the truth the Seeker is…well, there are no words. Forcibly she is reminded of how they swayed, pale and weeping, when she had said there were no other survivors. Guilt churns low and deep at her own words, a year and more gone now, throwing that fact in their face as accusation. Throwing such a loss in their face and then demanding answers.

Throwing a calling at their feet and demanding leadership, never knowing what a loss they struggled through.

She fights all the harder for them, as if every enemy batted away from them is attempted absolution. Cassandra Pentaghast thought she understood grief in all its facets, but what does the loss of older brother and parents- expected losses if come too soon- stand before the loss of a child? Maker, how do they still breathe through it?

When they are free of the fade, she approaches only to offer apology. If they wish to speak of their loss she will listen, but only then. She has forced enough from them.

Varric: Shit. Just…shit. Here he is, going on for months about how this story is bad for heroes and how the Inquisitor is the main character and blathering on, and never saw it. Never saw the aching grief, because it was never shown. The only example he has, or is at least intimately familiar with, is Leandra Hawk and his own mother.

And as the Inquisitor had never fallen into drink or taken to blaming whoever was closest to them for things outside of anyone’s control there had been no sign for Varric to catch on to. And it makes him feel…almost dirty. Stained with his own intentions, blithely going on while their leader had lost their kid.

He doesn’t bring it up to them, doesn’t know how, but Skyhold’s resident author is absolutely the own who tells Josephine as soon as they tumble out of the fade. That raven missive is a short and brutal telling, far from his normal goings on, and his guilt is manifold in it.

Solas: The Dread Wolf is not so unattached from the world as to not consider the losses suffered at the conclave, but for the most part -when he did turn his mind to them- they were mostly academic. A balance of power, and the loss of so many leaders among both chantry and mages a destabilizing force for his future efforts. Numbers laid cooly on a chart, beads on an abacus. The fortunes of war laid bare.

But more than one parent lost a child in that terrible moment, and siblings mourned. Children bereft, friends torn asunder, lovers left to weep alone for their loves. Listening to the fear demon enumerate the inquisitor’s loss magnifies the enormity of what happened, and though he will undoubtedly be the source of much worse for a moment the Dread Wolf cannot breathe.

It passes, of course, and when they leave the fade the rift mage dies his best not to carry those emotions out with him. This world is not to blame for his actions, for the destruction of his world, but he must restore it and so they must bear the cost. It is not fair to them, and it will be long months until he can be east about his plans.

In the interim, he dares to approach the inquisitor only once about their loss. He is there as a listening ear in the silence of his rotunda if they wish to speak of their sorrow. Or if they wish only a silent companion, he will direct the kindest spirits he can find to guard their dreams and remain at their side as long as he can.

Blackwall: Maker forbid. For a moment Skyhold’s would be warden is swamped by the images of Callier’s children, dead under tiny shrouds beside the ruined carriage at his command. Too many children fall victim to the machinations of their elders and with none to protect them from the fall out, but for all that most of Blackwall’s experience has been from the other side.

Being confronted with the parent who had lost a child, confronted with the knowledge that they had told none of them and had suffered under the burden alone was staggering. Damn it, they had all laid burdens at the Inquisitor’s feet and expected answers, demanded decisions and leadership in a word gone mad— and none had known what they had lost.

He doesn’t know what to say or how to act and instead channels everything into the fight to flee the fade. Rainier would be too much the coward to speak to their leader in the aftermath, but Blackwall- older and hopefully wiser from his own griefs- will offer quiet condolences and whatever aid he can. If they need to speak of it be will listen. And if not there is soft wood and chisel enough to grind out any feelings if that is what they need.

Vivienne: Children had never been in her destiny. As a mage, even one so elevated as to be all but free of the constraints of the circle, motherhood was forbidden to her. Any child of her womb would be sacrificed to the Chantry, given to a family deemed ‘more worthy’ to raise it.

And as a mistress, no matter how deeply the love between them bloomed, Bastian could never have given her such a blessing. He had children— an illegitimate child, and a mage child at that, would have been too great a weapon against him.

And so she had put it out of her mind, never allowed herself to consider or imagine what a son might look like, how a daughter might smile. To think of it would be a loss too great to contemplate—or so she had thought. Met with the active loss and overwhelming grief that their leader must feel, Madame de Fer is suddenly glad not to know how such a burden might rest on her soul.

Could she be so calm a leader as the Inquisitor, while bleeding out inside? Vivienne does not know, and that…well, terrifies her in a way little has. But she is not called iron for nothing, and so when all is calm again she will go the Herald and ask simply and plainly what she might do for them. If the answer is nothing she will abide by it. And if there is something that might in any way assuage their grief then she will ensure they have it.

Dorian: Well, that at least explains the Inquisitor’s uncharacteristically violent outburst, when Halward Pavus had made his way to Ferelden. Upon hearing the possible consequences of the blood magic ritual the Inquisitor had laid into the Magister, flaying with words when they could not use violence. Even the Pavus paterfamilias had seemed shaken by the diatribe, and Dorian had felt championed.

He is not so shallow as to feel betrayed by the knowledge of what terrible grief must have driven such an impassioned defamation of character, but can instead only ache for his friend’s loss. They must have been a wonderful parent, and in a quiet time later will gather his courage to tell them so.

Sera: It doesn’t really register in the moment, so great is her own fear of the Fade and it’s denizens, but later it will simply break the Red Jenny’s heart. Their leader lost a true little one, and still managed to bring themselves to protect the rest of the little people no matter their age.

Like Blackwall she will either offer distraction or uncharacteristic silence in comfort, baked goods an offering that feels too…personal for such a gaping loss. But her admiration for them grows exponentially.

The Iron Bull: Public, corporate grief is rare among the Qun. Not forbidden, exactly, but when everyone is given a role it also implies that every person is inherently replaceable in that role. As Koslun said, the tide rises and falls and things must work forward toward peace.

But the death of a child is different. Whether disease or violence or simple accident, losing an imereki is a tragedy. The Tamassran mourns, the others in their care mourn, and all those in the sphere of the lost one are permitted some little allowance for the loss. Things cannot grind to a halt- this is why parents are separated from children, to ensure the deep emotional bonds that are anathema to the Qun- but there is not simple acceptance without acknowledgement of the loss.

Not even that was given to the Inquisitor. It’s east to see the shock of the others even through his own fear, and the knowledge infuriates Bull enough to get him through the Fade. Their leader lost a child, and no one was there for them. Instead piled on the whole world and its imminent loss on their shoulders. It’s disgraceful.

Later, when Adamant is pacified and they return to Skyhold, he will pull them aside. It will be painful and it will be slow, and whether they need alcohol or pain or even the clinical breakdown that bondage and sex can only give-with their explicit consent- he will help them bleed the pain and begin the grieving process.

Cole: The pain was too big for him to help, the threads caught up in pain and joy and guilt and anger and terrible despair. He didn’t even have the words to describe it to others, and so had kept silent.

If they need him later he will help, but this loss is too big for a spirit unsure of how to act.

Cullen: Maker’s breathe. How could they…why did they not…Damn it, how could he not realize?! He had all but thrust the entire inquisition on a parent who had been robbed the chance to even bury their child, let alone mourn them.

Varric’s report rocks him to the core, and the commander in truth does not know what to do. If the rest of the inner circle has it well in hand he will simply work to make sure their leader has less in their plate. If they wish to discuss it with them, he is there and if not…

He hardly has the words anyway.

Josephine: She weeps over the missive, when it arrives. Their inquisitor has been hiding the worst of loses from them, putting on such a brave face to do so much. Like Cullen she works to make sure they have less to do when they return, but does pull them aside briefly to awkwardly hug them and ask if they want a memorial somewhere private in Skyhold.

Leliana: She knew. She knew from only a few days after, when her spies brought her everything there was on the Herald. And even The Nightingales Heart could ache for such a loss, but Leliana took her queues from the Herald and simply never discussed it. That does not change now— she will follow their lead.

Mod Fereldone

[aldeanotes]

the art of cooking

aemond / modern!reader, 16+, fluff / comedy / mild angst in later plot points. inspiration taken from kdrama mr. queen. reader is very bi and loves girls so much.  

summary: in which you are a famous young chef whose soul was transported into the body of some way too pretty and privileged noble woman. oh, and you’re supposed to marry a prince or whatever. anyway, can you test this to see if it's ready ? 

warnings: reader is batshit wild and doesn't have time for westerosi norms : ). characters will be ooc at times and this story is not entirely canon compliant.

chapter one: palate cleanser / 4.6k words

  When you open your eyes, flashes of your final moments pass by your mind in quick succession. You had thought your usual thinking spot at the bridge in the evening was your safe haven, but all it took was a hard shove from behind you to send you flipping over the edge. The impact on the water’s surface took out all of the air in your lungs before the water could. Maybe that was life’s final mercy to you – or its cruelest joke. After finally achieving what you’d set out to do in your tumultuous childhood, the universe had decided to rip it away from you. It was so ironic to you how easy something that had taken so long to build had crumbled.

  A dull headache has settled in your skull already when you come to, making you grit your teeth. You hiss a little and shift under the sheets of what you assume to be a bed. With a groan, you roll over onto your side, closing your eyes once more and  trying to escape the light coming into the room. Even that action caused your entire body to ache. Pulling the covers up closer to you, you hear the muffled voice of someone next to your bed but you bury your head deeper into the layers of fabric instead. 

  “Leave me alone,” you say, your voice coming out indistinguishable from under the covers. 

  It’s rather rude for someone to wake you up. 

  …. 

  That can’t be right, though. You live by yourself in your apartment. As that barely conscious thought comes to your mind, you snap your eyes open again and lower the covers down to peep up at the person. You’re greeted by an unfamiliar appearance – soft features on a small face. You’ve never seen this girl that’s staring at you with such concern before in your entire life. 

  “My lady,” she says. You can pick up the wavering at the beginning of her words as if she’s been startled by something. 

  You can only stare at her, perplexed. Your eyebrows knit together as you begin to slink away from her. 

  Undeterred by your reaction, she lets out a shaky sigh of relief. 

  “My lady, you’re awake!” She says as her hands come up to grip onto your shoulders. You freeze up. 

  Who is this strange girl dressed like she’s about to attend a renaissance fair?

  You open your mouth to say something, to tell her to get out and to demand who the hell she is, but she beats you to it. Your voice dies in your throat when you see the beginnings of tears appear in her eyes. You’re not sure if that makes you soften or if it makes you more confused. 

  “It’s so good that you’ve finally woken up,” she says, her grip getting a little tighter. You wince a bit in response. “It’s all my fault. Because I didn’t watch you close enough …” 

  Finally, you get your bearings enough to speak. “What is –”

  You cut yourself off. This isn’t your voice. You suck in a gasp, your hand coming up to rest on your throat. 

  “My voice,” you mumble. It’s still not right. Why do you sound like that? It’s much too high-pitched, too sweet sounding. This can’t be your voice. “What’s happened to my voice?” 

  Panic starts to seep into you. You push off the covers in a haste. The girl retracts her hands from you in response, and you scramble to your feet now that you’ve been given the opportunity to do so. Your body screams at you to stay still, but you refuse and will yourself to stand up straight against the aches. You point at the girl, who seems to cower away from you in both fear and confusion. 

  “Y-You–” You hear your voice stutter. “What did you do to my voice?!”

  “My lady,” she responds, almost pleading. “Y-You’re still out of sorts from the incident. Just calm down. Please!” 

  “Answer me,” you demand, but soon your eyes flicker around the room. 

  This is not your room back in the city. The room is made of stone and marble, a smooth and tall ceiling accentuated by a cool floor underneath your feet. Furniture made of finely carved wood decorates the interior, and the light coloured rugs and pillows pop out nicely amidst it all. And the bed – definitely not your twin sized bed back from home. An embroidered canopy sits above it, hung from the wall, while the haphazardly thrown bed covers seem to shine in the light cascading from the large windows.

  It’s extravagant – from the carvings in the walls to the thread of the pillows to the food laid on the side table and even the seemingly simple desk with books sprawled about it seems oddly … out of your budget. 

  “Where am I?” You ask, frantically glancing around. Kidnapping? Dream? 

  “You’re in your chambers, my lady. Your chambers in the Red Keep,” the girl answers, taking a small step towards you. Your eyes refocus back on her as she does and she stills immediately. 

  You don’t even know where that is. Must be someplace overseas. 

  “Who brought me here?” You start shuffling away from her when you see the large doors on the other side of the bed. If you make a run for it – 

  “The palace guards brought you here a-after you fell in the water,” the girl says but starts coming towards you slowly once more. “Please, my lady. You must rest. You need to preserve your health.” 

  “‘Preserve my health’, my ass. You–” You stop. 

  Your steps have carried you almost halfway through the room before your face becomes visible in a mirror propped up on a vanity. 

  Who is that girl looking back at you? Her hair falls down her shoulders in dark waves; her mouth is small; her face portrays a sweetness to her with such large, brown eyes. 

  “Who–” Her mouth moves with yours. What?

  You rush forward, your hands fumbling as they grip the mirror. Surprised gasps fall from your lips as “your” fingers come up to pull and pinch at “your” face. This is a dream. This is not you. Without a second thought, you bring a hand and slap yourself across the cheek. 

  The girl gasps from somewhere behind you. “My lady, what are you doing?!” 

  You slap yourself again on your other cheek. They both sting now but nothing happens. You don’t wake up. Your face doesn’t change. 

  “What did you do to me?!” Your voice carries through the room. 

  You whip your head around to look at the stranger that’s been in this room with you. Given the shocked expression that adorns her face, you almost feel bad for yelling if it weren’t for the wild way your heart was hammering inside of you. Your chest rises and falls so rapidly it should really frighten you. The girl’s lips quiver as she stammers to answer you, but you can’t wait any longer and make your way clumsily towards the door, nearly tripping over the edges of your sleepwear. You hear her call for you but you ignore it as you fling open the doors. 

  What - or rather, who - is before you surprises you just as much as the girl. The two guards dressed in their armor stand next to the doors. When they hear the doors open, they both turn their heads to look at you. You feel afraid when their eyes peer down at you, but they spin on their feet towards you and bow. The gesture catches you off guard for a second before you snap back to your senses and take off past them and into the vast, stone hallways of wherever this place is. 

  You hear them yelling for you but you keep trying to flee. Your legs grow heavy with each step. The skin of your feet hurt each time they meet the hard flooring underneath. It feels as if needles are slowly being sunk into your muscles, immobilizing more and more until your body unceremoniously slumps against the wall. You cling rather pathetically against the stone as you hear the sound of armor getting closer and closer before hands descend upon you. You’re dragged back kicking and screaming obscenities that even the devil would cover his ears for if he heard. 

  ***

  Whatever your “lady-in-waiting” – called “Jacquetta” or so she says – had given you after you’d called down knocked you out for some time again. A sensation of floating settled onto you before your eyes closed completely. You wished to dream. You did not. You never did anymore. 

  When you come to, you feel a hand softly brushing a lock of hair from your face. It reminds you of your mother. Foolishly, as always, you open your eyes and hope to see her there, but it’s just another stranger. This one looks weary like your mother used to, but she gazes upon you with a certain tenderness that disarms you. She smiles at you, and your lips twitch upwards involuntarily. 

  “How are you feeling, my sweet girl?” The woman asks you. 

  You can do nothing but look into her brown eyes. Even in a hazy state, you can pluck out the contents that swirl in her irises – kindness, exhaustion, something guarded. Her chestnut hair is held together too tightly in a pristine bun, and even her green dress almost feels too put together. You’re not suited to be near such order, such cleanliness. But no matter, you think. 

   You shake your head weakly at her. She gives your hand a light squeeze. 

  “The Maesters will help you. You must rest.” And she does something you longed for – she tucks you into the bed further. 

  As your eyes close, you hear her sigh. An uneasiness makes its way into your chest. You did always hate disappointing mothers. Jacquetta and the woman seem to whisper in some distant corner of the room. You don’t care about the urgency in their tones. For the first time in a long time, you wanted to see your mother. 

***

  “And the queen is Alicent Hightower,” you say, watching Jacquetta brush your hair in the mirror. “That’s who came to visit me last week, yeah?”

  Jacquetta smiles widely at you. “Very good. You’re still a quick learner, my lady.” 

  You’ve come to realize that she’s a rather cheerful young lady. After you calmed down in the following days, you had to deal with her sobbing in your arms because apparently you are the source of all her concerns and sorrows. (‘My lady, how could you forget about me? We have been childhood companions for so long! Oh, by the Seven!’ - you’d never had anyone be so upset about something outside of your control like that before). 

