#the parentage of Ajax

[seongwars]

away with the wind | twilight

Pairing: dragonrider!Seonghwa x ex-dragonrider!Reader AU: dragon rider au | strangers -> lovers Summary: a spinal injury forces you to retire from dragon racing, and with it, the end of your engagement to Song Mingi. Park Seonghwa, a rising star in the world of dragon racing and heir to the prestigious House Park, seeks a new dragon after an unfortunate accident on the skyway. As the saying goes, “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.” Word Count: 6.8K (sorry I got carried away) Warnings: not proofread, seonghwa doing wrongs, angst

a/n: first version of chapter ix! i was also watching derry girls while writing this so listen to 'independent love song' by scarlet if you wanna get the feel for the last scene of this chapter

Fic Masterlist

The grand chamber was dimly lit, the only sources of light being the flickering holographic displays and the soft glow of the council members’ robes. The air was thick with anticipation as the council awaited the presentation.

“Ready whenever you are, Dr. Kang,” Lord Hong announced, his voice resonating through the chamber.

Yeosang, standing beside the holographic projector, bowed respectfully. He took a moment to adjust the hologram, ensuring every detail of Ajax’s anatomy was perfectly visible. The room fell silent as the intricate projection came to life, displaying the necropsy report for Subject 4201.

“Necropsy report for Subject 4201. Subject is a male, approximately 11 years old, measuring 20 feet in height with a wingspan of 40 feet. Initial examination reveals extensive claw marks along the dorsal scales, likely from recent combat.”

Yeosang zoomed in on the damage inflicted by Starshine during the Inferno Cup. Lady Lee brought her hand to her mouth in feigned horror, prompting Yeosang to roll his eyes at her theatrics. He then brought up the next holographic display.

Swiping over to the dragon’s head, Yeosang brought forward the manifestation of Ajax’s brain, enhancing the size of the organ for the Council’s scrutiny. 

“The brain shows signs of abnormal growth in the amygdala, the region associated with aggression and fear responses. This hypertrophy suggests heightened aggression and unstable behavior. Further examination of the neural pathways reveals signs of synaptic plasticity, which may indicate a history of adaptive responses to high-stress environments. This could result in unpredictable and erratic behavior patterns.”

“Is this a common trait in Longhorns, Dr. Kang?” Lord Kim interjected.

Yeosang maintained his composed demeanor, though he felt slightly irritated at Lord Kim’s prodding. Taking a moment to gather his thoughts, he ensured his tone remained respectful yet authoritative. 

“While hypertrophy in the amygdala is not uncommon in Longhorns, the extent of the growth observed here is unusual,” he explained, his voice steady. “Further studies are necessary to determine if this is an isolated case or indicative of a broader trend within the species.”

Lord Kim nodded, the soft rustle of his robes barely audible as he leaned back in his chair. Yeosang then moved on to the next hologram, which flickered to life, casting a light that manifested into Ajax above their heads.

“In summary, subject 4201 exhibits significant physiological power and complexity,” Yeosang began, his voice steady and clear. The hologram displayed intricate details of the dragon’s anatomy, each scale and muscle rendered with precision. “I’ve concluded that the observed unpredictable behavior indicates potential neurological instability. End of report.”

Chairman Jang’s eyes narrowed as he leaned forward, the light catching the sharp angles of his face. “And the report of parentage?” he asked.

Yeosang adjusted the hologram, bringing up a new set of data. “The DNA test results showed no significant anomalies, your grace. The dragon’s genetic makeup is consistent with what we have documented in our archives. There are no indications of any unusual lineage or mutations.”

Lord Kim studied him for a moment, his gaze penetrating. “Are you certain, Dr. Kang? This information is crucial to understanding where this Longhorn may have originated from.”

Yeosang nodded, maintaining his calm facade. “Yes, your grace. I am certain. The DNA results confirm that this dragon is of standard lineage.”

“Lord Kim, we have all the information we need. Continuing this investigation is a waste of our resources and time,” Lady Lee snapped, her voice sharp and echoing slightly in the grand council room.

“We need to be thorough,” Lord Kim insisted, his tone unwavering. The flickering light from the hologram cast shadows across his stern face, highlighting the furrow in his brow.

“The dragon’s physiology and neurological state are well-documented. We have other priorities that demand our attention,” she countered, her words heavy with urgency.

Lord Hong nodded in agreement, the soft rustle of his robes breaking the silence. “Lady Lee is right. We are diverting valuable time and effort. This report should be concluded.” His voice was measured, a stark contrast to the rising tension between his colleagues.

“If Dr. Kang has reported no abnormalities in his findings, then we must move on to the next agenda item,” Chairman Jang interjected with finality. “Thank you for your time, Dr. Kang.”

The room fell silent, the air thick with unresolved conflict. Yeosang remained silent, grateful that the focus had shifted away from his lie, but acutely aware of the brewing storm between the Council members.

“Would it be possible for the copies of the report to be made available, Dr. Kang?” Lord Kim interjected, his eyes boring into Yeosang, challenging him to reveal the truth.

Yeosang hesitated, his fingers trembling slightly as he adjusted his glasses. “The report is rather unremarkable, your grace,” he replied coldly, staring straight at the elder.

Lord Hong’s eyes narrowed. “Is there a problem, Dr. Kang? The Council has a right to see the report.”

Yeosang tightened his jaw, feeling the tension ripple through his muscles as the Council’s insistence caught him off guard. His irritation simmered just beneath the surface, barely contained.

“Of course, I will ensure the report is made available,” he said smoothly, his voice dripping with false sincerity, masking the venom beneath. “I just need a little more time to… finalize some details.”

“Finalize what details? Are you implying that this report today was not conclusive?” Lord Kim’s voice was cold and unyielding, each word a deliberate challenge.

Yeosang’s eyes flashed with annoyance, but he quickly masked it with a calm facade. “I assure you, Lord Kim, the report is thorough. However, there are always minor adjustments to be made for clarity.”

Kim Sangjoong’s gaze hardened, his suspicion evident. “Minor adjustments? Or are you buying time to cover up discrepancies, Dr. Kang?”

“That’s enough,” Chairman Jang’s voice concluded, the tone unmistakable, leaving no room for argument. “Dr. Kang, you have until the end of the day to produce copies of the report to the Council.”

Yeosang felt a surge of anger but forced a smile. “I understand your concern, Lord Kim. Rest assured, the report will be delivered by the end of the day, as requested.” His tone was polite, but the underlying threat was present.

The room remained tense, the air thick with unspoken conflict. Yeosang knew he had to tread carefully, but he relished the challenge.

Seonghwa strode through the hallways of the Park estate, his footsteps echoing off the marble floors as he awaited the results of Ajax’s necropsy from Kim Sangjoong. The grandeur of the estate, with its high ceilings and ornate decorations, did little to calm his racing thoughts.

“Ms. Jang,” he called out, his voice calm yet authoritative. His mother’s assistant looked up from her desk, immediately recognizing him. She adjusted her glasses and gave him a polite nod.

“Yes, your grace?” she asked, her tone respectful but familiar.

“I need a list of all the attendees from the Inferno Gala,” he requested, his eyes scanning the room. “Sponsors, stakeholders, riders—everything.”

Ms. Jang nodded and quickly began typing on her laptop. The soft clacking of keys filled the room as Seonghwa paced back and forth, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. He glanced at the clock on the wall, each tick amplifying his impatience.

After a few moments, Ms. Jang handed him a sleek tablet. “Here it is, your grace,” she said. “The complete list.”

Seonghwa took the tablet and offered her a small smile in thanks. As he walked back to his quarters, he scanned the names, noting familiar faces and new ones, the organizations they represented, and the teams they raced for. Each name brought back memories of conversations, deals, and promises made. He needed to ensure that every attendee was accounted for and that no detail was overlooked.

“Treasure Holdings, Blue Bird Airways, Answer Tech,” Seonghwa muttered to himself, activating the hologram interface. These were big name sponsors in dragon racing and nothing seemed out of the ordinary. 

He swiped to the next category of Aurora’s political elite, scanning the list with a practiced eye. Names like Lady Baek and Lord Yoon stood out, both well-known figures in the political landscape. As he continued down the list, he reached members of the Council and their guests. Lord Hong Bum Soo and Lady Hong Sara, Chairman Jang Ki Young, Lord Kim Sangjoong and Lady Kim Miyeon–

She was never one to miss an event, especially one of this magnitude. He quickly re-scanned the rest of the list, hoping it was a mistake, but her name was nowhere to be found. Had she been deliberately excluded?

Lady Lee’s absence was not just unusual—it was a glaring anomaly. Taking out his phone, he dialed Kim Sangjoong, hoping for news of the necropsy report. The phone rang a few times before Lord Kim answered. “Seonghwa, what’s the matter?”

“I have news for you, should you have any to share with me,” Seonghwa said, his tone measured.

The elder chuckled softly, shaking his head. “I regret to inform you that the report returned without any anomalies. It was conclusive, indicating that the dragon is of standard lineage.”

“That can’t be,” Seonghwa said, his voice laced with disbelief. “Y/N showed me Ajax’s anatomy in video footage a few months ago. She noted that his angulation was much more moderate than a Longhorn’s, and his wings were longer. He also exhibited an unusual level of speed and agility.”

The elder’s eyes widened slightly. “That does sound…unnatural for the breed…” He paused, his gaze drifting out the large, arched window of his office. He noticed Lady Lee in conversation with a young lab assistant, her animated gestures contrasting with the assistant’s calm demeanor.

“Your grace?” Seonghwa’s voice brought him back to the present.

“Yes, apologies. Please continue.”

“I wanted to let you know that I pulled the guest list from the gala and noticed that Lady Lee was missing.”

The elder’s brow furrowed in concern. “That’s certainly odd. She never turns down an opportunity for an event given her rather…vainglorious nature. Her absence is highly unusual.” Lord Kim glanced at the ornate clock on the wall, noting the late hour. If he were to leave now, it would be an opportunity to learn more about Lady Lee’s next moves.

“It seems Lady Lee is just about to leave for the day,” Lord Kim informed the younger. “Thank you for the information, Seonghwa.” He quickly pocketed his phone and hurried towards the exit, his mind racing with possibilities. The corridors of the capitol building were beginning to empty as the day drew to a close, and he needed to act fast.

The soft murmur of conversations and the shuffle of footsteps filled the air, creating a symphony of end-of-day activity. The tension in the air was palpable, each step Lord Kim took echoing his urgency.

“Ah, Lady Lee! Will you be attending General Choi’s birthday celebration?” he called out, his voice cutting through the ambient noise, and scaring the lab assistant. The young man, not much older than 20, bowed before taking his leave. 

Lady Lee paled, her confident demeanor faltering for a moment. “O-Oh? Is that this weekend?” she stammered, her eyes darting around as if searching for an escape. She forced a smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes.

“I must have overlooked it. I’ve been quite busy with…personal matters,” Lady Lee said, her voice wavering slightly.

“Personal matters?” Lord Kim pressed, his curiosity piqued. “Well, I hope everything is alright.”

She hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. “Yes, well, it’s nothing that concerns the council.”

Lord Kim nodded slowly, not entirely convinced. “I see. Well, I do hope you’ll make it to the celebration. Miyeon and I look forward to seeing you.”

“Thank you, Lord Kim. I appreciate your concern,” she replied, her voice steadying. 

As Lady Lee turned to leave, Lord Kim watched her closely. There was something off about her behavior, something that didn’t sit right with him. Her usually confident demeanor seemed strained, and her eyes darted around nervously. His mind raced with questions, each one more urgent than the last. What was she hiding? And why did it feel like time was running out?

[NEW MESSAGE]

[Lord Cash Money]: Results are in 

[Lord Cash Money]: Nothing out of standard

You let out a huff as you read Seonghwa’s message and sent back a quick ‘Thanks’. Dismounting Cirrus, you felt the cool leather of the saddle beneath your hands, but an uneasy feeling settled in your chest. You knew Ajax was definitely not half Fury, but something else entirely. The thought sent a chill down your spine at the implications of what his other half might be.

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the manor as you helped Sohee down from the saddle. You slung her backpack over your shoulder, the weight a familiar comfort, and dialed the only person you knew you could vent to besides your grandmother and sister.

“I hate the government,” you said, balancing your phone between your shoulder and ear while you toed off your shoes and hung up your niece’s backpack. The scent of oil pastels and dragon scales lingered in the air.

“Who doesn’t?” Jongho’s voice came through the line, gruff yet playful. You could almost picture his mischievous grin. What’s going on?” he asked, his tone shifting to one of curiosity and concern.

Choi Jongho was the oldest son of the Dune Choi Family and cousin to the Auroran Choi Family. Although they were considered one of Dune’s noble houses, your families had been breeding partners for as long as your grandmother could remember.

Jongho had always been like a little brother to you, his presence a constant in your life—a mix of annoyance and comfort that only a true sibling could provide. His sharp wit and the shared history between your families created a connection that was unbreakable, no matter how much he might drive you crazy at times.

“The test results came back conclusive. There’s nothing out of the ordinary with Ajax’s lineage.”

“Bullshit,” Jongho snapped, pacing his room. “I watched the footage you sent me, read through the pedigree, and everything seemed off. Someone’s tampering with the results.”

You nodded, frustration evident. “Exactly. I’m thinking there has to be something more nefarious in his lineage. Ajax has always been promoted as a hybrid between a Fury and a Longhorn, but I don’t think a Fury fits the bill. It has to be a breed that’s aerodynamic.”

Jongho furrowed his brow. “Aerodynamic, huh? That narrows it down a bit. Maybe something with a sleeker build? A Wyrm variant? Or a Razorback?”

You snickered. “Hongjoong is going to have your head if he hears that. But even those breeds don’t seem quite right. There has to be one that’s also intelligent. Ajax was somehow able to learn Cirrus’ maneuvers, and I know for a fact Mingi couldn’t have taught him that flip.”

Jongho sighed, massaging his brow. “I’ve always told you I didn’t like him nor his ugly dragon. I plan to set up shop in my uncle’s library and we can dig deeper when I’m in town. You’re coming to his celebration, right?”

You groaned, pulling your pillow to your chest. “Do I have a choice?”

“If you don’t, I’ll tell everyone you think San is handsome.”

Rolling your eyes, you retorted, “San is handsome. That doesn’t work on me anymore.”

Jongho smirked, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Fine, then I’ll tell everyone about the time you fell into the fountain trying to impress him.”

You gasped, sitting up abruptly. “Choi Jongho, you wouldn’t dare!”

The grand hall of the Choi Estate was a sight to behold, a testament to the family’s wealth and status. The walls were adorned with intricate tapestries depicting the family’s storied history, their vibrant colors and detailed embroidery telling tales of valor and honor. The atmosphere was one of celebration and reverence, as friends and family gathered to honor the Choi patriarch on his special day.

San’s father, the elder General Choi, greeted guests up and down the hall, offering glass after glass of champagne and other spirits. His laughter boomed through the room, a testament to his larger-than-life personality. You managed to dodge him, offering your grandmother as a sacrificial lamb as you slipped away, her knowing smile indicating she was more than willing to take one for the team.

You weaved through the crowd, feeling a bit out of place in your simple but elegant strapless black gown. Its understated design contrasted with the more extravagant attire around you, yet the gown’s classic cut and the way it hugged your figure made you feel confident and poised.

“Are you here for a funeral or a celebration?” a familiar voice quipped behind you.

You whipped around to find San, the young General Choi, clad in a perfectly tailored suit that accentuated his broad shoulders and commanding presence. The corners of his mouth twitched into a smirk as he took in your startled reaction.

“Very funny,” you replied, rolling your eyes but unable to suppress a smile. “I was just trying to avoid your father’s relentless hospitality.”

San chuckled, his laughter a deep, comforting sound. “He does have a way of overwhelming people with his enthusiasm,” he admitted, glancing over at his father, who was now engaged in a hearty conversation with a group of military officials. “Looking for someone?”

“Just a familiar face,” you murmured, your gaze drifting away from the General. You scanned the crowd, your heart pounding as you searched for a certain someone. Striking, charming, refined, and utterly infuriating, with an undeniable pull—a magnetic attraction you couldn’t ignore.

“Am I not a familiar face?” San cocked his head, giving you one of his infamous cat-like smiles.

“Yes, but you’re not the one I’m looking for,” you scoffed, hitting his arm playfully. 

San brought his hand to his chest, feigning a dramatic gasp. “And here I thought I was unforgettable.”

“You are, just not in the way you think.”

“Ah, so there is someone! Now I’m intrigued.”

Unbeknownst to you, a pair of dark eyes watched from a distance. Seonghwa’s jaw tightened at the sight of you engaging with San, his usually composed demeanor slightly ruffled. A flicker of annoyance crossed his features as he struggled to maintain his cool amidst the growing irritation.

Trying to maintain his composure, he excused himself and stepped out into the cool night air. The distant noise of the party faded behind him as he took a deep breath, struggling to make sense of his conflicting emotions. How could he be so torn over someone who didn't even know how he felt?

“Seonghwa?” a familiar voice called out, breaking his moment of solitude. He turned to see Yeri, a former fling, standing a few feet away. She offered a tentative smile, as her eyes widened in calculated interest. 

“Yeri,” he acknowledged, his voice neutral but with a hint of underlying tension. 

