#six feet under s2e7

[exopolodion717]

[beautifulterriblequeen]

I know that sound

Remember when the issue of Runaan and Rayla vs a dragon was super briefly brought up and immediately abandoned with zero context in a TDP interview? Me either, but that totally happened. (thanks to @ladyandherbooks​ for a great conversation on the topic!)

Is it going to be in the future or has it already happened? I think it’s already happened because of this comment Rayla makes in S2E7 when Pyrrah roars in the distance.

My favorite angsty headcanon as to exactly when Rayla and Runaan faced off with a dragon is that it was when a raging, mourning Zubeia came looking for Runaan--and for Rayla--after her egg vanished and her mate was killed.

TDP has a beautiful habit of adding backstory behind dramatic events that changes the perspective of those events. We started watching this show knowing that the humans slayed Thunder. Then we learned it was in vengeance for Sarai’s death. Then we learned that she died trying to save her people from a famine. Those kinds of layers.

So I’m wondering if this moonfam vs dragon is just such an event, which will change our perspective on Rayla and Runaan’s relationship, and on why she ended up on his mission in the first place.

I don’t know whether a Storm archdragon has enough magical power to see through the Silvergrove’s enchantments, but I want the answer to be no. Because then, see, Zubeia’s got to fly around roaring and raging and shouting above the village and freaking out all the Moonshadow elves. Like, “holy crap the Dragon Queen has lost her mind, uhhh guys what to we do??” Because see, they don’t know yet. They don’t know about Harrow and Viren and Avizandum and the egg. This moment, this exchange, this is how they learn what happened.

So the elves stare skyward as Zubeia roars and zaps her way over the forest, maybe even crying Runaan’s name. Or worse, Rayla’s. There’s no way he’d let Rayla approach an enraged dragon. But he’s the leader of the assassins. This is his village, and Rayla is the daughter of his heart. Defending literally everyone who’s currently in danger is exactly Runaan’s jam. So he leaves the village and draws Zubeia’s attention a ways away, where she can’t hurt anyone, hoping to let her say her piece in um, peace.

I don’t think it went well, for several reasons. And the first of those reasons is that Rayla sneaked out after him.

The first things Zubeia would want Runaan to know are that his friends were cowards and that her egg and mate are dead. If Rayla overheard the bit about her parents, I can see her throwing caution to the wind and darting right out to say Zubeia’s totally wrong. Runaan would be intensely concerned for her safety, but he’s got to keep a hold on the situation despite his own shock and horror. A mother who’s just lost her baby could do anything she wanted, especially if she’s got teeth that are six feet long and extremely pointy. He’s just lost his two best friends, but he can’t do anything that puts Rayla’s life in more danger than it’s already in.

And maybe it is in danger. Zubeia blames all of her Dragonguard for fleeing. But Moonshadows don’t run. Maybe she already hunted down the others, and here she is, unable to find Lain and Tiadrin anywhere, desperate for revenge, and turning to their daughter. Zubeia did lose a child. How fitting, she might decide, that her traitorous guards lose theirs in return.

Runaan’s definitely not having that, though. He’d say or do just about anything to protect Rayla. And conveniently, it’s his actual job to hunt down horrible people. Maybe he offered his services to Zubeia to keep her from killing Rayla. Tried his best to direct the distraught dragon from wild revenge to a balanced justice. Maybe Runaan agreed to take Ezran’s life so he wouldn’t have to lose Rayla’s.

Rayla would be sickened, angry, horrified, and maybe just a little lost in all these horrible details, but once she heard Runaan talking about an assassination mission, she’d pick up immediately that she could find redemption by going with him. Not just in Zubeia’s eyes, but in everyone else’s. And it would placate the Dragon Queen to see Rayla acting furious and intent on fixing her parents’ mistake.

Maybe Runaan never intended for Rayla to grow up to be an assassin at all, despite her admiration for him and his honorable position in the Silvergrove. But in such a moment, with Rayla glaring up at him and Zubeia staring down at him, he felt the strings of fate pull so tightly that he had no choice but to say yes. His job is to lead and train assassins. If anyone can get a determined young Moonshadow elf ready for an assassination mission in a short period of time, it’s Runaan.

Is this why the mission took so long to start after the event that triggered it? Avizandum died at Winter’s Turn, which is like New Year’s, but Runaan’s mission set out in May. He and Rayla might’ve spent those intervening months training like crazy. But eventually, Runaan had to make the call--Zubeia’s been waiting on him, and he’s got to decide at some point that Rayla’s ready enough. 

Runaan may have negotiated with Zubeia to take Rayla with him, but only when he deemed her ready. Zubeia might not have cared much whether Rayla lived or died on the mission. But better to give Rayla a fighting chance, and a chance to redeem her family’s honor, than to refuse and risk Zubeia lashing out at her right there and then.