  You wink at her in the mirror. “I’ve got plenty of good qualities.” 

  Even though your antics perplex her, she seems to go along with them for your sake. 

  You’ve been in this body for exactly eight days and six of those had been used for rest and treatment by the maesters. Therefore, when you’d been allowed out of bed, you made sure to poke Jacquette for things you “forgot” and scribble them down in a journal for your convenience. You look over the bullet points every night. You’d made peace with the fact that as long as you are confined to this elaborately decorated room, you won’t be able to look for ways to go back home. Your mind had concocted a temporary plan to go along with whatever the hell your life has become. For right now. 

  “Do we like her?” You ask. 

  “‘We’?” Jacquetta says, raising an eyebrow.

  “Yeah, like,” you say, “Is she cool?” 

  “‘Cool?’”

  You sigh. “Is she our friend, basically?”

  That seems to dishearten Jacquetta a bit, but she answers anyway. “Queen Alicent has known you since you were a child at court. She had you at the side of Princess Heleana as a childhood companion. Your house and House Hightower have been close allies for many decades, my lady.”

  They do say that networking is a great professional skill. Turns out who you know holds true even in this world. You didn’t have the time or will power to comb through the anthologies that Jacquetta had brought from the royal archives about the intricacies of the families across this land called Westeros. The history must certainly be rich, but you don’t plan on staying here. It would be a waste to try to learn everything aside from what you need to make it through the daily happenings. 

  “It was the most joyous day of your life when Queen Alicent had you betrothed to Prince Aemond.” 

  Huh. 

  You meet Jacquetta’s wide smile with a look of pure horror. Your mouth is hanging open like a fish that’s surprised it bit onto a hook instead of a worm. Jacquetta’s smile falters. 

  “W-Wait,” you stutter, “Hold on. You didn’t say anything about getting married. I can’t get married. I don’t want to get married.” 

  She senses the panic in your voice and tries to comfort you. The brush is set aside, abruptly forgotten. 

  “You’ve been wanting this arrangement since you were just a girl,” she says, giving your shoulders a comforting squeeze. “The incident has confused your mind so much. You’ve dreamed of this day since you were younger than ten years old. You practically begged your parents for them to accept the proposal. Even your elder sister couldn’t have made a finer match than this.” 

  “People’s dreams can change!” You counter, standing up. 

  The chair screeches across the floor. Even in this new body, you fall back into old habits as the panic grips on you suddenly. You pace - back and forth, back and forth. You rub the back of your neck with too much force. When that offers no comfort, your fingers dig into the fabric of your dress, bunching up the skirt. Back and forth, back and forth. 

  “No, no, no,” you say, shaking your head. “I can’t get married. No way. I’d rather die. I mean, look at me!” You give Jacquetta a pleading look. “Is this the face of someone who is ready to get married?” 

  “My lady, you are a woman grown already,” she responds.

  “To who?!” You shout back. 

  Who even is a woman grown at this age? Your age is similar to that of this person you've found your soul transported into. However, through many unpleasant incidents during your formative years, you've grown up quicker than your peers your age. But the “you” of this world is still a young idiot in your eyes. Someone like “you” shouldn’t be getting married to anyone for anything. Not even the glamor of marrying a prince and becoming a princess can enthrall you. 

  Not to mention – you’d already decided since you were young that you didn’t want to get married. It’s better for you to stay by yourself in your apartment with your herbal plants growing plentifully on the balcony. Marriage is not a joy to look forward to for you. It’s a trap. It’s a predetermined failure. 

  “Uh–” You draw out your voice before you snap your fingers. You had an idea. “Tell Queen Alicent that I need to talk to her. I changed my mind about the marriage. Tell her to break it off.” 

  Jacquetta looks at you as if you’ve gone insane. “You cannot just break a royal marriage agreement, my lady. This is for the benefit of the realm, and it would certainly make it so you will never be able to find another match again.”

  “Perfect.” That’s what you want anyway. 

  She huffs at you, finally having had her patience tested enough. “I will call for the maesters again. You are still unwell.” 

  “I am not unwell!” You yell after her as she exits your chambers. “I’m perfectly normal compared to the people in this place!”

*** 

  The maesters come anyway because nobody really cares what you think or what you want, you realize. They ask you some questions that annoy you (like what your name is, your house, all of that tedious information you can barely remember) because you’re certain you got at least half of the answers right but that wasn’t satisfactory enough for them apparently. So they whisper amongst themselves and then whip up some god awful concoction for you to sip on. You don’t ask what it’s made of because you think you’d prefer not to know. Your taste buds have always been good, though, and you can taste the distinct flavor of mint and vinegar. 

  You prove to be a difficult princess-to-be, demanding they clean their utensils several times over before you allowed them to bring them anywhere near you. Maybe you’re getting ahead of yourself, but you have the distinct feeling that this world hasn’t learned of aseptic techniques yet. They inspect your throat for a cold and then give you the plague. Dramatic, but it could happen. You don’t plan on dying before you can get back to your original body. 

  Their visit irritates you until their final treatment plan for you – go back to the original place of the incident to summon back your memories. You take back every horrible thought you had about them. This is exactly what you wanted. It supposedly had been vehemently refused by Alicent and Otto ( “Her father, the Hand,” Jacquetta whispers in your ear when your fast twists into a confused expression), but you made a big plea to them through Jacquetta to allow you to go outside. You used the excuse that you wanted to start walking again and not be confined to your chambers, and you could have Jacquetta with you. 

  That’s how you end up taking a leisurely stroll through the gardens of the Red Keep. Unfortunately, in addition to Jacquetta, you have an entourage of other ladies trailing after you. You have to admit that the flora and fauna on display in the middle of spring here are lovely, and you can recognize some flowers that grow back in your world as well. The ambiance is perfect. Maybe you should consider adopting the decor for an outdoor patio for your restaurant. 

  “When they found you, it was just in time,” Jacquetta explains as she leads you through the gardens. Her hands hold firmly onto your arm as you walk, almost as if you were going to keel over by a gust of wind.  “You had fallen into the large pond in the southernmost part of the gardens at night. It had shocked everyone, even Prince Aemond had rushed as soon as he heard the news.” 

  Your betrothed, apparently. Jacquetta seems to want to paint him as someone concerned for your wellbeing, but you roll your eyes when she looks away. For a guy that is supposedly someone “you” were happy to get married to, he didn’t come to see you the entire time you’ve been recovering. Though, admittedly, it had only been Queen Alicent who came. Whether it was because he just wasn’t interested or wasn’t able, you didn’t care. You plan on leaving this place before you have to go through the complex situation of marrying this Prince Aemond guy. 

  “Oh, he did?” you reply, more focused on the flower you’re twirling between your fingers. “That’s nice, I guess. Hey, Jackie – ” She gives you a strange look. “Which part of the gardens are we in right now?”

  “The eastern part, my lady.” 

  You point behind you. “And that way?”

  “That is the northern part.” 

  You hum, nodding. You look around a little before spotting a flowering tree with soft pink blossoms on it. With a smile, you point to it. 

  “Can you get one of those for me, Jackie?” You ask sweetly. 

  Jacquetta returns your smile and moves towards the tree. As soon as she gets halfway between you and the tree, you drop the flower in your hands and sprint away. 

  “My lady!” You hear everyone’s voices screaming for you behind you as you run away from them in the direction of the pond. 

  You switched bodies when you fell in water, so you’re determined to jump back into the same place. At best, it’ll return you back to your body and at worst, it just makes you look like you’re out of your mind. You pick up your dress skirts high and force your legs to carry you faster. 

  “My lady, you mustn't lift your skirt!” Somebody shouts from behind you. Well, you don’t give a damn for the conventions of this world!

  You can hear your entourage yelling and chasing after you. Your little legs move as quickly as they can as you rush through the gardens, getting smacked by some bushes and trees along the way. You glance back to see that Jacquetta and the others are a ways behind you, and you feel relieved until you turn your head back to the front and see some other servants have come to stop you. 

  “Get out of the way!” You yell before hopping into one of the denser parts of the garden and rushing through it. 

  Dirt has begun to cling to your dress and shoes. You wince every time a scratch appears on your face and exposed skin but you power through it as you flee from your pursuers. You jump over a little wall enclosing some flower bushes and see a balcony jutting out in front of you. You rush over to it and lean over it. Down below is your safe haven, your miracle portal – the pond. The railing is a bit high for you to jump over while you’re stationary. 

  You hear shouting coming from behind you, and you can see everyone rushing towards you. It’s now or never, you guess. You rush a little ways away from the ledge and bounce on your feet a bit, getting ready to sprint and leap over the railing. You waste no time as you charge full speed ahead towards the ledge. You’re on your way until you feel a sudden force on your stomach that knocks the wind out of you. 

  Your mouth opens to speak but you end up just choking on air instead. Your hands fumble for your stomach and you feel something sturdy wrapped around your waist. You jerk your head upwards and are met with a single purple eye. Something hitches in your throat. 

  This person has such a sharp look to him. His one eye peering down at you while the other is covered by an eyepatch, the lavender hue of one popping out against the long, platinum white hair that frames his face. Yet, you can clearly see the scar that runs straight down. He’s strong. You can tell just from the way he’s got his arm around you that he’s someone that could throw you over this ledge if you really convinced him to.

  “Hey, buddy–” He raises an eyebrow at your words.

  He feels intense in a way that you can’t describe. You’ve met many people in your life but this guy is unique. 

  “Pal,” you continue because you have no sense. “Can you please let go? I need to just take a little hop over there.”

  You try to pull away from him but he’s got a firm grip. The shouting is getting closer, and you quickly glance back to see that your pursuers might as well already have you.

  “You’re a good person, yeah?” You ask. He doesn’t even grace that with a response. You can’t tell if the way his lips twitch is in amusement or annoyance. “Let me go. It’s none of your business what I do anyway, right?”

  “Actually–” Shit, he has a deep voice. “It is my business, my lady.” 

  And with that, he proceeds to hand you over to Jacquetta and whoever else you’ve made look like a fool in this little chase of yours. 

  “H-Hey!” You yell as they gasp and nearly cry at the sight of you, dragging you away. “You’re a bast–”

  “Please see to it that she is brought to her chambers. I will come soon,” he says, cutting you off. 

  Jacquetta quickly offers a bow before forcefully ushering you away as you yell at his retreating form. 

***

  So there you were, sitting slumped in a chair in “your” chambers, having been so effortlessly stopped in your attempted escape through the gardens by a man with silver hair and an eyepatch. With dirt caked on your dress, flower petals scattered around your unruly hair, and gods know how many scratches on your exposed arms from your clumsy maneuvering through the greenery trying to escape. The man in question sits across from you, his finger tapping on the wood of his chair, waiting and looking at the fire. You don’t even give the flames a glance as you keep glaring at him. What a punk – is all you can think. 

  For stopping you from running away from the servants who were dead set on dragging you back into these chambers, for handing you off to them without even thinking about your pleas. How dare he? And all things considered, after being told you’re engaged to a prince of all people, you’d think he’d have more consideration of that fact too. Maybe he doesn’t know who “you” are. Yeah, that’s probably it. 

  Even if you hated the new life you’d woken up to, you could flex some of your status a bit, right? Just this once. 

  “You’ve really got a lot of nerve,” you say, and the man finally gives you the time of day. 

  Even the way his single eye stares at you pisses you off. He looks at you like you’ve just exhausted all his energy for the day, and it spurns you off to throw your weight around a bit more. 

  “I had somewhere to be –” Which was not here. “And you just handed me off like I was a sack of trash. Do you have any idea who I–”

  “I know who you are,” he cuts you off with a quick response. His voice has a certain coldness to it, but it doesn’t deter you. 

  “Oh, yeah? Then you must know I’m betrothed -” You emphasize the last word. “To a prince.” 

  You see the corner of his mouth twitch as if he found that funny. Like it was a joke to him. He cocks his head to the side slightly like he’s observing you. Alicent did that during the first initial visit to “you” after “you” woke up. 

  “It seems the Maesters were telling the truth, you are out of sorts,” he says before standing up and taking a small step closer to you. 

  Now, you were intimidated by him as he towers above you. You’re suddenly very aware of his stature – taller than you, much more muscular than you. The purple iris that peers down at you through his lashes is an eerily beautiful sight, even you must admit to it. Your fingers dig into the wooden arm chairs. You take a deep breath and your chest sticks out involuntarily. It’s a pathetic display of bravery (foolishness, more like it), and the man pays it no special attention. 

  “My lady–” You hate the way anyone calls you that. “I am your betrothed.”

  Silence settles between you two. Your eyes stare up at him, widened to their fullest. You take a slow, obnoxious, audible breath in and then–

  You proceed to laugh in his face. 

  You must have annoyed him enough to chase him away because after a few moments of watching you and tapping his fingers against the arm of the chair, he stalks away without another word. 

  “Sick eyepatch, though,” you say after him, managing to squeeze it out between your chuckles.

[gingerylangylang1979]

Carmy is a problematic fuck boi who doesn't deserve Sydney at the moment. But look at how Rick and Michonne turned out.

I really actually don't begrudge anyone who questions Carmy's worthiness of Sydney, shipper or not. Like, I get it. I was ready to drop his ass so many times both seasons. But... this is how these stories go. If you have a traumatized leading man, he's going to make you give him side-eye, you're going to think he's not made for love, and as much as I hate it, you are going to see him be a raging dick and disappointment to the woman he loves... until, he isn't. This isn't me excusing good women being with bad men. This is me explaining the trope of a good men, acting bad, who becomes a good man, acting good, because this woman inspires his transformation. Please note, I didn't say fix. She doesn't do the work for him, she is the catalyst for him deciding to change and she will support him and check him along the way and he will be what she needs in time. That's just how this works folks.

When Rick first meets Michonne, he doesn't even think she's real. His wife just died, a woman who left him with a baby fathered by his best friend, who he had to kill before he killed him. He's delusional, distrustful, hopeless. He sees this woman in the distance who is in dire need and despite his trauma, his instinct is to bring her in. Once in camp, he inspects her in the most intimate way, a way that is way over the top. He is already drawn to touch her. Once she is conscious again he is suspicious, he says he wants her gone, he sets up scenarios that should drive her away... yet, whenever she is gone he freaks out. He will welcome her back each time.

My favorite is when he literally has her at gunpoint because he just made up that she is a threat, and he takes her sword, disarms her, but he still welcomes her back. He just doesn't want her to be able to hurt him. Get it? And we know she's important to him, even if he doesn't admit it, because when their enemy demanded her in exchange for the safety of the rest of the camp, he wouldn't do it. I don't even think he knew why. But he couldn't do it. And even before he actually really knew her, he entrusted her with his most precious love, his child. And when she went out on her own mission, he was sad and worried. He was upset when she didn't need his help.

I could go on. But the point is he treated her like shit and then things slowly changed. By the time they became a couple he went off the rails quite a few times, had a love interest, etc. but the whole time, in the background, Michonne was becoming his partner not only in leadership, but in life. If she was ok, he was ok. If she wanted to make a move, he made the move. If he needed a second by his side, it was her no doubt. And Michonne could handle shit on her own, wanted to for a long time, but then through meeting Rick she decided to let someone in and wanted it, knew she wasn't whole without it. So by the time they became a couple, it was earned by both of them. The both had to change. But before that change, Rick was erratic, insane, often irrational, and he was sometimes that way with her, at one point mostly with her. But it changed. Because that is growth, that is character development, that is good storytelling.

So, when I see Carmy still struggling so hard and Syd struggling so hard at his side, because of him, I remember that this is that kind of love story. It's a love story seeded in the midst of chaos, uncertainty, distrust, but also an undeniable pull to each other that is at times inexplicable, questionable, but fated in a way only two broken people can be. They aren't going to have the kind of love story where he is a perfect prince from day one or his progress is linear. And that makes it better because look at what happened with Richonne. They became co-leaders, family, lovers. It's possible. So, I'm going to continue to be patient with Carmy Bear and see where this goes.

[yuseirra]

I ALREADY MADE AN ANALYSIS THAT THERE'S SOMETHING TAUNTING KAMIKI TO BECOME INSANE BACK ON JULY 11TH!!!!JULY 11TH!!!! AFTER FATAL WAS OUT!!! MEPHISTO IS HIS SONG!!!!!

oH GOD... I should have.. I should have posted that here too but it's one of the posts that didn't make it, why didn't I????? Let me bring a rough machine translated version of it okay. I have proof. I wrote it back so long ago!!!! Not long after I listened to Fatal!!!!!! UGH!!!UGH!!! I ALREADY PREDICTED THIS!!!! I

oH GOOdness. I'm going to get so many things right about this comic. I am not joking. THIS is how it's going to be. I.. I can't explain things any other way. I just. I just can't, if this isn't it, it's beyond my abilities to make sense of this character. but I'm really good with these. I feel I will be right.