There was a brief, awkward silence before Yeri spoke again, her tone measured and deliberately soft. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

What had started as a casual, no-strings-attached situation between Seonghwa and Yeri had quickly turned into a short-lived romance riddled with miscommunication and trust issues. Seonghwa's demanding training schedule left Yeri feeling neglected and alone, while her need to maintain control on the crumbling relationship only added to the tension.

“Yeah, it has,” he agreed, his gaze drifting to the city lights beyond the terrace in an attempt to avoid the emotional weight of the conversation. 

“How’ve you been?” she asked, her tone smooth, almost tender though her eyes remained sharp.

“Fine,” he replied, his irritation from earlier slowly ebbing away, replaced by a different kind of tension.

She studied him for a moment, her expression thoughtful and probing. “You seemed a bit tense back there. Everything okay?”

Seonghwa sighed, leaning against the stone rail as his eyes wandered towards the grand hall, your figure only a few feet away from him. “Just… a lot on my mind, I guess.”

“Want to talk about it?” Yeri’s voice broke through his reverie, carrying a nostalgic note. 

He hesitated, then shook his head. “It’s not important.”

Yeri took a step closer, her gaze growing more intense as she searched his face for cracks in his resolve. “We used to share everything, remember? What happened to that?”

Despite their history, Yeri couldn't help but reach out to Seonghwa, feeding on his vulnerability to keep him tethered to her. "I know things ended badly, but we've both changed. Maybe we could give it another shot?"

Seonghwa’s emotions were a tangled mess as he looked into her pleading eyes. “You know that things weren’t good between us.”

Yeri took a step closer, her fingers lightly tracing the outline of his jaw. Her touch was gentle, almost tender, as she searched his eyes for any sign of resistance. “Why does being together have to be the only option?" she whispered. She leaned in, her breath warm against his skin, and her lips brushed against his.

Seonghwa knew it was wrong, but he just needed an escape, allowing himself to be drawn back into her orbit. The kiss lingered on his lips like a bittersweet memory as he pulled away, his eyes clouded with regret. “We can’t do this here,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

She nodded, understanding the need for discreteness. They walked in silence, the tension between them almost tangible as Seonghwa led them away from prying eyes. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was losing himself in the process, compromising his values for a fleeting moment of solace.

“There you two are,” Jongho interrupted, sidling up to you and San with a glass of whiskey in hand. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he took a sip.

“Finally decided to grace us with your presence,” you teased, unable to hide the smile that spread across your face. Then, your brow furrowed in concern. “Wait, aren’t you too young to be drinking alcohol?”

In a rebellious gesture, Jongho lifted the glass again and finished off the remaining whiskey before sticking his tongue out at you playfully. “Age is just a number,” he retorted, letting out a satisfied sigh. 

“I’m using this as an opportunity to network and improve diplomatic relations between Dune and Aurora,” he added with a mischievous grin, gesturing around the opulent room filled with dignitaries engaged in animated conversations.

San rolled his eyes at his younger cousin's antics. “I wouldn’t exactly call selling dragons a networking opportunity,” he remarked dryly.

“I’m just trying to keep the family business afloat,” the younger Choi chuckled, unaffected by his cousin's skepticism. 

Before you or San could respond, the room fell silent as Song Tae Gyu entered, his face unreadable. The grand hall, once filled with lively chatter and laughter, now buzzed with hushed whispers. Snippets of conversation about “Mingi,” ��the Council,” and “unstable dragon” floated through the air like a dark cloud.

“Song Tae Gyu has some nerve showing up after what his son pulled,” Jongho sneered, his gaze fixed on Mingi’s father with a stone-cold expression. Ever the purist, Jongho’s disdain was palpable. You could almost feel the weight of his contempt for the way the Songs had let their son disgrace their house and the sanctity of dragon racing.

“He’s simply carrying out his duties to my father,” San reminded his cousin, his voice composed despite the discomfort evident in his body language. He glanced around the room, noting the wary eyes and cautious glances directed at Song Tae Gyu. “I know the Songs feel terrible about the incident, but as a vassal House, they have their obligations.”

San’s words were measured, but you could sense the underlying tension. The incident with Mingi had cast a momentary shadow over the evening, and the presence of Song Tae Gyu only served to deepen the unease. 

“Ah, Tae Gyu! So glad you could make it!” the elder General Choi exclaimed, clapping a hand on the man’s shoulder. “I was just telling everyone about the time you and I got lost in the ravine and had to spend the night in a cave. Remember that?”

The room erupted in laughter as Lord Choi recounted the tale with exaggerated gestures, painting a vivid picture of their misadventure. Even Song Tae Gyu managed a small, grateful smile, the worry lines on his face softening.

Jongho rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress the small grin tugging at his lips. He took a sip from his glass, the warm liquid sliding down his throat as he mulled over his father's words. "Your father always knows how to lighten the mood," he muttered to San before turning to face you, swirling his empty glass in a playful gesture to signal his exit from the conversation.

“I’ll be around tomorrow if you want to dig through the records. I’m sure we’ll find something on that wannabe Longhorn.”

“What did you say?”

“Nothing, just bullshitting.”

“No! About the wannabe part.”

Jongho stared at you incredulously. "He's a poor example of the breed, just like how his rider is a poor excuse--"

The mention of the word "wannabe" caught your attention like a firework exploding in your mind. You could feel your heart racing as you frantically searched your knowledge for any clues about this breed.

Wannabe… Imitation… Copy… The word echoed in your mind, reverberating with increasing intensity. Your breath caught in your throat, and your heart began to race as you frantically sifted through your mental catalog of dragon breeds and their levels of intelligence.

Dreamwood Ridgeback, biddable with high emotional intellect… Cascade Wyvern, alert and confident… Star Fury, fiercely intelligent but too rare… Nettled…

A sudden realization hit you like a bolt of lightning. You turned sharply to face San, your eyes widening with urgency and determination. "Do you have a copy of a breed encyclopedia?" You could almost feel the gears turning in your head, piecing together the clues and making connections. It was all starting to make sense now.

San looked momentarily puzzled, his brow furrowing as he tried to process your sudden question. Before he could respond, Jongho stepped in with a confident grin. “Of course they do, I left one here to read during summers,” he said, patting San’s shoulder in a playful yet slightly condescending manner, acknowledging his older cousin’s limited mental acuity.

“Longhorns aren’t meant to be particularly intelligent,” you began, your voice steady but urgent. “But if Ajax was able to learn Cirrus’ maneuvers, there could only be one breed that matches the description.”

The three of you exchanged tense looks, the weight of the mystery pressing down on you. Without another word, you all turned and rushed out of the hall, each step bringing you closer to uncovering the truth.

You were met with the scent of aged paper and polished wood as San pushed open the library doors. You couldn't help but pause to take in the vast collection, your fingers tracing lightly over the spines of leather-bound books before delving deeper into the labyrinth of shelves. Lost in your admiration, you turned a corner and suddenly froze.

There, in a secluded nook, you found Seonghwa tangled up in the arms of a woman. The intimate scene was a stark contrast to the peaceful setting of the library. Your breath caught in your throat, and your heart pounded in your chest.

“Oh shit!” you gasped, the words slipping out before you could stop them. Your hands flew to cover your mouth as Seonghwa and Yeri sprang apart, their faces flushed with embarrassment. Seonghwa’s eyes darted toward yours, panic evident in his expression. 

San, ever the protector, rushed to your side and positioned himself between you and the unexpected sight. For a moment, no one moved. The silence was deafening, broken only by Jongho’s approaching footsteps. 

“Gods, I’m so s-sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt!” you stammered, your voice attempting to sound casual despite the hurt and confusion swirling within you. Why am I feeling this way, you wondered, the question demanding an answer that you can't give. 

You had always kept your relationship with Seonghwa strictly professional, despite the occasional flutter of emotions. Yet, seeing him with someone else stirred something unexpected within you. Was it jealousy? Or something deeper that you hadn’t acknowledged before? The thought unsettled you, adding another layer to the already tangled web of emotions you felt towards him. 

“I-I can explain–,” Seonghwa fumbled as he buttoned his shirt, the movements clumsy and rushed. He haphazardly threw his jacket back on, the fabric wrinkling under his frantic efforts. Yeri, equally flustered, tried to smooth her disheveled hair, her cheeks burning with shame. 

“We were just catching up. It’s been a long time since we last saw each other.” Her voice was shaky, betraying her own discomfort. 

“Well,” San began, addressing Seonghwa and Yeri. “If I had known the library would be used like this, I would have extended some charity to our esteemed guests.” His tone was polite but edged with a steely resolve that left no room for argument. “I’m sure we have a room befitting his grace as it appears that he is in desperate need of a hiding place—like a rat scurrying back into its hole.”

Yeri's face erupts in a fiery flush of humiliation as she hangs her head in shame, unable to bear the insulting words from San. San raises an eyebrow, daring either of them to stand up to him. "I'm leaving," she mumbles, quietly excusing herself without saying another word. As she walked away, the oppressive tension lingered in the air.

“R-Right. Well, I need to borrow the breed encyclopedia, so if I could just…” You fidgeted awkwardly, your finger darting around as you tried to locate the book. Jongho, noticing your discomfort, pointed to the upper shelf behind the former lovers. 

“It’s right there,” he said, his voice cutting through the thick silence as Seonghwa stepped aside to let you through. His eyes, filled with guilt, followed your every move.

"You good?" San asked, his protective instincts kicking in.

“I’ve got it, I just have to climb up,” you replied, your tone firmer than you felt. 

You began taking off your heels, the action giving you a moment to collect yourself. The cool marble against your bare feet contrasted the heat of your emotions. Lifting the skirt of your gown, you prepared to climb the ladder to the upper shelves when you felt Seonghwa’s hand on your arm. The unexpected touch sent a shock through you, and his grip was gentle yet firm, silently pleading for attention.

"I'll do it," he insisted, speaking in a low and earnest voice. You paused, looking up at him, meeting his eyes. In that moment, the vulnerability in his gaze disarmed you, but the hurt and confusion still swirled within your mind. 

"Please.”

Reluctantly, you stepped aside, allowing him to retrieve the book. Each movement he made was careful and deliberate, as if he were trying to prove his worth through this small act. You watched him reach the upper shelf and retrieve the encyclopedia, its weight seemingly insignificant in his hands. 

San’s eyes darted between you and Seonghwa. He couldn’t make sense of why Seonghwa was so insistent on helping you, a rare display of protectiveness that went against his aloof nature. A knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

Seonghwa handed you the book, his hand lingering for a moment longer than necessary, as if he wanted to say something more. His eyes held a silent plea, a desperate hope for a chance to explain himself, but your focus remained elsewhere, avoiding the intensity of his gaze.

“Thank you,” you murmured, clutching the book to your chest, its worn cover a small comfort as you put distance between yourself and Seonghwa. "I should get going," you suggested with exasperation evident in your voice. 

The intensity of the situation was suffocating, and you needed an escape. Without waiting for a response, you turned on your heel and walked away, each step feeling like a small victory against the turmoil that threatened to consume you. 

A wave of guilt washed over Seonghwa knowing that he was partially responsible for your sudden departure. His chest tightened and he clenched his fists, feeling the sting of his own actions. He stood there, paralyzed by the weight of his guilt, until San’s voice cut through the fog of his thoughts.

“I must say, your ability to find yourself in compromising situations never fails to impress me. It truly is a talent,” he remarked with mock admiration.

Seonghwa’s eyes flashed with anger as he spat out through gritted teeth, “And you seem to take great pleasure in reveling in another’s misfortune.” His voice was thick with venom, each word a dagger aimed at San.

“Isn’t that exactly what you were doing to Y/N?" San replied, his tone casual and unbothered, as if Seonghwa’s seething rage was nothing more than a mild inconvenience. 

Seonghwa opened his mouth to retort, but his words caught in his throat as his gaze fell to the ground. There, lying abandoned on the floor, were the heels you had left behind. The sight of them hit him like a punch to the gut–a reminder of your abrupt departure. His anger gave way as he walked over to pick up the shoes.

“I didn’t know,” he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. “I didn’t mean to hurt her.”

“Well, she’ll be hurt more if she steps on a sharp object without any shoes on,” Jongho quipped dryly, his tone mixed with pragmatic concern. His eyes silently urged Seonghwa to go after you. 

Seonghwa stood there for a moment, clutching your heels, his mind racing. He couldn’t let you leave like this, not without explaining himself. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he set out after you, determined to make things right.

“You did not fly all the way home without your heels,” Sunmi yawned, cradling Siwoo in her arms. Your nephew let out a string of babbles, his tiny face scrunched up as if he were reprimanding you for your forgetfulness.

“Just did,” you said with a shrug, lifting the skirt of your gown and wiggling your bare toes in the air. “I mean, it’s not like I planned to leave my heels there and honestly, I didn’t even notice until I got home,” you lied. 

Sunmi’s eyebrows knitted together in concern as she studied you. “What happened?” she asked, her voice softening. She shifted Siwoo to her other arm, his tiny head resting against her shoulder. The gentle rise and fall of his breathing seemed to mirror the rhythm of your own anxious heartbeats.

You sighed deeply, feeling the weight of the evening’s events, the exhaustion and emotional turmoil finally having caught up with you. “This happened,” you said, holding up the encyclopedia for her to see. The book felt heavy in your hands, not just in weight but in the significance of what it represented.

“I think I might’ve figured out the other half of Ajax’s pedigree. I didn’t have my own copy so I borrowed Jongho’s. I’m going to do some work,” you explained, determined to solve the mystery you’ve been chasing for months now. 

You retreated to your study, sliding into your desk chair. Your fingers trembled slightly as you flipped through the pages, each one filled with intricate illustrations and detailed descriptions of various dragon breeds. A sense of awe washed over you as you read through breeds, old and new—each more fascinating than the last. As you continued, your anticipation grew, until finally, your eyes landed on the page you were searching for. 

You studied the avian-looking dragon. Its sleek, streamlined body was adorned with grotesque feathers hanging from its gangly, mismatched wings. The large, bug-like eyes bulged with an eerie intelligence, giving the dragon an almost alien appearance. They stared back at you with a knowing, unsettling awareness. Its sharp, curved beak-like snout added to its avian resemblance, but instead of elegance, it exuded menace and predatory intent, as if ready to strike at any moment.

“Found you,” you whispered, a triumphant smile spreading across your face. Your mind raced with the implications of this discovery, the pieces of the puzzle finally coming together. As you scribbled notes on your scratch pad, thoughts of your job at the Institute surfaced; the resources and access you had there could be invaluable for digging deeper into the investigation and revealing the truth about Ajax. 

A sudden knock against your doorframe startled you from your thoughts. You blinked, momentarily readjusting your glasses to make sure you weren’t imagining things.

“Seonghwa?”

Seonghwa stood in the doorway to your office, the soft light from the lamp casting a glow that accentuated his sharp features and the depth in his eyes. The usual strands of his updo were windswept, adding a touch of wildness indicating that he wasted no time trying to find you. His tie hung loosely around his neck, its knot undone splayed over his chest–and your stilettos, with their long, thin heels hung from his hands. 

“You forgot these.” He held out the heels, his expression sheepish as his eyes darted between the shoes and your face. The contrast between his usually confident demeanor and the awkwardness of the gesture made him all the more endearing.

Your fingers brushed against his in a brief, electric touch. “Thank you,” you said, touched by his thoughtfulness. “You didn’t have to come all this way.”

He stepped closer, the scent of his cologne filling your senses, creating an intoxicating blend that heightened the tension between you. His eyes, usually so guarded, now held a vulnerability you’d never seen before.

“I realized I’d never see you again if I didn’t bring them,” he said, his words tumbling out quickly as if he feared losing the courage to say them. “And… I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Seonghwa’s gaze lingered on you for a moment, taking in every detail of your appearance. He noticed your furrowed brow and the slight tilt of your head as you spoke. His eyes traced the curve of your neck to your collarbone, where the strapless black gown rested. The way the lamplight highlighted the contours of your features made him forget how to breathe.

“You haven’t changed out of your gown?” he asked, his voice softening with genuine curiosity and admiration.

You yawned and stretched slightly. “It’s too pretty to take off.”

“It suits you.” You felt a blush creep up your cheeks, and you looked away, trying to hide your smile.

“Guess I just didn’t want the night to end.” 

He took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling as he tried to steady himself. “I’m sorry, Y/N,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You raised an eyebrow, feeling a knot form in your stomach. “What are you apologizing for?”

“I made a mess of things, and you got caught in the crossfire,” he confessed, his voice cracking. “Seeing you hurt because of what happened in the library has been eating away at me. I never, never meant to hurt you. It made me realize that I don’t want to lose you.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with regret and desperation. You could see the anguish in his eyes, the way his hands trembled slightly as he spoke. You looked down at the heels in your hands, feeling a swell of emotions rise within you before setting them down. 

“You’re only human, Seonghwa,” you said softly, despite the storm swirling within you. “We all make mistakes. What matters is that you’re here now, trying to make things right. So, thank you.”

You let the words settle between you before taking your own breath. “While you're here, I’m…thinking of going back to the Institute,” you say. “I think I’ve figured out Ajax’s missing half but I don’t think our case against the necropsy will be very effective if I don’t have access to all the necessary resources.” 

Seonghwa’s expression shifted from relief to a playful glint as he leaned in. “I bare my soul to you and you’re already leaving me?”

You scoffed. “I wouldn’t consider that soul baring,” you smiled, trying to ignore the flutter in your chest.

"Guess I'll have to visit you every day since you'll be close to the capitol," he murmured, his voice deep and teasing as he leaned in. “I don’t plan on letting you go back to Wooyoung that easily.” Seonghwa's hand takes hold of your face, his thumb sweeping across your jawline.