It’s an impossible situation, but Runaan seems to have a knack for getting into those and making hard calls. He absolutely won’t let Rayla die today, but his other options are to kill an innocent prince and to endanger his daughter while doing it. And he goes with that. He says he’ll do it, and then, because of his honor, he actually plans to do exactly that. 

Harrow would be much easier to agree to take. Harrow is the one who actually killed Avizandum. But why Ezran? That’s a demand made out of rage and grief. If Rayla’s life hadn’t been under threat at the time of Zubeia’s and Runaan’s negotiation, would Runaan have agreed to take Ezran’s life?

Maybe he would. It is a balanced solution, in a very dark and terrible way. But for a guy with his own child, it feels like a really, really dark move to agree to. Maybe he didn’t make it willingly.

If Runaan felt pressured into taking Rayla on his mission to spare her life, that adds new dimension to his theme of protecting her. He basically sacrificed himself and his whole team to save her when the mission went pear-shaped. What a ride it would be if her life was actually in danger much earlier than that.

I know this doesn’t have much connection with canon. Zubeia seemed oddly thrilled with all the humans and elves around her when she woke up. But maybe we’re missing something in her character arc as well. She got Runaan to accept the mission to take Harrow and Ezran. And then she had to wait. And wait. And her rage died out, leaving her with only her sorrow. Her broken heart was all she had left, and it began to kill her. Ibis said that she’d slipped into a coma ten days earlier, which was around the time that S3 started. That was most likely after she received Runaan’s shadowhawk, telling her that Harrow was dead, but not Ezran.

Did she think Runaan had gone back on his word? Did she tell anyone at all what his message said? That he’d failed to do what he promised?

Rrgh, was Runaan worried when he shot that shadowhawk off that Zubeia might still try to exact revenge on Rayla because he hadn’t taken Ezran? Maybe he didn’t want Rayla taking the egg back to Xadia because she’d be running directly to the dragon that threatened her, and Runaan was trying to minimize the risk to her life, again, by taking it himself.

Why did he demand the egg like he did? Is he really just that dramatic? Or was he trying to keep Rayla and Zubeia apart because Rayla had to hear what a raging dragon sounds like once, and he never wanted her to hear that sound again?

The irony will be enormous if Runaan was trying to protect Rayla from a threat that nearly died from grief between the time he left on his mission and the time Rayla reached Xadia without him. Because if his mission had gone off without a hitch, he and Rayla would’ve been home and dry before Zubeia fell into her coma. Rayla might be safe in that scenario, but Zym would be lost, and Ezran would be dead.

why are there never any clear answers i love this show

[ellewritesathing]

So Close - S.S. XIV

Summary: The universe has a funny way of putting the things you want right in front of you, but just out of reach. Stiles and Y/N have been best friends ever since Scott brought him home, but when Stiles realizes that he might want to be something other than best friends, she leaves to go to some fancy private school up North. Now that she’s back though … maybe he’s got a shot? A Teen Wolf AU in which the reader has always been so close to Stiles and yet so far.

Prologue - S2E1 Part 1 - S2E2 + S2E3 Part 2 - S2E4 + S2E5 + S2E6 Part 3 -  S2E7 +S2E8 Part 4 - S2E9 + S2E10 Part 5 - S2E11 + S2E12 Part 6 Part 7 - S3AE1 Part 8 - S3AE2 + S3AE3 Part 9 - S3AE4 Part 10 - S3AE5 + S3AE6 Part 11 - S3AE7 + S3AE8 Part 12 - S3AE9 + S3AE10 + S3AE11 Part 13 - S3AE11 + S3AE12 Part 14

Word-count: 2.8k+

A/N: Okay so I get that in order to expand the cast, the producers need to cut other characters out so they can include new ones and stay in their budget. And I’ve kept this rewrite pretty close to canon so far ... but now we’re throwing parts of it out the window. Enjoy!!

(Also there’s a swearword near the end if you need the warning 💗)

You woke up with a pounding in your head and a racing in your chest. You sat up and took some deep, shaky breaths. A hand snaked around your waist and you felt the covers shift as Stiles moved. 

“What are you doing up?” he asked softly. “It’s late.” 

“I- I had another bad dream,” you said, still in a slight daze. You held his hand as you looked around. You couldn’t remember when you came over tonight. “Stiles?” 

He stopped tracing patterns on your arm to press a kiss to the side of it. “Yeah?” 

“Why is your door open?” 

“My door? What does my door matter?” 