***

I was listening to Mephisto and I really got a sense of it. This whole song is from Kamiki’s perspective, isn’t it? I was right that this boy (34 years old) offered something huge for Ai, wasn’t I? There’s a line like, "Since I gave you my life, you granted me time." People probably thought that was about Aqua, but I don’t think so.

As I mentioned before, here’s my theory: this guy practically has no will to live. After learning that Ai had died, there was probably nothing left in his life to be happy about or look forward to. I still need to dig deeper to understand exactly how much he directly contributed to that, but judging by his character, he didn’t seem like the type to do something extreme to others—at least not before he parted ways with Ai. Even if he wasn’t directly responsible for Ai’s death like Nino was, he probably did something that he’s been suffering immense guilt over, thinking, "I shouldn’t have done that." (If Kamiki really did give Ryosuke the address on purpose, then he’s seriously lost his mind… but from what I can tell, it seems like he was drunk. How on earth did those two meet anyway? ;) In any case, while others might think, "Well, it’s hard to say he’s the reason Ai died," Kamiki might believe he is. He may have even tried to kill himself after Ai’s death.

This character’s nature isn’t inherently that aggressive. When the people who tormented him died, he was overcome with guilt and emotional burden. He’s someone who gets hurt easily and is quite sensitive. (Even Ai leaving was probably because she thought he couldn’t bear the thought of having to take responsibility for their children on top of everything else. But I think...he would have been okay as long as he had her with him.) He struggled with the deaths of the people who wronged him, so when Ai died, he likely broke down even more, spiraling to the point where he was on the brink of death.

But perhaps at that point, he couldn’t die, and some godlike figure appeared before him offering a deal. He might not be able to die until he completes that deal. And since he has no attachment to life, it doesn’t matter what happens to him in the process. Out of desperation to undo the mistakes he believes he made, he might be willing to do things he normally wouldn’t. In Chapter 154, the surprised expression he had was because he never considered the idea that Ai might have worried about him. He thought she would live happily without a care for what happened to him. He had no doubt that everything would be fine as long as he did his part, but when he realized that wasn’t true, he was shocked.

The whole idea of a deal with a god is just speculation, as that’s not explicitly laid out in the story, but Tsukuyomi did appear. This is a world where gods can manifest physically. Besides that, I can’t think of any other motivation that would keep him going. Back when I analyzed Aqua and considered Mephisto to be his feelings, I mentioned something similar.

The speaker in Mephisto is in a mental state where "it wouldn’t be strange if they died at any moment." That intense feeling hit me while listening to the song, and it was heartbreaking.

Also, some of the lyrics are as follows:

"Tears and sweat filled to the brim are traces of blood" (If it’s Aqua, why does it mention "blood" here?)

"There’s never a day of relief"

"Every day, sad lights gather"

(What does it mean for "lights" to gather? Could it be related to people with star eyes?)

"Born of the abyss"

This fits Kamiki more than Aqua, especially the line, "You’re empty, so there’s no way you could receive love."

The mention of a "last chance" suggests that there isn’t much time or opportunity left, but Aqua has never really shown a sense of urgency about completing his revenge. Kamiki, on the other hand, likely views it as a race against time because he has something to accomplish.

Kamiki is someone who has been swayed and hurt a lot in life, and the only thing he truly loved and wanted was Ai. If he’s going to take action, it’s only for Ai. He has no lingering attachments to life. I think this theory is correct. It has to be. Otherwise, how do these songs even make sense?

What’s really funny is that every time I dive into a genre, I always end up picking the character who sacrifices themselves. There’s always a couple where one sacrifices for the other, but I never got that vibe from Aqua and Kana.

But if things unfold this way, it’s just too familiar, and that’s what’s funny. It’s like, "How does this always happen wherever I go?" So if I’m right, it’s hilarious. I listen to a lot of music, and in genres where the songs are well made, I tend to analyze them based on the lyrics. And when it comes to my favorite songs, I feel like they capture the essence of the story or the emotions so accurately, so it leaves an impression on me.

These songs are spoilers. I’m hesitant to speak too confidently because this excitement might fade later, but whenever I listen to the songs, I feel sure of my conclusions.

GUYS!!! LISTEN!!! I GOT SO MANY THINGS RIGHT ABOUT THIS COMIC I EVEN LOST TRACK.... I THINK THIS IS IT. I JUST CAN'T EXPLAIN THIS CHARACTER'S ACTIONS OTHERWISE. HELP

[emilykaldwen]

The Maiden and the Drowning Boy | Aegon x OC | Chapter Twelve

Rating: Explicit

Ships: Aegon II Targaryen x Abrogail Strong (Lyonel Strong's Daughter), Jacaerys Velaryon x Helaena Targaryen

Summary: As the kingdom teeters on the edge of chaos, Alicent Hightower swaps the pieces on the board: Aegon will marry Abrogail Strong, Larys’ younger sister and heir to Harrenhal. Caught in the web of intrigue and political machinations, the pair must figure out where their loyalties lie, and what they mean to one another.

Tropes: Childhood Sweethearts/Friends to Lovers, Generational Trauma and Cycles of Abuse, It's All About the Character Development, Unreliable Narrators, Multi-POV, Canon Divergent, Bisexual Aegon II Targaryen, Book/Show Mash Up, Fix-It Of Sorts, Stopping the Cycle of Abuse before it gets us all killed, Team Neutral, fairy tale vibes meets victorian medievalism meets grrm

no tag list. please follow @emkald-fic and turn on post notifications for updates or subscribe on AO3

Tumblr Masterpost

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven

AO3 Link

High Valyrian Translations (the longer sentences are within the text) Mittys - Fool laodijes peldios - Thieving Snake Sparos bonus issa - Who is she? Kepus issa - My Uncle hāedus - niece Trēsys - nephew Muñus - aunt]

AUTHOR'S NOTES: As a reminder, this is a TEAM NEUTRAL story. I will not accept character bashing in my comments (unless it's Viserys Targaryen who deserves everything). I reserve the right to curate my comment section. Please leave your hate for any characters to your own blogs.

CHAPTER TWELVE - Bastard on the Burning Sea

Jace and Baela get a Targaryen greeting, and Viserys shows he still has fangs.

Viserys looked small sitting next to the stone miniature of the Valyrian Freehold. Even when it had only taken up the center of the solar, it had still dwarfed him. In the nearly two decades of their marriage, Alicent had watched it grow, encroaching upon the free space bit by bit, like the empire itself had centuries ago. He kept to his alcove with his books and research piled around him and Eddard, the stone mason, loyally by his side with carved pieces placed precisely where they needed to go.

It was Alicent who sat at her husband’s long abandoned desk, fingers trailing over the delicate, rosewood knotwork along the top edge where the inkwell securely sat and dipped her pen, fingers smoothing over the parchment before her.

“Have the plans for the dais been completed?” she asked the young scribe who had come bearing updates on the wedding preparations.

“Yes, my queen.” He unfurled the parchment to show the diagram of the dragon pit, and the structure that was being commissioned where it would go in the center, the seating for the nobility of the realm ringed around it so all could view her son’s nuptials unimpeded. None could claim insult if all had a relatively equal view around the ritual, and the small folk could fill the risers that lined the pit, spectators to see the king’s first born son make his marriage vows. While rumors had ripped through the city and the realm in regards to Rhaenyra’s first marriage - brutally cut short in the wake of the riot in the throne room, the murder of Ser Joffrey at Ser Criston’s hands - and then her secretive, second marriage to The Rogue Prince, there would be no hiding, no rumor mongering when it came to Aegon’s marriage. There would be no doubt to his bride, no implied underhandedness and scheming behind closed doors.

Her son would be given his due, the honor he was entitled to as the long prayed for son of their blessed King Viserys. Her son was a Targaryen, named for the Conqueror himself. The River Lords could see it, and Alicent would ensure the small folk saw it, that the realm saw it.

Her son was the prince Viserys had longed for. Her son that she had nearly died for, frightened and alone in the childbed. Her son was who she had been sacrificed for, and she would not let him be denied, to be cast aside so cruelly, so publicly, as Aemond had been. None of her children deserved this disdain, this neglect. Not when they rode dragons and bore the coloring of their father’s house. When they were so Targaryen she could not recognize them half the time.

Then, perhaps, her father would be satisfied. Then, perhaps, Otto Hightower might be content.

Alicent absently rubbed her wrist, the pain a phantom twinge now.

Her eyes scanned the sketch before her, nodding in approval. “Good. Keeping the small folk contained to the risers will be critical.”

“The guild master has expressed concern in regards to so many in proximity of the dragon pit, your grace.” Alicent pursed her lips in thought, a slight nod.

“Plenty of people live and work in proximity of the pit-”

“Are you looking to set a feast for the dragons, Alicent?” Viserys’ rasping voice interrupted and she looked over to her husband who was focused upon the statue in his hand.

“I’m looking at seating arrangements for our son’s wedding, husband.” A tight smile crossed her face and normally, that would be enough to send him back along to caring about anything else but their children.

‘My children’, she thought possessively, protectively. Viserys had forfeited the right to call them his in private when he had done nothing, made no overture, symbolic or otherwise, for Aemond’s maiming.

“I thought he was to be married at Harrenhal, since he’ll be the future lord. This is a Riverlands affair.”

‘Warrior, give me strength. Mother, give me patience’. Alicent did not look away from her husband, holding his gaze steadily. She could dismiss the stone mason and scribe, but she waited for him to make his move, since he wanted to insert himself into the conversation he previously had no interest in before.

“Aegon is the first born son of the king,” she said tightly, trying to keep her tone even and refusing to let her frustration creep into her voice. “The realm will expect us to spare nothing in celebration of his nuptials, especially with him marrying someone not of Targaryen blood.”

Silence was the answer, Viserys watching her, quiet, before lifting his hand in a dismissive gesture. Both the scribe and the stone mason quickly gathered their items, bowing and leaving the solar. The heavy door shut behind them with a resounding thud after Ser Harrold gave a cursory glance back and Alicent was left with her husband, alone, with the crackling fire for company.

She rose, going to the side table where wine had been replaced with various tinctures and clean water. Wine had been prohibited the past moon in an effort to slow the encroaching rot along his spine that had given the king fits. Horrifying episodes that filled Alicent with fear that he would expire there, limbs frozen as his deteriorating muscles locked into place.

“Here,” she said without allowing protestation, pouring him the careful measure of water and the amber coloured liquid that smelled of savory herbs and something sharp and medicinal. She held her other hand out for the intricately carved statue of some type of ancient dragonlord and met Viserys’ lilac gaze. He sighed and exchanged the figurine for the tincture and Alicent set it carefully aside and folded her hands at her waist. “The realm has declared for Rhaenyra, but they will still find it strange if we do not hold a wedding for Aegon.”

“When did I say that we wouldn’t hold a wedding? I said that it should be held in the Riverlands, because Aegon will be the future Lord of Harrenhal.” He gave a slight salute with his cup and forced back the contents of it, wincing and shaking his head at the taste of it. He fumbled in setting the cup aside and Alicent reached for it before it could fall to the floor. “Ah. Thank you.”

“Are you feeling well? Come, sit by the fire, my love.” She gently reached for him but Viserys threw out his arm, knocking her hand away.

“You are trying to change the subject, Alicent. Do not think me so far gone I do not see it,” he said sharply, the snaggle toothed grit of his teeth on display. Alicent drew back instinctively, not for fear of being struck but at the angry sound of his voice. She cursed herself for her weakness. Viserys was not a terrifying man except in the power he occasionally wielded. He was no image of her own father, whose harsh tones would root her frozen and frightened to the spot.

“I am doing no such thing.”

The hand that gripped her wrist was a strange feeling. Visery’s skin felt fragile, like parchment, dry and cracked and as cold as a specter, as certainly as the Stranger himself when he grabbed her wrist to keep her from moving away. There was little strength in it, but the action of it was what drew her to stillness.

“There is no reason for Aegon to be wedded in the dragon pit in front of all of King’s Landing. Not when Rhaenyra’s own nuptials were a private affair.” Heat flushed through her chest and along her throat and she kept herself from snapping back that Rhaenyra’s wedding had been anything but a private affair.

Instead, she said, “He is your eldest son, Viserys. The realm expects-”

His grip on her wrist tightened and she could actually feel it this time before he flung her away. Had he the strength, he might have shoved her back. Alicent did, indeed, take a step back from him when he pushed himself from his chair.

“The realm expects me to wage war on the Stepstones. The realm expects me to name my eldest son heir. The realm expects me to bow to their whims. It is I who is king!” His shout was unexpected and loud, the gruff bark of an angry dog, for Alicent could never see her husband as the dragon whose sigil he claimed. “I rule this realm! I make the laws, Alicent, and it is I who will decide how my eldest son’s wedding is done.”

She breathed in slowly through her nose and knotted her fingers tighter in her skirt to keep them from trembling. Frustration flared inside her and she wanted to scratch at him, scream and rip at him why Aegon was now his son, and never before. Why did it matter now, why did her children matter to him for something like a wedding?

Why had they not mattered to him when Aemond needed him most, when they had all needed him the most?

“Of course, my king,” Alicent bit out. “Forgive me, for I did not think you would be interested in Aegon’s wedding.” It was as close as she could get to speaking her mind, aware of how close she was to pushing Viserys into something foolish and reckless. It was one thing to accuse Viserys of inaction, but she had been careful of pushing him since that night, when the accusations flew. When her anger and her rage and her overwhelming helplessness, the smell of her son’s blood on the air, of every flinch, every whimper that escaped him, had overtaken her.

I will never be Aemma Arryn.

“And, pray tell, why wouldn't I be interested in our son’s nuptials?” Viserys sneered and she wanted to wrap her hands around his papery neck, and strangle the life from him. Alicent tilted her head back, squaring her shoulders and pinning him with a long, hard look. Tears of anger pricked at the corner of her eyes and the all consuming urge to scream was threatening to claw out of her throat and pierce the air.

“You have left the bringing up of our children to me, Viserys.” Her voice was stilted and shaking. “Their care and their futures have been entrusted to me, and you have never involved yourself. You barely paid attention when I brought up Daeron squiring for my brother, Gwayne, in Oldtown. You gave barely any congratulations when your son bonded with your beloved father’s dragon.”

“Oh, well,” Viserys let out a mirthless huff. “I do quite recall how you claimed that I would make no decision over our children’s future when Rhaenyra brought up the idea of betrothing Jacaerys and Helaena. I believe your words were ‘not until you were cold in your grave’.”

Her nails dug into the flesh of her palms. “And I recall you just telling me that you were the king and that you would make the decisions.” She wanted to tear at him.

The tension was thick enough that Alicent swore she could see it shimmer between them, like breath fogging in the cold air of winter. Did the king feel any remorse? Did he feel any shame for his utter lack of involvement in the lives of his children? The man had even struggled with speaking to his most beloved daughter and he’d made Rhaenyra his heir. Why had he wed her and bedded her if not for more children? What was the point of it all?

Her eyes briefly strayed to his hand, and the gold ring his thumb rubbed against, rotating it around his finger with the motion.

He would have been better, him and Aemma, with a country keep and rooms full to bursting with books.

I would have been happier with a knight of song and charm. With apple orchards and gentle children.

I was a child. I was a child and it didn’t matter to you.

We would have both been happier without dragons.

Dragons had stolen everything from her, even toothless ones such as the frail wraith of a man before her.

Alicent wondered if she truly saw a flicker of shame across her husband’s eyes before he reached for his cane to make his way towards the fire. Instinctively, she went to pull the blanket from where it hung, warmed by the fire, helping him into the chair, wanting to push him into the blaze and free her and her children from this man.

He didn’t look at her as he settled. “Ensure that the rooms for Jacaerys and Baela have been prepared. Perhaps in the North tower. From the top, you can see Dragonstone on a clear day.”

The air was pulled from Alicent’s lungs and she froze in adjusting the blanket over Viserys’ lap. Her gaze locked on his when her head tilted up, so unbearably close to him that their noses may touch. She drew back as if burned.

“What?” Propriety escaped her and she shook her head. “Whatever do Jacaerys and Baela have to do with anything?”

Viserys settled back in his chair. “My grandson is here to serve as cupbearer on the small council. Rhaenyra suggested that Baela may blossom under the excitement of the capital.”