You welcomed his touch, yet the weight of your true feelings was almost too much to bear. A raw ache in your chest served as a painful reminder: Seonghwa was not yours, and he never would be. You had accepted this, even if it stung more than you were willing to admit. 

<< viii | daylight | x >>

taglist: @litolmochi @syubseokie @park-simphwa @szakias

[possiblu]

the tragedy of achilles

Achilles is caught in a vicious trap. He is part god: his godly parentage, Thetis, his immense power and skill, his petty and grudge-holding nature, his beauty, his parentage. and yet he is also a mortal for one reason: his ability to die. Not many people would call death and ‘ability’, and yet it appears the Greeks did. The most glorious thing to a Greek was called kleos, and this meant death. Not just any death, but a fiery, sacrificial, blaze of glory in a battle sort of death. So while being a god in nearly every sense, this ability to die places Achilles firmly within the mortal realm, within you and I exist. Dionysus is a god, yet he has one godly parent (Zeus) and one mortal parent (Semele) - look for examples of gods with mortal fathers but immortal mothers, or something or other, look to Aphrodite's children and so on - in some sense, this is a gift for Achilles, since he can achieve mortal kleos far more easily. but yet.

Imagine being in a primary school class of mythology or ancient Greece. You, of course, know all of the answers to the questions, yet if you answered them with the truth, you would not be marked correctly. If a primary school student explained the story of Aphrodite's birth, this would probably lead to disciplinary action! And this is the situation in which Achilles is in. It is the fact that he exists within the mortal realm at all that kills him. Gods can prefer mortals, take Athena and Odysseus, yet they do not love them in the same way mortals can love one another. One could even argue that gods cannot love one another in the same way that mortals can. Achilles exists within this mortal realm and is driven to death by his (godly) need to avenge the death of Patroclus who, whether interpreted as a brotherly friend or lover, was certainly beloved by Achilles. It is his death that drives Achilles to kill Hector, hence ending the Trojan War, and leading to his prophesied death.

It is easy for a modern audience to say that Achilles should have simply accepted that Agamemnon as his superior at least in the traditional hierarchical sense had taken his concubine, Briseis, and that he should have returned to the battle, even if after a little while, but certainly at least after the war turns. And he does not, and we still discuss if this is an overreaction. Odysseus, Ajax, and Phoenix approach and supplication him, offering him gifts and so on and so forth, which he still refuses. Yet I would argue that for Achilles to return to the battle would have been for him to sacrifice his pride, and hence his kleos. For a mortal, pride does not equate to kleos, but the gods, μεν δε, are characterised by their pride, they live on it, literally, because if it is not sufficiently fed they do not continue. This may seem fantastical but it is also a literal interpretation, look at Helios and Selene, gods of sun and moon later blended into Apollo and Artemis. look at any older god blended into another for simplicity, to reduce the cost of sacrifice and worship and so on. Ao Achilles cannot forgive Agamemnon. It is only when Patroclus goes into battle, wearing Achilles’ clothes I might add, in an attempt to don the physical and literal armour of a god, that Achilles is roused to fight. Patroclus, up until this point, has not been characterised as a great warrior. And yet this armour, this disguise almost, imbued with the divine power of Achilles, leads him into one of, if not the most incredible aristeia in the Iliad or even the Greek canon. Slaughter was a part of Greek life in battle, and yet it was not mindless, we can see this in Homer’s biographies of each felled soldier - and then he killed so and so, wife of so and so with four children, five goats, and a very good credit score. There is a remorse in his death. Only in an aristeia does one kill as a weapon themselves, rather than wielding it. Achilles has the powers of a god which he is not allowed to truly exercise, essentially, and I will elaborate better when I am less sleepy and more sober. The weight and gravity of his tragedy or role as a tragic figure, is deeply underestimated.

[trashcanwithsprinkles]

heya, i have a couple of questions about CN since i'm re-reading it for the nth time. like i kid you not, i have a week or two every month where i just gravitate towards both CN (and ITYSG too)

anyway, so question #1 is: is Ajax ever gonna meet the Tsaritsa or her equivalent in the new Teyvat since he changed history and stuff? like, would there be people whom he knew from Earth, like the other Harbingers, that he would eventually meet down the lane in the new Teyvat?

question #2: is he ever gonna meet himself since his ancestor is alive and thriving?

question #3: there was a part in the story where Aspasia and Crimson Thorn discussed the possibility of the people they lost due to the mutiny being able to reincarnate or be brought back to life since they would be retrieving Sophron from the Abyss. do you know if Basileios and the others they lost would be able to return? or if they would be lost forever?

sorry, i know this is a lot but i really just couldn't help myself whenever i re-read CN coz that fic of yours is just so awesome that re-reading it doesn't lessen its quality and it always feel like the first time, and loving them all over again

#1: no, because that would require for things to go exactly as they did in the og timeline, and not only is he trying to prevent that but he also sort of made it impossible for that to happen, what with celestia's turnover. the reason why he would be invested in bringing about the existence of other people (genshin's roster) is because at least there he has a through line to follow of possible ancestors and possible surnames. but for the people in his reality? not only does that require a catastrophe to shift who is alive where, but he also has no means of tracing back anyone's parentage beyond the tsaritsa, and even then that's not going to be easy. like- yeah the lack of archon war is going to make things complicated, but at that point in time most of everyone is staying in their own nations so it's not that hard to accomplish with enough planning. but on the other hand... #2: he's not going to meet himself for the same reasons as above. without celestia trying to thanos them, with the volchiy and zvezdochoty still alive as species and without the archon war to kill those who may have survived (nadezhda), it's more than likely that vephar's child will go on to marry and have kids with literally anyone else, now that they're not being persecuted and they have a family and someplace to stay n stuff like that. and the butterfly effect explodes after that. basically we have to assume that nobody who was in the arc beyond the second cryo archon is going to be born in this reality, and the same goes for most of everyone alive in-game atm (with the exception of the playable characters he'll manage to successfully bring about, for lack of a better expression) #3: i decided to leave that open and up for interpretation since it was no longer ajax' concern, but. i do like happy endings more than i do angst (if you'll believe that), so in my mind they were going to retrieve sophron and there would be a bit of a crisis in celestia as the energy imbalance settles (the three captains were linked to the island in a deeper level) and the next starfall (i think the reincarnation event was called that) comes around earlier than expected (like a week after sophron returns, immediately after the energy settles). so yeah, in my head, crimson thorn and aspasia would've gotten basileios back not long after returning to their teyvat, and it would've been a heartwrenching reunion.

[ilions-end]

okay i finished philoctetes <3 verrry intriguing even if it didn't hit me quite as hard as ajax -- i think partly because the deus ex machina makes the resolution kinda abrupt

two things that really stay with me:

1. neoptolemus so unproven and unsure of what is right. he's not just some kind of secret weapon essence-of-achilles to swoop in at the end of the war and kill the royal family. seems every hero in this war is haunted by the expectations that come with their parentage, but neoptolemus more than anyone. here he comes, fresh to war, and they put him in odysseus' care ("you who ruined him forever"!!). he has so much to prove, ohh that poor boy

2. the story of philoctetes in general!! the isolating effect of chronic pain/illness and how people's sympathy runs thin because it doesn't STOP being debilitating and obvious and unappealing. he tries so hard to pretend he isn't in agony to not drive neoptolemus away! he tries to be quiet and composed but in the end he can't help but scream and curse and faint and be inconvenient, because he is chronically ill!! he can't help it!

[birdie123au]

mania

mania - a spirit who personifies madness and insanity

Grief has consumed your every waking thought. You are given an opportunity from a long lost ally to lose everything so that those you love can have it all.

tw: mentions of suicide and self-sacrifice

part five of five

// prev

masterlist

“The prince battled Odysseus for the armor of Achilles,” the doctor said, “When he had lost the battle, the young prince became mad with obsession– completely insane. It wasn’t until he finally found clarity did he realize the way he had disgraced himself, you, and his family. It was said yesterday night they found the prince after he had thrown himself on his own spear; right on the beach with the blood still fresh.”

The world around you ceased to spin. You felt as though your feet were glued in place. At that moment, nothing had felt real. You had known Ajax for almost twenty years and had been his lover for over half the time. You knew him. You knew he could never do such a thing. He would never lose his mind and disgrace himself severely over some silly armor. 

“No,” you said, “I’m sorry, but this can’t be true.”

“Oh Y/n,” the queen said, eyes filled with tears as she approached you, “I’m so sorry, dearest,”

Queen Hesione then wrapped you in a hug, tears dampening your robe. You stood stiff, your expression completely blank. 

The gods had completely turned their back on you that night. After discovering the curse of your father, your true parentage, and the death of your husband you were certain the night could not get any worse. It wasn’t until a young doctor came running down the hall to the door of your chambers where most of the royal family and staff were gathered did you realize something was severely wrong.

At the bedside of King Telamon you watched in complete shock as you saw his wife, your mother in law, cradling his limp body in her arms while screaming bloody murder. Princess Tonia had passed out at this point, so the handmaidens brought her to a nearby couch and began fanning her face. 

“Don’t just stand there!” cried the doctor to his staff, “Fetch the medication, prepare to attempt revival!”

The night was chaotic. Doctors, handmaidens, and guards were sent running around the palace. This commotion had woken your children who then overhead of their fathers deaths through panicked and confused servants’ screams. Queen Hesione continued her screams even when the guards were forced to detain her off to the side of the room. Each time Tonia regained consciousness she only passed out once more. And so you stood, stiff as a board at the side of the late king’s bed, having not moved an inch. 

“Mother!” Alex cried as he ran into the room.

“Mother, what's happening?” Simon said, running alongside his brother. The two boys stopped at either one of your sides. You placed an arm around each of their shoulders, pulling them in closer as you watched the frantic doctors' futile attempt to revive the dead king. 

“Is it true?” Alex asked again, crying in grief, “Are they both dead?” 

You said nothing to the boys, instead pulling them in closer to your bodies. Your boys, your poor, sweet boys, would now be forever without a father and grandfather. They would never know Ajax’s eyes, his mischievous smile, or his soft hair. 

“Take the women out of the room!” a doctor yelled, “Prepare to make the incision into the chest!”

Queen Hesione began to scream louder; “No!” she cried, “What are you doing to him! Why is he bleeding from the mouth! What have you done!” 

The guards then escorted the hysterical queen out of the room. Followed by several servants lifting the passed out Tonia after her. Followed by a guard placing his hand on your back and guiding the three of you out the door. 

They brought you all to the queen’s chambers but separated you from your sons, promising to guide them back to their bedrooms. The shock of the evening had yet to wear off, but you once more watched in surprise as the guards locked the door from the outside.

The queen pounded on the door, still in hysterics, demanding the three of you be let out. She stood there for hours banging and pleading. Only then did you come up from behind her, dragging her away slightly. You expected her to fight back, but the poor woman was overwhelmed with grief, so she instead braced your touch. You had yet to cry, scream, or yell. You felt numb– completely incapable of expressing any other emotion beside neutrality. At this point you were on your knees, cradling the queen in your arms.

You began thinking. What had once been impartial feelings of denial began to change, transform, into much uglier, nastier feelings. You became consumed with a strong sense of anger. Anger at Ajax for his reckless actions.

How could he have possibly been so careless as to fight in a battle of a dead man’s armor. He had strong, durable armor of his own. Was that not enough for him? You wondered how losing in such a battle could have made him so erratic to the point he had been driven insane. Was he that desperate for a piece or medal? Or was it something more? Perhaps it was his final straw. He had been gone for a decade, not having seen his loved ones in many years. He was desperate to meet his children. When the boys had turned five years old he told you he had almost sent a letter to his father, beginning to go home, it was only when he realized that was the way of the coward to back down. Prideful he was, dead he is. You had to wonder if this superficial quality of honor and duty was worth the mental hardship he had truly endured over the decade. 

It was only then when you imagined him, full of pain and deep sadness, wanting nothing more than to return home to your arms and back to his family, did the tears finally begin to flow. 

–––––––––

The guards had locked the three of you in the queen’s chamber for thirteen days. 

The only visitor allowed was that of your eldest son, Alexandros, the king of Salamis. You could tell he was scared, confused, and experiencing heavy grief at the loss of his father and grandfather. He remained strong and assured you that confining you to the chamber was by the order of the doctors, not him. The dowager queen yelled at him for this, calling him foolish and distrustful. The boy began to cry, assuring her that the doctor had your best interest in mind. He was only ten, you reminded the queen, ten and king of an entire kingdom– he is truly doing his best to rule during this time of great sadness, it was not his fault he had placed his trust in a man with sinister interest.

It took only a few more visits for the boy to command your release. The dowager queen was beside herself with pain, mumbling about how cruel the gods were to take not only one son but two as well as her husband all in a year. Tonia weeped constantly but, by the command of her husband, was forced to return to Sparta until the funeral would begin. Then there was you. Mother of the king, late wife of the crowned prince, and so you did the only possible thing you could imagine. You went to the temple of the gods and began to pray. You prayed to your father, the late priest, for guidance. You also prayed for your husband to have a smooth passage into the afterlife. He was a warrior, you thought, surely his great sacrifices would be honored. You developed bruises on your legs from the amount of time you sat praying. 

The rest of your spare time was spent by your sons’ side. You counseled Alex on his leadership and decision making; you read academic passages and scrolls with Simon, making sure his reading ability stayed fulfilled.

Despite your tears and deep sadness, you held yourself together to the best of your abilities. That was until the funeral. 

Something about watching Ajax’s bloody body, covered in a white sheet, being lowered into the ground caused you to snap. You began weeping, wailing even, and you needed to be held up by two members of the royal counsel to even stand up straight.

You went mad with grief. Locking yourself in your chambers, you refused visits from anyone but Dowager Queen Hesione and your two sons. Yet even when they visited with gifts and kind words to lift your spirits, all you could do was cry. Each day you would pace around your room, rereading the hundreds of letters from your late husband spanning back to your days as a teenager. This continued for weeks until one day when you had enough, tore up every single letter he wrote you during his time away at war, and threw them from your window. 

When you told Hesione what you had done she cradled you in a hug, begging you not to destroy any more of his belongings or yourself. She thought it best to get you out of your chambers, going on walks with her. But each time you would pass by a statue of Hebe or emblem of a god you would begin to weep all over again. 

During your time locked up in your quarters, you had shredded many of your royal dresses, opting to wear the same outfits as the servants, and developed a deep aversion for the ocean. Each time a person would walk in smelling of salt you would have a fit of sadness. 

The queen, Alex, and Simon continued their best to not only process their own grief, but also help you with yours. In a final attempt, Simon wrote to his aunt, Rosaria, begging for help. It was then where you found yourself in a small carriage, being ushered off to the Temple of Athena.

–––––––––

“Y/n?” Rosaria said, helping you out of the carriage, “Do you need to sit down?” 

You understood why she asked such a question despite the fact you were standing just fine. You had lost several pounds, due to the fact you hardly ever ate, and your eyes appeared sunken and dazed, because of all the tears you shed. The grief you thought you could once control had completely spiraled, driving you mad. You did not eat, sleep, or bathe. In fact, the very first thing Rosaria did upon your arrival was throw you in a cold tub of water.

She stayed by your side as you cried to her, complained, and cried some more. Rosaria spoke little to you, instead dedicating her entire presence as a sort of counselor. You appreciated her few words of wisdom, tales from the gods of tragedy and losses of love. It reminded you of your father. Oh how you wished he could be at your side. 

Each morning at the temple you would take walks with one of the priestesses. They were short, low commitment exercises that the doctor had prescribed to you to ‘better your condition.’ You had no desire to go towards the beach, so you instead walked amongst the gardens and trees. The priestesses would tell you stories about the heroes and gods who had walked this very same path to the temple while you in turn would tell tales of the kings and warriors of Salamis. 

A particular priestess who you took a great liking to, besides Rosaria, was an elderly woman by the name of Xanthia. Because her name reminded you of the headmistress who had grown up despising you or at the very least mistreated you, you did not trust Xanthia. However, these cruel assumptions were quickly shattered when you took your very first walk with her. She shared a story about her little sister, how her late husband was a great warrior built in battle, and how the girl was visited by the goddess Persephone one late night in the spring. She said this following was forever lasting, just like the memories she shared with her dead husband. 

Xanthia had a maternal quality about her, a certain warmth not many of the priestesses possessed. This intrigued you, as Xanthia had never married nor mothered any children. Walking with linked arms reminded you of the Dowager Queen Hesione, who you missed dearly. 

“Y/n?” Xanthia said with a frail voice, “Why don’t you tell me a story.”

“Oh course,” you replied, “About what?”

“I would like to hear,” she paused for a moment, “A story about your mother.”

“Ah,” you said, “I never really knew my mother… I was born a bastard and was raised entirely by my father.”

“If your mother showed up in front of you now, not at all dead” she said, “would you show her any ill will? Or would you place value on xenia and tradition over personal grievances?”

You thought for a moment.

“Well, I must confess,” you began, “If she showed up in front of me many years ago, I would have slammed the door in her face.”

Xanthia looked disappointed in your answer, but allowed you to continue with your words; “But…well, now I am a mother too. I understand there are certain sacrifices we must make. Sacrifices our children may never truly understand, but if they are to protect them, then who are we to judge and show ill will? It doesn’t excuse the way she made me feel, but it does bring me peace.”

