#the woman was basically only noble by name. probably not even old enough to remember as i doubt she remembered the first world war | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thetravelerwrites · 4 years ago

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Dr. Mael Halvorg (Part 3) Lemon

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Male Part-Fae/Female Part-Fae Additional Tags: Exophilia, Monster Boyfriend, Fae, Naga, Reader Insert, Genetics Content Warnings: Children, Pregnancy, Incubation, Oviposition, Egg Laying, Birth, Surgery, Male Infertility Words: 4029

Dr. Halvorg learns what could be causing his infertility and makes arrangements to try and correct it. He and the reader become closer, and the reader attempts to do something to help him feel less lonely and unfulfilled. Please reblog and leave feedback!

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Halvorg went in for the tests that same week, returning afterwards subdued and blushing slightly. You assumed he’d never given a… sample… before.

“How’d it go?” You asked him.

He rubbed his neck bashfully. “It was… thorough.”

You snickered. “At least it wasn’t a biopsy after an abnormal pap smear. Those are traumatic.”

He looked aghast. “I can only imagine.”

“Did they say when the results would be in?”

He shook his head. “No, they’re supposed to call me when they come back. Could be a week or so.”

You patted his arm softly. “How are you feeling?”

He sighed heavily. “Worried. This could change my life or confirm my worst fear. Either way, I’m… well, to be honest, I’m a little scared.”

“I understand,” You replied. “Well, no, I don’t. My family is disgustingly fertile. If I ever tried to get pregnant, I’m sure it wouldn’t take me long.” You looked up at him with sympathy. “But I do feel for you.”

“I appreciate that,” He said solemnly. He looked at you curiously. “If I might ask, how old are you?”

“I’ll be one hundred and seventy four years in August,” You said.

“And you’ve never considered having children in that time?” He asked.

“Not really. I figured I had enough nieces and nephews that I didn’t think it was necessary. I mean, I’m not against the idea of having children, I’ve just been career oriented for most of my life and never really settled down in any place for very long. I’ve never been married, never had any serious relationships, never dating with the intent on finding ‘the one.’ I figured if I wanted that, it would come in time and I would let it happen naturally and there was no need to rush it. Does that make sense?”

“It does,” He said. “That’s how I used to be for a good three centuries. It wasn’t until I did marry and tried to make a family and failed, again and again, that I sort of became… obsessed.”

“How many times have you been married?”

“Thirty times, I believe.”

“Were they all human?”

“Most of them were,” He said. “There were a couple of tieflings, a half-orc woman, a faun, a selkie, and a dryad. I stayed with them all until the end of their lives, except the last one who left me. I’m nothing if not devoted.” He cocked his head. “Well, I divorced the dryad. She wasn’t happy that I couldn’t conceive children and berated me for it.”

“Oh, jeez, what a bitch,” You said, frowning.

He snorted. “I may have used similar language at the time.”

“I can’t imagine you calling someone a bitch,” You said, side-eyeing him.

“I was a different man in my youth,” He said, smiling. “I’ve got some papers to file. I’ll see you later.”

You waved him off, watching him walk briskly and frowned. He’d lost so much, been disappointed so often, given up on the things he wanted for himself to help others. He was using what he had to give others what he wanted, and as noble a pursuit as that was, it was also rather sad. And what if he got the news he was dreading the most. He’d be devastated.

Was there anything you could do to make him feel better? Was there something you could give him that would make him feel less… incomplete? The only time he seemed genuinely happy was when he was with the children. What else could give him the same joy?

The boy. It came to you suddenly. What about the boy he thought was his son? The one he raised until his mother left with him? Could you find him? Was he alive?

At lunchtime, you sat down with Amai in the cafeteria.

“Can I ask a favor of you?” You asked.

“Sure, what is it?” She responded, sipping her coffee. She always craved coffee when she was incubating and downed gallons of it after laying.

“The boy Halvorg raised, what was his name?”

“Robert, I think?” She said. “I can ask Yenuno, he knows.”

“What year was he born?”

“Uhhh… 1901 or around there.”

“What was his mother’s name?”

“Martha--why are you asking about this?”

You sighed. “I want to find Halvorg’s son. He may be dead now, but I have to try. Halvorg is so unhappy, he’s just gotten really good at hiding it. I want to give him some kind of closure.”

Amai winced in sympathy. “Yeah, I know what you mean. Spending all these years around him, I can see how much he’s hurting, even if he tries to mask it.” She sighed. “I have some contacts at the census archives and I can make some inquiries. I’ll check the lineages websites and find as many records as I can.” Amai snorted. “Maybe he’ll be less uptight.”

“Amai!” You retorted.

“Sorry, sorry!” Amai held her hands up. “I’m sorry, it’s a reflex by now, sorry. This is serious. I’ll look into it.”

“Thank you,” You said with a warning tone. “This is serious.”

“I know,” Amai said, her face more solemn. “I’ll do what I can.”

“Thank you,” You repeated. “I’m sorry to put more work on you, though.”

She tsked at you. “Please, I always take maternity leave during Yenuno’s time incubating. I generally have nothing to do but keep the big guy company while he’s stuck in one place. It’ll give me something to do.”

Halvorg got the call a few days later and informed you of the appointment time. You offered to drive him, and he gratefully accepted.

“Are you alright?” You asked him.

He took a deep breath and blew it out through pursed lips. “I don’t know. This is either a new beginning or the end of the road. I don’t know how to feel.”

“I’ll be with you, no matter what,” You told him.

He grimaced in a failed attempt to smile. “Thank you.”

The two of you sat in the waiting room for a moment before being called back into an exam room. He sat there in his chair and fidgeted nervously. You put your hand on his and held it. He looked up at you with fear in his eyes and didn’t shake you off.

The doctor knocked on the door and let himself in. Halvorg straightened up, releasing your hand.

“Alright, Dr. Halvorg,” He said, sitting at the table. “We Have your results back. Blood and urine came back normal, and there’s nothing abnormal on your x-rays.” He flipped on the computer screen on the desk in front of him and pulled up Halvorg’s file. “However, there was abnormalities in your sperm sample and the MRI.”

“What type of abnormalities?”

“Well, first of all, your semen sample didn’t have any sperm in it.”

Halvorg looked confused. “What?”

“It’s a condition known as Azoospermia. It’s basically when there’s a blockage somewhere that’s trapping the sperm, which is why there weren’t any little swimmers in your sample.” The doctor clicked on one of the tabs and opened an MRI of Halvorg’s pelvic area and pointed out the anomalies. “The MRI confirms it. There doesn’t appear to be a connection between your epididymus and your vas diferens, and without that connection, the sperm is completely blocked. There’s also a blockage from your testes to the urethra. You appear to have been born with all of these blockages.”

“How does that happen?”