“What if your dad sees us?” you asked, pushing back the covers and getting up. “Sure, I know I’m his favorite and all, but I don’t think he’d take too kindly to our little arrangement.” 

“He’s not even here,” Stiles said. He didn’t sound tired so much as he sounded annoyed. “So come back to bed, alright?” 

“Where is he?” you frowned. He came up with a vague excuse about where Noah was and then shook his head. It didn’t matter, he said. “Well, if it doesn’t matter then I’m just gonna close the door while I’m up, okay?” 

“Y/N, would you just leave the damn door and get back into bed?” Stiles asked. His voice was slightly too harsh to be considered playful or to be written off as grumpy from being woken up. You took a step back. “God, I didn’t- I’m sorry. Please? Just leave it alone.” 

For a second you thought about leaving it alone, but you couldn’t shake the feeling it gave you. You turned and closed the door swiftly, sending Stiles a smile when you were done but you didn’t get that far. Your hand burned as soon as you touched the doorknob, like you’d touched hot iron. And when you did close the door, it felt like your whole body was on fire. 

Stiles wasn’t there when you woke up again - you weren’t even in his room anymore - but someone was holding you. And judging by the chipped black nail polish, it was Cora. You took a deep breath and tried to move her hands without waking her up. 

But she was a light sleeper. Her grip tightened when she noticed you were moving. “What are you doing?” 

You gave up on being gentle and lifted her arms and pushed yourself to a sitting position. “You know the reason why there’s an extra mattress in here is so you have your own bed, right?” 

“You don’t remember what happened last night, do you?” Cora sat up next to you and you pulled your legs to her chest while she let hers stretch out under the covers. 

“Of course I do,” you lied. “I’m not crazy.” 

“So you remember when you sat up screaming?” Cora asked. “When I couldn’t get you to stop, so Scott, Isaac, and Melissa all came to see what was wrong? When you wouldn’t answer anyone? And when you did finally stop, you just collapsed back into the bed? I’m pretty sure you bit Isaac at some point but he-”

“Stop,” you said quietly. “Please.”

Cora took a deep breath and you felt her move closer and rub your back. “Do you remember any of that?” 

You shook your head. 

“What do you remember?” 

Your heart skipped a beat. Sure, you and Cora had become a lot closer over the two weeks she’d been living with you, but were you really about to tell her that the last thing you remember was sleeping with Stiles? 

“I don’t know,” you lied. “I just- just want to take a shower and forget about this. Can you tell Scott that I’m fine and my mom…” you paused. Melissa didn’t know the depth of what you had to do to find her that night. “And tell my mom I …”

“Got it,” Cora gave you a small smile. “Go shower.”

---

“Come on,” Isaac said. “It’ll be fun.” 

“No.” You closed your locker and looked over at him leaning against the one next to yours. You couldn’t help the weird deja vu that overcame you when having this conversation. “I told you that I don’t care if you date Cora, but I don’t want to see it.” 

“But you don’t have to watch us!” Isaac whined. You rolled your eyes and started walking away, and you heard him scramble to follow you. “And plus, it won’t just be me and Cora. Ethan and Danny will be there-” 

“I don’t like Ethan.” 

“- Lydia and Aiden are coming.” 

“Ditto for Aiden. And Lydia and I’ve barely spoken these past few weeks.” 

“Okay, uh … Allison’s gonna be there. And Scott probably.”

“You think I wanna see Scott and Allison make awkward conversation for three hours?” you asked. 

“Stiles will be there.” 

You sucked in a breath and turned to look at him, which almost made him topple into you. “Excuse me?” 

“I just meant- you know, if you still … have feelings for the guy … this might be a good opportunity to-” Isaac rambled, becoming increasingly quieter with every second that you glared at him. “Okay, you know what? If you don’t come, I’m just gonna tell Melissa what you did.” 

“If you tell my mom anything, I will-” the ringing bell drowned out your threat, but judging by the pale color Isaac turned, you’d guess he got your point. “Got it?” 

“Yeah, totally,” he exhaled. “Totally. So, um, it’s at seven and we all, like, live together so we’ll pick you up at six-thirty, okay?” He started backing away before you could yell at him. “Have fun in English!” 

You shook your head as you watched his retreat to his Algebra II class. When you turned to start walking, you found Cora right next to you and jumped. “Okay, what’s with you Hales and sneaking up on people?” 

“What?” Cora laughed. “I didn’t sneak up on you.” 

“Uh, yeah, you did,” you said, walking into the classroom and sliding into your seat before you were late. 

“So what was all that about in the hallway?” Cora asked. Subtlety was a skill she had yet to perfect.

“Isaac wants me to go on your date with you,” you answered. 

Cora rolled her eyes. “And I’m sure that’s exactly how he phrased it.” 