Aemond was meant to be cupbearer. Even with Abrogail’s insistence that Aegon should attend council meetings, Alicent wanted that for Aemond. With Helaena’s promise that there would be no wedding between her and her brother, Aemond was set to be the next Lord of Storm’s End.

Aemond deserved this honor, not the plain faced boy who shared a smile with her soon to be good daughter.

Who shared Lyonel’s smile.

Who shared Harwin’s smile.

“When will they be arriving?” she rasped. Viserys waved a negligent hand, already pulling a book into his lap.

“They departed from Dragonstone yesterday morning with clear skies. They should be here by the morning as long as the winds stay fair.” Mere hours. She had hours to prepare for this. Three days to lose her mind and keep smiling and entertaining the River Lords, to finish the preparations for the birthday feast and the engagement announcement.

Her eyes darted to the throw pillow on the opposite chair, her fingers twisting together before she folded them against her waist.

“I’ll make sure their quarters are prepared for them and that they’re comfortable.” The words were not her own. Alicent didn’t feel like she herself was saying him. She felt distant from her body, the way she so often felt pinned beneath him in those early days of their marriage. The need to flee, to escape, to be anywhere else but there.

If Viserys had dismissed her, she didn’t know. All Alicent knew was that she yanked open the door herself, striding past a startled Ser Westerling and heard the clink of metal against stone as Criston followed a half step behind her. His presence at her back did little to soothe her, but enough that she did not start tearing at her hair, at her skin, frantic cries and accusations falling from her. She could not do as she once did. That time had passed and while Viserys was not an intimidating man, even in his anger, he was still the King.

She was humiliated, embarrassed, sorry for how she had behaved that night, but she could not apologize for her grief and her anger, at the betrayal of the father of her children to deny any sort of justice, to allow Rhaenyra to switch the focus of the gathering, to draw more attention to that which she denied with her whole chest.

Was nothing to come from all that she had survived? No hope, no great reward for the suffering she had endured?

Tears burned hot, and she paused in a quiet corner at the top of the hallway towards her own rooms. A shaky breath. A clench of her hands, fists pressed to her eyes.

“Your Grace.”

Lysa Fossoway was elegant and put together in the golden yellow gown with vibrant red trim as vivid as the apples of Cider Hall. Her blonde hair was braided from her face and held in a net of silver, wisps of grey in the strands giving her a dignified appearance. Her rounded features were pulled in tight anxiety and Alicent swallowed back her scream to be left alone for five minutes.

“Yes, Lysa.” There was no patience for formalities from her, and Lysa slowed with the visible understanding that Alicent was already not in the mood. Her gaze flickered to where Ser Criston linered and dropped into a slight curtsy.

“My apologies, your Grace. The Lord Hand has asked that you join him later,” Lysa said softly. “To discuss some concerning rumors.”

Her stomach knotted and a sound escaped her, high pitched and strangled in her throat. To her credit, Lysa didn’t flinch or move at the sound and Alicent felt the vein in her temple pulse harder. “What else has he done?” she whispered.

“Prince Aegon had… he spent the night in the brothels, and did not come back until dawn.”

Pain pulsed dully behind her eyes. “He was meant to break his fast with Lord Larys this morning. It was important that he did.”

“He did, your Grace, however it’s been reported to me by several of the maids that he and Lady Abrogail were seen having a rather heated argument in the hallway. Accusations were thrown, although none seem to agree on what was said.”

“They’re children. They’ll have arguments.”

None of this was supposed to be happening. Abrogail was meant to be a good, obedient girl who listened to orders, who reported back to her should Aegon show any indication of straying. Alicent knew she had made those expectations exceedingly clear. Yet here she was, finding out about her son’s shameful behavior through rumor instead of from his betrothed’s mouth.

“Lady Abrogail was also seen in the company of Ser Edmund.” Lysa’s voice was quiet.

There was a rushing sound in Alicent’s ears and she longed to pull over the suit of armor beside her, relishing in the crashing and clanging of it against the stone. Instead, she smoothed her hands over her skirts, straightened her shoulders, breathed, and prayed.

“I need two rooms prepared in the North Tower on order of the King. Prince Jacaerys and Lady Baela will be staying with us.” The words were ash on her tongue, stilted and emotionless. “The prince is to be cupbearer on the council, and the lady will be taking her place at court. They’ll be arriving with their dragons on the morrow.” She forced a smile on her face. “The more the merrier for my son’s celebrations.”

Vermax and Moondancer let out joyful and curious shrieks from where they circled the ship on approach into the great harbor of King’s Landing. Jace stood at the bow pulpit, leaning against the railing. Just below was the polished bronze head of Laena’s Song’s mermaid that curled buxom and gleaming along the bow. Days on the sea had slashed a bright red burn across the bridge of his nose, and freckles had sprung up along his skin. His curls whipped from the low ponytail he wore and Jace climbed up the rung of the pulpit railing to lean better across the edge and feel the cool spray of the ocean fall across his face.

Before him was King’s Landing. The Red Keep high atop Aegon’s Hill was a monument of epic proportions, bright as a beacon compared to the dark stone that made up the fortress of Dragonstone. Gulls cried and flew across the water, the bay teaming with ships heading out to sea and trade ships bearing banners of Pentos and Lys, of Braavos and even a dark ship from Asshai coming in to drop off their trade. Behind him, the crew of Laena’s Song hollered to and fro, preparing to drop anchor.

His stomach knotted uncomfortably with nerves and he rolled his shoulders beneath the bleached linen of his shirt. His black and red jerkin was tossed negligently over a barrel and Jace looked over his shoulder at the sailors moving across deck and wished he could simply stay rather than step back on land.

Or better yet he could take to the sky. Vermax let out another shriek and dove towards the wave to scoop up a mouthful of fish, dodging past Moondancer’s attempt to steal them. His jade scales covered in gold markings gleamed and glimmered in the sunlight like a gem, like the jade that his mother called him. Little jadeling. His lavender eyes were drawn behind him in the direction of Dragonstone, too far for him to see, and too far to relieve the ache of homesickness in his chest.

“Luke gets greensick and you look like you’re ready to flop in the water like a fish,” Baela teased him from where she sat on a coil of rope, tucking her trouser legs into her freshly polished black boots. Her Valyrian was a familiar, crisp tone, dagger sharp like her father’s. “Are you sure you’re a dragonrider? Belonging in the air?”

“I’m the better dragonrider out of my brothers. I will command the sky and sea and fire. All that’s left is land and that seems simple enough,” he grinned at his stepsister, reaching up to catch the green apple she aimed for his head. “Now now, lady, we’re not meant to waste fruit on a voyage,” he scolded and took a bite of the tart fruit, sucking on the juice of it so he didn’t further antagonize her.

“You’re the only dragonrider out of your brothers, mittys,” she shot back at him. “There’s no competition when you’re the only one. Arrax is still too small and Tyraxes is still a kitling.”

Jace took another bite of the apple and leaned against the railing, feeling Baela come up and join him. Her silver curls had been carefully coiled into elegant, thick braids that brushed just her shoulders. Beaten gold rings were wrapped around various lengths of the braids, a nameday gift from their grandmother, and Rhaena had a matching set. Her twin was back at Driftmark, apparently enjoying the attentions of Lord Staunton’s second son, who was page for Lord Vaemond, according to her last letter that expressed envy at not being able to join them for the festivities.

“Won’t be the only one any longer,” he said softly, lavender eyes drifting up to look at Vermax before settling his gaze upon the dome of the Dragon Pit that was just visible past the high city walls.

The distant sound of a dragon’s roar had Jace jerking back from the railing, scanning the sky. Beside him, Baela cocked her head, leaning forward to search for herself. Below, the sailors shouted to one another, the anchor dropping. The ship was too large to pull fully into harbor that day, not with all the arrivals coming to prepare for the week’s festivities.

Nerves knotted in Jace’s stomach as they lowered the rowboat into the gentle waves of the bay. Excitement vibrated through his limbs at the prospect of getting away from the isolation of Dragonstone, where his mother had retreated, like Syrax in her cave. She was happier there, upon the rock in the middle of nowhere with Daemon, with their new son. Little Aegon was a happy boy, trailing after Joffrey more often than not, the pair of them clinging to one another and in turn, trailing after Daemon everywhere they could.

Anxiety was just as loud knowing who was to come.

“Do you think Aemond’s still sore about what happened?” he asked Baela rhetorically in Valyrian. The look she gave him was sidelong and narrow, unamused at Jace’s attempt to lighten the mood and the nerves that twisted around his insides. The dragon’s roar was unfamiliar to him, but Baela’s indigo gaze was narrowed, unsure, even a little hopeful.

“Not sure how long it takes to get over losing an eye,” she replied in a low voice. “Besides, he deserved it, laodijes peldios. Regret nothing for what happened. Luke certainly doesn’t.”

“He’s a dragon, not Dornish.” Petulant. Know-It-All. Aemond was many things, but a thieving snake? Jace did not think it fitting, but he wasn’t about to tell Baela that. Neither was he quite sure of Luke's lack or held guilt on the matter. It was something none of them spoke of. “Besides, best mind the viper talk. Prince Qoren has a son and you are untethered. The war in the Stepstones has gone on for quite some time.” It was perhaps a little too mean, truth be told, and he blamed the nerves. Jace normally didn’t poke Baela quite as hard as she liked to poke at others but the closer they got to the capitol, the more he felt his own fangs snap out.

“I’ll push you out of this boat, Jacaerys,” Baela snapped as the boat rocked upon a swell of water. Her mouth opened to send another retort but there was another loud roar that echoed across the bay, sending the gulls screaming and scattering.

Coming from above, a great shadow burst through the clouds. It had been years since Jace had seen the hulking mass of Vhagar, and he had not watched her leave Driftmark all those years ago, confined to his room with his brother after what had happened. To see her like this after watching Vermithor take to the sky with Silverwing, to see the Cannibal dive along the waters of Dragonstone?

Jace felt the icy trickle of fear snake down his spine.

He barely registered Vermax startled cry but he could feel the fear and confusion mingling through his own in the place between his ribs that Vermax lived. The sailors in the boat around them tensed, the four rowing moving faster.

Moondancer shot over them, her cry joyous, and Baela cried out, “Daor!” pushing her hand on Jace’s shoulder and standing in the boat. “Daor, Moondancer, rȳbās!” Fear and panic laced her tone.

Vhagar’s great bulk and wingspan cast a shadow over them, one that was growing larger… and larger. Jace could not see Aemond upon the dragon’s back, for he’d be a speck amid all the hoary green and the great snout. Compared to the great dragon, Moondancer was just as tiny, flying straight for the great thing.

Vhagar’s head twitched and the dragon let out a lower sound this time, the little dragon flying around her, and Jace looked startled at Baela, who’s tanned skin had paled, eyes wide with fear. He reached for her hand and her palm was clammy, her fingers hooking with his.

“She thinks it’s muñus. Vhagar taught Moondancer to fly.” Baela’s voice was faint and Jace pulled her into his side, holding her close as the tremulous balance of fear and relief shook them both to see Vhagar leaving Moondancer alone, the dragon diving down with her, letting out her own high pitched calls before Vhagar sharply pulled back, the backdraft of her wings and the rush of it sending the waves high, drenching them all and nearly capsizing the boat.

“I don’t think Aemond’s over it,” Jace said faintly.

The sound of another roar, unfamiliar to him, came from the city and all heads swiveled to see the brilliant dragon coming towards them. Smaller than Vhagar was an easy feat, but this dragon was still a large beast, terrifying in its own right. Unlike Vhagar, the shimmering blue scales glimmered like gemstones beneath the sun, as brilliant as the sky and ocean combined. The call the dragon let out was not one of intimidation like Vhagar’s had been. No, this one was directed at the other dragon, head tilted in Vhagar’s direction with a huff and a snarl of disapproval.

As the dragon came closer, it banked, the tip of its left wing dragging into the water and Jace could see the blonde figure tiny on the back, wind whipping at the rider’s hair. What was his mother doing here? On a dragon not Syrax? His brain struggled to make sense of the sight before it registered that the rider was Helaena.

Jace could not recall if he’d ever seen Helaena fly after she’d claimed Dreamfyre, and his eyes tracked the dragon with a thudding in his chest. Nerves had him tense, and Vermax cried out in greeting, his turn to dart towards Dreamfyre. Jace could feel his dragon’s excitement, and remembered that it was from Dreamfyre’s clutch that his egg had come from. A bond, undeniable, the way that Moondancer cleaved to Vhagar who had taught her to fly, whose memory of Laena was still so strong.

He swallowed and watched with Baela tense at his side as Dreamfyre nipped and warbled at Vhagar. An impossible feat it seemed, and yet with clear reluctance, Vhagar shook her great head and turned, the beating of both pairs of wings sending the boats in the harbor rocking violently with the waves they caused. Seawater sloshed over the edges of the boat, soaking along their boots and trousers but they stayed afloat and made their way towards the pier, where the gleaming figure in Kingsguard armor waited.

“Prince Jacaerys!” boomed Ser Harrold Westerling, as tall and resplendent as the day they’d left the city and he was nearly half as small. The knight reached down and Jace grabbed his gloved hand and, even as old as the man was, Ser Harrold nearly pulled him off his feet hoisting him on the dock. “Lady Baela, welcome back to King’s Landing.”

Baela gave a jerky nod, her eyes still on the bay and the returning figure of Dreamfyre, having now run off Vhagar’s bulk towards the cliffs. Vermax and Moondancer careened around the bay, little and unobtrusive compared to their larger brethren. Vermax let out excited chitters, making his way towards the blue dragon.

“Last I saw you, your Grace, you were but a wee lad! What are they feeding you on that rock?” He let out a great laugh and Jace joined in, a manic release of fear and nerves and relief that they hadn’t capsized in the bay. He’d gone through another growth spurt over the last several months, not quite as tall as Daemon, but he was broader shouldered now, gangly and unused to all the fresh height.

“Lots of fish, Ser Harrold,” he grinned and held out his arm to Baela. She had only been to the capital a few times in the past, the first when they’d come from Pentos as small children, and occasionally for feasts and the like. Laena and Daemon had largely stayed on Driftmark during her mother’s life, and he knew that his sister could handle herself, but he didn’t want her to feel alone. Baela held her vulnerabilities close to the chest when she didn’t have to, vulnerabilities that she hid behind the black trousers tucked into polished black boots and the blood red tunic she wore, not dissimilar to Jace’s own clothes, though the tunic was more of a short dress on her, tapered at her waist.

After a moment, Baela slipped her hand into the crook of Jace’s elbow and looked forward, a tight smile across her face as she greeted Ser Harrold. “And my uncle, the King?”

“Eager to see you both. His grace was insistent that you received all the pomp and circumstance befitting you,” the knight said as he led the way towards the carriage. Two other Kingsguard were waiting, mounted on a pair of horses with coats as black as dragonglass, pawing at the ground in the wake of two monstrous dragons causing trouble along the bay.

Dreamfyre had vanished over the city wall and into the Dragon Pit.

Their trunks were being unloaded from the ship and would follow soon, which meant they wasted no time climbing into the wheelhouse and collapsed back on the back bench together, both peering out through the lattice work.

“The city stinks,” Baela complained with a wrinkle of her nose as if the mere fact of it offended her.

“Well, it’s a city.”

“Pentos didn’t stink like this. Didn’t Queen Alysanne do something about it? Kepe told me. Cisterns and clean drinking water. Not… stink.”

Jace had nothing to say in response to that, watching the city pass out the window. Wares being hawked with enticing calls, the sounds of trade and commerce. The carriage moved too quickly for Jace to truly appreciate the city around him, but his mind turned over the possibilities. What was the state of the cisterns? Did the people have access to such things? Myr had intricate sewer systems and aqueducts were there and in Braavos both. Could those things help the city?

A king must care for his people, must do all he can to help them prosper.

His mother had smoothed her hands over his shoulders before he boarded the ship, her gaze intent. “I was once cupbearer for my father and I learned much of the intricacies of the realm and what the people needed, and what could be done. My father… did not often take my advice when I spoke up, and oftentimes it was for the better.” There was an uncertain glimmer in her violet gaze, a twitch in her jaw that had Jace wonder at his mother’s true feelings on the matter. “Listen, and learn, ask questions of Maester Orwyle, of Lord Beesbury, of your grandfather. Be on your guard. I was fortunate to have Lord Lyonel as Hand during my time on the council, and he imparted wisdom to me that I pass to you: Your words are important, they hold weight. Do not speak to only fill the silence or to be accounted for. Speak when you are confident in the questions and solutions you bring so they are taken with the weight they deserve.” Her mouth had quirked in a sheepish smile. “Words that I probably could cleave better to.”