“As to that,” The doctor said, looking at the paperwork he came in with. “Your genetics test came back, and it appears that you have a mutation of Cystic Fibrosis. Thankfully, with this mutation, there are no other typical symptoms of Cystic Fibrosis besides the infertility.”

“Can it be corrected?” Halvorg asked anxiously.

“Yes, microsurgery can correct it. Before we do that, we’ll need to take a sample directly from the testicle with a needle to see if you’re producing sperm at all and look at the count. If we determine that the general sperm production is not the problem, then we’ll proceed with surgery.”

Halvorg sat in a stunned silence, gripping his knees tightly.

“So… it’s possible that I could have children?” He asked.

“There is a possibility,” The doctor said. “We would have to wait until after the surgery and take another sample. I don’t want to get your hopes up too soon, the sperm count could be low, they could be abnormal. There are a bunch of things that could go wrong.”

“But there’s a chance?” Halvorg asked, his eyes as wide and vulnerable as a puppy.

“There’s a chance,” The doctor replied.

As the two of you left the clinic and headed to your car, before you could get to your door, Halvorg gently took your arm, swung you around, took your face in his hands, and kissed you full on the mouth. You made a sound of surprise, but you didn’t push him away.

He lingered for a moment or two before breaking away and saying, “I’m sorry, I know that was extremely unprofessional and probably unwanted, but I don’t know how to thank you. I owe you so much, I can’t begin to express how grateful I am.” He gulped and looked at you earnestly, breathing out a shaky breath. “Do you remember when you asked me to dinner?”

“Yeah?” You asked, confused but intrigued by the sudden softening of his prickly exterior.

“Does the offer still stand?”

You smiled at him slowly and took his hands. They were trembling. This was the first time in a century he’d asked a woman out, after all.

“Yeah,” You replied, stepping closer so that your body lightly brushed his. “Yeah, it does.”

He smiled wide and kissed you again.

Maël went in the next day to have a sample taken, and was thrilled to learn that he did have a decent amount of sperm production. He scheduled the surgery immediately. The recovery time would be at least six weeks, and it was advised that he didn’t try to have sexual relations for another two weeks after that. Plenty of time to feel out your new blooming relationship and get more comfortable with each other.

Thankfully, you had a week to actually go on a few dates before he went under the knife. He took you to Dunmountain on a weekend trip to the museum and the opera. It was the first time you’d done anything like this recreationally in a really long time, and you loved every second of it.

Even though you were sharing a hotel room and a bed, he didn’t attempt to be intimate with you, and you didn’t push him. It had been a century since he last took a woman to bed, and you imagined he felt a little nervous about it.

You didn’t go out of your way to tell people that you were together, but it wasn’t a big secret either. Yenuno and Amai were overjoyed for the two of you. Maël had told Yenuno and Amai about the surgery, but he claimed it was a hernia. You weren’t sure if he would tell them the whole truth. Not unless he got the results he wanted.

By the time he healed completely, it would be about time for the eggs to hatch. Yenuno was already restless and it had only been a month.

You drove Maël to the surgical clinic on the day of his surgery, sat with him in pre-op while he waited nervously and just talked him through his anxiety, holding his hand when they put the IV in. They gave him some medicine to help calm his nerves, and he began to grow sleepy. You stroked his head and watched his eyes fluttered closed. They wheeled him into surgery while he was still snoozing.

The procedure didn’t take very long, only about an hour, and you waited to be called back. A nurse came to retrieve you and took you to his room.

He lay there in bed, drifting in and out.

“Hey, sweetie,” You said, rubbing his arm. “How are we feeling?”

“Sore and thirsty,” He croaked.

You picked up the cup with water in it the nurse had provided and helped him take a sip.

“I’m not surprised you’re sore,” You remarked, setting the cup back down. “A whole bunch of people fondled your balls for an hour.”

He wheezed a laugh. You loved it when he laughed. It changed his whole face. “Did they say when they’d release me?”

“As soon as you can pee on your own, they’ll let you out of here. They said there would be swelling so it might be a while before you’re able to do it, though. I’ll wait.”

He held his hand out for yours and you took it.

“I feel like all I do these days is thank you,” He said. “I wish I could do as much for you as you’ve done for me.”

“You don’t have to do anything for me,” You said. “I’m a strong, independent woman who don’t need no man. But I’ll keep you around. You’re cute.”

He breathed another laugh through his nose. “I’m glad. I’ve become rather fond of you.”

You kissed his knuckles. “Likewise.”

He managed to relieve himself right after dinnertime, and was declared clear to go home. You drove him back to the facility and helped him to bed. He was asleep before you left his apartment.

Heading back into your own apartment for the night and sat heavily on your couch. God, you needed to do laundry. It had been a chaotic few weeks.

You started picking up clothes that were strewn haphazardly over furniture, and while picking up a pair of jeans, a small book fell out.

Oh. Right. Maël’s research notes. You’d meant to give it back. Well, Maël was going to be recovering in bed for a few days and likely sleeping most of that time. You could give it back when he was back on his feet. You placed it in the drawer of your nightstand, stared at it for a minute, and went on to start laundry.

And promptly forgot about it for a second time.

Maël slowly healed, though he walked a little stiffly for a few weeks and was careful when sitting. He was a little more irritable than normal, but you imagined he was trying to adjust and was also still worried about whether or not the surgery had worked. He wouldn’t know for another several weeks.

The children kept bringing him flowers they found in the forest to cheer him up, which always seemed to lift his spirits. You spent the evenings with him, talking and cuddling and kissing. You felt like a teenager again, and you hadn’t been a teenager in over one hundred and fifty years.

You were starting to regret the timing of the surgery, though. Sometimes the making out would get pretty hot and heavy, and you had to force yourselves to stop for fear of injuring him.

One night after you’d been dating for just under two months, he was kissing your neck and began to unbutton your shirt. You stopped him.

“You haven’t been cleared for intercourse, have you?” You asked him.

“No, not yet,” He said, breathing heavily and biting his lip. His white-blonde hair was out of it’s normal clean braid and falling around his face. “But I can do something for you.” His hand drifted down your abdomen and between your thighs.

“Oh,” You said, smiling a little. “Are you sure?”

He slipped his hand into your panties and stroked you, and your breath caught in your throat.

“I haven’t done it in a while,” He said, trailing open-mouthed kisses down your stomach. “But I think I still know how to do this.”

He got up from the couch and pulled you by your legs gently so that you were laying flat, pushing up your skirt and pulling off your panties. He knelt back down on the couch, yanking off his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. He slowly spread your legs and pushed your knees upward. He started kissing and sucking the inside of your thigh while circling your bud with his thumb. You moaned and lay back into the cushions, giving over to the sensations.

As he kissed his way toward the apex, he slipped his middle finger inside you and thrust it gently in and out. You whimpered and gripped the couch, your hips grinding against his hand.

“Maël, please,” You breathed.

He growled low in his throat, sending a shockwave through your spine.