“Yeah, I mean I know wolves aren’t strictly monogamous but I didn’t think-” your joke got cut short by the teacher clearing their throat a few feet in front of you. 

“Ms. McCall, Ms. Hale,” they started. “Would you like to share with the rest of us why you’re discussing the mating rituals of animals that haven’t been in California for years?” 

“Uh … no?” 

“Detention it is.” 

---

You smiled proudly at the stack of books that you’d just shelved and sighed when you remembered that you still had at least three more carts to go. At least Scott and Stiles had detention too, but they always had detention so that was hardly a surprise. What was a surprise was that Isaac was there too. He told you that when he heard Cora had detention, it just slipped his mind that he wasn’t supposed to show up to class fifteen minutes late and slurping a Big Gulp. 

It was honestly kind of sickening to watch them across the room. They had this unspoken rhythm of shelving and sorting books, barely having to look at one another to get the job done. But they did look at each other. A lot. And they whispered to each other constantly. 

“That’s disgusting,” Stiles said next to you. You looked over to him and he jutted his chin in Cora and Isaac’s direction. “They’ve been going out for like three minutes and they’re practically all over each other.” 

“Actually, three weeks, two days, and eighteen hours,” you corrected. He raised an eyebrow and you continued, “It’s worse when you live with them because then knowledge like that gets burned into your brain.”

Stiles laughed and pulled a face. “That’s brutal. It must be super weird when your best friends start dating.” He looked over to where Scott was before looking back at you.

“It’s sweet and adorable, but it also makes me want to throw up,” you joked. “You know they want me to go ice-skating with them on Friday? Like some weird group date?” 

Stiles laughed but he stiffened slightly. “Are they like, you know, setting you up with some new werewolf in town?” 

“If they were, it’d be better than being the-” you pretended to count on your fingers “-ninth wheel? Hey, do you think it’s weird that we all our friends date each other?”

“So you’re not going?” Stiles asked. 

You frowned slightly. It wasn’t like him to be so focused on Cora and Isaac that he’d pass up the opportunity to complain about being one of the only group members who wasn’t dating someone. 

“Uh, no. No, I don’t think so.” You shook your head and started shelving the books that were still on his cart. “They’re pretty persistent though so I’ll probably end up there anyway.” 

“Right, right. Cool, cool, cool,” Stiles mumbled, nodding away as he spoke. 

“So are you going to help me with all this or just keep standing there?” you asked. 

“Uh, help you?” 

“Bingo. And you say you can’t pick up on subtext,” you teased. 

“Haha. Shut up.” 

You pulled a face but soon the two of you had sorted through the first cart of books. Stiles must have had a rough night because there were a few times where he’d pick up a book and just stare at it like he wasn’t sure what it was. Eventually, the two of you managed to get through your workloads and - after an awkward goodbye - parted ways to head home. 

---

You’d just about given up on enjoying this ‘fun night spent ice skating’ after almost an hour. You had been perfectly content to spend the night at home, catching up on homework and eating junk food, when Cora threw some clothes at you and told you to get dressed. She said that the smell of your teenage angst was annoying her and you needed to get out of the house. 

So that’s how you ended up sitting on the sidelines after skating around the rink awkwardly, while Allison did her best to teach Scott and Lydia was showing off her edge jumps.

“Doesn’t look like you’re enjoying your group date so much.” You looked up to find Stiles standing next to you, ice skates in hand. 

“Yeah, turns out group dates are a lot more fun if you actually have a date. Who knew?” you said. Stiles laughed and sat next to you, his knee knocking your leg slightly in the process. “So what are you doing here?” 

“What, a guy can’t just feel the need to ice skate at 8pm on a Friday night?” he asked as he laced up his skates. He rolled his eyes at the look you gave him in response. “Well, they needed the key I copied when Boyd worked here to get in and … and then Lydia called me.” 

“Oh.” The ease that was there before faded and you nodded quickly. You watched her land a jump and Aiden cheer her on.

“She said you looked kinda lonely and that she doubted you’d want to spend time with her and Aiden,” Stiles explained. Lydia saw you watching her and stopped skating for a minute. She waved at you and sent you a small smile. “So she asked if I wanted to, you know, keep you company.”

“She did?” 

“Yeah. She said not to tell you though, so if she asks-” 

“Then I didn’t hear it from you,” you said quietly. You lifted your hand and waved back at her, telling Stiles that you’d be right back. 

When Lydia saw you step on the ice, she started skating over to you and you carried on in her direction. You enveloped each other in what was quite possibly the messiest hug that the ice rink had ever seen and laughed. 