“The gods will reward you for your graciousness,” Xanthia said, “Just you wait.”

The two of you continued on a path down to where a stream raced over a path of sharp rocks. Typically this is where the priestess would turn the two of you around, but Xanthia continued marching you forward. Her grip was strong despite her old age.

“Princess?” she asked, “Do you know how to skip rocks?”

You laughed, immediately being transported to a memory of when you and Ajax were 14. It was a bright summer day, and he had managed to sneak out of class, literally, through a window. His teacher was so exhausted he hadn’t even noticed the boy had left. It was there where he attempted to teach you how to skip rocks. You were terrible. For every distance Ajax’s rock would travel, you traveled a quarter of the way. The two of you spent hours pelting rocks into the sea, and by the end of it you were no better from where you had started.

“Oh– no,” you said, still giggling, “My husband tried to teach me once when we were very young, but I was no good.”

“You said you were a cupbearer, were you not?” Xanthia replied with another question, “I’m sure you have good hand-eye coordination. Come. Let us practice skipping rocks.”

You agreed, not wanting to turn down such an offer. It had been many years since you had last tried, maybe you would yield some better results. As you watched the elderly woman fetch you a rock, you began to ponder a peculiarity from earlier in your conversation: how was it she knew your mother was ‘dead’?

–––––––––

“I remember now!” you laughed, “He hit you right on the center of your face. There was so much blood, I thought father was going to pass out then and there!”

“It was ridiculous,” Rosaria clarified, patting Simon’s head, “He had no right to laugh at me– you don’t either, Y/n. Or should I remind you of the chum incident?”

“Oh please, that was with a prince! You got your ass kicked by a serving boy. What was his name again? Theon?”

“Theon,” she confirmed, “How could I forget.”

Today was one of the many days in which Simon was able to visit you and the fellow priestesses. Alex, your elder son, was often not able to accompany you due to his many duties as king. He was heartbroken over this, Simon assured you, and would write to you often demanding to know when your treatments were over and you could finally return home.

It had only been several weeks since you had left, but your children, mother-in-law, and handmaidens were said to have been itching for your return. You tried not to focus on such matters whenever Simon would visit. You instead tried to keep things light hearted by sharing stories, just as the priestesses had done for you. You were getting better. Some days you woke up incapable of getting off your bed, but others, most days, you found the motivation to pull yourself up and live through the day to the fullest of your abilities. 

All was going well. Yet, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched. That someone or something was around the corner, reading again to tear down the walls you had built up for yourself. 

“Well,” Rosaria said, “It’s time for me to relight the candles and bless the halls. Simon, stay with your mother and read her some more stories. I’ll be back as soon as I can to fetch you for dinner.”

“Yes Aunt Rosaria,” Simon replied, shifting in his seat to locate his textbook.

“Have fun!” you said, exaggerating your wave as Rosaria was walking towards the exit door of your chambers.

“Y/n, before I forget,” she said, turning around to face you once more, “Sister Xanthia would like to meet with you after the sun goes down.”

“Interesting, do you know why?” you question as Simon snuggled up next to you, ready to start reading.

“No,” Rosaria said, “But she does want to meet you at the beach. I think it's part of your prescribed treatment. Let me know if you want me to be there.”

The beach? You froze. You took a deep breath, regained your composure, and nodded. You and Rosaria would meet Xanthia at the beach. 

“Try not to have too much fun while I’m gone,” Rosaria said, shutting the door.

You placed your head on your son’s shoulder, and so the two of you spent the rest of your afternoon reading tales of great heroes and their triumphs. 

–––––––––

“It’s getting late,” Rosaria said, annoyed, “I don’t understand what could possibly be taking her so long.”

“Maybe she fell?” you replied, worried, “What if she lost her balance on the walk and is stuck waiting for our help?”

The two of you remained in the same spot for several minutes before deciding it was best to head back to the trail. Afterall, if Xanthia had truly fallen or gotten lost, it was best to find her as soon as possible and bring her back to the temple.

You and Rosaria walked in silence while holding hands. You were not nearly as mad with sadness as you thought you would be, returning to the beach for the first time in many weeks, especially at night. It was calm. Oddly calm, as if the beach had been blessed by the lord of the sea himself. The two of you had only made it for several steps when you both stopped in your tracks. 

A feeling, unlike any you had before, began to consume your chest. You looked at Rosaria and realized very quickly from the way her eyes widened that she too was feeling it. It was a mixture of anxiety, the feeling of being watched by something far greater than yourself, and happiness. It was then when you noticed a faint glow from behind you. The two of you whipped your heads around in unison, breaking your hands apart in the process.

Behind you stood a sight out of an epic. Xanthia, or whoever it truly was, stood behind you. Though she was not the woman you had grown to love. She was younger, far younger, and significantly taller. She had long, brown hair that curled like a princess. Her beauty was breathtaking, but the sight of her strong arms disrupted the image. Despite this, her aura in which she stepped confidently was unbreakable. She was no mortal.

“Xanthia…?” Rosaria was first to ask after a few moments of silence.

The unknown woman’s face changed from a neutral expression to one with joy; “Yes, you could call me that.”

She began to walk towards the two of you. The closer she got, the more you and Rosaria understood that it was you who she was approaching. You who she had looked eyes with. 

“Or,” she said, grabbing both of your hands into hers; they were soft and had a welcoming warmth, “You could call me my true name: Hebe.”

“Mother?!” you blurted out, stumbling backwards in your place.

“What.” Rosaria said, exasperated.

“Hello my child,” she said, removing one of your hands to stroke your hair as mothers often did, “How you have grown since I’ve last seen you in my true form.”

“I–I,” you stumbled, “What are you doing here?”

“To wish my dear daughter a happy birthday, of course,” she said, smiling with a warmth and beauty you had never seen before, “I also wish to speak of something important.”

You held your breath; “I have learned from a recent… discovery of yours that you have finally learned the truth of your father’s conditions. Or perhaps, your family's condition. I’m sure your knowledge is not vast, but it is true that my own father is responsible for a certain… curse that haunted my late lover.”

“Yes..yes because of his,” you paused, “His hubris, yes?”

“Well, sure,” the goddess responded, “But again, that is not the truth entirely. I’m sure he had not gone into great detail, but his own father lost his wife at a young age. His father’s father did as well, and so for many generations this was true. It was a great curse from the goddess Aphrodite, who was angered by an ancient ancestry of your family for being more beautiful as she and so she cursed her. She made it so a husband who she truly loved would die young and in pain. The goddess made it so any of her descendants would suffer the same fate. It was I who tried to lift this curse from my husband, but it only ended up making it worse as he sacrifices his virtues for love.”

“Mother,” you said, tears forming in your eyes, “Why do you tell me this?”

“Because,” her face grew stern, sad almost, “I wish to offer you a proposal.”

Your eyebrows bent in suspicion and anticipation.

“I recently had one of my other, godly children, wed a child of Aphrodite’s,” she began, “And so I sat down with that insufferable woman and negotiated a deal. A deal for your children, my grandsons. An agreement that would end the curse that has loomed over your family for generations. Your children would not have to live a life of misery as their lovers, children, or themselves are stolen away too soon; they would live long, happy, fulfilling lives. But the cost…is one very grim.”

“Tell me mother,” you said, squeezing your hands around hers in desperation, “How can I protect them?”

“A soul for a soul,” she told you, sadness consuming her being, “Well, a soul for two souls is more accurate.”

“I don’t understand?” you whispered, “Are you saying I need to…”

“Yes,” she responded without needing to hear the rest of your sentence, “The greatest sacrifice. You said to me, Y/n, that you believed mothers were capable of making sacrifices beyond their child’s ability to comprehend. You have always had great respect and love for your father, you threw away everything he ever knew and loved so that he could raise you.”

You pinched your eyes shut, debating what was the best choice for you to make. But then, you imagined a moment from several months ago when the boys chased their little cousin around. The looks of pure childhood innocent and fun in their eyes made your choice as clear as day. 

“My children will not be alone,” you said, defying the very nature of grief, “They will grow stronger, and I will be united with my love once more.”

“So you will do it?” the goddess asked, “Oh Y/n, I knew it would be you. It always was going to be.”

“Um,” Rosaria said, “What on earth is happening.”

Instead of responding to her shock, you let go of your mothers hands and instead wrapped Rosaria in a hug. 

“Rosaria,” you said, tears freely streaming down your face “My first friend, my ally, my sister. Please, promise me you’ll take care of them.”

Several moments later, without saying a word, Rosaria returned your hug. A silent sign of support.

And so your mother took your hand and the two of you walked deep into the water, never to return again. As the waves reached higher on your body, you looked towards where you mother stood. But there in her place was another figure, Ajax, grasping your hand and leading you through the ocean. He smiled at you. You smiled back.

–––––––––

The king stood on the great rocks, peering over the hill of Salamis into the great big ocean. His ginger hair, which fell down to his chin, moved as freely as it could under the weight of his golden crown. Every morning after breakfast at the very same time on the very same rocks he would look out into the very great sea. Sometimes he was joined by his brother, on occasions his grandmother, on holiday’s his priestess aunt, and oftentimes his wife. 

The king was known throughout the land as being good. He was fair and ruled with jurisdiction. He was pious and had great respect for the gods. Each day he dressed in clothes of mourning, honoring his late parents who died when he was just a boy. Alexandros had been king of Salamis for eighteen years, a husband for twelve, and a father for ten.

The king loved his subjects, his family, and his role as their protectors. He had a rough childhood. No father, a tense situation at court, and growing up in the midst of one of the greatest wars Greece had ever seen. Still, he was deeply loved by those around him and was never seen as corrupt or unjust. However, one thing from his childhood that never ceased to shake him up was the death of his mother, the Princess Y/n.

The king’s brother, Prince Simonides, became the scribe of history. He too was loved by the people, but for very different reasons than the kind. He was seen as just, a historian who took into account several perspectives, and far less consumed by the grief of losing his mother. He worked alongside his aunt, Princess Tonia of Sparta, and his ward, the Princess Eudora. Despite their great distance in location, the two brothers remained extremely close and would visit often. 

The king not only honored his deceased mother in his daily actions, he also remembered the father he never knew. Ajax the Great was sure to be remembered by all as a strong warrior whose skill was only less to Achilles. Statues, caves, and even a festival was created, by command of the king, to honor his name.

The king would spend the rest of his life mourning his parents. Still, he shared great moments of joy and fulfillment. He also found comfort in the fact that his parents were reunited in the afterlife, their love now eternal. From the love of his wife, brother, Aunt Rosaria, the Dowager Queen Hesione, and his children he understood why his mother did what she did. She chose love, and so he would too.

“Father?” the voice of his oldest child, a girl, called out to him, “Won’t you come inside? Mother is requesting your presence. Uncle and your Spartan Aunt have arrived.”

“Excellent,” King Alex responded, “I’ll be there in just a minute to greet them, Y/n.”

[hannahhook7744]

My descendants oc aesthetics part 6 (for Hannah Hook's crew);

Willow Juniper Hawthorne. Age 4. Half human, half tree nymph. Junior of the Storm Bringer. She was given to Hannah by her dying mother as a baby. She is sick because of the barrier. She is 8 years younger than Hannah.

Theme song: "Earth, Wind, Fire, and Air."

Beau Rodmar Nikolas Foundling. Age 6. He is 1/3 human, 1/3 Troll, and 1/3 Goblin but takes mostly after his human ancestors with some Goblin and Troll features. Junior of the Storm Bringer. He use to work at Claw Trimmers and live in the basement there until Hannah came and took him away when he was 4. He is 6 years younger than Hannah.

Theme song: "Goblin Oogie Boogie."

Darius Foundling. Age 4. Son of the Pirate Pharoah. Junior of the Storm Bringer. He is sick because of the barrier and his parentage and was given to Hannah as a baby when his father started to become paralyzed by the barrier. He is 8 years younger than Hannah.

Theme song: "The plagues."

Marcys Atticus Foundling. Age 5. Centaur and son of Nessus. Junior of the Storm Bringer. Hannah took him in as a baby after finding him and Lysander abandoned near one another. He is 7 years younger than Hannah.

Theme song: "Boy in the Bubble."

Lysander Ajax Foundling. Age 6. He is a satyr and the son of one of Chernabog's minions. Junior of the Storm Bringer. Hannah took him in as a baby after finding him and Marcys abandoned near one another. He is 6 years younger than Hannah.

Theme song: "A place in the choir."

Nadia and Noor Foundling. Age 3. They are twin genies and the the twin daughters of Dread the evil genie. Juniors of the Stormbinger. Hannah took them in after she and Dread realized he had no idea how near human children work when they were babies. They are 9 years younger than Hannah.

Theme song: "Two by Two."

Elara Astrid Foundling. Age 5. Daugther od an unknown elf. Junior of the Stormbinger. She was fished out of a barrage as a baby. She is 7 years younger than Hannah.

Theme song: "Fairy Tale Lullaby."

[arainaizevran]

30, 15 and 16? :)

thank you for sending <3

30. How does their love change as they get older?

Answered here! <3

15. Does their view of themselves differ from their partner’s view?

Yes :) Both of them don’t think themselves worthy of the other’s love sometimes 😭 Wyll thinks of Ajax as the great legendary hero that he wants to be, and Ajax loves to tell him otherwise, that it’s both their triumph; sometimes Ajax goes out of his way to introduce Wyll first and let him bask in the glory he deserves. Ajax thinks Wyll is too good for him, that Wyll deserves better than a Bhaalspawn, even after he’s “cured”. Wyll insists otherwise, that his parentage doesn’t define him, just as Gorion’s Ward before.

16. Jealous at all?

That word is not in both of their vocabularies, lol. Weeell, maybe Ajax gets a little bit overprotective of anyone trying to flirt with Wyll. For instance, Wyll may be talking to a too zealous fan of the Blade and Ajax is just behind him staring daggers at them, using his Intimidation Proficiency to make sure they don’t do anything stupid. (He gets a stern talking-to when Wyll finds out about it.) Aside from that, it’s not really a problem. Later on, Ajax learns to gush with Wyll’s fans about the Blade of Frontiers and how cool he is.

[queer-as-used-by-tolkien]

Storyline Study: Bangar and Almorra

This is a rewritten form of the juicy parts of this post that I foolishly left under a readmore. (This isn't all of it; there are some buried insights that didn't fit so well into the structure of this version.)

Inspired by @allergy-sufferer-emo-wandererr's Bangar-centric PMV of the song Rains of Castamere.

"And who are you," the proud lord said, "that I must bow so low?"

"Only a cat of a different coat. That's all the truth I know. In a coat of gold, or a coat of red, a lion still has claws. And mine are long and sharp, my lord, as long and sharp as yours."

And so he spoke... and so he spoke, that lord of Castamere. But now the rains weep o'er his halls, with no one there to hear. Yes, now the rains weep o'er his halls. And not a soul to hear.

This song is about a lord and an underling; it draws lines between ranks and classes. A very Bangar song, but there's a hint of Almorra in it, too - the gladium-turned-hero, estranged from her people first by custom, then by choice.

One of my favorite aspects of this story is how strikingly little we, the Commander, have to do with it. This story started before many of our Commanders were even born, such as how Almorra and Bangar met, what their relationship was like, whether Almorra's unnamed daughter is also Bangar's, and when they broke up; several parts of it occurred right in front of us without our realizing - your first Vigil mission addresses Ajax, and even a few key parts of it during Bound by Blood were only accidentally overheard by the Commander. And, of course, there is the fact that we would never even know anything if it weren't for our eavesdropping through Ryland's memories. We are simply not relevant. It's not our story.

I think this is appropriate. There are stories in Tyria we will never know in their entirety; this makes the world feel more real, that we have these untold stories reaching into the murky past, connecting us with history.

Back to the song; a lot of my insights are drawn from wondering if the song would fit them, and a few stumbles I made along the way. It drew out the similarities and differences in a very striking way.

First, I wondered if the song could be mostly about Almorra and less about Bangar, since the pmv felt... not exactly connected right. (No offense.)

In this incarnation, it would be about Almorra, a new gladium, being rejected by her culture (presumably, specifically Bangar) and going off to found the Vigil. Except that the song ends in loneliness; and despite Almorra's death and even Jhavi's line that no warrior should have to die alone, it just didn't feel like it fit properly.

Contrasted to the song, this made me realize that the stories of Almorra and Bangar are similar, but in a way that they contrasted each other as a sort of emphasis.

Almorra's story began with loneliness when she lost her warband, but then she grew - she founded the Vigil, she was an open-minded leader who was, ultimately, willing to join the Pact, and later be part of the extended Pact that killed Kralkatorrik. That's where her story was supposed to end; at the pinnacle of her victory - not just that she'd defeated Kralkatorrik, but also that she'd found new allies after the loss of her warband. And she proved that she wasn't just in it for revenge, she wasn't just a bitter fighter who was simply desperate to avenge her companions - she was a true warrior. She kept fighting. She was praised as a hero upon her return to Ascalon, but she brushed off the fakes who dumped her when she was alone (a brilliant lesson in itself about true friendship), and went to continue her life's work - and at the time? At that specific moment, she was going to bring life and hope to her soldiers - her people - telling them of Kralkatorrik's defeat. Almorra Soulkeeper is an awe-inspiring influence and role model, and it's a disgusting shame that Bangar did what he did. But that, I think, was a masterfully contrived symbol that Anet used to contrast their stories.