“Since you said please,” He whispered teasingly, and pressed his tongue to your clit. Your toes curled at the contact and you grabbed a handful of his hair.

“Oh god,” You whispered. “Maël.”

He placed his whole mouth over you, licking and sucking, adding another finger inside you. He certainly did remember how to do this.

“Fuck!” You said through gritted teeth, followed up by a shuddering moan, raising your head to watch him. He looked up at you through his long lashes and doubled his efforts, sucking your labia into his mouth and pulling, adding a third finger. “Fuck, I’m so close.”

Still sucking, he grinned up at you and quirked an eyebrow. He withdrew his fingers and used his hands to push your knees into your chest to open you up wider. You grabbed his head with both hands and rocked your clit against his tongue.

You came as though hit by a bus, loud and violent. Your butt lifted off of the couch as you pulsed in ecstasy, screaming. You hoped the walls of his apartment were soundproof. You couldn’t believe that he’d made you come in under a minute.

“How? How did you do that?” You wheezed.

He chuckled darkly. “I was married thirty times, darling. If I don’t know what I’m doing by now, I shouldn’t be dating at all.”

You just sort of laid there like a starfish while you got your breath back and cooled down. Maël went to fetch you some water and a snack. Eventually, you found your underwear and put it back on. Once your heart rate had slowed, he pulled you into his lap and kissed you slowly until you fell asleep. The next morning, you woke up next to him in his bed. You were tucked up under his arm and he was sleeping peacefully, a small smile on his face.

Suddenly, both of your cellphones buzzed at once. Maël snorted awake and untangled himself from you, picking up his phone, looking at it, and jumping out of bed.

“What’s wrong?”

“The eggs are hatching!” He exclaimed hastily, pulling clothes out of drawers and putting them on hurriedly. You threw your clothes on and joined Maël’s mad dash for the door.

When you got to the receiving area, the kids were milling around inside, instructed to stay away from the cottage until the babies were born, but they were craning their necks to see what was happening.

Amai was in the shelter with Yenuno and several members of the hatching team, looking into the circle of his tail. She looked up and saw the two of you running up and shouted: “Hurry! They’re almost out!”

You and Maël darted up the ramp and looked down into the coil. All three of the eggs were cracked open and little arms and tails were poking out.

“Vitals?” Maël asked, donning a surgeon’s paper outfit and instructing you to do the same.

“Vitals are elevated but within acceptable range,” One of the nurses said.

“Good,” Maël said. “Alright, we just have to stand back. They’ll do most of the work.

Amai and Yenuno were watching the eggs hatch with awe on their faces. You supposed watching this never got old for them. You wondered if they would miss this now that they decided to stop laying.

Slowly, the little wiggling figures freed themselves from their shells and were crawling around on their hands, looking up at their parents. Maël used that distraction to examine them.

“No way…” He said in a hushed tone. “I don’t believe it.”

“What?” Amai asked a little shrilly. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Maël said, grinning up at her. “They’re all girls.”

“What?!” Yenuno and Amai said in unison, looking at their new little ones.

From what Maël had told you, the ratio of male to female births of Blue Gill Nagas was disproportionately skewed in favor of males. One in twenty eggs contained a female. Having an entire clutch of females was extremely rare.

Yenuno and Amai cried with joy and excitement. They’d been hoping to have at least one more little girl. To get three in one go was overwhelming.

Maël supervised the clean up process, and when they were ready, Yenuno and Amai brought the three baby girls out and introduced them to their siblings. You watched on the ramp with Maël, smiling, and took his hand. He squeezed yours in return. Looking up at his face, you could see he was crying, too.

This is what Maël wanted. He wanted to be the first to say hello to his own child, to be the first to hold them, to be the first to tell them he loved them. He wanted to kiss their brow and dance with them when they were crying and sing them to sleep at night. To get on the floor and play with them and put bandaids on their knees when they scraped them. He was desperate to experience that again, like he had with his son.

After the hatching, Maël went to file the new birth paperwork and Amai and Yenuno and their children were spending the next few days together. That left you with nothing to do.

Back in your apartment, you lay in your bed, thinking about that morning over and over. The babies busting out of their shells, the look of joy on their parents’ faces, the mix of happiness and pain on Maël’s.

You sat up to get your lip balm from your night table, and again found the book. You really ought to give it back. You’d been absent-minded about this for too long.

You opened it, flipping through pages until you landed on the date you first arrived at the facility. Intrigued, you read it.

“Amai’s friend finally made it today. It was exciting to meet her; I’ve been following her career for so long. She’s done so much for the non-human community. Amai didn’t tell me how breathtakingly beautiful she was. My heart stopped when I saw her out of the window. I haven’t felt attraction like this in centuries.”

Oh. Oh god. This was his personal diary. You knew you should stop reading it, but couldn’t. You had no idea he’d felt this way.

“I think I’m flirting with her, but I’m not trying to. I can’t help it. She’s funny and intelligent and everything I love in a woman. She’s gorgeous. I don’t know what to do. I’m trying so hard to stay professional, but I can seem to stop smiling around her.”

The next entry was the day you asked him to dinner.

“She asked me out on a date tonight. It was so hard to say no, but there’s no point, is there? She won’t want me if she knows I can’t have children. She’ll either leave me or mock me. There’s no point. I’ll avoid her. That’s all I can do. It’s best if I don’t get closer to her. Even friendship is dangerous. I’m already half in love with her, and I don’t think I could take it if we started a relationship and she ended up pitying me or disgusted. I can’t do it again.”

There were no more mentions of you in the book after that. You didn’t realize you were crying until the tears hit the page.

It was then that you made a decision.

You took out your phone and dialed your gynecologist’s office. “Hi, Grace, I’d like to schedule a consultation with the doctor about canceling my next birth control injection.”

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silenceofthecookies · 4 years ago

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Henlo Cookie UwU! Happy to see your askbox open, hope you get many good requests! I need some of that motivation to dive into the Magi manga u so graciously let me borrow, so I am going to ask for a scenario with Kouen and his beautiful goatee UwU, maybe an arranged marriage, but him and fem!reader actually fall in love? It's a bit unexpected for both of them since they were just seeing it as a duty, but a nice extra. Happy writing, enjoy your week off and much much love and much UwU!

Henlo Hazel! And I’m happy to see you in my askbox UwU. I’m really looking forward to you reading the manga! I’m expecting updates on feelings, though the most interesting things are in the second half, obviously 😉 For now, enjoy Kouen and his terribly weak goatee game! ❤

Word count: 1823

Warnings: Suggestive themes

“Do you, Ren Kouen, take L/N Y/N to be your lawfully wedded wife?” “I do.” “And do you, L/N Y/N, take Ren Kouen to be your lawfully wedded husband?” “I do.” “Then by the power bestowed upon me by the Kou empire, I hereby pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”

The first kiss held no emotion at all. Neither did the vows. Everything felt forced, just like the marriage you had gotten into. Not that you expected anything different. You and Kouen had been forced into a political marriage, you as the eldest princess of your kingdom, and Kouen as the crown prince, who would need a wife for when he ascended.