“I’m so sorry about what happened, babe,” Lydia said when she pulled away. “I don’t know what I was thinking. He was just panicking so badly and nothing was-” 

“I shouldn’t have avoided you for so long. It was immature.” You squeezed her hand. “You’re one of my best friends, Lyd. And I love you. And this was all so-” 

“Stupid, I know!” Lydia laughed. “But I didn’t know how to talk to you about it because you’re-” 

“Sensitive and weird and just-” you took a deep breath. “We’re good, okay?” 

“Okay,” Lydia smiled. “And I love you too, just so you know.” 

---

“Ow!” Stiles complained and reached for the cut on his forehead. You smacked his hand away. 

“Don’t touch it,” you said. You listened to him complain as you finished cleaning his forehead. 

“You know this is all your fault, right?” he said. “If you didn’t try to do that twirl thing-” 

“That you told me to do.” 

“-Then I never would’ve tried to catch you-” 

“Which was your idea.” 

“-And we never would’ve crashed into the ice with you using my head as a shield!” Stiles finished, dropping his hands dramatically to his side. You put a bandaid on his forehead and looked at him. 

“Are you done yet?” you asked, closing the first aid kit. 

He stopped kicking his legs underneath himself and looked at you from where he sat on the bathroom counter. “I don’t know. It was kind of fun wallowing,” he said, looking over at you with pretended sadness in his eyes.

You laughed and rolled your eyes. “Well, if it counts for anything, I had a lot of fun before accidentally maiming you.”

“So you admit that it’s your fault?” He nudged you with his foot. 

“Uh, no way,” you said dramatically, getting closer to him so you could poke his chest as you continued, “You were the one that said regular skating was boring. You were the one that wanted to try twirls and jumps. You were the one that did this.” 

Stiles laughed and caught your hand before you poke his chest again. “So what if it is my fault?” he asked. 

Your heart sped up. “Well, then you’ve gotta make it up to me,” you said softly. “I don’t get bruised for just anyone.” 

“And how should I make it up to you?” He was leaning closer and it felt like your heart was about to explode in your chest. 

“You could …” you trailed off and held your breath slightly. When you heard someone bang on the door, you jumped and pulled your hand away. In the instant that it took you to pull away, you saw the moments from your dreams flash before your eyes. The moments when you hurt your friends - when hurt Stiles. Those were still just dreams, right?

“Hey, guys, we should really be heading back,” you heard Scott say from the other side. “It’s getting late.” 

“Uh, yeah!” Stiles called back. “Yeah, buddy, we’ll be right out.” 

You had one arm wrapped around yourself and your other hand holding onto your necklace, keeping it close to your face. Your cheeks felt hot and you felt like it would be less painful if the earth opened up and swallowed you whole. 

“So, uh-” Stiles hopped off the counter. “Where were we?” 

He had a goofy smile on his face as he came closer, ready to hold you close and probably make out with you in the dirty bathroom of the local ice rink. 

“Stiles, I don’t think I can do this,” you blurted out. “I keep having these dreams where- where I’m hurting you. Maybe not always you specifically, but they’re really bad and I-” 

“It’s okay.” He stopped and let his arms fall to his sides. “I get it.”

“No, it’s not like that,” you persisted. “I really like you but I’m so scared that I’ll hurt you.” 

“Yeah, it’s a little late for that,” he said. “Uh, thanks for the medical attention but I’m gonna head out.” 

“Stiles-” 

But he was already out the door. You watched it slam shut behind him and took a deep, shaky breath. You put the first aid kit away and tried to process what just happened. 

Stiles Stilinski, whom you’d been in love with practically your entire life, just tried to kiss. And you were going to kiss him back. But then you rejected him because you had been monumentally fucked up since dying to save your mom a few weeks before. Was that it? Was that your life now? You couldn’t even kiss a cute boy without being reminded of the weight of the world on your shoulders? Great.

Part 15

[whenfrasermetbeauchamp]

I stood quite still on the threshold, blinking. My meditations on the protocol of Royal disrobing faded into sheer astonishment.

The room was quite dark, lit only by numerous tiny oil-lamps, set in groups of five in alcoves in the wall of the chamber. The room itself was round, and so was the huge table that stood in its center, the dark wood gleaming with pinpoint reflections. There were people sitting at the table, no more than hunched dark blurs against the blackness of the room.

There was a murmur at my entrance, quickly stilled at the King’s appearance. As my eyes grew more accustomed to the murk, I realized with a sense of shock that the people seated at the table wore hoods; the nearest man turned toward me, and I caught the faint gleam of eyes through holes in the velvet. It looked like a convention of hangmen.