Bangar was an Imperator. He was a powerful fighter, a masterful influencer (first time I laid eyes on him I pegged him as a politician, and he did not disappoint), and the mentor of the best rising star of the Blood Legion. But his story is one of losing - he lost Rytlock who knows when, he lost Almorra at some point, he lost Ajax in the PS, and then we have the start of IBS when he took all who would, and went into the Shiverpeaks to hunt a dragon. There, he murdered Almorra, supposedly his fire and blood, which may have been what started Ryland's fall. And then, despite his claims of doing everything for the charr, he started a civil war that nearly wiped out the charr, turned a good chunk of them into Icebrood, and all for nothing - Jormag passed over him. To add insult to injury, he lost his last ally - Ryland. Bangar's story ends in a cage, locked in silence, with half of his interactions with other people being solely so that Aurene or the Commander (and even Crecia) could request an audience with Jormag, who has even taken his voice from him.

These stories are polar opposites. To illustrate Bangar's fall, he murders Almorra, the opposing story of success. Almorra achieved what she wanted with Kralkatorrik; Bangar failed utterly with Jormag. Almorra and Bangar's stories spiral together (I'm kind of picturing the spiral helix at the end of HoT), but they are separate and vastly different and both go in different directions. Despite their endings being similar - ending in loneliness - Bangar's story derives in part from his inability to keep Almorra with him after she becomes independent of him. IBS is the climax, the disaster, the desperation and failed hope, the resounding end to Bangar's story. But for Almorra, it was just an annoying epilogue. She'd already lived her story - without him - and emerged victorious.

These two stories are startling in the way they contrast and orbit each other. The Icebrood Saga starts when both are at the height of their power - Almorra has the Vigil and even all of the Pact behind her, she has the Commander, she even has the support of the charr for having killed Kralkatorrik. Bangar, a highly-respected Imperator, is a great uniter - he has brought the four Legions together and managed to have them cooperate peacefully in a celebration. Their positions are nearly equal. The tension arises when Almorra and Bangar still don't see eye-to-eye. There is a disconnect between their core values.

The song is about a lord and a subordinate (I imagine a lowly peasant). This is Bangar, highly respected and powerful, and Almorra, the exiled gladium. The song illustrates the lord's pride versus the peasant's declaration that "my claws are as long and sharp as yours" - or Bangar's pride versus Almorra's individuality, Bangar's army versus Almorra's influence. The song is remarkably simple and short; but the two actors in this story have weaved a dance of opposition and contrast - yin-yang, and light-and-dark.

It is a masterfully plotted echo, a pre-type, a sort of thematic foreshadowing of the opposing but twinned forces of Jormag and Primordus.

[ancient-myth-daily]

Periboea

There were many women named Periboea in Greek Mythology.  This Periboea (AKA Eriboea) is most well known for being the mother of Ajax, an important figure in Homer’s Iliad.  The name Periboea means ‘surrounded by cattle’, which is not very poetic but at least it sounds okay.  

Her parentage is disputed.  The first possibility is that her father was King Cychreus of Salamis, who was known as the dragon for his hotheadedness, and that Periboea met Telamon after he fled from Aegina to Salamis after accidentally killing his half-brother.  The other possibility is her father was a man named Alcathous of Elis, and her mother was either his first wife Pyrgo or his second wife Evaechme, and that Cychreus’ daughter who married Telamon was named Glauce, and that Periboea became his second wife later on.  

Either way, Periboea met Telamon and they became lovers.  I’ve heard that Periboea’s father became angered by the affair and ordered her to be cast into the sea.  The guard who was supposed to carry out that order took pity on her and sold her into slavery instead.  (is that better??  i guess the guard wouldn’t have the guilt of murdering her but still not great for the woman).  By chance, the one who bought her happened to be Telamon herself.  Notably, though I read this story I could not find any primary sources for it.  I looked at translations of Pseudo-Plutarch’s Parallel Lives, Pseudo-Apollodorus’ Bibliotheca, Pausanias’ Description of Greece and also Diodorus Siculus’ Bibliotheca Historica and couldn’t find anything, though I might have missed it if the characters were being referred to by weird names.  So it’s an interesting story but may not be accurate (?)

Anyway, what is certain is that Periboea bore Telamon a son, and that son was Ajax the Great, Ajax meaning ‘to lament’ or ‘mourner’.  Alternatively, according to Hesiod, Heracles, Telamon’s buddy, prayed to Zeus that Periboea would bear his friend a son.  Zeus sent an eagle as a sign, and Heracles suggested the name Aias after the eagle.  

Periboea raised Ajax in Athens where she lived for a while.  At one point, Periboea was chosen by lottery to be one of the female Athenian tributes to the fearsome Cretan Minotaur.  En route to the Labyrinth, on the Cretan ship, the cruel King Minos lusted after her and attempted to sexually abuse her.  Theseus, who had volunteered as tribute, defended her from Minos.  Later Periboea became his short-time lover.   

Periboea’s eventual fate is not recorded, as she was sadly only a minor character in the stories of Greek heroes.   

[diveronarpg]

Congratulations, JULIE! You’ve been accepted for the role of AJAX. Admin Minnie: Armand came to me out of nowhere, born out of a few concepts I thought could be interesting. But Julie, you brought him to life. I didn't think I could love him more but you added dimension and depth; you brought all his darkness to the table and paired it with all of the light he still carries. I genuinely think you may understand him better than I do, and I trust you with him completely. I can't wait for you to bless us and ruin us in the same breath. I can't wait to fall in love with him just a little bit more, with every word you write. Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

Alias | Julie

Age | 20 (!!!)

Preferred Pronouns | She/her/hers

Activity Level | Like a 5/10? Things have genuinely settled in life and I have a sort-of routine, since I’m working regularly, so while I’m not always here, the chances of me being active on a daily-ish basis are much higher. I’m also always lurking on Discord.

Timezone | MST

How did you find the RP? | I made a blood sacrifice asking for a good group and lo and behold, there you were. Thanks, roleplay deities!

Current/Past RP Accounts | Santino, Loretta

IN CHARACTER

Character | Ajax / Armand Giordano

What drew you to this character? | “He rises from his own ashes and abandons his humanity — as Ajax, and Ajax alone.” This line right here is really what did it for me. The concept of Armand shedding an old identity, a personal one, and taking on a new one is fascinating to me. I think a lot of characters within the mob don’t necessarily identify themselves by their nicknames, personally. Santino doesn’t think of himself as Sebastian, he thinks of himself as Santino, is what I mean. Armand, on the other hand, identifies closely with the name the Montagues have given him, because in his head that’s all that he has. The lines are very much blurred between Armand and Ajax. Armand is a direct result of catastrophe, pain, betrayal on two sides of a war he hadn’t even known existed up until it was forced upon him. Ajax, on the other hand, is the outline of his own actions, even if those actions were taken out of a need for survival. I don’t think it was intentional on his part, exactly, that cleaving of the past and the present in two, but I think he relies on it now heavily enough that he might feel lost without it.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

I WILL BEAT THEE INTO HANDSOMENESS. I’d like to explore just how Armand got the reputation of being the person not to fuck with in the Montagues. When you have a slate of powerhouses like Marcelo, Matthias, Grace, or even Valentina, when she’s not traipsing around on the other side, garnering that sort of reputation has to be difficult. He focuses intensely on physical prowess and I’m sure that it shows. How he uses it and the way he occupies a room is equally as important. I’m not saying it was achieved through blatant bloodshed, but delving into how it is that he’s established that sort of fear in saying the name Ajax sounds like a lot of fun. This also sort of opens the door to relationships with the Capulets. I’m sure he’s beaten the fuck out of a Capulet at some point, right? Who would that be? Was it because they were threatening Roman, or was it a hairstring reaction?

BUT BE AS AJAX. Armand takes his role of protector to Roman very seriously, as he should. I don’t think Armand’s necessarily the most book-smart but he can see the paths laid out for Roman in front of him, and Armand’s ready to clear the way if necessary. His silence around Damiano doesn’t indicate a fear of the man, only distrust, which I feel like is only growing after Damiano endangers not only himself but his own son after the death of the Witches. He’s focused so incredibly intently on Roman that most other priorities just fall away, because Armand believes Roman is the key to peace in the city. I don’t think he sees it as key to a mutual relationship between Capulets and Montagues in some sort of new age, because look at what that made out of a boy as young as sixteen. But he wants to lift Roman as high as possible to ascend upwards within the Montagues and claim his rightful seat on the throne. Armand discovering that Roman and Juliana are corresponding could either make or break that belief. I don’t think he’s emotionally capable enough to handle that sort of betrayal, because in that, he would only see his parents. I’d love to see how that route plays out in whatever direction it goes, whether he feels betrayed by Roman’s correspondence (whenever it comes to light) or more at peace with himself knowing that his parents weren’t the only ones in the city doing what they had done.

SHALL PRIDE CARRY IT? Armand protects others; it’s the key element of his personhood. That’s just what he does. It’s a natural role that comes to him with equal pride and ease, and how he feels about himself is largely reliant on how well he can keep those he cares about safe. But I’d love to see a situation where it’s less about the wellbeing of others, and more of his own, especially in the capacity of his parentage and emotions regarding that matter. Sure, Armand can hold his ground in a fight, but the use of his own parentage against him more or less broke him. And sure, he was young, but that sort of trauma changes a person vastly. He’s never looked love in the eye again, only violence and destruction of those who threaten what he cannot directly comprehend (read: love). I don’t know that it’s necessarily a secret, his birth, but I’m sure someone knows, and I feel like that could be used against him. How he reacts to that being used would be interesting to explore, and could be a potentially catalyst for greater overarching plots as well as his pride in his job and his role within the Montagues.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Sure!

IN DEPTH

In-Character Para Sample:

The ride back from the whole fucking affair is silent. The little prince is practically fuming in his seat across from Armand, and Armand is touching gingerly at the tenderness at his brow. He’s shocked that the drunkard got in any sort of a hit at all, but he had to respect the force of the swing. There’d been a blistering moment of pain-pleasure-pain before he’d swung the whole weight of his body forward to crack his skull against that of his opponent. The Capulet had crumpled to the ground with a groan, and his friends were quick to collect him and go running. Armand had laughed as they’d been dragged away, crowed in victory, called out after them: it won’t happen like that next time!

And then he’d turned, eyes searching for Roman in the gathering crowd, and Roman had looked at him so strangely, like he’d done something wrong, when this was all Armand knew how to do right—

Roman alternates between looking at Armand, huffing, and looking out the window, huffing still. The fight with Damiano earlier had been bad enough. A brawl in the streets between Capulets and Montagues sat as the cherry on top of the cake. He wants to say it was you who wanted to go so badly. Even so, Armand’s not a complete idiot. He knows how that would go. Rebellious or not, he’s not sure that this is how the heir saw their evening going. He’s sure the lashing words from Damiano tomorrow will be harsh, if not outright cruel. He’s only seen the man lecture his son once or twice, but it more or less follows the same pattern: you have a legacy, you’re important to Verona, and to me, blah, blah, blah. Armand usually just tunes him out.

The divider between the passengers and the driver is up. They could get it all out now, if they wanted to. Armand’s not sure he knows where to begin. They’re both new to this whole thing, though, that’s clear enough. If he looks out the window, he can see the Castelvecchio glittering in the distance, a jewel of architecture and stone. That’s what his fathers had called it, at least. He clears his throat. “Roman, it’s-”

“Don’t.”

Armand’s mouth snaps shut. Fine, then. If Roman doesn’t want to talk, then they won’t. He’s not sure how long he can endure this bubbling of emotions in such a small space. He knows Roman is passionate — almost passionate to a fault. But that could very well kill him, if he’s not careful. He could say I worry for you, it’s my job to keep you safe. He could say a thousand things. He’s just not sure it matters. He’s never been any good at this sort of thing, doesn’t think he ever will be. He opens and closes his hands, clenches and unclenches them into fists. Anything to be anywhere else but here.

Roman won’t look at him for the rest of the drive, and Armand’s almost grateful for it. He says nothing to him once they reach the grounds of the Montague family home. It’s late in the night. Damiano is surely asleep. No one greets them at the doors, and Armand makes sure that Roman makes it into his bedroom before moving into his own small space at the end of the hall. He has his own place, although less time is spent there, and more here. His days revolve around Roman, now, and he’s almost thankful for the distraction from everything else. The world gets a little too loud, sometimes, and it only ever quiets when he’s slamming his fists against the weight of a bag, or something hurts, or running hard enough that all the thoughts drain out of his head. Or, as he’s now found, when he’s with Roman. He knows it isn’t the same for the little prince, but Armand worries that if he gets caught up in his own thoughts, he’ll lose it. Do something stupid. Go mad, maybe. Wouldn’t that be a laugh: Ajax didn’t die doing his job. He died from insanity.

He slips his running shoes on and steps into the cold night air, stares up at the window of Roman’s room. The lamp-light is on, and besides, he won’t be gone long. One foot after the other, then the next, until all he can think about is the weight of his steps against the ground, until it starts to ache. When he can’t go any longer he forces his body to pick itself up and keep moving, until he collapses on the ground, gasping for breath. (It’s been a while since he’s done that, he realizes).

The sky is full of stars. He pants, tries to connect the lines between every one, synchronize his breath with the dull thrumming coming from the side of his head. There might be a cut there. He’s not sure. He hadn’t felt any blood.

The drumming of his own blood soon calms. When he stops gasping, Armand pulls himself up and stretches. Focuses on the lamplight in the distance. Starts running again. All his thoughts empty out of his head, and for once, the world is blissfully quiet.

Extras: N/A

[seongwars]

away with the wind | daylight

Pairing: dragonrider!Seonghwa x ex-dragonrider!Reader AU: dragon rider au | strangers -> lovers Summary: a spinal injury forces you to retire from dragon racing, and with it, the end of your engagement to Song Mingi. Park Seonghwa, a rising star in the world of dragon racing and heir to the prestigious House Park, seeks a new dragon after an unfortunate accident on the skyway. As the saying goes, “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.” Word Count: 6.1K Warnings: not proofread, fluff-ish? alcohol consumption

a/n: version 2 of chapter ix

Fic Masterlist

The grand chamber was dimly lit, the only sources of light being the flickering holographic displays and the soft glow of the council members’ robes. The air was thick with anticipation as the council awaited the presentation.

“Ready whenever you are, Dr. Kang,” Lord Hong announced, his voice resonating through the chamber.

Yeosang, standing beside the holographic projector, bowed respectfully. He took a moment to adjust the hologram, ensuring every detail of Ajax’s anatomy was perfectly visible. The room fell silent as the intricate projection came to life, displaying the necropsy report for Subject 4201.

“Necropsy report for Subject 4201. Subject is a male, approximately 11 years old, measuring 20 feet in height with a wingspan of 40 feet. Initial examination reveals extensive claw marks along the dorsal scales, likely from recent combat.”

Yeosang zoomed in on the damage inflicted by Starshine during the Inferno Cup. Lady Lee brought her hand to her mouth in feigned horror, prompting Yeosang to roll his eyes at her theatrics. He then brought up the next holographic display.

Swiping over to the dragon’s head, Yeosang brought forward the manifestation of Ajax’s brain, enhancing the size of the organ for the Council’s scrutiny. 

“The brain shows signs of abnormal growth in the amygdala, the region associated with aggression and fear responses. This hypertrophy suggests heightened aggression and unstable behavior. Further examination of the neural pathways reveals signs of synaptic plasticity, which may indicate a history of adaptive responses to high-stress environments. This could result in unpredictable and erratic behavior patterns.”

“Is this a common trait in Longhorns, Dr. Kang?” Lord Kim interjected.

Yeosang maintained his composed demeanor, though he felt slightly irritated at Lord Kim’s prodding. Taking a moment to gather his thoughts, he ensured his tone remained respectful yet authoritative. 

“While hypertrophy in the amygdala is not uncommon in Longhorns, the extent of the growth observed here is unusual,” he explained, his voice steady. “Further studies are necessary to determine if this is an isolated case or indicative of a broader trend within the species.”

Lord Kim nodded, the soft rustle of his robes barely audible as he leaned back in his chair. Yeosang then moved on to the next hologram, which flickered to life, casting a light that manifested into Ajax above their heads.

“In summary, subject 4201 exhibits significant physiological power and complexity,” Yeosang began, his voice steady and clear. The hologram displayed intricate details of the dragon’s anatomy, each scale and muscle rendered with precision. “I’ve concluded that the observed unpredictable behavior indicates potential neurological instability. End of report.”

Chairman Jang’s eyes narrowed as he leaned forward, the light catching the sharp angles of his face. “And the report of parentage?” he asked.

Yeosang adjusted the hologram, bringing up a new set of data. “The DNA test results showed no significant anomalies, your grace. The dragon’s genetic makeup is consistent with what we have documented in our archives. There are no indications of any unusual lineage or mutations.”

Lord Kim studied him for a moment, his gaze penetrating. “Are you certain, Dr. Kang? This information is crucial to understanding where this Longhorn may have originated from.”

Yeosang nodded, maintaining his calm facade. “Yes, your grace. I am certain. The DNA results confirm that this dragon is of standard lineage.”

“Lord Kim, we have all the information we need. Continuing this investigation is a waste of our resources and time,” Lady Lee snapped, her voice sharp and echoing slightly in the grand council room.

“We need to be thorough,” Lord Kim insisted, his tone unwavering. The flickering light from the hologram cast shadows across his stern face, highlighting the furrow in his brow.

“The dragon’s physiology and neurological state are well-documented. We have other priorities that demand our attention,” she countered, her words heavy with urgency.