“Will the dragons find the pit?” Baela’s head swung about to try to peer through the latticework of the carriage windows like she could get a glimpse of her dragon. “I don’t like the thought of Moondancer chained in some pit where anything could happen to her. She should fly free, as they do back home.”

“Vermax will take her there. They were following Dreamfyre and he knows that’s where the food is.” Baela looked skeptical of it all, sighing and throwing herself back against the seat, sprawling legs and letting her head thump back against the side of the wheelhouse. “What’s wrong?”

“Your mother did not have many good things to say about the Red Keep,” she answered directly. “And that the queen may likely give me trouble and so I can’t get away with what I usually do back home.”

Jace nodded, tugging at the leather jerkin he’d put back on and reaching up to undo his ponytail. He was careful to tug his fingers through the curls, trying to get them in some order. “I never spent much time around the queen, but I do know her manner before was different than… that night.” He wasn’t sure what had been more terrifying: the way the woman had come at his mother with the king’s blade, or how utterly wrecked she had been, her complete lack of composure when every other time he’d seen her, been around her in his years, Queen Alicent had been so tightly buttoned up. Jace had never been close to his step-grandmother… but he’d never had cause to fear her before. He rewound the leather cord to keep his hair back and smoothed his hands over his knees. “Should there be any trouble, tell me, and we’ll figure out how to handle it together. She has no cause to be cruel to you.” He gave his stepsister an encouraging smile. “You aren’t part of the inheritance issue. Enjoy your luck.”

That much Jace did understand over the years away. He’d never known a world where his mother wasn’t heir, and it had taken him years to realize that women didn’t normally inherit, not like his mother had. How often women had come to his mother’s isolated court, beseeching Princess Rhaenyra to speak of their own claims, or their daughter’s claims. How often she turned them away. When he asked why, she told him that the Westerosi custom was one where the sons inherited. Targaryens and her father’s word were above that, for they sat the Iron Throne. The petitions would need to be made to the Small Council as the laws were not yet hers to make.

“Good thing we aren’t married then,” Baela smirked at him and Jace felt his ears heat with blush. Married they were not, but the betrothal possibility had been there and, bored and isolated, they’d… well, someone else had gotten to Baela before him (and she’d kept her mouth shut on that but Jace had his bets on the blacksmith’s son in the village), but she got to him first.

‘At least you won’t fuck up your wedding night,’ she’d laughed, pushing him out of her room with his clothes in hand and right into Luke, who he’d properly threatened to secrecy.

They came through the Dragon Gate, the castle’s gold cloaks and standard bearers bearing the sigils of House Velaryon and Targaryen both, the seahorse and dragon snapping in the breeze. Upon the steps in the great doorway, sat his grandfather, the king. It was the first thing that struck Jace when he poked his head out of the carriage and stepped out to face the family, was how frail the man was. His grandfather had always been a sickly man, with stringy hair and constantly wrapped in blankets, a cane in hand or a great wheeled chair.

This day, beneath the bright blue sky and surrounded by the dusty red stone of the Red Keep, the king appeared small in his chair set on the top of the staircase. He wore his crown for the occasion, as if Jace and Baela were visiting dignitaries, as if their arrival was worth that. It warmed the spot in Jace’s chest to know that this place was not automatically hostile as his mother feared.

On the king’s left stood the queen, the utter opposite of the frightening rage thrown in firelight from that night years ago. There she stood, looking almost as beautiful as his own mother. Her hair was pulled back from her face, tendrils of curls caressing her soft cheeks. Resting in her hair was a tiara, intricately woven golden branches dotted with rubies. She wore a dark green gown that covered her from the high collar to her wrists, her furred cloak elegantly draped around her.

Behind her stood Otto Hightower, imposing and nerve wracking, just there within the shadows of the doorway. Daemon and his mother had both warned them of the Hand, a man not to be trusted under any circumstances.

It took Jace a moment to recognize Daeron, who’d been a boy of eight when he saw him last. Now he was four and ten, gangly with the trappings of adolescence and cheeks still rounded with baby fat. He looked unsure and uncomfortable, giving Jace and Baela both a shy but friendly smile, his silver hair cropped short around his ears. His doublet was close fitting, quilted green and black with a dragon pin on his chest, and a hightower pin on his collar, signifying his status as squire for House Hightower.

Then there was his Uncle Aegon, years past from the way he’d fallen into a drunken stupor at Laena Velaryon’s funeral. His hair was cut short, silver curls brushing against his jaw. The startling thing was the absence of green on his person. When they were children, the boys had always been clad in green, as their mother had, but that no longer appeared to be the case. Aegon’s red jerkin was held closed with golden clasps, a black shirt beneath, a faint pattern shimmering in the fabric in much the way his mother’s gown had, giving the hint of dragon scales.

The glare on his face was ill-disguised and Jace felt Baela rankle beside him in response to it.

Jace’s glance was careful when they landed on the woman at his uncle’s shoulder. Abrogail Strong was a slight figure, the ghosts of their past held in her so that Jace dared not give more than a cursory greeting to her. Her heraldic gown clung to her, half midnight blue and half verdant green with tight fitting sleeves of oxblood red. Her hair hung in loose curls down past her waist, held back from her face in a simple half-knot in the Riverlands style. She lacked any other adornment apart from the string of pearls woven into her hair.

“Sparos bonus issa?” Baela asked beneath her breath. Jace didn’t answer her. How could he? It wasn’t the most convoluted branch in his family tree, were he being honest, but one of them.

“”Look how tall you’ve grown!” The King cried out joyfully, opening his arms out in greeting, his smile broad, revealing the loss of teeth as whatever ailed him continued to take its toll.

Did his mother know how ill her father was?

“Your Grace.” Jace and Baela paused at the top of the stairs, offering their fealty to the man before them.

This close, it startled him when his gaze fell on Alicent Hightower, how young she looked, in a way he hadn’t understood so long ago, so young compared to the ancient way his grandfather looked. Now was not the time to process this, and instead, Jace returned his grandfather’s smile and the pair of them kissed King Viserys on the cheek and his cool, papery hand reached up to touch their faces affectionately.

“How good it is to see you both hale and healthy. How exciting a journey you must have had! Taking the Narrow Sea on your own. And you’ve brought your dragons with you?”

“Kepus issa,” Baela said and Jace wondered if she was instinctively hiding herself behind the words of their blood. Viserys chuckled and patted her hand.

“Such elocution, hāedus,” his grandfather said fondly to Baela. “Perhaps the pair of you can teach your aunt and uncles how to speak properly. I don’t know the last time we had a meal in Valyrian.”

Jace caught the stiffening of the queen’s shoulders, and Aegon puffed his cheeks, exhaling boredly. “We were kindly greeted by Aemond and Helaena on dragon back earlier. It seems we’ve beaten them back here. Nothing more Targaryen than being greeted by the largest dragons in the world,” Jace said with a grin and he saw Abrogail’s bite her lip to hide the smile that tugged at the corner of her mouth.

Hoofbeats filled the courtyard once more and Jace looked over his shoulder to see another kingsguard, this one on a large, chestnut destrier, accompanying the windswept figure of Helaena Targaryen on her own dappled gray horse, her blue riding leathers bright in contrast to the dust of the Red Keep.

“Aemond will be back in time for dinner,” she called, swinging herself down easily from the saddle while the stablehand held the horse steady. She petted the beast’s neck soothingly and came up the steps and Jace noticed the way her fingers twitched, curling in and rubbing together as if they wished to clutch at her jacket, or reach for something to fidget with. A habit, he realized, she had not outgrown.

Large, lavender eyes darted between him and Baela but did not meet either, for that was Helaena’s way too.

“Dreamfyre is magnificent,” Baela said with a slight smile. “You ride exceptionally well.”

“Thank you, hāedus Baela,” Helaena said softly, her cheeks flushing and eyes focused on the Velaryon emblem Baela had embroidered on the collar of her tunic. “She is nearly too big for it. My poor dear is used to the freedom that living at Harrenhal afforded her. Would that all our dragons could live so freely as they do on Dragonstone.” Her gaze flickered to her youngest brother and a fond smile crossed her face. “It’ll be lovely to see how quickly Tessarion will grow at Harrenhal, won’t it, Daeron.” A brief glance at Jacaerys. “Trēsys.”

Jace’s mouth was dry. “Muñus.”

“You’ve both been given rooms in the North tower,” the Queen said, a tight smile across her face. No longer was she a specter towering over him. Now, she just looked sad. Sad and small, but no less dangerous, as he stood over her now by a head’s height.

One of the guards was maneuvering the king’s wheeled chair around to head back into the keep, three others gathered around and Jace noticed the handles on the sides of the chair used to navigate the many staircases within.

Baela fell in step beside him as she usually did, their shoulders brushing against one another as they walked behind the king. The queen was a step behind the great chair, walking sedately, a tension so great inside her Jace swore she was vibrating. “Once you’re both settled, we’ll have dinner in the family solar. To celebrate your welcome and Daeron’s return.” The young boy was on his mother’s other side and fussed when Alicent reached to brush his hair from his face in a gesture that strongly reminded Jace of Luke when their mother tried to coddle him.

“I told Uncle Gwayne I could ride Tessarion from Oldtown but he said it was too far for me and a dragon of her size,” the boy groused.

“Skoros zaldrizo bē gīmis?” What does he know of dragons? Baela muttered, and it was unclear if she meant Ser Gwayne, Daeron, or both. Jace jabbed her with his elbow and she scowled.

“Not difficult to figure out a little dragon only just large enough for a rider might struggle on the first long flight,” Aegon’s voice came from behind them, having both heard and understood, despite the king’s statement that his children did not seem to know their words. Aegon sounded bored but Jace could hear the blade beneath the casualness of the words. “Not to mention it would be his first long flight, mewling from his saddle half a day’s flight in how sore his legs are.”

“I would not!” Daeron protested. “I’ve been training for it. It’s the same principles as horsemanship.”

“My legs still get tired after riding,” came the soft tones of Lady Abrogail. Baela snorted, barely giving her a look..

“Ao tikoqitta iksā, vaogrot sittaaks. Daoruni sōveno bē gīmī.” You are a wingless thing, born of mud. You know nothing of flying. She shook her head, silver braids brushing against her shoulders, the charms woven in them tinkling. Her violet eyes were narrowed, condescension dripping from her tongue. He’d heard the same tone from Daemon’s mouth often when it came to talking about the Hightowers, and to Baela, Abrogail was a stranger. Worse, an interloper. Jace’s stomach dropped at the words, frowning at Baela from the corner of his eye but his tongue was caught, not wanting to draw attention, to draw questions in front of everyone. Especially when Baela was defensive and spitting like this.

“I believe I can show Jace and Baela to their rooms,” Helaena’s voice cut in. “I was going back to mine anyway and it’s on the way. Tis feeding time for my mantis and she’s readying herself for mating.” Helaena came forward, a placid smile on her face contrasted with the furious look on Aegon’s. Abby’s eyes darted between them all, nervous and uncertain. “Come, cousin, nephew,” she said, all pretenses of High Valryian dropping as she took up the common tongue once more. The princess curtsied towards her parents, his grandfather waving her away negligently and the queen’s eyes darting over all of them. She did not speak the language of their family, but her eyes were narrowed, dancing between all of them.

Helaena led the way up the grand staircase, tugging at her gloves and smoothing her fingers over the leather. “You’ll be in Elinor’s Tower, named for poor Queen Elinor Costayne. All the towers were named for the women in Maegor’s life. Tyanna and Jeyne, Ceryse, Alys, Rhaena, and Visenya. I live in Rhaena’s tower, although one could say her true tower is at Harrenhal. She stayed there to live out the end of her days, her and Dreamfyre. You know, they almost gave the throne to her instead of grandfather Jaehaerys.”

“Is this a history lesson?” Baela asked, common on her tongue and shrugging away from Jace. Helaena did not respond, taking them left at the top of the stairs past one of the courtyards.

“I’m merely educating you on the history of your new home, cousin.” Helaena’s voice had not changed in timber, but there was something beneath it that Jace couldn’t identify. “We are family, after all. Our fathers are blood brothers, king and prince respectively, and you and I are of the blood.” She paused, abruptly spinning on her heel. “The same goes for Lady Abrogail. She will be a princess upon her marriage to Aegon, and she is one of ours. You will not speak to her in such a cruel way, nor shall you speak cruelly to my brothers, including Aemond. He’s already suffered enough at your hands. Both your hands” Her gaze flicked to Jace with the end of the statement, fire dancing in her lavender eyes, head held high. “It saddens me to see, Lady Baela, that you were not given an adequate understanding of our family, that we all share the blood of the dragon, or are under its protection, but I suppose everything washes away with the tide, and memories do not get to stay.”

Baela opened her mouth to speak, no doubt to spout some of Daemon’s Valyrian rhetoric to counter Helaena’s remarks. Jace felt his cheeks flush. “I apologize for my sister’s behavior-”

“Don’t you apologize for me-”

“I should’ve let Vhagar capsize the boat.”

Helaena and Baela both spoke at once and Jace grimaced.

Silence fell between the three of them, Baela caught between chastened and pride, prickling beneath the words. Helaena began to tug her gloves off one finger at a time. “Be that as it may, I did not, for it would have done nothing to change the predicament we all find ourselves in. So I shall say this.” Her gaze rose and with great effort, she met Baela’s eyes. “We are to get along as our sire, his grace, King Viserys, has implored us so vehemently. There will be arguments, and scraps, I’m sure, but the king is ill and the eyes of the realm are upon us over these coming months.”

“We are all Targaryens,” Jace picked up where she left off, and Helaena’s eyes met his, matching lavender shades. “We need to show the realm a united front, especially with grandfather so ill. We may do what we will behind closed doors, but we show nothing but unity. The house of the dragon must show strength.”

Helaena nodded, her gaze flickering away to her hands once more. “If you hurt Aemond again, I shall introduce you to my Chromatopelma Cyaneopubescens.” Her fingers danced as she made a claw, as if it were a spider. “She is shy so I do not handle her often. I’d love the opportunity for her to make new friends.” Helaena gestured with the same hand down another hall. “Down the hall and the staircase at the suits of Vale armor. I’m sure the maids and pages are making enough noise to find your rooms.”

Jace tore his eyes from his aunt with great effort, throwing a look at Baela as she opened her mouth once more to retort. His hand found her arm and he tugged her forward, glancing once more behind them as Helaena strode towards her own rooms.

Her hair looked like starlight.

[chapter thirteen]

[whimperandabang]

six of crows + “you can never go home“

originally i was going to write this in the tags of this post, but i hit tag limit before i even got halfway through. so i’m making it its own post.

the idea of “you can never go home” is core to each of the six crows which is why it’s such a jewish story. if you don’t want to read through my long rants, here’s the short version:

kanej can never go home because the children who belonged in their homes are dead.

jesper can never go home because to him, home represents shame. wylan does go home, but his homecoming is born from being set adrift much the same way as the other crows are.

helnik can never go home because their loyalty to their homes has wavered, and they can never come back from that.

ok rant time. first: kaz. kaz can never go back to his original home outside of lij because the boy who belongs there is kaz rietveld, and kaz rietveld is dead. maybe you could call ketterdam his new home - he probably would - but that’s even more tragic in a way, isn’t it? he’s so tied down to ketterdam. he’s unable to return to one home and unable to leave the other. (shameless self promotion time: my wip the sower explores this; it probably won’t be published on ao3 for a long while but if you’re interested to know what that’s about and get progress updates + teasers you can check out my fanfiction sideblog @tealquills, everything related to that wip should be under the tag “the sower”.)

now inej. my favorite diaspora girl. inej can never go home because of who she’s become - “a suli girl who had become a killer”. she can’t unbecome the dangerous girl, the girl with claws who names knives after saints. she can’t unbecome the wraith. and the wraith doesn’t belong in the suli caravans. the girl who did “died in the hold of a slaver ship”. she loves her family deeply and wants to be with them and still be loved by them, but she cannot go back home with them. the wraith can’t settle, especially because she always seeks justice. she’s no longer complacent, and she could not bear complacency. she feels purpose and drive to save others from what she endured at the menagerie. between these two things, is it any wonder she takes to the sea?

jesper can’t go home because his home is too entwined with feelings of boredom and shame. after aditi’s death, the monotony of farm life became unbearable. the shame and guilt associated with his durast abilities became unbearable. most of all, the grief became unbearable. it was no longer viable for him to live in novyi zem, at home with his father who loved him so much and failed him so profoundly. and so he went to kerch, and there was no going back.

for wylan, too, home is a place entwined with shame. jan van eck made him feel ashamed for his disability, building up intense feelings of worthlessness and guilt. wylan’s story is interesting in that he does go home, quite literally. he ends up living in van eck’s manor with jesper. in this way, he’s not really living a “you can never go home” story arc the same way as the other crows. but that idea is still core to his character, because for awhile, it was true. after the attempted murder on the boat, wylan had no home. he was set adrift in the same way kaz was after using jordie’s corpse as a raft, in the same way inej was after her time in the menagerie, in the same way jesper was after aditi’s death. wylan can only find his way home again after he experienced what it was to be without a home, and he will always carry that with him.

nina can’t go home because she’s realized she wants a life beyond that of a soldier, and ravka will never give her that. through matthias, she learns to aspire to peace and betterment rather than being a cog in the machine. she loves her country, but she can never quite be loyal to it in the same way again. the world but specifically ravka and fjerda will never let her and matthias be more than grisha and drüskelle, and she can’t accept that. even in king of scars and rule of wolves when she’s working for the ravkan government again, she can’t stay long. she goes to fjerda, and while she’s there, she takes up matthias’s mission. she starts building bridges. she tries to end the war. she falls in love again.

and finally, matthias. oh, my tragic boy. matthias can never go home because... well. you know. after coming to love nina, he can never be truly loyal to fjerda again, but it’s still his country. he spends all of six of crows and crooked kingdom trying to find a way to reconcile the truly awful parts of the country he calls home with everything that he believes makes it worth saving. he wants to go home so badly in a way that even inej can’t quite match. but in the end, he can’t go home because his wants are not enough. because one man’s personal journey cannot save an entire nation. because his love redeems him, but it can’t redeem fjerda.