You had only met once before the marriage. The emperor of the Kou empire and your father were discussing the alliance, while Kouen was showing you around the palace grounds. He had been indifferent, uninterested and he seemed everything but happy. You couldn’t blame him, you weren’t too excited about this either. Though you were happy that Kouen was a handsome young man, and not some ugly old creep.

The party was stiff and formal, as you had expected. The wedding took place in the Kou empire, where you would now be living. Only a few nobles and family members from your country had showed up, so most of the guests were people you didn’t know. Kouen greeted them all with either a serious face or a confident grin, and he introduced you to every one of them. You were sure you wouldn’t be able to remember all of their names. The party wasn’t really on your mind at the moment, and neither were politics.

It was with your now husband, and what he would be expecting of you, mostly of the first night. You knew what was supposed to happen, but you did not feel ready for it at all. You had read many stories talking about the romance of sharing a bed with the person you loved, and the fact that you had to share this special moment with a stranger made you sick.

The party lasted until late in the night, and it resulted in quite a lot of drunk people. One of them had been one of the Kou princesses, Kougyoku if you remembered correctly, who had started talking to you. It was a little awkward because she was pretty far gone, but you could feel she meant well. She told you little things about Kouen, things you ‘should know as his wife’. How he would work until late at night, how he enjoyed reading and playing chess to pass his free time. How much all his younger siblings looked up to him, and how much of a respectable man he was. Before she got much further, one of her servants gently coaxed her away from your side, and apologised on her behalf for her intoxicated state.

Not long after that, the party ended and you follow Kouen to the bedroom. You were so nervous you could throw up, but you tried to endure it. Kouen held the door open for you, and you stepped inside.

“Your clothes are over in that closet. If you need anything, call the servants. I will be sleeping in my room down the hallway.” You stared at Kouen in disbelief. “But shouldn’t we… ehm…” “You’re uncomfortable, right? Don’t pretend you’re not, I’ve noticed your behaviour at the wedding. I refuse to take a woman against her will, wife or not. Get used to life around here first, then we’ll see about consummating the marriage.”

You stared at his back as Kouen left your room, unable to react. About a minute after he closed the door behind him, you collapsed and started crying, unable to contain all the feelings you felt. Fear. Had you been so obvious? Would there be consequences? Doubt. Were you not good enough? But also happiness. He would not take you against your will. You would not be forced to spend the night with him. You would spend the night in your own bed, without a stranger next to you, doing things to you.

Once you had let out most of the emotion and sorted the bulk of your thoughts, you got changed into your nightgown and lied down in the bed. After all the stress from that day, and the emotions from that night, you were both physically and emotionally exhausted. The comfort of your new bed took you by surprise, and it didn’t take long before you fell asleep.

The next morning, servants woke you up, helped you get ready, and your new life as a princess of the Kou empire, and wife to Ren Kouen, began. You were required to join him and his siblings during mealtimes, but apart from that you got a surprising amount of freedom. You were no hostage for your country, but you still expected a more restricted approach, certainly since Kouen seemed to strict. Then again, he had already shown you he respected you, at least until a certain degree.

For the first few weeks, you and Kouen barely talked to each other at all. There was some conversation during mealtimes, mostly to keep up appearances, but there was no spark, no affection, no love. Once mealtimes were over, you minded your business, and Kouen minded his. He never asked you to sleep in his room, nor did anyone else question it. It wasn’t like he was unfriendly to you, and neither were you to him. There was just very little interaction coming from either side. It was an arranged marriage after all, this was just your duty. Neither of you seemed very much interested in each other, until one night in the library.

You had been in the Kou palace for a little over a month, and you knew the place like the back of your hand. It was late, but you were far from tired. To chase away the boredom, you decided to head to the library to find a book to read until you got sleepy. Once you entered the library, you noticed the two eldest princes. Kouen was sitting on a chair next to a table with a chess board on it, and Koumei was walking away from the table.

“Come on, Koumei. Just one more game?” Kouen grinned. “You always say one more game, and then you insist on another one after that. I’ve had enough for today, brother. I’ll be retreating to my room. Good night.”

Koumei walked past you on his way out, and nodded to you as a greeting before he left. Kouen sighed, although still grinning, and looked at you.

“Good night, Y/N. What brings you here at this hour?” “I wanted to read a book before going to bed.” “I see… so you’re not tried yet?” “No…?” “You wouldn’t know how to play chess, would you?” “Only the basics, but I do, actually.” You were a little proud to admit you knew how to play chess. Maybe a little too proud. Kouens grin widened at your answer. “Then, why don’t you play a game with me?” You instantly regretted your answer, and the pride behind it, but it was too late to back down now. “Very well, one game.”

One game turned into many. Kouen beat you every game, but you learned from his strategies and got a little better every time. About 5 games in, most of the formalities and indifferent treatments had been cast aside and you finally managed to see Kouen as the person he was. Confident, curious, smart, strategic and most of all, someone who loves gloating at a win, even if it was against an inexperienced player. And on the rare occasion that you made a good move that ruined his strategy? He would actually scowl, which was an oddly cute look on the crown prince. The games continued for a good while, before drowsiness finally caught a hold of you.

“Perhaps we should end our game here for tonight?” “We’re mid-game, how come?” “Because you seem to be falling asleep right where you’re sitting.” Kouen said with a serious face, though he couldn’t help but grin at the end. “Maybe then you should make your move so we can continue this game. That would ease the boredom. I get thinking about your move, but you’re really taking long this time.” “I made my move 3 minutes ago, Y/N. Did you not notice?” You stared at Kouen, and he grinned back at you. Feeling your cheeks heat up, you huffed and got up. “Fine, we’ll end it here for tonight. Good night, Kouen.” “Good night, Y/N.”

Getting up the next morning was more of a challenge than expected. You had stayed up much later than expected because of the games, and now you were feeling the results of your actions. Maybe taking a nap somewhere around noon would be a good idea. Or straight after breakfast. That also sounded good.

“Well well, look who’s finally woken up.” Kouen grinned as you sat down next to him. “Did your defeat from last night keep you awake?” “Oh no, not at all. Though I suppose you slept great, gloating about how you, an experienced player, beat a novice at every single match?”

The table was deadly silent, with the exception of Koumei. Knowing what was going on, a single snort from him was heard before he continued eating with a smile. Kouen stared at you with his piercing glare, before actually laughing. The sound of his laughter sounded like music to your ears, and the way his eyes closed while laughing made your cheeks feel warm.

“Then why don’t we change that? My study, tonight after dinner. I’ll show you that no matter how good you get, you still won’t be able to defeat me.” “You’re on.” “Good.”