Lord Hong nodded in agreement, the soft rustle of his robes breaking the silence. “Lady Lee is right. We are diverting valuable time and effort. This report should be concluded.” His voice was measured, a stark contrast to the rising tension between his colleagues.

“If Dr. Kang has reported no abnormalities in his findings, then we must move on to the next agenda item,” Chairman Jang interjected with finality. “Thank you for your time, Dr. Kang.”

The room fell silent, the air thick with unresolved conflict. Yeosang remained silent, grateful that the focus had shifted away from his lie, but acutely aware of the brewing storm between the Council members.

“Would it be possible for the copies of the report to be made available, Dr. Kang?” Lord Kim interjected, his eyes boring into Yeosang, challenging him to reveal the truth.

Yeosang hesitated, his fingers trembling slightly as he adjusted his glasses. “The report is rather unremarkable, your grace,” he replied coldly, staring straight at the elder.

Lord Hong’s eyes narrowed. “Is there a problem, Dr. Kang? The Council has a right to see the report.”

Yeosang tightened his jaw, feeling the tension ripple through his muscles as the Council’s insistence caught him off guard. His irritation simmered just beneath the surface, barely contained.

“Of course, I will ensure the report is made available,” he said smoothly, his voice dripping with false sincerity, masking the venom beneath. “I just need a little more time to… finalize some details.”

“Finalize what details? Are you implying that this report today was not conclusive?” Lord Kim’s voice was cold and unyielding, each word a deliberate challenge.

Yeosang’s eyes flashed with annoyance, but he quickly masked it with a calm facade. “I assure you, Lord Kim, the report is thorough. However, there are always minor adjustments to be made for clarity.”

Kim Sangjoong’s gaze hardened, his suspicion evident. “Minor adjustments? Or are you buying time to cover up discrepancies, Dr. Kang?”

“That’s enough,” Chairman Jang’s voice concluded, the tone unmistakable, leaving no room for argument. “Dr. Kang, you have until the end of the day to produce copies of the report to the Council.”

Yeosang felt a surge of anger but forced a smile. “I understand your concern, Lord Kim. Rest assured, the report will be delivered by the end of the day, as requested.” His tone was polite, but the underlying threat was present.

The room remained tense, the air thick with unspoken conflict. Yeosang knew he had to tread carefully, but he relished the challenge.

Seonghwa strode through the hallways of the Park estate, his footsteps echoing off the marble floors as he awaited the results of Ajax’s necropsy from Kim Sangjoong. The grandeur of the estate, with its high ceilings and ornate decorations, did little to calm his racing thoughts.

“Ms. Jang,” he called out, his voice calm yet authoritative. His mother’s assistant looked up from her desk, immediately recognizing him. She adjusted her glasses and gave him a polite nod.

“Yes, your grace?” she asked, her tone respectful but familiar.

“I need a list of all the attendees from the Inferno Gala,” he requested, his eyes scanning the room. “Sponsors, stakeholders, riders—everything.”

Ms. Jang nodded and quickly began typing on her laptop. The soft clacking of keys filled the room as Seonghwa paced back and forth, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. He glanced at the clock on the wall, each tick amplifying his impatience.

After a few moments, Ms. Jang handed him a sleek tablet. “Here it is, your grace,” she said. “The complete list.”

Seonghwa took the tablet and offered her a small smile in thanks. As he walked back to his quarters, he scanned the names, noting familiar faces and new ones, the organizations they represented, and the teams they raced for. Each name brought back memories of conversations, deals, and promises made. He needed to ensure that every attendee was accounted for and that no detail was overlooked.

“Treasure Holdings, Blue Bird Airways, Answer Tech,” Seonghwa muttered to himself, activating the hologram interface. These were big name sponsors in dragon racing and nothing seemed out of the ordinary. 

He swiped to the next category of Aurora’s political elite, scanning the list with a practiced eye. Names like Lady Baek and Lord Yoon stood out, both well-known figures in the political landscape. As he continued down the list, he reached members of the Council and their guests. Lord Hong Bum Soo and Lady Hong Sara, Chairman Jang Ki Young, Lord Kim Sangjoong and Lady Kim Miyeon–

She was never one to miss an event, especially one of this magnitude. He quickly re-scanned the rest of the list, hoping it was a mistake, but her name was nowhere to be found. Had she been deliberately excluded?

Lady Lee’s absence was not just unusual—it was a glaring anomaly. Taking out his phone, he dialed Kim Sangjoong, hoping for news of the necropsy report. The phone rang a few times before Lord Kim answered. “Seonghwa, what’s the matter?”

“I have news for you, should you have any to share with me,” Seonghwa said, his tone measured.

The elder chuckled softly, shaking his head. “I regret to inform you that the report returned without any anomalies. It was conclusive, indicating that the dragon is of standard lineage.”

“That can’t be,” Seonghwa said, his voice laced with disbelief. “Y/N showed me Ajax’s anatomy in video footage a few months ago. She noted that his angulation was much more moderate than a Longhorn’s, and his wings were longer. He also exhibited an unusual level of speed and agility.”

The elder’s eyes widened slightly. “That does sound…unnatural for the breed…” He paused, his gaze drifting out the large, arched window of his office. He noticed Lady Lee in conversation with a young lab assistant, her animated gestures contrasting with the assistant’s calm demeanor.

“Your grace?” Seonghwa’s voice brought him back to the present.

“Yes, apologies. Please continue.”

“I wanted to let you know that I pulled the guest list from the gala and noticed that Lady Lee was missing.”

The elder’s brow furrowed in concern. “That’s certainly odd. She never turns down an opportunity for an event given her rather…vainglorious nature. Her absence is highly unusual.” Lord Kim glanced at the ornate clock on the wall, noting the late hour. If he were to leave now, it would be an opportunity to learn more about Lady Lee’s next moves.

“It seems Lady Lee is just about to leave for the day,” Lord Kim informed the younger. “Thank you for the information, Seonghwa.” He quickly pocketed his phone and hurried towards the exit, his mind racing with possibilities. The corridors of the capitol building were beginning to empty as the day drew to a close, and he needed to act fast.

The soft murmur of conversations and the shuffle of footsteps filled the air, creating a symphony of end-of-day activity. The tension in the air was palpable, each step Lord Kim took echoing his urgency.

“Ah, Lady Lee! Will you be attending General Choi’s birthday celebration?” he called out, his voice cutting through the ambient noise, and scaring the lab assistant. The young man, not much older than 20, bowed before taking his leave. 

Lady Lee paled, her confident demeanor faltering for a moment. “O-Oh? Is that this weekend?” she stammered, her eyes darting around as if searching for an escape. She forced a smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes.

“I must have overlooked it. I’ve been quite busy with…personal matters,” Lady Lee said, her voice wavering slightly.

“Personal matters?” Lord Kim pressed, his curiosity piqued. “Well, I hope everything is alright.”

She hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. “Yes, well, it’s nothing that concerns the council.”

Lord Kim nodded slowly, not entirely convinced. “I see. Well, I do hope you’ll make it to the celebration. Miyeon and I look forward to seeing you.”

“Thank you, Lord Kim. I appreciate your concern,” she replied, her voice steadying. 

As Lady Lee turned to leave, Lord Kim watched her closely. There was something off about her behavior, something that didn’t sit right with him. Her usually confident demeanor seemed strained, and her eyes darted around nervously. His mind raced with questions, each one more urgent than the last. What was she hiding? And why did it feel like time was running out?

[NEW MESSAGE]

[Lord Cash Money]: Results are in 

[Lord Cash Money]: Nothing out of standard

You let out a huff as you read Seonghwa’s message and sent back a quick ‘Thanks’. Dismounting Cirrus, you felt the cool leather of the saddle beneath your hands, but an uneasy feeling settled in your chest. You knew Ajax was definitely not half Fury, but something else entirely. The thought sent a chill down your spine at the implications of what his other half might be.

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the manor as you helped Sohee down from the saddle. You slung her backpack over your shoulder, the weight a familiar comfort, and dialed the only person you knew you could vent to besides your grandmother and sister.

“I hate the government,” you said, balancing your phone between your shoulder and ear while you toed off your shoes and hung up your niece’s backpack. The scent of oil pastels and dragon scales lingered in the air.

“Who doesn’t?” Jongho’s voice came through the line, gruff yet playful. You could almost picture his mischievous grin. What’s going on?” he asked, his tone shifting to one of curiosity and concern.

Choi Jongho was the oldest son of the Dune Choi Family and cousin to the Auroran Choi Family. Although they were considered one of Dune’s noble houses, your families had been breeding partners for as long as your grandmother could remember.

Jongho had always been like a little brother to you, his presence a constant in your life—a mix of annoyance and comfort that only a true sibling could provide. His sharp wit and the shared history between your families created a connection that was unbreakable, no matter how much he might drive you crazy at times.

“The test results came back conclusive. There’s nothing out of the ordinary with Ajax’s lineage.”

“Bullshit,” Jongho snapped, pacing his room. “I watched the footage you sent me, read through the pedigree, and everything seemed off. Someone’s tampering with the results.”

You nodded, frustration evident. “Exactly. I’m thinking there has to be something more nefarious in his lineage. Ajax has always been promoted as a hybrid between a Fury and a Longhorn, but I don’t think a Fury fits the bill. It has to be a breed that’s aerodynamic.”

Jongho furrowed his brow. “Aerodynamic, huh? That narrows it down a bit. Maybe something with a sleeker build? A Wyrm variant? Or a Razorback?”

You snickered. “Hongjoong is going to have your head if he hears that. But even those breeds don’t seem quite right. There has to be one that’s also intelligent. Ajax was somehow able to learn Cirrus’ maneuvers, and I know for a fact Mingi couldn’t have taught him that flip.”

Jongho sighed, massaging his brow. “I’ve always told you I didn’t like him nor his ugly dragon. I plan to set up shop in my uncle’s library and we can dig deeper when I’m in town. You’re coming to his celebration, right?”

You groaned, pulling your pillow to your chest. “Do I have a choice?”

“If you don’t, I’ll tell everyone you think San is handsome.”

Rolling your eyes, you retorted, “San is handsome. That doesn’t work on me anymore.”

Jongho smirked, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Fine, then I’ll tell everyone about the time you fell into the fountain trying to impress him.”

You gasped, sitting up abruptly. “Choi Jongho, you wouldn’t dare!”

The grand hall of the Choi Estate was a sight to behold, a testament to the family’s wealth and status. The walls were adorned with intricate tapestries depicting the family’s storied history, their vibrant colors and detailed embroidery telling tales of valor and honor. The atmosphere was one of celebration and reverence, as friends and family gathered to honor the Choi patriarch on his special day.

San’s father, the elder General Choi, greeted guests up and down the hall, offering glass after glass of champagne and other spirits. His laughter boomed through the room, a testament to his larger-than-life personality. You managed to dodge him, offering your grandmother as a sacrificial lamb as you slipped away, her knowing smile indicating she was more than willing to take one for the team.

You weaved through the crowd, feeling a bit out of place in your simple but elegant strapless black gown. Its understated design contrasted with the more extravagant attire around you, yet the gown’s classic cut and the way it hugged your figure made you feel confident and poised.

“Are you here for a funeral or a celebration?” a familiar voice quipped behind you.

You whipped around to find San, clad in a perfectly tailored suit that accentuated his broad shoulders and imposing presence. The corners of his mouth twitched into a smirk as he took in your startled reaction.

“Very funny,” you replied, rolling your eyes but unable to suppress a smile. “I was just trying to avoid your father’s relentless hospitality.”

San chuckled, his laughter a deep, comforting sound. “He does have a way of overwhelming people with his enthusiasm,” he admitted, glancing over at his father, who was now engaged in a hearty conversation with a group of military officials. “Looking for someone?”

“It's no one important,” you murmured, your eyes drifting away from the young General. You scanned the crowd, your heart pounding as you searched for a certain someone. Striking, charming, refined, and utterly infuriating, with an undeniable pull—a magnetic attraction you couldn’t ignore.

“Am I not important to you?” San tilted his head, giving you a sly smile.

“You are, but you're not who I'm looking for,” you scoffed, hitting his arm playfully. 

San brought his hand to his chest, feigning a dramatic gasp. “And here I thought I was unforgettable.”

“You are, just not in the way you think.”

“Ah, so there is someone else! Now I’m intrigued.”

As Seonghwa watched you and San together, a mix of emotions flooded his mind. On one hand, he was happy to see you enjoying yourself, but on the other, he couldn't shake off the feeling of jealousy that consumed him. He knew it was irrational and unfair, but the sight of you with someone else rattled him in ways he didn't understand. 

With determination in his step, he approached you, his presence catching you off guard as his hand wrapped around your waist resting on the small of your back. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver coursing down your spine.

“General,” Seonghwa greeted San with a nod, his voice steady despite the tempest raging within. His eyes, however, flashed with a brief, intense possessiveness, a silent claim that spoke volumes.

“Lord Park,” San replied, his gaze sharp with curiosity and a hint of amusement, completely oblivious to Seonghwa’s hostility.

Seonghwa’s eyes narrowed slightly as he watched San’s lingering gaze. Leaning in closer, he brushed against your ear as he whispered, never breaking eye contact with San. “Dance with me?” His voice was soft, yet it carried an undeniable command.

San, gave you a knowing look and you rolled your eyes in response, a faint smile touching your lips as you took Seonghwa's hand.  The soft strains of the music enveloped you both, creating an intimate atmosphere. Seonghwa’s grip on your waist tightened slightly, as if to remind you—and San—of his presence while guiding you with a natural grace. Your free hand found its way to his shoulder, while his other hand held yours, fingers entwined.

“Have I ever mentioned how impulsive you are?” you teased softly, toying with the lapel of his jacket. The smooth fabric felt like a stark contrast to the tension hanging in the air.

“Maybe,” he replied, a smile playing on his lips. His eyes, however, were serious, as if he was weighing his next words carefully. “There’s something I forgot to mention the other day.” 

“Hm?” you responded, curiosity piqued, your eyes meeting his with a questioning look.

“Lady Lee was absent on the night of the gala.” Your furrowed your brows at Seonghwa’s revelation. “What do you mean?”

“I pulled the guest list of every single attendee from that night, and she was the only Council member missing from the list. I asked Lord Kim about it, and he thought it was odd as well,” Seonghwa explained, his tone serious, eyes dark with concern. The weight of his words settled heavily between you.

“You think she’s connected?” you asked, your mind racing with possibilities, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. 

“I didn’t get a chance to ask, he hung up on me while trying to flag her down,” Seonghwa pouted slightly. No one hangs up on Park Seonghwa, not even his mentor. You couldn’t help but giggle at the thought of Hongjoong’s father abruptly ending the call with Seonghwa, his slack jawed expression vivid in your mind. His flair for dramatics always added a touch of humor to your interactions, making him all the more endearing.

“I suppose you should follow up with him. Fortunately for me, I’ll be enjoying the festivities tonight,” you sighed. “San owes me a drink after I bet that Jongho wouldn’t last an hour without trying to sell someone a dragon.”

Seonghwa’s expression shifted, a hint of disapproval in his eyes. “You and Choi San?” he remarked, his voice carrying a slight bitterness. You nodded, “I’ve known him since we were kids, he’s a packaged deal with Jongho. You know, with the whole breeding House partnership thing.”

“I suppose he possesses a certain charm, but his intellect leaves much to be desired.”

“Don’t be rude! San is my friend,” you retorted, a sharp edge to your laughter. “And if not San, who, pray tell, would you have me spend my time with, Lord Park?”

Seonghwa’s lips curved into a half-smile, mischief glinting in his eyes. “Someone who can match your wit,” he proposed, his fingers drawing patterns on your spine.

“Someone like…you?” you challenged, your grin daring him to deny it. His laughter was low and velvety, a sound that seemed to wrap around you like a cool embrace. He leaned in closer, his breath ghosting over your skin as he brushed his lips against your temple. 

“Perhaps,” Seonghwa murmured, his voice a tantalizing whisper. “Guess you’ll have to find out.”

The music slowly faded, signaling the end of the dance and the appearance of Song Tae Gyu. The room fell silent as the Song patriarch entered, the grand hall, once filled with lively chatter and laughter, now buzzed with hushed whispers. Snippets of conversation about “Mingi,” “the Council,” and “unstable dragon” floated through the air like a dark cloud.

“Song Tae Gyu has some nerve showing up after what his son pulled,” Jongho sneered, his gaze fixed on Mingi’s father with a stone-cold expression as he approached you and Seonghwa on the dance floor. Ever the purist, Jongho’s disdain was palpable. You could almost feel the weight of his contempt for the way the Songs had let their son disgrace their house and the sanctity of dragon racing.

“He’s simply carrying out his duties to my father,” San reminded his cousin, his voice composed despite the discomfort evident in his body language. He glanced around the room, noting the wary eyes and cautious glances directed at Song Tae Gyu. “I know the Songs feel terrible about the incident, but as a vassal House, they have their obligations.”

San’s words were measured, but you could sense the underlying tension. The incident with Mingi had cast a momentary shadow over the evening, and the presence of Song Tae Gyu only served to deepen the unease. 

“Ah, Tae Gyu! So glad you could make it!” the elder General Choi exclaimed, clapping a hand on the man’s shoulder. “I was just telling everyone about the time you and I got lost in the ravine and had to spend the night in a cave. Remember that?”