…

“We have heard of your great skill, Madame, and your…reputation.” Louis smiled, but there was a tinge of caution in his eyes as he looked at me, as though not quite certain what I might do. “We should be most obliged, my dear Madame, should you be willing to give us the benefits of such skill this evening.”

…

“Regardez, Madame.” The King’s hand was under my elbow, directing my attention beyond the table. Now that the candle was lighted, I could see the two figures who stood silently among the flickering shadows. I started at the sight, and the King’s hand tightened on my arm.

The Comte St. Germain and Master Raymond stood there, side by side, separated by a distance of six feet or so. Raymond gave no sign of acknowledgment, but stood quietly, staring off to one side with the pupil-less black eyes of a frog in a bottomless well.

…

“These two men stand accused, Madame,” said Louis, with a gesture at Raymond and the Comte. “Of sorcery, of witchcraft, of the perversion of the legitimate search for knowledge into an exploration of arcane arts.” His voice was cold and grim. “Such practices flourished during the reign of my grandfather; but we shall not suffer such wickedness in our realm.”

…

“Extensive inquiry has been made,” the King said, turning to me. “Evidence has been presented, and the testimony of many witnesses taken. It seems clear”—he turned a cold gaze on the two accused magic—“that both men have undertaken investigations into the writings of ancient philosophers, and have employed the art of divinations, using calculation of the movements of heavenly bodies. Still…” He shrugged. “This is not of itself a crime. I am given to understand”—he glanced at a heavyset man in a hood, whom I suspected of being the Bishop of Paris—“that this is not necessarily at variance with the teachings of the Church; even the blessed St. Augustine was known to have made inquiries into the mysteries of astrology.”

I rather dimly recalled that St. Augustine had indeed looked into astrology, and had rather scornfully dismissed it as a load of rubbish. Still, I doubted that Louis had read Augustine’s Confessions, and this line of argument was undoubtedly a good one for an accused sorcerer; star-gazing seemed fairly harmless, by comparison with infant sacrifice and nameless orgies.

…

“We have brought here a witness,” he declared. “An infallible judge of truth, of purity of heart.”

I made a small, gurgling noise, which made the King turn to look at me.

“A White Lady,” he said softly. “La Dame Blanche cannot lie; she sees the heart and the soul of a man, and may turn that truth to good…or to destruction.”

The air of unreality that had hung over the evening vanished in a pop. The faint wine-buzz was gone, and I was suddenly stone-cold sober. I opened my mouth, and then shut it, realizing that there was precisely nothing I could say.

Horror snaked down my backbone and coiled in my belly as the King made his dispositions. Two pentagrams were to be drawn on the floor, within which the two sorcerers would stand. Each would then bear witness to his own activities and motives. And the White Lady would judge the truth of what was said.

“Jesus H. Christ,” I said, under my breath.

…

Everything was extremely quiet. Candle smoke hung in a pall near the gilded ceiling, wisps drifting the languid air currents. All eyes were trained on me. Finally, out of desperation, I turned to the Comte and nodded.

“You may begin, Monsieur le Comte,” I said.

He smiled—at least I assumed it was meant to be a smile—and began, starting out with an explication of the foundation of the Cabbala and moving right along to an exegesis on the twenty-three letters of the Hebrew alphabet, and the profound symbolism of it all. It sounded thoroughly scholarly, completely innocuous, and terribly dull. The King yawned, not bothering to cover his mouth.

…

“Just one minute,” I said. “All that you say so far is true, Monsieur le Comte, but I see a shadow behind your words.”

…

“This woman lies,” he said, sounding as definite as he had when informing the audience that the letter aleph was symbolic of the font of Christ’s blood. “She is no true White Lady, but the servant of Satan! In league with her master, the notorious sorcerer, du Carrefours’s apprentice!” He pointed dramatically at Raymond, who looked mildly surprised.

…

“The Holy Bible says, ‘They shall handle serpents unharmed,’ ” he thundered. “ ‘And by such signs shall ye know the servants of the true God!’ ”

…

“That is not all the Bible says, Monsieur le Comte,” Raymond observed. He didn’t raise his voice, and the wide amphibian face was bland as pudding. Still, the buzz of voices stopped, and the King turned to listen.

“Yes, Monsieur?” he said.

Raymond nodded in polite acknowledgment of having the floor, and reached into his robe with both hands. From one pocket he produced a flask, from the other a small cup.

“ ‘They shall handle serpents unharmed,’ ” he quoted, “ ‘and if they drink any deadly poison, they shall not die.’ ” He held the cup out on the palm of his hand, its silver lining gleaming in the candlelight. The flask was poised above it, ready to pour.

“Since both milady Broch Tuarach and myself have been accused,” Raymond said, with a quick glance at me, “I would suggest that all three of us partake of this test. With your permission, Your Majesty?”