Kouen grinned at you one more time, before continuing to eat his breakfast. You had no idea why you agreed to getting your ass kicked some more at chess. It was probably his laugh, the sound and sight of it were now burned into your brain, and you were hoping to see it again soon.

As you walked back to your room, set on getting some more sleep now you knew you would probably be up late again tonight, you went over what just happened one more time. Mostly over what you felt during that conversation. The want to spend another night with him like that, and the heat you felt in your cheeks when he actually laughed. You had a good idea what this was, you had read enough books about it, but you wouldn’t call it love just yet. Maybe a crush would be better. You barely knew him after all, but you had a feeling that wasn’t going to be the case for long.

#magi the kingdom of magic #magi the labyrinth of magic #magi imagine #magi reader #magi x reader #magi/reader #magi #kouen ren x reader #kouen x reader #kouen/reader #kouen imagine #ren kouen #kouen #cookie writes #requested #nakunakunomi

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sanjuno · 4 years ago

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So a thing happened

Hey, so who remembers me saying that “Wildfire Hearts” was a one shot and I wasn’t gonna create an entire crew of OCs for a one shot?

... I’m weak and think too much so here have a crew list.

SHIP: Days of Reckoning

CREW: The Anarchy Pirates

Captain: Portgas D Riot | “Wildfire” Riot

Technically South Blue by way of his mother and birthplace, East Blue by way of his father and part of his childhood

Has eaten the Legendary Logia - Mera Mera no Mi, Model: Ghostfire (because “Hotarubi” reminds me of bog lights.)

Will never admit to anyone what happened in the canon timeline

Wants to bang Marco the Phoenix like a screen door in a hurricane

Completely out of fucks to give

Has died once already and fears nothing

First Mate: Ranger Dustin

Literally a cowboy

From East Blue

If Jesse McCree was a pirate this is the pirate he’d be

Has a Seahorse, likes to rope Seakings when he’s bored

Has roped and tied his crewmates and Captain to stop them from doing a Dumb more than once

Main weapons are his lassos and his ability to suplex a rowdy Seaking, but he’s also got a decent quickdraw – he shoots from the hip!

Hat-tip to Dusty – we loved you before you had a real name, white cowboy hat pirate man

Quartermaster: Occhio D Vittoria

Clairvoyant Clearfin Lionfish Mermaid

A “first generation” D – the D means “Drowned”

Technically an Author-SI but shh that’s a secret so she says she’s from Fishman Island

She’s basically a waterbender but only with seawater

Old enough to have legs and that’s all you need to know

Probably a witch actually

Spends a significant amount of time yelling at the Sea – please don’t freak out when the Sea starts arguing back if it happens just roll with it

Navigator: Kele of Shandora

Shandorian from a tribe that migrated away from the main Sky Island to an arpeggio to get some distance from the fighting

Has eyes tattooed on his eyelids for the lols

Black hair and black eyes, swarthy skin, many tattoos

He swol but built rangy like an alley cat

Has a magic compass

Fell off the Shandora arpeggio when trying to catch a seaturtle as a birthday present for his mother

Has pearl beads in his hair

HC that people from the Sky Islands have hollow bones, so Kele looks scary but is actually comparatively fragile.

Pirate married to Hilda and Tern

Cannoneer: Svan Hilda

Former North Blue noble

Platinum blonde with red eyes, very pale skin

Jacked like whoa – this woman can bench-press both her husbands and the main cannon at the same time

Also very tol

Really likes it when her “little surprises” make a bigger boom than the other guy’s

Frequently kidnapped by other pirate crews; proceeds to take them over through brute force and broken arms before absconding with their loot before they regain consciousness

Pirate Married to Kele and Tern

Bladesmith: Heel Tern

Why are there so many knives?

East Blue native and exactly as stubborn as you think that means

Light brown hair and dark brown eyes, tanned

Basically immune to fire because of Armament before Riot drags him out of East Blue because he started playing with burning coals before he was old enough to know better

Pirate married to Kele and Hilda

Doctor: Angelo Merci

Always smiling. Always.

Lost her medical license when she “accidently” slipped with her scalpel during surgery on a World Noble who was “fond of children”

Originally from West Blue

Technically was supposed to get killed for that but shanked the Marine escort and bolted before the order was given

Pink curly hair and green eyes, dark brown skin

Swordsman: Iago Montoya

Is basically what happens when a flamenco dancer and a swashbuckler have a baby

Very Dramatic Person

From South Blue

Dark purple hair and bright purple eyes, dark tan skin

Is BFFs forever with the Badu Brothers

Likes to accuse his opponents of killing his father to “set the proper mood!” even though Mr. Iago Sr. is running a popular theatre back in his hometown

Shipwrights: Ghal Friday and Mahn Gull

They are both from Water 7 but moved to East Blue as children

Friday looks like a dairy maid pin-up and has a grip that can crush cinderblocks barehanded

Has orange hair and blue eyes, tanned with freckles

Gull is really fond of secret passages and trapdoors

Has dark grey hair and overly large orange eyes, pasty from spending as much time as possible inside the ship

Friday and Gull are either married or co-dependant. We dunno for sure and we’re too scared to ask

They will finish each other’s sentences… and sandwiches.

They share only one braincell and it’s usually occupied with ship maintenance

Bard | Chronicler: Tarone Deff

A Lobster Fishman

From Fishman Island, obvs

His swimmerets have pseudo-hands that he uses to play instruments that need digits

Mostly a singer and percussion player tho

Has perfect pitch and can imitate voices really well

Musician: Dandy Leon

Has a massive embarrassing crush on Badur Mofu

Fails hard at flirting when he likes someone but gets like six different denden codes when he’s schmoozing for clothing discounts

Believes that every fight should have a musical score

Plays instruments beautifully, sounds like a dying cat when he tries to sing

Tucks his shirt into his pants but then leaves it unbuttoned so he can show off his “assets”

Fights with a giant fucking axe wtf you twee little bastard where were you keeping that?