[crguang]

Thank you so much for your answer! I wouldn't want to waste your time, but at the same time, I long for answers from you? As if only you understand what I want to say. Sorry to be inconvenient in any way. You can call me G.

Sincerely? Don't worry about writing too much in the answer, I love reading what others have to share.

Maybe I'm similar when it comes to writing down negative feelings. Who do I want to fool? I like a light and dark romance with very intense feelings.

I would love to explore so many of Kafka's stances in different situations, like you said, the fact that he doesn't feel afraid eliminates a lot of things, which makes his reactions even more interesting to reflect on.

For example, I wonder, if R died and Elio told Kafka, how would she act in her final days? Would she be more affectionate or attentive? would leave?

For starters, even if it was fate, would she try with all her might to avoid you if she realized that you would be in any way even a little important? Anyway, I don't know how you are there, but good morning and take care!

im soo flattered this is crazy😭 you’re not inconvenient in any way. im glad you’re interested in what i have to say because kafka’s my favourite hsr character and i will blab about her if given the chance so… bear with me for this one

you’re really making me use my brain omfg. this scenario is so sad but i do have a serious answer. first things first, i have to mention that while im sure kafka truly believes in destiny and that “choice is an exhaustive list of possibilities”, she doesn’t like it. if you refuse her enough times during her companion quest, she says that a long time ago elio convinced her that people have no “true free will”. it implies that she didn’t believe it to be true before and that he had to prove it to her for her to change her mind. during the quest, she’s also like “oh you think you can change destiny? go on, try it. the outcome will be the same” which makes me think she’s either tried before or has witnessed others fail to do it; it’d make sense that she’d be convinced after that. however… she also says this:

i thought it was really weird at first. she believes destiny is set in stone and tries to convince the trailblazer of that but she still wants them to prove her, and elio, wrong. why? her voice also gets softer here. we know that elio said the TB would change her and that she would change them, that their destinies are intertwined. we don’t know what change that is though, only that she wants it to happen. the fact that she hopes they can rise above destiny makes me think she doesn’t like the path that she’s walking on and that’s upsetting because it means she must feel stuck in some way. she’s obviously super nihilistic, and everything she does is to make that one future elio predicted a reality. the stellaron hunters are “destiny’s slaves” as she said, they have no right to choose, no freedom; how can you be happy or content as a slave? kafka isn’t someone who likes to move at someone’s else’s pace, yet she moves at destiny’s pace every day. anyway, let me actually answer your question now😭

regardless of if elio told her R would die before or after knowing them, i don’t think she’d avoid them at all. first because if that’s the predetermined future then who is she to defy it, and second because she would never expect to fall in love with them. i like to think it’s the one thing that will always surprise her, since she doesn’t feel apprehension like i mentioned last time (no fear + she often knows/ can deduce what will happen), she wouldn’t be scared to get attached. plus, she sees and causes death all the time, and like elio she probably believes that “death will come for us all” (as he says in her character story). and if i follow what i said last time, she’d only realize her feelings after she fell for them so it’d be too late anyway. so no, i dont think she’d avoid them. i don’t think she’d try and change their fate either, but elio is cruel as fuck if he knows they’re together and he tells her R will die like wtf😭 he might not even do it because he withholds certain things from her so that she can’t interfere in his script, but if he does…. ughhh i dont even wanna think about it its so sad.

kafka would make the most of it using what the script doesn’t say, regardless of how you die she’d want you to be happy and free of any fear towards it. im gonna cryyy she’d show you as much of her as possible, would dedicate her time and effort into you without tipping you off that something’s wrong… even if she prepared for it, she could only truly grieve afterwards because kafka doesn’t live in the future (“the past and the future are the same [unchangeable]. i’m indifferent towards them.” she says in a voice line). all she can do is enjoy the time she has so yeah, she’d be more attentive and affectionate and open. and when you die, you’ll leave with an understanding of her that no one has.

[scalacaelumxx]

Who are your top 3 favorite KH characters? ✨

I'm going to try not to ramble on this forever but thank you so much for sending this ask in! I apologize in advance for the can of worms you have opened.

Vidar (Spoilers for Dark Road incoming) Probably the least surprising thing, but currently Vidar is my top favorite. I'm fairly new to the mobile games, and full disclosure, I did not like him when I first saw him. Eraqus was so upset by Vor leaving (even though it was her own choice) that I genuinely felt for him, and therefor didn't approve of Vidar "taking" her away. But continuing the story and learning that he and his friends were so close to achieving what they had been training for for years, only for it to end in the death of not one of his friends, but four of them. And he can't bring himself to strike down what caused their deaths, because Baldr is just a kid and he (presuming that one line was about Hoder) can't bear to face her if something happened to him after she died trying to protect him His character is interesting, he's got a killer design, you can tell how much he cared about his friends, and the tragedy of risking everything to save someone for your friend, only to die by that person's hand trying to protect the friends you have left. I could talk about him for 22 hours a day.

Saix/Isa I know I don't post about him a lot, but Saix (or Isa) has been one of my favorite characters since my friend introduced me to Kingdom Hearts when I was a kid. If it wasn't for Vidar, he'd still be in the top spot! There's just something about how ruthless he was in kh2 and Days. How brutally honest and blunt his deliveries were, and how his boss fight involves catching you off guard with mechanics that don't seem to suit what you've seen of him until you really look at it and realize it does. His relationship with Axel is hilarious on surface level and depressing when you go deeper. His relationship of being Xemnas' right-hand man (next to Xigbar) while also plotting to betray him is so intriguing. And then seeing those sharp eyes and the barbed words and the ruthlessness in him and seeing those compared to the kid who made fun of his best friend and wanted to explore places he wasn't supposed to be in and help someone he had just met is heartbreaking. I loved his redemption in kh3, subtle in the background as it was, and I'm hoping to see more of him trying to be a better person and make it up to Roxas and Xion in 4.

Zexion/Ienzo This one caught me so off guard. I had gotten back into the fandom after a long while and was replaying through the old games to get caught up and Zexion blindsided me in Re:CoM. He was secretive and quiet, but really held no animosity towards Sora or Riku. Which, compared to the rest of the Organization in the castle, stood out a lot. Considering this, he really didn't deserve the death he got, which is still pretty brutal for a Kingdom Hearts death. Then he comes back and immediately throws everything he has into helping the heroes. They were more of a means to an end before, rather than true enemies, and despite their reservations about him he has no problems spending all of his time and resources into helping them stop Xehanort. He was just a kid when he helped start the fall of Radiant Garden but he still feels so guilty and wants to atone so badly. Plus you get extra angst in the "didn't have a heart for 10 odd years and now suddenly has one and is feeling" department.

Runner ups include: Baldr, Vali, Xaldin/Dilan, Vexen/Even, and Terra!

[nica-my-beloved]

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY in advance, LUKE!"🎉🎉

(What is 'Birthday Specials Stories'? A special fanfic I write just to celebrate the birthday of that particular character. The story can be of any kind, long fanfic or short stories, smut or fluff. I get to decide)

Genre: fluff, short story

Characters appearing: Luke, Emma

Luke POV

I went to the kitchen to grab a jar of honey biscuits. I sat down right there on the kitchen floor and inserted my hand into the jar to grab one when Emma came rushing into the kitchen.

"Luke! Haa....thank god...I finally found you..." She huffed in relief when she saw me and fell on her knees out of tiredness.

(Were you running around the castle to find me?)

Emma managed to crawl besides me and sat down, leaning her whole body against mine for support.

"I was looking all over for you..." She replies.

"Here, have some water first." I said, as I quickly grabbed the glass of water that I kept beside me just in case I don't choke on my honey biscuits. Emma smiled and thanked me before gulping down the whole glass of water.

(Why was she desperate to find me?)

"What's wrong Emma? Did you need something from me!?" I tilted my head, while offering my jar of honey biscuits.

"No, thank you. I actually wanted to give you this!"

"Waff dis!?" I replied with a biscuit in my mouth. She gave me, what looked like a handkerchief.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY! LUKE!" she announced brightly. I was taken aback by the sudden birthday wish, that the biscuit in between my teeth, fell from my mouth. Thankfully, Emma caught it just in time.

"But my birthday is not today. There is still----"

"I know! But I couldn't wait! I already finished making your gift few days ago but I couldn't wait until your birthday!!!" Emma answers as her cheeks flushes in red.

(You're so cute...)

"Wait...did you say 'make'?" I tilted my head curiously.

"Yep! I did an embroidery on this handkerchief for you. Come on, open it! I want to see your reaction!" Emma eagerly looks at me, as her hands close in fists and eyes shining.

(You look like a kid when you're this excited)

I placed the jar of honey biscuits to my side and gently opened the neatly folded handkerchief. The design on it surprised me. It wasn't a regular floral patterns like I expected. Instead it was small bear and brown little rabbit next to it. There was also tiny heart shapes surrounding them.

The design wasn't perfect like one expects from an professional embroiderer. Rather, it looked slightly imperfect and clumsy.

"This is..." I gently traced each of the threads with my finger as I touched the little rabbit. Each time, I touch it I could feel my heart pounding like crazy.

"I was thinking really hard on what to give you, then luckily one of my maid friends told me that I should make something for you instead of buying something from a gift shop." She answers as she looks down at the little bear and starts tracing it with her finger just like me.

"I asked one of my friends if they would teach me how to do embroidery and they agreed. I didn't know what kind of design I wanted for you but I wanted it be something special. Something special that only involves both of us. So, I came up with a little bear and a little rabbit." she says as she looks up at me.

Her eyes were shining in agitation and love. I held back my breath as my heart skipped a beat.

(I never imagined a gift would be this cute....)

(Ahhh...Emma. You're the only one who could make me this happy even before my birthday)

As if to answer her, I brought the little rabbit designed on the handkerchief towards my face and gently kissed it. Right then, I smelled a sweet fragrance of roses.

(Ah...it's Emma's scent)

As if instincts took over me, I hugged her tightly and kissed her lips. She responded back without hesitation as she puts her arms around me.

(This is the sweetest gift anyone has ever given me)

(I'll cherish you and this gift forever)

[lightandfellowship]

The flashbacks never lie to you

(Major KHDR spoilers)

So, one plot point of KHDR that has been really confusing for a lot of people (myself included) are the flashbacks to the upper classmen’s deaths in Enchanted Dominion. Each time the story revisits this flashback, it feels like the events shown aren’t consistent with previous flashbacks, which has led to the belief that certain flashbacks are simply inaccurate, with the implication being that the character recounting the events of the flashback is either mistaken or lying. However, upon closer inspection, this is not the case. The flashbacks never lie to you, they merely use strategic character placements, camera framing, and cut-off points in order to manipulate your comprehension of events.

I think the best way to illustrate this will be to simply go over the sequence of events chronologically.

#1. The first flashback in this sequence comes from Baldr when he reveals to his classmates that his sister died because of him. It goes like this: Hoder breaks in to Maleficent’s castle in order to defeat the evil fairy and is apparently a formidable enough foe for Maleficent to change into her dragon form. The two battle. Baldr rushes into the room that the battle is taking place in and sees that his sister is in danger. He runs towards her, yelling at Maleficent to leave his sister alone. Hoder looks back at Baldr with surprise, and upon realizing that Maleficent will likely shift her attention to Baldr and attack him, jumps in front of Baldr to shield him from the dragon’s flames, getting burned instead. Maleficent, apparently satisfied with her “kill” and deeming Baldr as a non-threat, backs away and goes off-screen, leaving just Baldr and Hoder in frame.

Baldr and Hoder have a short conversation while Hoder starts to fade away. They try to reach for each other, with Baldr yelling in despair and panic. Important: the flashback ends before Hoder fades away completely. She is still present and alive. The flashback wants you to think that this is the moment that she dies, but it is tricking you.

#2. The second flashback in this sequence happens when Darkness Baldr goes over the people he’s killed to Vor. Here is where we see what happens directly after the previous flashback. As Baldr and Hoder try to reach for each other and Hoder starts to fade away, a slash of darkness comes from the top right of the screen (where we can assume Dragon Maleficent is located) and attacks Hoder. 

She collapses. The dark slash manifests into a vaguely human shape in front of Baldr as Baldr grabs his head in fear, screaming. The flashback fades out. This is presumably the moment that Baldr got possessed by an entity that was being harbored by Maleficent. Again, when the flashback ends Hoder is still on screen and hasn’t faded away completely yet.

#3. The next flashback in the sequence comes from Heimdall and the others as they explain their deaths to Xehanort and Eraqus. Heimdall, Helgi, and Sigrun arrive at the scene where the Maleficent battle took place and see Hoder collapsed on the ground, in the process of fading away but still managing to hold on. Baldr is nowhere to be seen (but judging by the next flashback he was hiding somewhere on the left side of the room). Hoder tries to tell the others that Baldr needs help, but she can barely speak. I assume that she was able to hold on for so long because she couldn’t bear fading away without first trying to inform the others of what happened. Heimdall runs towards her as Hoder finally fades away completely. 

When Hoder dies, Heimdall, Helgi, and Sigrun rush forward to face Dragon Maleficent, who never left the room but merely shifted to the far right side. 

They vow to avenge Hoder, taking their keyblades out to fight Maleficent. The flashback ends. This is the actual moment that Hoder dies.

#4. And finally, the last flashback in this sequence of events again comes from the scene where Darkness Baldr goes over his kills to Vor. We see Heimdall, Helgi, and Sigrun exhausted, having fought against something off-screen to the right (again, even though she’s not in frame this is consistent with Maleficent’s location in the previous flashback). Maleficent is either just out of frame or was on the brink of defeat and ran away. Because they were distracted fighting Maleficent, they never see Baldr coming, and get attacked by a dark shockwave from behind them and to the left. Presumably Baldr waited until they were weak from their battle and then finished them off. They collapse and start to fade away. The camera pans to the left to show Darkness Baldr, surrounded by a dark aura. The flashback ends.

As you can see, there are no obvious inconsistencies to be found. Merely strategic character placements, camera framing, and cut-off points. IMO, there’s no reason to believe that any of these flashbacks are inaccurate or blatantly lying to the viewer. They are just intentionally misleading.

If any of my information is wrong, please let me know.

[starcloud-nova]

PLEASE ramble to me about your OCs I am 👀👀👀

Catla this ask has been sitting in my inbox for so long that it has gotten EMBARASSING but I will move past all that and take this opportunity you have given me. Thank u. This ended being 2k+ words and it’s late and I’m tired of half-assedly proofreading so I am putting it out into the world.

Some preface before we get into it (there are a lot of prefaces bear with me!): The story of my original OCs (just 2-3 characters) was “what if there was a character, and she was adopted by [character I am too embarrassed to name], and there was found family.” This was the end goal. Everything else was backstory. They started off as Marvel OCs, then BNHA, then Haikyuu, then Black Clover, then DC, before I finally decided that they were too far removed from any canon to fit into a preexisting story and finally made them just original characters.