Louis looked rather stunned by the rapid progress of events, but he nodded, and a thin stream of amber liquid splashed into the cup, which at once turned red and began to bubble, as though the contents were boiling.

“Dragon’s blood,” Raymond said informatively, waving at the cup. “Entirely harmless to the pure of heart.” He smiled a toothless, encouraging smile, and handed me the cup.

There didn’t seem much to do but drink it. Dragon’s blood appeared to be some form of sodium bicarbonate; it tasted like brandy with seltzer. I took two or three medium-sized swallows and handed it back.

With due ceremony, Raymond drank as well. He lowered the cup, exhibiting pink-stained lips, and turned to the King.

“If La Dame Blanche may be asked to give the cup to Monsieur le Comte?” he said. He gestured to the chalk lines at his feet, to indicate that he might not step outside the protection of the pentagram.

At the King’s nod, I took the cup and turned mechanically toward the Comte. Perhaps six feet of carpeting to cross. I took the first step, and then another, knees trembling more violently than they had in the small anteroom, alone with the King.

…

“Drink, Monsieur,” said the King. The dark eyes were hooded once more, showing nothing. “Or are you afraid?”

The Comte might have a number of things to his discredit, but cowardice wasn’t one of them. His face was pale and set, but he met the King’s eyes squarely, with a slight smile.

“No, Majesty,” he said.

He took the cup from my hand and drained it, his eyes fixed on mine. They stayed fixed, staring into my face, even as they glazed with the knowledge of death. The White Lady may turn a man’s nature to good, or to destruction.

The Comte’s body hit the floor, writhing, and a chorus of shouts and cries rose from the hooded watchers, drowning any sound he might have made. His heels drummed briefly, silent on the flowered carpet; his body arched, then subsided into limpness. The snake, thoroughly disgruntled, struggled free of the disordered folds of white satin and slithered rapidly away, heading for the sanctuary of Louis’s feet.

All was pandemonium.

— Dragonfly In Amber

Photos: outlander-online.com, Season Two, Episode Seven, May 21, 2016

Photo Edit: outlanderhomepage.com, Season Two, Episode Seven, May 21, 2016 (King Louis XV)

Gifs: headoverfeels.com, Season Two, Episode Seven, May 21, 2016 (Claire)

Gif: outlanderhomepage.com, Season Two, Episode Seven, May 21, 2016 (Comte St. Germain)

Book: Dragonfly In Amber, Diana Gabaldon, 1992

Tumblr: October 3, 2018, WhenFraserMetBeauchamp 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿❤️🇬🇧

WFMB’s Tags: #Outlander #Season Two Episode Seven #S2E7 #Faith #Dragonfly In Amber #Chapter Twenty-Six #These two men stand accused, Madame, of sorcery, of witchcraft #We have brought here a witness, an infallible judge of truth, of purity of heart #A White Lady, he said softly. La Dame Blanche cannot lie #Claire Fraser #Comte St. Germain #Master Raymond #King Louis XV #Monsieur Forez #99 #100318

[ganymedesclock]

Do you think it's possible for Lotor to be considered unattractive by Galra beauty standards, having a lot of issues growing up? I mean, he's half Altean, and that alone would cause some issues...

I mean, just let me casually lean on my post on galra facial features here for a second.

I mean, Altean features seem fairly close to that of humans, just from what we’ve seen- I think the main differences are:

Between Allura and Haggar, I’d guess the average Altean is a little shorter than the average human. Coran is about Hunk’s height, and I believe Alfor is about that height or taller. It could be Alteans and humans are about the same in terms of height and Allura and Haggar are just coincidentally short. Hard to say- we have a small sample size, here. They’re definitely short by galra standards, considering the average galra seems to stand six to seven feet tall.

It’s also worth mentioning from the shots of Alfor building the Black Lion in s2e7, it would seem like white hair is a very common color for Alteans- supported as Allura, Alfor, and Haggar all have this as their hair color.

The patches under the eyes, which in general are either blue or pink (Allura’s pink ones are the only ones we’ve seen, but Haggar has dark red ones that are an unusual shape) which glow at points of emotional distress.

Secondary color inside of the pupil. This would seem to be a universal trait- note how in many shots Coran appears to have dark eyes, but, in good lighting and more of a closeup:

He has sort of blue-purple eyes with a similar-colored circle inside the pupil. So the secondary eye color can match the primary color. Likely, this is why the second circle in Coran’s eye is difficult to spot. 

Conversely, Allura’s secondary eye color is pink. 