Sniper: Mark Tagger

Has a telescope that is the same size as his rifle, and carries them both on his back in a harness, and that has caused some interesting incidents when he mixes them up by grabbing the wrong one

Best artist of the crew, so he helps Kele make the maps

Rainbow dreadlocks and black skin

Never seen without his visor on

Wears massively oversized shirts – I have no idea if he’s got pants on your guess is as good as mine

Cooks: Badur Mofu and Badur Asif

Twins – have recent Artic Wolf Mink Ancestry that makes them look feral, but far enough removed from it that they’re mostly human

White hair, gold eyes, claws, fangs, and slightly off proportions

Badur Asif talks, Badur Mofu doesn’t talk

Enhanced senses mean they are super strict about seasonings

Lookout | Spymaster: Long Conner

Extremely farsighted – can see an approaching ship 3 days away, cannot see own shoelaces

Learned hypnosis and grifting from his granny

Has a very trustworthy face

He is a lying liar who lies

Apprentice Captains:

Portgas D Ace

Born Gol, took mother’s family name instead

Ate the Mera Mera no Mi because he was shipwrecked and forgot to pay attention to what he was eating

Portgas D Sabo

A “First Generation” D

Formerly Outlook, forgot this due to brain trauma

Joined the crew at 13 when the Anarchy Pirates stole him from the Revolutionary Army

Ate the Yami Yami no Mi because Luffy did a Dumb Thing

Portgas D Luffy

Formerly Monkey

Ate the Gomu Gomu no Mi because he thought it was a desert

Gonna be the next King of Pirates

#wildfire hearts #wildfire riot #portgas d riot #a crew of OCs #Sanjuno's ficwork #all of their names are PUNS #puns glorious puns #the ship is also named because PUNS #i'm definitely not avoiding my nano project #lol wut

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faelune-home · 3 years ago

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FFXIV Write 2021 #1: Foster

(a/n: I’m looking forward to spending this year’s FFXIV Write fleshing out Fhara a lot more, especially since I feel like I’ve gotten her a bit more in line with how I want to write her lately ^-^ The individual events I wrote last year still apply to her character, but from here on, I’m gonna be a bit more attentive with the writing and tying it into her overall character and backstory and relations with other characters.

This first piece is a backstory piece, using the meanings “to care for” or “to raise a child that’s not their own” from Foster, relating to the people Fhara knew most in her time growing up in her village.

None of the seeker names used here have a clan marker at the start, partly to denote the closeness Fhara would have for them...and partly me as the author cheating so I don’t have to worry about what seeker clans live on Thavnair :’D Seeker folk are spread out enough that I could probably choose any one and it’d fit, but I’d rather wait till we go to Thavnair and see what kinds of folk might live there first.