By the time I hit DC OCs’, I decided I needed a team of people for my main OCs (siblings) to be friends and allied with, to juxtapose the batfam, so I created a plethora of OCs to go along with them. Suddenly we had a lot of characters, and I needed to thread them all together. I developed my own dynamics, backstories, and other details for all of these characters. 

Instead of starting with an archetype or trope (hothead, scarecrow, hero, rebel, sunshiney, miserable, etc), I started with different events or moments in their lives. Essentially, I went backward, deciding key events before personality (kind of like how real life works…) This is what makes it so hard to describe my OCs to people. There isn’t just a set of keywords I can pull out of nowhere*, like “happy-go-lucky” or “angry” because they react differently in different situations. The only way to know the full range of my characters is to…know them.

*This is for most of my OCs. some of them I never developed as much, so they’re a little more black and white. Looking at you, Kicks.

That was a lot of ramble (it’s well past 1am as I write this) but to boil it down, the reason why i shared all of this information is this: My OCs are not ‘characters’ to me. They are people. They are so complex and have rich histories and aren’t just moodboards or aesthetics to me. And there’s no single plotline that I follow through either (more on this later**), because there is no overarching plot throughout their entire lives. Conflicts get resolved, or there are multiple at once, just like how someone can have both school and home life drama at once.

No, I don’t know their favorite songs, or movies, or colors, or what their ‘likes’ and ‘dislikes’ are. Yes, I know that Daiken would never ever speak to Brii again after everything, and he would definitely fight her if they ever met again, but he still picked up the phone when she called because he knew that she would only call him if it was important. And it was.

Sorry,. I am so normal abt my OCs. no one will read this post LMAO but . oh well. Already at 500 words and no sign of the end.

So the most basics are this:

For the sake of this post, ‘canon’ is at this point in time: Sachi Kojima (she) (16) lives with her three brothers, her twin Kazuki (he) (16), younger (half-)brother Kaito (he) (11), and elder brother Daiken (he) (21). Daiken is their legal guardian and took custody of them when he was 18, after The Incident™ when their severely abusive father (who was also a crimelord) was arrested. Her mother died when she was 4. 

Remember that thing I mentioned about the crimelord? Yeah, so as it turns out [bear with me this is the least plausible part of the story] all of the local bigger criminals/crimelords in the area…participate in ‘bring your kid to work day’, like, most days. Yeah, yeah I know. All of the Criminals™ are lowkey training their kids to follow in their footsteps and take them with them to places but also leave them in this old ass conference room for hours at a time I DONT KNOW it doesnt sound plausible to me either. Anyways. Jokingly, this group of kids call themselves the ‘Junior Murderers Club’ and they fuck around and do a whole lot of Nothing and bond while their parents talk about crime and get drunk and shit. They also call themselves ‘Sixes’ because they’re either six inches away [from their parent] or six rooms away, unless they wanna be six feet under…haha.

This group of kids exists in the ‘pre-canon’ of the story (from when Daiken was 12-17) and consists of: 

Daiken Kojima (he/him) (age 14 for reference)

Former team leader

Original codename: Moonstrike

Current codename: Redpoint

Maisie “Maze” Morian (she/her) (15) [deceased]

Codename: Freyja

Brielle “Brii” Hayes (she/her) (14)

Codename: Widow

Jacob Myers (he/they) (14)

Codename: Nightlight

James “Jamie” Moreno (he/him) (13) [deceased]

Codename: Piccolo

[Deadname] “Amelie” Espinosa (she/they) (12)

Original codename: Torito

Current codename: Mariposa

Lorena Inés “LS” Sauly (she/they) (12) 

do NOT call her by her first name or they will kill u

Codename: Siren

[Deadname] “Kicks” Hall (they/them) (11)

Codename: Kicks

Daiken is one of the few people that can still get away with calling Kicks ‘KJ’, their old nickname derived from their deadname + their codename, Kicks.

Azarus “Azz” Adams (he/him) (10)

Codename: Merlin

Best friends w/Kazuki (currently 17), also hates his first name lol

They are all trauma buddies and went on missions together n stuff and they all mostly*** hated their parents. After Sachi + co. (her siblings) escape their situation, they all kind of break off, and eventually they form the Information League, or the IL, or just… no name at all because I’m still not satisfied with that one.

***EXCEPT Brii who was treated quite well by her father and was brainwashed/manipulated into believing that what they did was okay in some capacity. She is essentially Daiken’s narrative foil and I love her to death. She is the worst. Stupid gay bitch <3

One of the previous generations of Sixes is Perria Dawson (she/her, codename: Delphi), who is ten years older than Daiken (so in canon, 31) who watched silently from the shadows, collected information, and slowly worked her way out of the complicated network of crime that she was entrapped in to eventually Get Out. She specialized in information gathering and staying under the radar. The IL’s base is a warehouse that her father used to own but sorta kinda forgot about, so she took over it when she got away from him and made it HQ. Notably, it has a big open space with high ceilings that they call the Fly, short for flyspace, a few rooms out of the way (kind of hidden) that she lives in with her kids (see below) part-time, and high rafters with those criss-crossy metal ladder things that are a bunch of X’s and stuff. 

In current canon, she’s a programmer or something like that and works a day job and while she’s cool with calls, everyone else feels bad for mooching off of her, so she’s Not to be disturbed during this time. She is my Deus ex machina. Anytime something goes Majorly wrong, someone always has to say the line “I’m calling Perria”. 

Perria also has the habit of picking up strays lmao and later takes in Manha Latif (she her, codename: Trebleclef, 15 in canon), my little meow meow who was not a Six but had a much beloved older brother who disappeared after dealing with some fucked up shit, so she got a little toooo involved in the nightlife and the IL got involved and now she’s one of them. Her brother (Binyamin) is probably dead rip and during all of this mess, her mom goes back overseas to Pakistan and is currently living there, so Perria was like “yea dude I’ll take you in”, so she lives with Perria

A year and a half later, she adopts the strangest fuckin little kid who talks like an adult and doesn’t know her name and appears from the shadows when you call for her and oh shit she’s probably magic or something. When you let a six-year-old pick their own name they will generally pick shit like Andromeda (or Anna for short). They refer to her as ‘The Kid™’ or ‘Star’ in the field.

Other character info I didn’t mention:

Sachi’s codename is ‘Scapegoat’ to reclaim her identity as the childhood scapegoat, because “everything’s always my fault, isn’t that right? 🙄”

Kazuki’s and Kaito’s I am still not completely satisfied with. I have spent many walks home contemplating something that doesn’t sound like a 12 year old came up with but it is hard I tell you. Kaito doesn’t really go into the field much anyway because everyone is determined to not traumatize him anymore than he already is but the name I picked for him is Gear. Kazuki is Steel.

If anyone has suggestions, my criteria are that Kazuki’s starts with an S (to match his sister) and sounds somewhat physics-y or steampunk/cyberpunky. Kaito’s is so weird that anything works really but he likes animals and will probably be a vet so keep that in mind. Also reminder he is 11.

Now that most of my characters are out of the way it’s time to explain the **many plotlines that I have going on. When I come up with scenarios in my mind, they fit into the below categories. Essentially, if I wanted to actually sit down and tell the story of these kids, these are the options that I have.

One: The Early Days (2011-2019) 

The abuse Daiken, Sachi, Kazuki, and Kaito faced at the hands of their father for 8 years. This is either from Sachi’s or Daiken’s point of view. 

Sachi has the unique experience of being the scapegoat and most hated child and also only girl (which is important here as well as later****). Also goes into Sachi’s relationship with her best friends (Bianca/Bia (she), who she was probably in love with [or was she?] and Trey (he)), her twin, lying pathologically to all the adults in her life, her anger issues, and more. 

Daiken has the experience of being the eldest child forced to look after his siblings while work alongside his father on missions and meeting people as well as maintain his grades to escape to medical school and a better future. He’s a lil parentified. Lol. 

Two: Daiken as a Six (2013-2018) 

Trigger warning for child death in this one.

The struggles that Daiken experienced before escaping his father at 18 (when he got arrested). This mainly focuses on how Brii is his narrative foil as well as goes into more detail on the missions he went on with LS and Jacob and Jamie and Azz. When Daiken was 14, he was going through his father’s computer, and accidentally discovers that Jamie had died a few weeks prior, at only 13. This devastates him, and while he was already against the work he was forced into, the circumstances of Jamie’s death (at the hands of one of Jamie’s father’s employees in the mob, used brutally as a human shield), radicalizes him, and he ends up toe-to-toe with the ever-loyal Brii. Brii is like Daiken but her father actually loves her deeply and manipulates/abuses her differently. Years later, Maze (who Brii was secretly in love with) dies at 19, protecting Brii on a mission, and while this would have radicalized Daiken, this only further cements in Brii’s eyes that what they are doing is the way to keep the most people safe. This story is really interesting and nuanced in a lot of ways.

Three: To Grow Again (TGA)/After (2019-) 

The story of Sachi and her siblings’ lives after they’re taken out of their father’s custody and transferred into Daiken’s care a few months later. Mostly a story of healing and setbacks as Sachi experiences loss, works through trauma, adjusts to a new way of life, and also forms close bonds with the IL. This is the Good Ending

An AU of this: Daiken becomes a teen dad and shares custody of his daughter Aika with her mom. This is mostly fluffy slice of life stuff and isn’t canon to anything. 

Another AU of this: I like to play with a roleswap/reverse siblings so that everyone is backward in age. I haven't played with this concept as much so feel free to ask more abt this.

Four: The Dimension Girls (2020-) 

Eventually I got bored of the happily ever after stuff so I gave Sachi the power to travel between dimensions and made her a guardian of the planet Earth. I have a lot of lore I’m still working on (ATSV gave me so many good ideas, but also hey I already had the ‘anomaly’ concept!) but I’ve tried to distinguish between dimensions, universes, and smaller changes in dimensions. That’s a different post. 

Sachi and two other girls****, Allison (Aussie, she/they, 19) and Imogen (Irish, she/her, 16) are meant to help dimensional anomalies, act as ambassadors to other dimensions, and protect the dimension from threats. I used the concept of the 5 senses, where Allison is sight, Sachi is hearing, and Imogen is taste (which I decided includes gasses/the lungs). There are 5 senses, obviously, but I decided that the other 2 girls haven’t activated their powers yet, so right now, Sachi’s Earth doesn’t have all of its guardians, making the burden greater on the three. Not every dimension uses the 5 senses in their powers, or even has the same rules for picking guardians. In this dimension, the guardian powers are passed through the girl in the bloodline (trans-inclusive! Which is why none of the others can be transfemme and Sachi can’t be transmasc lol) until there isn’t one, then it jumps to a new family. There’s some fun horror where these senses sometimes cross over and they can experience things from other dimensions (phantom hearing, vision, smoke in Im’s lungs, etc). There’s also this mirror dimension where they go and blah blah I don’t feel like explaining.

I love doing crossovers so when I do those I just make it a dimensional thing. I tried staying away from the ‘fantasy structure is just a bureaucracy hierarchy’ concept because I hate it, but there are also beings with more power, like Cosmic/Cozy who is an inter-dimensional higher being who steps in when situations get dire. Pronouns pending because I can’t decide between they/them and he/she so y’all can help me out with that as well.

An AU of this: Sachi also gets stuck in timeloops sometimes, caused by her powers somehow. I have fun with it. This one is more canon than the other AU I have, and I headcanon that she wears a watch that beeps at 11:50 pm and again at midnight because when she loops it’s always at midnight, and she can get her bearings at 11:50 pm so that if she ends up looping, she’s somewhere safe and can remember what she was doing at the time to avoid suspicion of the others. It’s a vibe.

Another AU of this: Sachi keeps getting dreams of treading water in an endless ocean as her mother calls out to her and tells her it’s okay + something ominous about where to find her/info about her death. Every time Sachi wakes up, water materializes out of nowhere and she awakens drenched and exhausted, a pool of water around her. This period of time would be either on and off for a few months or for a few weeks straight. She sets an alarm for every 20 minutes so that when she sleeps, she never starts dreaming. She’s constantly exhausted and is living hell for this period of time until the dreams stop.

I think that’s all of the information about my OCs and To Grow Again, the name I picked for their story. This was a lonnggggg post so I will not be surprised if no one reads this. If you made it this far and read most of it, leave a goat emoji in the replies <3. Thank you for letting me rant Catla!!!!! Hope you all enjoyed lol. There is so much information still in my brain, resting, that I have not released yet, so if you have any questions, please hmu with an ask!!! I am obsessed and will respond.

peace ✌️

[sasaranomiya]

Interview with Shirakawa Kouko in Musashi 2019-12

Here it is, the long awaited interview! Luckily for me, this magazine has e-versions and you can still buy old copies

Fascinated by tragedy and forbidden love

The main character of the Koukyuu no Karasu series, the Raven Consort (Jusetsu), lives in the inner palace, but maintains an aloof assistance and doesn’t perform night duties. She’s a very mysterious existence.

She is a woman with the blood of the previous dynasty, and a consort destined to be executed if her true identity is discovered. In the series, the current emperor, Koushun, is the one who goes to her to seek peace of mind.

Why did you decide to write this kind of work?

I’m afraid I might be misunderstood, but ever since I was little, I have loved stories about girls with unhappy upbringings. It wasn’t until I was in elementary school that I became aware of stories of tragedy and forbidden love, and it all started with Prince Otsu, who was arrested on suspicion of treason and conferred with death. When I discovered this poem in the Manyoshu, I was greatly impacted.

Today, taking my last sight of the mallards

Crying on the pond of Iware,

Must I vanish into the clouds!

I was deeply moved by the feeling of regret conveyed in this poem. Since then, I had come to love tragedies, and in this work as well, the Raven Consort isn’t allowed to have feelings for the emperor, and she is forced to bear the harsh fate of not even being able to go out of her residence.

As the past of the Raven Consort, whose mother was brutally murdered and who was then adopted and imprisoned within the inner palace, gradually became clear, I found myself thinking, “Shirakawa-san, you’ve done a terrible thing.”

The Raven Consort and Koushun are in a forbidden relationship where the two of them weren’t even supposed to approach each other in the first place. I fundamentally like Cinderella stories and happy ends, but this time I’m thinking about how to end this story.

Koushun also has a painful past in which his mother and friend were killed by the empress dowager, so the two of them resonate with each other in that aspect. What kind of thoughts did you put into his character?

He was also influenced by Prince Otsu, but I like to write about young men in unfortunate circumstances. Koushun is a quiet and emotionless young man with a dark shadow, but he holds a storm in his heart. I write him so that we can sometimes catch glimpses of that. What I like most is writing scenes that show glimpses of the instability and fragility of a normally calm young man.

And that’s why the men Shirakawa-san portrays are close to the hearts of modern women.

A staunch lover of ghost stories

The Raven Consort deals with those who died leaving their feelings behind in this world. She takes away the sorrows of those who become wandering ghosts. It’s quite a scary story.

Ever since I was a child, I have loved strange, slightly scary stories and ghost stories. That’s why this story is something I wanted to write one day. China has many ghost stories, and there are even many Japanese classics that are patterned after Chinese ghost stories.

Chinese ghost stories are bloodier than Japanese ghost stories, aren’t they?

In Japan, the yuu in yuurei (ghost) means “fleeting,” which gives off a transient and ephemeral image. However, in China, ghosts have vivid and strong characters.

Also, I was surprised that there are many Chinese stories that have no logical connection or an unclear cause and effect. Perhaps it is the national characteristic.

How did you come to like ghost stories?

There is a temple behind my childhood home, and on Monday mornings there was time to read sutras before going to school, and in summers there were tests of courage, so ghosts and religion are things that are familiar to me.

In Volume 3, a new religious organization called the Eight Truths Sect also appears.

That is a religion I created, but the myths and beliefs in the work take reference from those of Japan and other island nations. The story takes place on a large island, and the sea is a key word in the story. Some Chinese myths also have themes of the sea and rivers, which are also very interesting.

I love mythology, but when it came to write a Chinese-inspired story, the hurdles were high and it was difficult to take the first step.

There are a lot of things you have to study in order to write a story that uses China as inspiration, such as the systems related to the eunuchs that appear in this series.

Eunuchs are castrated males, and their position varied widely depending on the era. There are cases where it’s a punishment, but it is also a way for commoners without backing to get ahead in life.

Even though it’s a fantasy, I can’t even compose a story without studying the history, culture, and systems of the country that serves as the background, and I’m still studying as I’m writing.

Okamoto Kido was the catalyst

What inspired you to start writing?