The room erupted in laughter as Lord Choi recounted the tale with exaggerated gestures, painting a vivid picture of their misadventure. Even Song Tae Gyu managed a small, grateful smile, the worry lines on his face softening.

Jongho rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress the small grin tugging at his lips. He took a sip from his glass, the warm liquid sliding down his throat as he mulled over his father's words. "Your father always knows how to lighten the mood," he muttered to San before turning to face you, swirling his empty glass in a playful gesture.

“So,” he drawls, “Are you still F/N L/N or Park F/N–” Both you and Seonghwa exchange flustered glances, your denials overlapping.

“There’s nothing between us!” Your voice cracked slightly, betraying your nerves.

“Absolutely nothing!” Seonghwa added, his voice a pitch higher than usual, nodding vigorously. His cheeks are flushed, and he looks like he might combust from the sheer embarrassment.

“Oh, come on,” Jongho teased, “You two are practically glowing,” He winks, knocking back the rest of his drink with a satisfied smirk. You groaned, burying your face in your hands, while Seonghwa prayed for the ground to open and swallow him whole. Jongho’s laughter echoed around the room, clearly enjoying every moment of your shared embarrassment. “I’ll be around tomorrow if you want to dig through the records. I’m sure we’ll find something on that wannabe Longhorn.”

“What did you say?”

“Nothing, just bullshitting.”

“No! About the wannabe part.”

The mention of the word "wannabe" caught your attention like a firework exploding in your mind. You could feel your heart racing as you frantically searched your knowledge for any clues about this breed.

Wannabe… Imitation… Copy… The word echoed in your mind, reverberating with increasing intensity. Your breath caught in your throat, and your heart began to race as you frantically sifted through your mental catalog of dragon breeds and their levels of intelligence.

Dreamwood Ridgeback, biddable with high emotional intellect… Cascade Wyvern, alert and confident… Star Fury, fiercely intelligent but too rare… Nettled…

A sudden realization hit you like a bolt of lightning. You turned sharply to face San, your eyes widening with urgency and determination. "Do you have a copy of a breed encyclopedia?" You could almost feel the gears turning in your head, piecing together the clues and making connections. It was all starting to make sense now.

San looked momentarily puzzled, his brow furrowing as he tried to process your sudden question. Before he could respond, Jongho stepped in with a confident grin. “Of course they do, I left one here to read during summers,” he said, patting San’s shoulder in a playful yet slightly condescending manner, acknowledging his older cousin’s limited mental acuity.

“Longhorns aren’t meant to be particularly intelligent,” you began, your voice steady but urgent. “But if Ajax was able to learn Cirrus’ maneuvers, there could only be one breed that matches the description.”

The four of you exchanged tense looks, the weight of the mystery pressing down on you. Without another word, you all turned and rushed out of the hall, each step bringing you closer to uncovering the truth.

Jongho traipsed around the library, pulling out books and peeking through every nook and cranny, his determination to locate the beloved encyclopedia was almost comical. Meanwhile, you took your time, your fingers trailing over the spines of novels that drew your interest—classic literature rich with love and loss and fantasies brimming with epic adventures of dragon riders from the past.

Seonghwa matched your stride on the opposite side of the bookshelf as you wandered through the maze of books, the soft patter of your footsteps echoing off the high, vaulted ceilings. He glanced at the spines of the books you passed, his fingers lightly brushing against the aged covers, intrigued by the types of stories that captured your attention.  

“A little help here,” Jongho grumbled from a nearby aisle, hopping up to get a better look at the upper shelves. You pouted, reluctantly placing the book you had been holding back on the shelf as you moved to assist him. Dust puffed out as you rummaged through the shelves, swatting away at the air as the particles ticked your throat. 

“When was the last time they dusted the shelves?” you coughed, moving to a particularly shadowed section of the library, where the books seemed older, their covers cracked and worn with age. “What does it look like?”

“The title is on the spine, Y/N,” Jongho replied, his voice echoing softly in the vast, silent room.“It must be here somewhere,” he muttered to himself, peering at the book spines with a frustrated expression. 

Taking off your heels and hoisting the skirt of your gown, you climbed onto a nearby ladder, the dim light making it difficult to read the titles, but you persisted. Finally, your eyes fell on a slightly worn book with the words “Encyclopedia” embossed on the spine in gold leaf, barely visible through the grime. “Here it is!” you exclaimed, carefully pulling the book from its resting place.

As you began your descent, you focused solely on your footing, ensuring each step was steady and secure. Finally, your feet touched the ground, and Seonghwa and San rushed over, Seonghwa reaching out to steady you, his hand warm and reassuring on your arm.

Seonghwa exhaled deeply, relief evident in his eyes. “I’m glad you made it down safely.”

"Would you have caught me if I fell?" You met his gaze with a mischievous grin. 

“Do you want to test that theory?”

San cleared his throat awkwardly as Jongho strolled over, visibly cringing at your banter with Seonghwa. His eyes flicked to the book clutched to your chest, its yellowed pages and intricately embossed gold cover hinting at its long history. “That’s the one,” he confirmed, reaching out momentarily to scold you for holding the book so carelessly. 

“Let’s see where you’re hiding, mimic,” you muttered to yourself as you wandered off, leafing through the contents of the heavy book without much care. The weight of the tome made your arms ache slightly, and the pages, thick and slightly brittle with age, rustled softly as you flipped through them. Jongho quickly trailed behind you, his expression turning serious. 

“Don’t turn the pages so quickly!” he warned. “You’re going to damage them!”

You sank into one of the rarely used loveseats, your fingers trembled slightly as you flipped through the pages, each one filled with intricate illustrations and detailed descriptions of various dragon breeds. A sense of awe washed over you as you read through breeds, old and new—each more fascinating than the last. As you continued, your anticipation grew, until finally, your eyes landed on the page you were searching for. 

You studied the avian-looking dragon. Its sleek, streamlined body was adorned with grotesque feathers hanging from its gangly, mismatched wings. The large, bug-like eyes bulged with an eerie intelligence, giving the dragon an almost alien appearance. They stared back at you with a knowing, unsettling awareness. Its sharp, curved beak-like snout added to its avian resemblance, but instead of elegance, it exuded menace and predatory intent, as if ready to strike at any moment.

“Found you,” you whispered, a triumphant smile spreading across your face. Your mind raced with the implications of this discovery, the pieces of the puzzle finally coming together. You shut the book with a deep, resonant thud that echoed softly in the space and leaned your head back against the cushions. Thoughts of your job at the Institute surfaced; the resources and access you had there could be invaluable for digging deeper into the investigation and revealing the truth about Ajax and even Lady Lee.

Your eyes grew heavy as the day’s events blurred together, allowing sleep to slowly overtake you. Your mind wandered to the grand hall, where you danced with Seonghwa. The memory of his warm hand in yours, the intensity of his gaze making your heart race, filled your thoughts. The closeness of his body, the heat radiating between you, and the subtle, teasing brush of his lips near your ear as he whispered something only you could hear, left you wanting more.

But then, the unsettling gaze of the Kuku intruded, shattering the fragile bubble of your reverie. The contrast between the warmth of Seonghwa’s embrace and the cold, piercing stare of the Kuku was stark, leaving you with a lingering sense of unease.

In your peaceful state, the hushed sound of footsteps and rustling fabric barely registered in your mind. An intoxicating and alluring scent filled your senses, drawing you back to consciousness as a jacket was draped over your form with care. Its gentle warmth offered relief against the icy fingers tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. The touch was tender, almost reverent, as if they were afraid to wake you but couldn’t resist the urge to be near.

The world seemed to hold its breath, waiting for what would come next as your eyes fluttered open, the only source of light being the silvery beams of moonlight filling the library. You blink a few times, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep, and then you realize something: your head is resting on someone’s shoulder.

Your heart skips a beat as you recognize the familiar scent. Seonghwa. You must have dozed off after reading, and now here you are, nestled against him, his jacket covering your form. The fabric is soft and comforting, and you instinctively nuzzle into it, savoring the warmth and the faint scent of him that lingers on it.

You lift your head slowly, trying not to disturb him. His face, peaceful and relaxed, comes into view. He stirs slightly, his half-lidded eyes meeting yours as he turns to face you.

“Did ya sleep well?” he murmured, voice thick with drowsiness. Gods, you wanted to do something to that beautiful face of his.

“Didn’t mean to use your shoulder as a pillow.”

“S’alright,” he stretches, offering you a lazy smile. “Best sleep I’ve gotten in a while.”

“No kidding,” you chuckled, “Still I should be careful. Don’t want to cause a scandal by falling asleep in public places.”

“Whatever do you mean, Park Seonghwa’s Mystery Woman?”

You laugh softly, recalling the headlines that painted you as a fleeting chapter in his life. “I’m not interested in becoming a tabloid sensation.”

Seonghwa nodded, feeling a little guilty of what he put you through during the early days of your coaching. A silence falls between you, the intimacy of the conversation giving way to a more reflective mood. You glance down at the encyclopedia resting on the table, your thoughts shifting.

“I’m…thinking of going back to the Institute,” you finally say. “I think I’ve figured out Ajax’s missing half but I don’t think our case against the necropsy will be very effective if I don’t have access to all the necessary resources.” 

Seonghwa’s expression softens as he listens, his eyes filled with understanding and support. He leans in slightly, his gaze reassuring. “I get it,” he says gently, his voice steady. 

“You do?” you ask, surprised, your eyebrows raising slightly.

He nods, a small, reassuring smile playing on his lips. “This whole situation has been dragging on for too long, even if what we’re doing is…illegal. I’m tired of the bureaucracy and need to go back to doing what I do best.” 

You felt a sense of relief wash over you, grateful for his understanding and support. You leaned back, feeling the tension in your shoulders ease. After a few moments, you lifted your head slightly and looked at him.

“Do you want to stay a little longer?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Seonghwa didn’t say a word. Instead, he shifted slightly, making more room for you to lean back against him. You settled in, your head resting on his shoulder once more, and closed your eyes, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

<< viii | twilight | x >>

taglist: @litolmochi @syubseokie @park-simphwa @szakias

[marymosley]

UCLA Professor Suspended and Under Police Protection After Refusing To Exempt Black Students From Final Exam

Gordon Klein, an accounting professor in the Anderson School of Business has taught at University of California Los Angeles (UCLA) for almost 40 years.  He is now suspended and under police protection in his home.  The reason? Klein refused to exempt black students from his final exam and sent a pointed rebuttal to students asking for the “no harm” exam. Parts of the response was certainly mocking in tone, more so than I would have considered appropriate.  The school has launched a formal discrimination investigation. However, the suspension, investigation, and death threats against Klein reinforce the fear of many in the academy of a raising orthodoxy on campus and a lack of support for faculty involved in controversies.

According to Inside Higher Ed, a group of students asked Klein for a “no-harm” final exam that could only benefit students’ grades as well as shortened exams and extended deadlines.  They cited recent “traumas, we have been placed in a position where we much choose between actively supporting our black classmates or focusing on finishing up our spring quarter . . . We believe that remaining neutral in times of injustice brings power to the oppressor and therefore staying silent is not an option.”  They specifically noted that this was not “a joint effort to get finals canceled for non-black students”  “but rather an ask that you exercise compassion and leniency with black students in our major.”

Klein wrote back to one student that he was being asked to make a distinction that he could not possibly make. This is the entirety of the message:

Thanks for your suggestion in your email below that I give black students special treatment, given the tragedy in Minnesota. Do you know the names of the classmates that are black? How can I identify them since we’ve been having online classes only? Are there any students that may be of mixed parentage, such as half black-half Asian? What do you suggest I do with respect to them? A full concession or just half? Also, do you have any idea if any students are from Minneapolis? I assume that they probably are especially devastated as well. I am thinking that a white student from there might be possibly even more devastated by this, especially because some might think that they’re racist even if they are not. My TA is from Minneapolis, so if you don’t know, I can probably ask her. Can you guide me on how you think I should achieve a “no-harm” outcome since our sole course grade is from a final exam only? One last thing strikes me: Remember that MLK famously said that people should not be evaluated based on the “color of their skin.” Do you think that your request would run afoul of MLK’s admonition? Thanks, G. Klein

The controversy led to immediate demands for the professor to be fired.  Thousands have signed a petition that declares Klein must be fired for his “extremely insensitive, dismissive, and woefully racist response” and “blatant lack of empathy and unwillingness to accommodate his students.”

UCLA has launched an investigation that could lead to such termination and issued a statement that “We apologize to the student who received it and to all those who have been as upset and offended by it as we are ourselves.”  It has also agreed to extend all exams, presumably for all students.  I think that the extension of the time was a good idea for the school as a whole and I can certainly understand the school objecting to the tone of the response at a time of great unrest and trauma in our society.  However, the email was a poorly crafted effort by Klein to object to what he viewed as an unworkable, race-based system of accommodation.  One can certainly disagree with those objections, but the principle of academic freedom is to allow such views to be stated without fear of termination.

UCLA is also dealing with another demand for termination after Political science lecturer W. Ajax Peris, read aloud MLK’s “Letter from Birmingham Jail,” which includes the n-word. He also showed a documentary to the class in which lynching was discussed.  This might have been inappropriate in Klein’s accounting case but Peris was teaching the history of racism.  Students demanded that he stop the discussion but he apologized for any discomfort and continued his lecture.

The Political Science Department condemned Peris and  referred Peris to UCLA’s Discrimination Prevention Office for an investigation. UCLA will host a town hall for students in Peris’ classes to discuss the “controversy.” While Peris has apologized in a writing and video, students are demanding his firing.

  Such actions are applauded by many faculty who have supported the increasing limits on free speech and academic freedom on campus. There has been a startling erosion of such protections for those with opposing views at universities and colleges.  Many faculty are intimidated by the response in these controversies and fear that supporting academic freedom or free speech will result in their being labeled racist or lacking of empathy. In three decades of teaching, I have never seen the level of intolerance for free speech that we are seeing across the country.  As I noted, there are valid objections to raise in these incidents, but the response of universities is clearly designed to send a message to other academics that they cannot expect the protections of the universities in such controversies.

UCLA Professor Suspended and Under Police Protection After Refusing To Exempt Black Students From Final Exam published first on https://immigrationlawyerto.tumblr.com/

[footballghana]

Real Madrid in talks with Ajax for Dutch-born Ghanaian striker Brian Brobbey

Real Madrid are interested in boosting their B-team with the presence of Dutch-born Ghanaian international Brian Brobbey who is currently contracted to Dutch side Ajax Amsterdam according to Sportsworldghana.com. The Spanish giants have opened negotiations with Ajax to take Brobbey on a season-long loan with the option to buy at the end of the season. Born in Amsterdam to Ghanaian parentage, the 18-year old striker has been tipped to become one of the top strikers in the Dutch Eredivise in future following his explosive display with Ajax’s U21 side. The record-winning Uefa Champions League club are desperately in need of a youth striker to lead their team B attack and manager Raúl together with Real Madrid President Florentino Pérez, our outfit understands have commenced negotiations with Ajax to sanction Brian Brobbey’s move to Madrid having identified him as the right man to spearhead their attack. The highly-talented forward who according to Transfer Market, is valued at €1.00m and has represented the Netherlands from the U15 to U19 levels could be on his way to the famous Santiago Bernabéu Stadium in the winter transfer window. Brobbey, who is the youngsters among his four siblings Kevin Luckassen, Derrick Lauckassen and Samuel Brobbey who are all professional footballers, won the 2018 UEFA European Under-17 Championship and 2019 UEFA European Under-17 Championship consecutively with the Netherlands. The youngster who is contracted to Ajax until 30th June, 2021, also won the 2018/2019 Eredivisie U19 League and Youth Cup with Ajax. The centre-forward however, eligible to feature for the Black Stars if invited by head coach CK Akonnor. source: https://footballghana.com/

[calzonekestis]

Do you think there’s a greater chance of Pietro coming back if the Marve/Fox deal goes through?

Under a cut bc this got longer than I expected.

That’d be keen, but I don’t want to get my hopes up. Honestly, X-Men: Dark Phoenix is in post production. They could very well do reshoots to make it sort of the last hoorah for the Fox X-Men universe if need be.

Technically, there’s nothing save Ryan Reynolds to Deadpool back to the old films. The actor who played Colossus is different. The X-Mansion looks the same, but I mean, you can retcon it into being in the MCU all along. He’s meta enough, they can keep Reynolds and acknowledge the shift in continuity. He can say something about Cable looking like Thanos.

As for mutants, and Pietro potentially coming back? Mainly to interact with Magneto or whatever? IDK. Who knows. One can hope, but your guess is as good as mine. Back when Inhumans was going to be a movie, I thought there was a chance we may see him there. That was a popular fan theory/desire. 

Just because they’d be able to acknowledge his and Wanda’s family doesn’t mean they would. I mean… they already went with the retconned white versions, which upset a lot of people. To acknowledge their Jewish heritage? That’d be awesome. To address their Roma heritage while they’re being played by white actors? That’d be just as offensive, as ignoring it.

The Kevin Feige explanation is ‘this version of the twins, they aren’t Jewish-Roma.’

Which is hella problematic in and of itself. I mean ATJ has Jewish heritage, unlike Elizabeth Olsen, but both of them are still white.

If they decided to reveal that they are Jewish-Roma, despite being played by actors of the wrong ethnicity?

That’s when you go from whitewashing to brownface and it’s just very gross and I can see them not wanting to touch it at all.

So for the time being? I can see them keeping him dead, sadly. I see them not acknowledging Wanda’s parentage. It all depends on if Olsen is still a factor in the MCU by the time they’d introduce the X-Men, I suppose.