Word count: 1172)

~~~

The fleeing remnants of her birth village were graciously taken in by a small seeker village in Thavnair, nestled in the rainforests. Originally only offering temporary aid until the Ilsabardian folk could regain their strength and recover from their ordeal, the two tribes quickly built a rapport together, and the arrangement grew into a permanent home for the dispersed keeper families.

It was the life she grew up in; primarily a hunter village with trading connections to other towns, and more distant connections with the larger city of Radz-at-Han further away. Many of the people Fhara knew there would come to be like family to her, especially when she had so little family as it was.

Fhara never knew her parents. Her aunt, Khona, became her caretaker in their absence.

Khona gave her niece love. She gave Fhara comfort and warmth, protection from the shadows that frightened the girl, and laughter to lighten her spirits through thunderstorms, and bandages and kisses to make Fhara’s scrapes and bruises ache no more. Khona gave her a nickname, cute and small much like the girl herself when she was young, one that Fhara carried with her throughout her life.

“Your mother would call you her little Fufu, even when you were only a scant few hours old.”

Her aunt gave her memories and tales of a mother Fhara would never know. Aching confessions that she was always so much like the woman, from her image to her mannerisms. Fhara’s desire to run around helping 5 people at the same time until she stumbled and got lost in the rush, or the way her ears flattened against her head when she was in trouble alongside a little guilty pout - “You remind me so much of your mother.”

Fhara was never certain how she felt about those stories, having minimal connection to the woman in her aunt’s recollections. She let her aunt have those reminiscent moments, more for Khona’s own sake to remember a lost sister than Fhara’s desire to know of her mother. There were rarely any tales of her father, other than that her mother thought fondly of the man, a rare fifth son to his family - “She would call him her darling Sae.”

Then there was Leytai, the woman that acted as a wet nurse to Fhara when the keepers first arrived, providing for the newborn where her aunt couldn’t, having had her own child only a few scant weeks beforehand. Even into Fhara’s toddler and childhood years, Leytai was someone Fhara considered a mother figure other than her own aunt, always gladly taking the energetic child into her own home and caring for her whenever Khona was busy.

Gifts of flower hair clips and cute dresses, and later her more practical training gear for hunting practices were common from the woman. Leytai was a mentor to Fhara, teaching her basic stitching skills and organisation habits, helping her to make her first quiver, and then later teaching her how to write alongside Leytai’s own son.

(Attempts at cooking lessons were put on hold after a fire almost broke out, an overenthusiastic Fhara terrified away after the ordeal.)

Khuba was the finest hunter in the village, an often not misplaced pride evident in his swagger and his smirk whenever he walked through the village. He had a tendency to tease any of the young ones that he taught, and Fhara in her eagerness to work hard and learn was often at his mercy. Yet beneath the playfulness was a serious yet kindly tutor. Familiar with the forests and their creatures, as his many smaller scars across his arms and knicks in his ears would attest, he would never leave the children he trained to hunt without his supervision. A good catch would get a reward from him. A good attempt would also get a reward. Perhaps he was getting soft in his older age, the other hunters would joke.

Fhara received bows with delicate carving along the wood, and fine leather boots always stained to match whatever armour she best favoured that season. Much of her skill and care for hunting came from the man, as well as the capability to safely navigate the humid forests. He was the closest thing she could consider to a father figure in her life.

The keeper elders kept to their own part of the village, yet they would always share tales and traditions from their years when asked, despite their feigned insistence that they would prefer solitude. Grouchy old cats that complained of the heat and the toughness of the local meat, that never quite took to the spices of the island cuisine. Yet there was always a softness behind their bite to all the children in the village that would ask of stories long gone. They weren’t quite like grandparents, but they were the closest thing Fhara could consider to such a thing.

The other children her age were harder for Fhara to relate to, both the keeper children that arrived alongside her as babes and the seekers that she came to grow up alongside. Fhara’s enthusiasm to aid around the village brought her cold shoulders and petulant glares from her peers. She didn’t have many friends.

Instead, whenever Fhara wasn’t preoccupied with her bow training or helping another villager with an errand, she would care for the younger children. Fhara felt like an older sister to the young ones, always surrounded in her free moments by the litter of young ones. She would try to pass on the same lessons she was taught in turn or keep them entertained. They would play hide and seek in the morning, then tag after lunch, until a frustrated adult would chastise them for getting under foot. So to wind down, they would gather in a corner and Fhara would regale them with stories.

Tales of heroes and adventurers travelling the world over, aiding strangers with whatever ailed them. Noble knights, daring swashbucklers, and honourable mercenaries, any old fable or legend she had heard of or that she could dream up on her own, re-enacted for the children’s entertainment. Even when the night fell and the moon was high, the young children would beg for another story, beg their parents to let them stay for one more bell, so entranced were they by the stories. Eager to please them, she promised them more stories, stories of her own making someday.

Fhara was a full grown woman when she left to make good on that promise. No longer a child, yet shaped by the people that guided her in her life to that point. Her kindness, her prowess, her joy and playfulness, forged by her time growing up in the village.

The day she left the village for her own adventures, she was waved off by most everyone in the village. Those she would consider family, that raised her and cared for her. She was their child, their sister, their loved one. She would return someday, with more stories to regale.

#ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2021 #fhara laali #my writing #my wol #keeper of the moon miqo'te #ffxiv #Final Fantasy XIV #character building #character backstory

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tentendeservedbetter · 4 years ago

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home is where my team is - Chapter 3

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Read also here: AO3 | FFNET

“Today will be the final test I have to take in order to become a Genin, just as you and father have been before. Please, watch over me.”

She bowed slightly, her hands together in a prayer sign in front of her nose, before opening her eyes and pushing herself off of her knees to stand. She quickly patted her black pants, getting rid of any left over lint from the pillow she sat on, and she stared at the Dainichi Buddha that stood tall and proud with his eyes closed, in the middle of the elevated floor surrounded by the four other slightly shorter Buddhas on each cardinal sides.

Lines of black tiles, rectangular and short with white paint engraved in kanjis, sat in rows and columns along ascending stairs that flanked beside the Buddhas closer to the wall, with bigger tiles reserving their spots closest to the statues. The big tiles soon transformed into framed photos with a tablet in front of it as you descended the stairs, with the most recent addition being the only one in colour.

The Hyuuga Shrine found in the northern part of the Hyuuga Compound is a homestead for the gods and the names of their ancestors and recently departed. While the Konoha cemetery was where most of their relatives would be buried, allocated under their appropriate place reserved for specific clans or among the fallen, this shrine was more so a safekeeping of their past, of their legacy, and of their tradition. The walls, though faint and dull from age, had traces of paintings of the Hyuuga clan's rich history and unique style of fighting, tracing all the way back to before the formation of Konoha as they know it today.

Rarely did Hinata come to the family shrine to pray, and rarely does she pray at all. She was unsure i f she truly believed in the gods that protected their family, and she was much more unsure of whether the spirits of her ancestors were truly watching over her. If anything, they were probably looking down at her with disappointment in their eyes and disapproving shakes of the head at how the heiress of the Hyuuga Clan turned out.

Poor Lord Hiashi, they were probably whispering amongst themselves. It was bad enough that he had no sons, but the eldest daughter is weak in nature! What will become of the Hyuuga clan at if Hinata were to remain heiress?

She only came to the shrine when she needed time alone and away from the entire compound, a place where she may talk freely to the air and without having to feel the weight of disappointment from the elders of her clan. Solace was found in the shrine that was hidden amongst the trees, away from prying ears and scrutinizing glances. Though, it was the limited access to the shrine that allowed the shrine to be almost always empty; this sanctuary is only allowed to be accessed by the lucky few that were born into the Main House of the clan.

The lucky few like herself.

Hinata wasn't fond of that rule, thought she was never fond of anything concerning the divide between the Main House and the Branch House. She was taught from a young age about the relationship between the houses from the elders that watched over her: the Main House was the brain of the clan, the most important organ that allowed all the knowledge and secrets hidden within this family to carry on throughout the generations, while the Branch House was the vessel that protected this important organ, working only as a reactionary mechanism of the Main House.

The Branch House's purpose in life, the reason they were born, was to protect the Main House from outsiders who sought to obtain the ultimate knowledge of the Hyuuga Clan, and inherently, want to obtain their prized kekkei genkai: the Byakugan.

But the shrine is a place for someone to seek solace and guidance in the gods, with the Buddhas being those who transcended into omnipotence, a teacher to all who wish to pursue their knowledge.

Why, then, should the Branch Family, who, despite only being seen as protectors of the Main Family, not be allowed to enter this shrine that praises the gods that guided the principles of their clan? Do they not carry the same clan name? If their sole duty is to protect the Main House, then they are in an equally honourable position as them; without the members of the Branch House, the Main House lineage would have to fend for themselves. They should have the right to seek solace, the same right as the Main House have to seek faith.

That’s what Hinata wished she could say.

But she knew that the house dynamic in the Hyuuga clan was much more complicated than that, running deep into the roots of their lineage. She knew it was a game of power, a game of authority. They were the Hyuuga clan, after all, and they were considered to be one of the most prestigious clans in Konoha, one of the four noble clans to actually found the village; control was a given to a clan as secretive and powerful as her own.