The first was Okamoto Kido’s Collection of Chinese Bizarre Stories (中国怪奇小説集). I fell in love with Okamoto Kido after reading The Curious Casebook of Inspector Hanshichi, but then I got hooked and ended up at Chinese Bizarre Stories. When I started writing Koukyuu no Karasu, I read it again, and if I hadn’t come across this book, I might not have been able to write the Koukyuu no Karasu series.

Okamoto Kido was translating Chinese stories, wasn’t he?

That’s right. Okamoto Kido’s writing was good and concise. But, he would casually mix in beautiful expressions. His writing isn’t difficult, but it isn’t easy either. Even if the times change, they will never get old. I could feel the depth of his education.

People of culture in the Meiji era had no choice but to read foreign books in their original form, so they had to be proficient in foreign languages. They also had to have a good grasp of Chinese poetry and other works.

You’ve written a lot of series that are structured as a collection of short stories.

Since I took Okamoto Kido as my role model, I also like short stories. There’s also the fact that I’m not good at long-form stories (laughs). That’s why I try to finish each series in about five volumes.

The Raven Consort’s model is Fan Bingbing

The beautiful Raven Consort always dresses in black and has a strong visual impact. Do you have any stories or people you modeled her after?

There was a drama about the life of Empress Wu Zetian called Wu Zetian, and Fan Bingbing, who played the empress, was very beautiful. The story was set in the Tang dynasty, and the costumes were wonderful. Although Wu Zetian didn’t dress in all black, the character of the Raven Consort was inspired by her.

The story is a fantasy, but you wrote it with the Tang dynasty as inspiration.

Yes. The Tang dynasty is my favorite. If I hadn’t watched that drama, I don’t think I would have settled on the Tang dynasty.

I think the reason why people who aren’t familiar with China can easily read the books is because the characters are well-defined and easy to visualize.

Since I myself do not know much about China, I have taken care to write these books in a way that even those unfamiliar with the history can understand.

The story has a strong element of fantasy as well as mystery.

I love fantasy and have been reading it since I was young. Among foreign authors, my favorite is Patricia A. McKillip. She is a fantasy writer who has written works such as the Riddle Master trilogy and Winter Rose.

For domestic authors, it’s Miyabe Miyuki. I stared reading mainly her contemporary mysteries and fantasy books when I was in high school, and I’ve of course read her ghost story series Hyakumonogatari.

Since you debuted with Cobalt Bunko, you’re strongly associated with light novels, but what kind of works do you plan to publish in the future?

I recently published a Japanese-style fantasy called Mikazuki-tei Hana Zukan. The main character, a detective, opened a detective agency in what used to be a daimyo’s garden during the Edo period, but encounters mysterious things there. I would love to write horror and historical novels in the future.

I’m looking forward to it.

[fe-fictions]

i remember seeing a piece in the FEH world where the MC was waiting for Kiran to summon their spouse from the same world as them and kept encountering alternate versions instead - i dont remember which character it was for but i rlly loved that concept :0 do u still have that one in ur archive/reposted? tysm :>>

(So that is actually a Frederick and Robin story!! And here it is for your reading pleasure :3 )

There were so many Robins.

Frederick had taken a psychological hit when Prince Alfonse had summoned him. He looked about and saw several familiar faces, though none were from his realm.

None of the Robins were his. One was unmarried and a monster on the battlefield; another was fresh from the Plegian War and looking optimistic as ever, but clearly liked someone else. Another still was married to another Chrom, which was even more heartbreaking.

He was lost, and alone. The battles went well, but weren’t enough. The man heaved a sigh, leaning against a tree outside of camp. Seeing that smile he knew so well, that voice...the laughter...to know that none were for him...he couldn’t bear it.

Somewhere, deep down, he had hopes that you would come. But why would you be summoned to Askr when you were up in the astral plane somewhere? How would that even be possible?

He shook his head, eyes closed against the embattled realm. Perhaps he should request early leave. He could only handle such torment for so long.

It was noticed by the prince and princess, the pair of siblings spotting the knight from their place in camp. Sharena nudged Alfonse’s shoulder, a frown on her lips.

“You think we summoned the wrong Frederick?” She asked, “He seems really down.”

“Well...there are a number of reasons that could be. It depends on the timeline he’s from. If you remember, their Exalt, Emmeryn died. We might have summoned him just after that.”

“Or maybe the Grima thing. What if this Frederick’s married to a Robin?” She guessed, “What if his Robin became, or maybe killed, Grima?”

“Maybe so.” Alfonse murmured, “Perhaps we should see to sending him home. He’s fought well enough, but if he’s in a state like this, maybe we should let him grieve.”

“But we have to do something! Surely we can find a way to lift his spirits! Why don’t we try summoning his Robin? Or maybe his Chrom! Somebody he knows to help him feel better!”

“If his Robin is dead, that won’t work.” Alfonse said grimly, “Besides, it wouldn’t do to summon their Exalt on top of one of their generals.”

“Didn’t stop you before.” She muttered. “Come on, can’t we please try it? We’ve gotta do something!”

“Well...it is unpleasant, seeing him like this.”

“Then we’d best go find his Robin!” Sharena cheered and tugged him away, the two royals off to reunite the sorrowful captain with his lost love.

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

Frederick didn’t pay any mind to the commotion around camp, days later. He had, for the most part, exiled himself from them. He couldn’t bear to be near to any of those Robins, those mirror images of his dearest.

If he was needed, they would come to find him, as they did for every battle. Perhaps sending one of the royals or their commander, or a hero from another world.

Although he could hear the chatter and curiosity rumbling about, he chose to stay away, in the peace of his little forest haven.

He acknowledged no one until he heard the crunching of leaves under another person’s boots. Frederick paused his thinking, and rose at the frantic footfalls that were coming.

“Has something happened?” He asked seriously, turning to face the oncomer. “Is everything-”

Dark eyes met bright. Frederick froze, staring down at a Robin who looked just as shocked to see him. His heart squeezed at the sight, a painful yearning in his chest. Her mouth fell open, then closed, and opened again. She couldn’t find the words to speak.

Frederick tried to recover himself; he hadn’t had a Robin sent to him before. He wasn’t expecting to see her face. He had made it clear he wanted little to do with the mirrors.

It took all his strength to break his gaze, the flood of painful, precious memories having caught him off guard. He turned his head to the grass, hands clasped tight behind his back.

“Were no others able to send for me?” He questioned with a hint of bitterness in his tone. Who was he kidding; nothing but bitterness left his tongue. “It is nothing against you, milady, but...I cannot see you.”

“Frederick?” Your voice; his name on your lips. Frederick’s eyes narrowed, jaw clenched as he tried to keep his composure. “F-Frederick, it’s me…!”

At this, he slowly returned his gaze to the Robin before him. There was a strange look on your face; you appeared ready to cry. Your fingers trembled, your eyes glistening with unshed tears as you stepped towards him.

For the briefest moment, a glimmer of hope found him. “It’s...you?” He echoed, unconvinced.

You swallowed thickly, nodding quickly to confirm it. “F-Freddybear, it’s me. I’m...I’m back!”

That name.

Frederick’s heart skipped a beat. None of the other Robins had ever approached him that way, and not once did they use that dreadful nickname you’d given him. He didn’t move as you came closer, your expression that of sorrow and joy inexplicably meshed together.

“Back...back from where?” His voice was naught but a breath. Cautiously you reached out, taking hold of his hands. He stiffened at your touch, that familiar warmth he had so yearned for suddenly returning to him. It was no ghost; it was real, and there.

You were there.

“Naga, dearest, she...she sent me here! She said someone was ‘summoning’ me, someone important and that you would be there to see me and I found you and you’re here and- gods, Frederick, I’m back!”

He needn’t hear another word. He engulfed you in a tight embrace, burying his face in your hair as a strangled sob escaped his lips. He squeezed you against him, curling his fingers into your coat as he found what he had been waiting years for.

It was you. You had come to him...you came home.

“Robin…!” He whispered your name so fiercely, over and over as if it were a prayer. You broke down into sobs, clutching onto him for all you were worth. Your fingers darting over his neck, through his hair and down his back, trying to feel every inch of him.

Gods, you had missed him so much. He had ached for you so terribly.

“I-I can’t believe...after all this time I...I thought you might never to return to me…! H-how did you? And this place, no less!”

“It was Naga.” You told him, pulling back just enough to see his face. You smiled sadly at his tears, sniffling and pushing away your own joy enough to speak. “She led me to a light saying it would take me to you. I-I came through and ended up in some strange camp- I asked everyone where you were and now...I’m here.”

“Oh, my darling.” He pressed his forehead to yours, arm curled tight around your waist. He brushed his fingers against your cheek, wiping away the tears that fell merely by his touch. “I have suffered...longed for you...prayed every night that you might finally find me. I-I can’t believe that it’s truly you.”

“It’s me, love.” You promised as you cupped his cheeks, swiping at the odd tear with the pads of your thumbs. He pressed into your touch, relishing the feeling of your hands truly on him, again. “Ah, gods I’ve missed you so much…!”

The two of you sank to the forest floor, the knight feverishly removing his armor so that he could truly feel your warmth against his. You pressed against him, fingers clutched to his vest as if letting go would cause him to disappear.

The ring he had given you so long ago gleamed on your finger, further cementing the truth. You were real and you were there.

You drowned in each other’s touch, kisses rained down on every inch of each other you could reach. You never once separated, not even when the Askrian royals came to check in.

Alfonse explained through his bright red blush that it would be possible to send you both home immediately; Frederick had fought plenty battles for the both of you.

With arms linked and hands clasped tightly together, you returned to your world. Even when the others caught wind; reunited with your closest friends and allies, you never once parted from your beloved.

You let him lead you back to your shared quarters, taking you to bed where you simply lied there, together.

Wrapped in each other’s tender embrace, you stayed for hours simply talking and grieving and laughing, again.

You promised never to leave his side again, and he yours; you would remain together for the rest of your days, making up every second lost without him.

[anachronisticmech]

I just realised I never posted this! Here’s my mechsona, lifeboat Jon :3

Some clarification because I made this when I didn’t know a lot about the mechs:

-> is in a qpr with Tim, Jonny and Brian, Ashes and Marius.

-> joins while hnoc events are occurring (while Brian is away)

-> is a cannibal like jonny and they eat people together (how romantic 💖 /s)

-> hair is dyed by ivy and they are quite close!

ID: a digital drawing of my mechsona, Lifeboat Jon. Blood has light pink skin, with dyed red hair. Fang is wearing a cream top with red ribbon throughout, a crimson vest with purple edges and yellow ribbon holding it together, a long violet skirt dirtied with mud at the bottom, and black shoes. Vamps elbows are replaced with metal parts, which connect to elbow crutches, of which vamp is holding. Bat has a red eyes, pointy ears, fangs, a lot of face and ear piercings and lots of beauty spots. Blood also has a monocle. The flags next to Lifeboat Jon’s name are the aro, ace, polyamorous, bear brotherhood, transmasc, autigender, vampgender, and steampunkic. Fangs pronouns are bat/vamp/fang/blood. Blood has hypermobile ehlers-danlos syndrome and is autistic. There is a list of character and backstory notes. 1) is a vampire. 2) literally a fucking prick. 3) is the most recent mech to be mechanised by dr. carmilla. 4) mechanism: joints (elbows, knees, and spine) and crutches (which are permanently connected to fangs elbows). 5) does vocals. 6) very silly (autistic). 7) is kinda hated by jonny because of similar names and just general spite. 8) is in a qpr with Tim and jonny (despite their hatred for each other). 9) helps ivy in the archives, but other than that, just dicks around. 10) comfort item is a bat plushie that Tim got vamp when the crew [was] visiting earth (blood literally has no idea what a bat is but loves it). 11) used to be really nice and happy before the 600 years on the lifeboat (though sometimes that niceness peaks through when bat is with bats qpps and friends). 12) gets very angry at octokittens. 13) loved listening to the mechs past albums from before vamp joined them.

Full backstory:

Jon was once a nice guy, and worked as an archivist and cartographer upon a ship sailing across an endless sea on an unnamed planet. The ship fang was on found another ship, of which housed only one, Dr Carmilla. She stayed on jons ship for a while, sharing stories of her doctoring and medical history. Jon went to her one day about joint pain (of which vamp had had all of vamps life), and instead of usual medical procedures, vamp was mechanised. It was exciting for a while, being immortal, until a year after Carmilla had left the ship. Long story short, it sunk. Everyone else within the ship, Jon’s friends and qpps had died, and Jon was left swimming, and sinking, and drowning alone for a couple months, before making it to the bottom of the ocean and managing to get a lifeboat out of it. Fang was stuck floating on that lifeboat for six hundred years; starving and drowning and falling and dehydrating, but not once dying. Bat grew bitter over this time, losing that sense of wonder bat once had. Blood was eventually found by the mechanisms, who had made a small stop at this water filled planet because some of the mechs wanted to go swimming. Vamp found vamps new home aboard the Aurora, growing close with very few. Blood was closed off, especially for the first few decades, but eventually starts to open up, forming close relationships with Tim, Marius, Ashes, Brian and Jonny, and a few others in different ways. Bat is still rough and spiky and mean, but can occasionally be quite nice, once you spend a couple hundred years with bat.

[consul-valerius]

Apprenticember Day 3: Donna and The Main Six (or.... my version of the main six LOL)

Give a short summary of their relationship to the other main characters!

This is going to get long because I can't shut up, thank you for bearing with me besties lmao

Nadia

Donna and Nadia are very close, with Donna acting as one of Nadia’s confidants prior to the game. They initially became close when Donna began working at the palace; Nadia instantly empathized with Donna’s culture shock of what life in the palace was like in Vesuvia, and she felt the need to be a source of comfort and support for them (which got physical pretty quickly lol). This blossomed into genuine feelings developing between the two that is hard to define strictly. In some continuities, Donna and Nadia (and Valerius lol) enter a full-fledged romantic relationship, and in others (such as Damien’s timeline), the lines are much blurrier and lean more platonic for them

Portia

BRAT TO BRAT, SWITCH TO SWITCH ENERGY BABY!! After the game's events, Portia is one of Donna’s closest friends. They both instantly related to one another’s needs to prove themselves, to be the heroes of their own stories, despite everyone doubting them. Honestly, it’s the lack of any prior history that makes Donna and Portia’s relationship so special. Portia has no grand idea of Donna that she is still holding onto: she’s been there since their new “beginning” and sees them for the person they are now. 

Asra

Boy are these two complicated LMAO Asra and Donna adore one another, but after their death and revival, their relationship is permanently damaged. Prior to the game, the two were normally joined at the hip, and while there were some one-sided romantic feelings from Asra, he never let them interfere in their friendship, even when Donna dated guys Asra really didn’t approve of (cough cough, Sam and Valerius, cough cough). Things started to go downhill when Donna began working at the palace, and their relationship was effectively nuked when Donna died.

To put it plainly: Donna doesn’t know what to think of Asra after the events of the game. They love him dearly, but there will always be a sense of distrust and resentment over what he has done. They feel like they should be kinder to him and that they literally owe him their life, but there is a sense of violation over them having no say in their own death that they cannot quite verbalize to anyone. It feels like something was robbed from them, but they feel guilty for thinking that way at all.  

Julian

Julian and Donna were close during the plague and used one another as sources of comfort while working with Valdemar. However, neither have very solid memories of this, but after the game’s events, simply remain very good friends who enjoy nerding out together lol Afternoons spent pouring over books together before getting black out at the Rowdy Raven are some of their favorite times together (and neither are very good wingmen for each other but man do they try lmao)

Muriel

Donna didn’t have a relationship with Muriel until after their revivial, and even then, they never remembered the times Muriel would take care of them when Asra was gone. After the game, however, they do begin to form a bond. Both Muriel and Donna have PTSD, and while more and more of Donna’s memories come back to them, they have a harder time managing it (even harder than before their death, as now they have a whole new layer of trauma to deal with lol). Muriel really begins to stand in as a figure who can not just relate to Donna but he was deeply realistic and blunt with them about it, which is exactly what they needed.

They didn’t want to hear about how there would be better days and that their feelings were valid: they wanted to hear “this sucks—let’s go eat because I know you haven’t.” Sometimes Donna can be a bit too much for Muriel, so while they don’t see one another as often prior to Damien being born, their interactions are always positive and deeply meaningful for Donna. 

Valerius

I’M INCLUDING HIM BECAUSE HE’S THEIR LI AND I FUCKING CAN GDFIHGDIFHG but this is just another reminder that they’re gross and in love LMAO and Valerius is deeply appreciative of all the new connections he would have never made if Donna wasn’t in their life. They often are a bridge for him to let his true personality show to others, and they give him more confidence to be real and not always play noble mind games with others lol