It is possible to just have mutants, have Magneto, and have the twins have zero connection to either. Which is honestly what I think the most likely outcome would be.

There’s an easy way to retcon the idea of Wanda and Pietro being mutants into the MCU. A sort of blend of what Agents of SHIELD did with Inhumans, and Deadpool did with Wade/Ajax being mutates. Say Strucker’s experiments activated dormant X-Genes or whatever.

As for retconning the existence of mutants into the MCU? It’d be tricky, but you could do it. Somehow. You could go the easy route, add reshoots to Avengers 4 that rewrite reality.

They can use Namor, according to Feige. Why not use him, Marvel’s first mutant, to introduce the concept? It’s too late to incorporate his history with Steve and Bucky, but they can hit up all the FF stuff.

If they introduce the Fantastic Four? Make him the villain of the first film, rather than Doom. Maybe Reed finds something in his genetics, and the only other person like that on record is Wanda? IDK.

Tho speaking of Doom, I also imagine you’d be able to count on Kang being the next non-Thanos baddie for an Avengers movie.

All that’s just a lot of armchair writing, though. We don’t know what they may do, and there’s still some time for the deal to fall through.

All that to say, do I think there’s a greater chance? Not… really? Sadly.

[beyondthedreamline]

Ladies of Legend: Helen and Cassandra

References: The Greek Myths Volumes I and II (The Folio Society, 2003) by Robert Graves, Mythology: Myths, Legends, & Fantasies (Hodder, 2013) by Dr. Alice Mills, The Greek Myths Volumes I and II (The Folio Society, 2003) by Robert Graves, Mythology: Myths, Legends, & Fantasies (Hodder, 2013) by Dr. Alice Mills, Eyewitness Companions: Mythology (Dorling Kindersley Ltd.) by Philip Wilkinson and Neil Philip, A-Z of Mythology (Bison Books Ltd, 1990) by Peter Clayton, Greek Mythology (Michaelis Toubis S.A., 1995) by Sofia Souli, translated by Philip Ramp, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cassandra, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Helen_of_Troy

Trigger warning: references to rape and incest

It all began with Eris, the Greek goddess of discord and the original bad fairy at the christening – or in this case, at the wedding, showing up at the nuptials of Thetis and Peleus to make everyone simultaneously regret not inviting her and remember exactly why they didn’t by riling up the three most powerful goddesses in the Pantheon and starting one of the most famous wars in myth and legend. She brought with her a golden apple (never ever trust a golden apple) with an inscription on it reading ‘for the fairest’. Zeus, who might be all kinds of terrible but was smart enough to realise that was a mess he wanted no part of, hastily foisted the role of judge onto Prince Paris of Troy. Thanks to an ominous prophecy made at his birth, Paris was living as an anonymous shepherd at the time, in ignorance of his birthright. All that was about to change.

The three goddesses who felt the strongest right to the apple were Hera, Zeus’s wife and sister and queen of the gods; Athena, goddess of wisdom and war; and Aphrodite, the goddess of love. Each offered Paris an appropriately extravagant bribe depending on her governance. Hera promised power and riches, Athena assured him of good fortune in battle, but Aphrodite swore that he would have the most beautiful woman in the world as his own and Paris awarded her the apple – thereby making himself two implacable enemies, and an ally as fickle as she was powerful.

And who, might you ask, was the most beautiful woman in the world? According to Aphrodite, at least, it was the princess Helen, whose parentage was as mysterious as it was regal. In one version, Zeus took the form of a swan and came to Leda, daughter of the king of Aetolia and wife of King Tyndareus of Sparta, who fell pregnant from the union and bore an egg with three children within: Helen and her twin brothers, Castor and Pollux. Helen also had a mortal half-sister, Clytaemnestra, the child of Leda and Tyndaerus. Another version has Clytaemnestra (also spelled Clytemnestra) as Helen’s twin, originally married to Tantalus and later claimed as a spoil of war by Agamemnon of Mycenae, the man who widowed her. In yet another version, Zeus pursued the goddess Nemesis, who changed herself into a goose to escape – not that it stopped him. In this story, she gave her egg to Leda, who raised the children as her own.

Whatever her true origins, Helen had the blood divine and it showed. Her beauty rapidly became her curse. Before she was ten years old, Theseus (he of the Minotaur incident) had abducted her for a mockery of ‘marriage’ and her brothers had to come to her rescue. As she grew older, the number of her suitors grew to a number between 29 andd 99, which meant – in a neat mirror of Paris’s conundrum – that whoever eventually married Helen would have a great many resentful rivals to contend with afterwards. A solution was proffered by Odysseus of Ithaca: all the suitors would be sworn to accept Helen’s choice and support that man should the need ever arise.

It’s a serious oath. It is also an interesting indicator of Helen’s paradox. She had just enough choices to drown in, and none of them were offered for her benefit. Various versions of the legend give her up to five husbands over the course of her life: Theseus (ugh), Menelaus, Paris, Achilles and Deiphobus.

In the best known version, Helen married Menelaus, Agamemnon’s brother. How much of that was her choice and how much was Tyndaerus’s influence is dodgy at best; Tyndaerus once gave the brothers his support in overthrowing their usurping uncle and after the marriage, gave Menelaus his throne. In reward for his good advice, Odysseus was given the hand of Penelope, Tyndareus’s niece. All very neatly settled for the king, except for a tricksy detail: Tyndaerus was not offering Aphrodite her due worship (or what she considered her due, anyway). That’s a lot of marriages to arrange when you’re on the outs with the goddess of love.

Helen gave birth to a daughter, Hermione, and three sons, Aethiolas, Maraphius, and Pleisthenes. Clytaemnestra also had four children: three girls, Electra, Chrystoethmis and Iphigeneia, and a son called Orestes. Both women lived as wives, mothers, queens – perhaps happy with their husbands, perhaps not, but untroubled by great events. And then, of course, Aphrodite happened.

She kept her promise to Paris. When he came to the Spartan court and met Helen there, the goddess of love smoothed the way for a wildly inadvisable love affair. Menelaus sailed to Crete during the (by now discovered and royally acknowledged) Trojan prince’s visit, and while he was gone Paris seduced Helen into returning with him to Troy. She took her treasures and her slaves – but not her children. Possibly it was Aphrodite’s influence again that caused the Trojans to consider Helen as Paris’s wife, though her husband ensured his existence could not be swept aside and before long Helen wasn’t popular at all. Only Paris’s brother Hector and his father Priam saw that she was not to blame for the devastation that followed in her wake. The gods were bad enough at their own relationships. When they got involved with mortals, it could get astonishingly ugly.

But Aphrodite was not the only one with a promise to keep, and Menelaus was quick to call upon the former suitors to fulfill their oath, with his brother taking charge of proceedings. A seer told Agamemnon that he could win over the will of the gods…by sacrificing Iphigeneia. Agamemnon sent for his wife and daughter, telling them that Iphigeneia was to marry the beautiful young Greek warrior Achilles. Then he slit her throat.

It took ten whole years to assemble the Greek army, since most of them either didn’t want to fight over a woman they weren’t actually married to or (very understandably) didn’t like Agamemnon. But assemble the army he did. It would be another ten years before the war reached its bloody end.

Meanwhile, in Troy, let’s meet a woman with spectacular relationship problems of her own: Cassandra, daughter of King Priam and Queen Hecuba and sister of Paris. She was the one to recognise him as a prince of Troy, after he won all the events at a funeral games and Cassandra’s other brothers were humiliated enough to murderously bad sports. Paris took refuge in the temple of Zeus, where Cassandra found him and brought him home.

She had a veritable horde of siblings, actually, well over fifty. Her sisters included Creousa, Laodice and Polyxene; her eldest brother was Hector, followed by Paris, Deiphobus, Hellen (Cassandra’s twin), Polydorus and Troilus. Cassandra was beloved of the sun god Apollo. He tried to buy his way into her bed with the gift of prophecy – which she accepted, but she changed her mind on accepting him. Apollo, it should be pointed out, was exactly the type of male deity to use the term ‘friend-zoned’. Unable to withdraw his gift, he went with the path of maximum spite and swore that whatever prophecy she made, no one would ever believe her.

Cassandra foresaw that Paris and his love for Helen would bring about the destruction of Troy. When the Greeks, worn down by long years of fighting and relying once again on the trickery of Odysseus, placed their notorious wooden horse outside the gates of the city, Cassandra told everyone exactly what would happen. When the warriors concealed in the body of the horse sacked her home, Cassandra took refuge at the statue of Athena. She should have been safe there. She was not. The prince of Locris, known as the Lesser Ajax, dragged her from the temple and raped her. Athena destroyed his ship on his way home from the war and Poseidon personally drowned him – but while it’s nice to know justice was done, none of that protected Cassandra.

As a spoil of war, she was claimed by Agamemnon, who took her with him on his return to Mycenae. Cassandra told Agamemnon they would both die there, only to have her desperation dismissed as ravings. Clytaemnestra had to wait a long time for her vengeance, but once the murderer of her little girl was within her reach, she wasted no time. Having once been taken as a spoil of war, you might think she would have fellow feeling for Cassandra. Instead, she murdered her.

Agamemnon had fathered two sons with Cassandra, twin boys called Teledamus and Pelops; neither survived the savagery of Mycenae, dying at the hand of Clytaemnestra’s lover and accomplice Aegisthus.

So, what about Helen? A Greek queen all in the arms of a Trojan prince, her heart would be broken no matter which way the dice fell. During battle, Helen would stand on the city walls and point out the Greek leaders on the field; but Odysseus entered Troy twice, disguised, and she let him pass by. Though Paris was still a favourite of Aphrodite and subject to her formidable protection, all the gods had a stake in the outcome of this war. He shot down Achilles in vengeance for the brutal killing of Hector, only to be slain by an arrow himself.

After his death, Helen took up with his brother Deiphobus, but he was no incentive for her to stay loyal to Troy. Odysseus slipped into the city to steal away the Palladium – a holy statue of Athene held in Troy, weakening the goddess’s partiality to the Greeks – and Helen told him exactly how to find it. Yet even after that, she was not Odysseus’s ally. When his wooden horse was brought into the city and the Trojans were celebrating what they believed was victory, Helen approached the horse and called out to the warriors within with stunningly accurate mimicry of each of their wives’ voices in turn. Odysseus, master of the underhanded trick, kept his wits about him enough to prevent his companions succumbing to Helen’s voice and emerging from the horse.

After the fall of Troy, when Paris’s family had been slaughtered or enslaved – Deiphobus among the dead – Helen retreated to the temple of Apollo. Menelaus found her there. The story goes that Helen did not speak a word in her defence, simply bared herself for him to run her through, but as soon as Menelaus saw her breasts he was helplessly hers again. Which strongly smacks of Aphrodite’s influence, bawdy and unpredictable and cunning as she was.

So Helen went home to Sparta. The versions of her later life vary wildly. Homer’s Helen became a model wife, insisting that Menelaus come with her when she was deified. In another Zeus rescued her from the vengeful attack of Pylades, lover of Clytaemnestra’s daughter Electra, who blamed Helen for all the disaster that came from the war. A much more fun alternative has Helen hooking up with an Achilles who did not die, the two of them enjoying immortality on an island getaway in the Euxine Sea.

Other stories take a harsher view. Helen became a sacrifice, or was murdered by Achilles’ despairing mother, or even committed suicide to escape the guilt of the war. Because beautiful women are always responsible for the pointless cruelties of grown men, you know, and ten years is not a long enough time for said grown men to recognise that no cause in the world could be worth so much bloodshed, least of all a spurned husband’s pride.

Helen and Cassandra are opposite sides of the same impossible dilemma. The capricious love of the gods gave both women extraordinary powers and extraordinary grief – but they have always been more than the beautiful tragedies of Troy.

These stories vary wildly depending on time and teller – I work with the sources I have to hand but if you know an alternative version I would love to hear it!

Originally posted on Wordpress

[hannahhook7744]

'The Marvelous Misadventures of Hannah Hook' Moodboards (Revamped)(Part 5);

Darius Foundling.

Age 4 years old.

Son of the Pirate Pharaoh.

Junior of the Storm Bringer.

He is sick because of the barrier and his parentage and was given to Hannah as a baby when his father started to become paralyzed by the barrier. He is 8 years younger than Hannah.

Family: The Pirate Pharaoh (Father).

Pet(s): Locust Swarm (he's named esch and every one of them).

Hobbies: Building sand castles/sculptures, playing in the sand, sailing, playing with his toys, listening to music, spying on people, playing with his locusts, pranking people, playing dnd, watching tv, reading, etc.

Weapon of Choice: Twin Sickles (eventually).

He has magic.

Theme Song: "The plagues."

Nadia and Noor Foundling.

Age 3 years old.

They are twin genies and the twin daughters of Dread the Evil Genie.

Juniors of the Stormbinger.

Hannah took them in after she and Dread realized he had no idea how near human children work when they were babies. They are 9 years younger than Hannah.

Family: Dread the Evil Genie (Father).

Pet(s): None.

Hobbies: Listening to music, dancing, playing games, sailing, swimming, taking care of animals, coloring, drawing, watching tv, reading, playing dnd, etc.

Weapon of Choice: Scimitars (eventually).

They have magic.

Theme Song: "Two by Two."

Levine "Levi" William Giant.

Age 2 years old.

Son of Willie the Giant.

Junior of the Storm Bringer. He's 10 years younger than Hannah.

Family: Willie the Giant (Father).

Pet(s): None.

Hobbies: Drawing, coloring, watching tv, being read to, singing, dancing, listening to music, helping people get things down from places he can reach, sailing, playing with sand/mud, playing games, breaking things (that he's allowed to break), playing cards, making paper boats, making miniatures (when he's older), etc.

Weapon of Choice: A Blunderbuss (eventually).

He does not have magic. He's just stronger and bigger than average because he's a half giant.

Theme Song: "Fireflies".

Willow Juniper Hawthorne.

Age 4 years old.

Daughter of a Tree Nymph named 'Cherry Hawthorne'. Human-Tree Nymph Hybrid.

Junior of the Storm Bringer.

She was given to Hannah by her dying mother as a baby. She is sick because of the barrier. She is 8 years younger than Hannah.

Family: Cherry Hawthorne (Mother).

Pet(s): None.

Hobbies: Studying Unnatural biology, playing dress up, gardening, mud baths, baking mud pies, climbing, playing games, playing dolls, swimming, dancing, singing, listening to music, coloring, etc.

Weapon of Choice: Mud, Dirt, Rocks, and Tree Branches.

She has the powers of a tree nymph but no magic.

Age 5 years old.

Theme Song: "Earth, Wind, Fire, and Air."

Elara Astrid Foundling.

Age 4 years old.

Daughter Of An Unknown Elf.

Junior of the Stormbinger.

She was fished out of a barrage as a baby. She is 7 years younger than Hannah.

Family: None/Unknown.

Pet(s): None.

Hobbies: Bubble blowing, playing dress up, gardening, mud baths, baking mud pies, climbing, playing games, playing dolls, swimming, dancing, singing, listening to music, coloring, arts and crafts, collecting things, and rolling dice to make decisions.

Weapon of Choice: Longbow (eventually).

She has elf magic but no one is quite sure what kind since they have no clue what kind of elf she is.

Theme Song: "Fairy Tale Lullaby."

Marcys Atticus Foundling.

Age 5 years old.

Centaur and Son of Nessus.

Junior of the Storm Bringer.

Hannah took him in as a baby after finding him and Lysander abandoned near one another. He is 7 years younger than Hannah.

Family: Nessus (Father).

Pet(s): None.

Hobbies: D.I.Y protects, Archery, playing games, stargazing, gardening, playing in the mud, singing, racing, dancing, painting, listening to music, making flower crowns, berry and flower and mushroom picking, being read to, reading, dueling, hunting, etc.

Weapon of Choice: Bow and Arrow.

He has magic.

Theme Song: "Boy in the Bubble."

Lysander Ajax Foundling.

Age 6 years old.

He is a satyr and the son of one of Chernabog's minions.

Junior of the Storm Bringer.

Hannah took him in as a baby after finding him and Marcys abandoned near one another. He is 6 years younger than Hannah.

Family: Unknown/None.

Pet(s): None.

Hobbies: Playing his pan flute, playing games, playing in the mud, singing, racing, dancing, listening to music, making flower crowns, berry and flower and mushroom picking, being read to, reading, painting, skipping stones in the river, stargazing, gardening, etc.

Weapon of Choice: Shepherd's crook.

He has magic.

Theme Song: "A Place In The Choir."

Beauregard 'Beau' Rodmar Nikolas Foundling.

Age 6 years old.

He is 1/3 human, 1/3 Troll, and 1/3 Goblin but takes mostly after his human ancestors with some Goblin and Troll features.

Junior of the Storm Bringer.

He use to work at Claw Trimmers and live in the basement there until Hannah came and took him away when he was 4. He is 6 years younger than Hannah.

Family: Unknown/None.

Pet(s): A snail named Gary.

Hobbies: Taking selfies, taking selfies, drawing self portraits, dancing, singing, telling stories, building things, climbing, doing nails, baking, playing in the mud, listening to music, making flower crowns, berry and flower and mushroom picking, being read to, reading, skipping stones in the river, stargazing, gardening, and finding shiny things.

Weapon of Choice: Hammer.

He has goblin magic.

Theme Song: "Goblin Oogie Boogie."