The ears are worth mentioning here, too. Like galra ears, they are potentially mobile, as uncommonly as we see that- considering Allura’s twitch when she hears the mice in s1e1. Compared to an “elf-eared” galra, Altean ears are wider and shorter, extending more horizontally from the head, compared to Ulaz’s ears which are closer to the head and stick upright.

Haggar’s ears are longer and stick upwards to a degree, but they also flare outwards a good deal more and their thinner shape might well be a product of how she is currently in galra form. It remains to be seen if she has more “typical” Altean ears in her true form.

So, that established, let’s talk about what we can apply here to Lotor. 

For… *ahem* reasons, we haven’t seen Lotor’s face yet. As much as it was the Voltron crew having a little joke at our expense, I have to wonder about that- because most of the really recognizable Altean features- the eyes and markings- tend to be clustered to the face.

We can already tell, though, some things are up with Lotor.

He has white hair- not an uncommon trait for the Alteans, but quite uncommon for the galra, only seen in Ulaz- and overwhelmingly the galra are black or dark purple-haired. So that hair is a showy, eye-catching feature on Lotor, moreso because like prior incarnations of the character, he grows it out.

On another note here, he has a full head of hair, but no hair on his ears. This is significant- the galra we see with a distinct head of hair all have that hair on their ears. Once again, Ulaz is an exception but he gets off free because his hair is only on a tiny crest in the middle of his head- it’s nowhere near his ears.

There’s also the added issue here of Lotor’s parent is Zarkon, who, even in his youth (since Lotor is young, seemingly, I’ll reference young Zarkon for Lotor’s genetics)

...Zarkon doesn’t have hair. What he mostly has is a succession of ridged face plates. He’s more of a slate blue than he is purple, and there’s also the fact that Zarkon compared to most galra is very tall.

Lotor has so far been described as “that little fellow.”

Lotor’s armor is not the same as the Weblum Galra, but I think it’s worth noting here that the Weblum Galra wears the exact same helmet as Lotor:

...and there are also numerous similarities in overall armor and aesthetics. The black-on-slate-blue detailing on the shoulders, overwhelmingly black armor with some orange aspects- the bracers are identical and the breastplate design is almost a match- WG’s has those crescent-shaped marks on it, while Lotor’s, visible in the April Fools’ clip when he turns around, instead has three points radiating out from the collar instead of just one.

This is a bit of a big deal here, because comparing WG’s armor to any other galra we’ve seen- not just the empire, but also the Blade- their aesthetics do not match. I could make an entire post about this, but basically:

If WG is not Lotor in a different outfit, WG and Lotor are very clearly two of a kind somehow, whether that’s possibly that WG is Lotor’s subordinate (or something else)- WG is somehow significant to Lotor and connected closer to him than they are the main empire.

Why I’m bringing this up here? Well, Lotor is referred to as “This little fellow” by two watching galra commanders- Throk and their unnamed friend.

As I’ve mentioned before here: Galra are tall and Zarkon in particular is very tall. We’ve only really seen one short galra in Morvok. But apparently, Lotor’s short, and we haven’t seen him compared to the team, but we have seen WG, who...

...amounts to only about a head taller than Keith- around Shiro’s height. Very short by galra standards.

So at this point, what we can say for sure: Lotor has an unusual hair color, does not resemble Zarkon much at least in terms of coloration and hair, and is small and slim by galra standards, in stark contrast to his father the Lion-brawling bodybuilder.

Getting back to Lotor’s face, it’d depend on how much he stands out.

For example, if Lotor has opaque yellow eyes like Zarkon, but a more conventionally Altean profile, he could blend in fairly easily.

If he has different eye structure, that might put another thing on it- especially if he has the Alteans’ very distinctive two-tone irises, which stand out a lot. He may or may not have eye markings, and he may or may not have the Altean shifting ability which might allow him to hide or mask parts of his appearance.

Regardless...

Zarkon is an intensely public figure and one who seems to be at least to a certain degree held up as a beauty standard. Look at his posing in this picture:

This is not merely showing Zarkon as a leader and someone to look up to- it’s showing off his body. (which, admittedly, for a guy who was probably middle-aged ten thousand years ago, guy’s in great shape, eat your heat out Elizabeth Bathory)

So yeah, is all of this suggesting Lotor has a pretty good framework for a significant image problem? Absolutely.

Hell, if Lotor is the sparkle-worthy “pretty boy” his GoLion/DotU self was (at least stylistically) chances are very good he has quite possibly never recognized it as that if he’s only been exposed to galra beauty norms- and while it’s quite possible he’s been exposed to a more diverse group (more like the culture found in the space mall, with multiple different populations) it’d still suggest that by the standards of the fleet, he’s a far cry from classically handsome and that would probably grate a little if people don’t get off his case about how underwhelming he looks compared to his dad.