That’s why they performed that cruel technique that even the Hokage had to turn a blind eye to; to maintain power and control.

Maybe one day she could change the way the Hyuuga clan was. Maybe one day, the Main House would come to co-exist with the Branch House in a more equal way. But if she wanted to do any of that, she needed to be stronger than she is now.

And the only way to do that is to pass today’s test.

If you’re there, Mother, Hinata thought as her eyes returned back to the coloured image along the ancestral lineup. The woman in the photo, with deep blue hair that hung behind her shoulders with a few strands shaping her face and pale irises, looked back at her with a soft smile. Please give me the courage you had.

She took her white hoodie and backpack from the floor beside where she sat and put it on as she started to walk across the wooden floor towards the doors of the shrine. As she gets to the bottom of the stairs, she took one last breath of the incense scented room.

She had plenty of time to spare before heading out to the Hokage Rock, her usual morning practice session (or, as she liked to think of it, her usual morning torture session) with her father and grandfather was put on hold for the time being. But first she had to pick up her lunch from the kitchen- her grandmother was likely there to make sure Hinata would pack more than enough to eat, insistence that if she wanted to become stronger for the clan, she would build her body that way.

It was conflicting with what all her aunties would say. They would tell Hinata to cut down on the food, or else she would gain weight. Or worse , they would say when her grandmother mentions being stronger, you’d look like a guy with big muscles . It didn’t help that ever since she turned 10, for some reason, her waist had gotten wider and her chest was bigger than most girls her age. Luckily, the hoodie she had was not only useful for the cool January weather they have in Konoha, but also helped hide her body from judging eyes.

She crossed a short way into the main house found in the centre of the compound, trying to maintain her step as she crossed the floorboard that lined around the perimeter of the house. She kept her eyes glued to the ground whenever she could see an elder Hyuuga walking down the hall, trying to ignore them and save herself from an impending lecture.

As she entered the hallway towards the kitchen, Hinata turned the corner quickly, when she suddenly felt a sharp collision with someone that made her rebound back onto the floor.

Her face twisted slightly at the pain of her nose hitting against the other person’s shoulders, and she let out a small ‘ow’.

“Watch where you’re-” a sharp voice suddenly scolded her, before abruptly stopping. Hinata looked up towards the person she had just hit, and she could feel a slight sense of dread building up in her stomach.

“O-Oh,” Hinata managed to mumbled, as she scrambled to get herself up, not wanting to seem completely knocked out from what was a simple collision (even though her nose was still stinging). "Neji-niisan."

Her cousin stood before her in his usual shinobi garb of brown shorts and eggshell washed shirt, looking down at her from his slightly taller stature, his angular eyes narrowing. His headband with the Konoha symbol gleamed slightly when he tilted down, the metal rectangle being stitched onto a brown headband instead of the usual blue, with long buckles hanging from each of his temples and going past his shoulders.

Neji was her cousin through their fathers, his father Hizashi, who had passed away when she was too young to remember what had truly happened, being her father’s younger twin. He was Hinata's senior by only a year. He had graduated from the Academy and became a Genin during the previous year, yet he looked much older than the average 13 year old that he should be. It could be because of how hardened his face looked compared to a lot of kids around their age, making his face look sharper than it actually was. He balanced it out with his long brown hair, that flowed up till his waist as it would traditionally be grown by the men of the family, held by the end with a hairtie.

Hinata was often time envious of Neji. He was considered what a Hyuuga should be, disciplined and stoic, and efficient when it came to mastering the basic forms of their family’s fighting style, the Gentle Fist. She wished she had not only his natural gift of picking up skills with ease, but also his confidence and surety with every calculated strike he made- it would definitely make her life easier if she were that way.

That, and she wished she had his looks as well. She had heard the long running comments made by the women of the family; “ Hiashi’s eldest is cute and all, but Hizashi’s child is the prettiest out of all the cousins” and “I wish my daughter looked like Hizashi’s child”.

And most of the times, Hinata agreed with them.

“I’m sorry!” Hinata quickly exclaimed, feeling nervous by how his white pupils seemed to be looking into her soul. “Are you alright?”

She could see that he was trying not to show his scowl at her, but was proving to have difficulties when she saw the corners of his mouth twitch downwards, lines evident on his pale skin.The dread seeped in deeper, and she could feel her shoulders curl inwards, trying to make herself small under his gaze.

Neji never smiled at her.

He always frowned.

Even when Hinata was younger and tried to talk and play with him, Neji never smiled at her. He only forced out a reply here and there, and that’s only if her father was around.

“Lady Hinata,” Neji replied courtly, his tone much cooler than before, but he still glowered at her. “Please watch your step. You can hurt yourself by not being careful.”

“O-oh,” Hinata muttered as she glanced away, his piercing eyes making her nervous. “Okay. But are you-”

Before she could finish her sentence, Neji immediately walked past her with a quick step, turning the corner she came from without a single word, leaving Hinata alone.

“...hurt,” she finished in a whisper, the dread now turning into hurt at being dismissed this way.

She really did try her hardest to get to know Neji but to no avail. The young boy never seemed to want to talk to her, never mind be around her. If he was, it was only because Hinata couldn’t be left alone and needed someone from the Branch House to watch over her; and usually, Neji would be the prime candidate, handpicked by Hiashj, being the closest to her age compared to the other clansmen. It has always been this way, their relationship has always been rocky, but Hinata never understood why Neji always refrained from talking to them.

Were they not cousins before anything else? Was he not supposed to her older brother, the one she should seek guidance from?

What had she done to Neji, except be born into the Main House?

But at the same time, if she were him, would she not resent her as well?

Hinata didn’t have time to ruminate over what had just happened, and tried to push it down to the back of her mind, as she often does. She fixed the straps of her bag so it fit snug on her shoulder and continued to walk down the halls at a slower pace.

She got to the part of the complex where the faint sounds of pots clanking against one another and fresh fish and eggs sizzling on top a pan could be heard, and Hinata could feel her mouth salivating. She was just in time for a quick breakfast on the spot.

She slid the door with a gentle hand, revealing a pair of woman, both relatively young and wearing a white bandana across their forehead, swiftly shifted between the countertop and the stove. Another woman, middle aged with a few grey hairs, stood near a giant pot on top of a coal fire near the open doorway on the opposite side, letting the steam from the rice cooking waft out to the back court. An elderly woman with grey hair secured in a bun and slightly hunched shoulders shuffled along the countertop, a bento box sitting in front of her as she stuffed sliced vegetables inside.

"Lady Hinata," all three women acknowledged her as they did a bow to the young heiress. Hinata bowed to them, them being her aunties, even if they were apart of the Branch House - she was still raised to be respectful of her elders.

And even then, Hinata found that it was harder to maintain a separation of houses between the women of the Hyuuga clan- regardless of the house they belong to, and regardless of whether they are of a lower branch, it seems that often when the women and girls are together without the demeaning eye of men, there is not as big of a drift between them, save for maintaining standard titles protocols.

It didn't help that often times, marriage between the Main House and the extended Branch House. After all, her own grandmother, her father's mother, was from the Branch House, further along the line, and married her grandfather of the Main House. These marriages blurred the lines of formality at times.

Though, what the women lacked in standard house tensions tends to take the form of more personal grudges towards certain family members, from meager things like forgetting to return the favour to downright gossiping about an aloof relative over tea.

Ah, the benefits of having a large family.

While Hinata would try to avoid having a conversation with relatives (mostly because it causes her an existential crisis with their incessant questions and because she already had enough whispers about her), these three aunties were the ones she was most comfortable with. They were often the ones in the kitchen, the ones making the meals during the day for the entire clan; diplomacy was the least of their concern when they had to make copious amounts of food.

"Good morning, Aunties," Hinata replied in a soft tone, smiling as she stepped towards the elderly lady, to look at the contents of the bento box. She could feel her stomach churn at the amount of rice that was on the exposed layer, and that was just one of the two. "Grandmother, you know I can't eat that much food..."

"Nonsense," her grandmother said without looking at Hinata, her frail little body shaking as her hands closed the lid of the bento box. She started to fold the cloth, a baby blue cloth, around the box in a slow manner, the slight twitching of her hand with each tug worrying Hinata, but she didn't stop the woman from doing it. "You need all the energy you can get to become stronger. How would you bring honour to the Hyuuga name if you do not become a strong heir like your father, and his father before?"

Maybe I don't want to be the heir , Hinata wanted to say, but just smiled shyly, eyebrows pulling in. "I can be strong without eating a meal for two."

“Mother Homura," one of her aunt's with the white bandana started from the stove. "Lady Hinata does not need to eat more than she needs to. They won't put her on any taxing missions right away."

"Aunt Kayake's right, Grandmother," Hinata nodded along. "I'm just doing a test-"

"If it's the same type of testing they did with Hiashi, then you most definitely need more than this," Homura replied, her eyebrows, fine and grey, raising as she tried to turn her body to put the bento box back onto the table.

"N-no, it's alright!" Hinata took the box with both hands before Homura could set it down. She started to guide Homura towards a rocking chair in the corner of the kitchen, where a tea set has already been placed on top of a table nearby. "This is enough! Thank you."

"Have they already assigned your team?" the woman stirring the pot of rice, her Aunt Suzume, distantly related to Hinata as is Kayake, started, drawing Hinata’s attention towards her after she allowed Homura to take a seat.

"Yes, we were assigned to them yesterday," Hinata said, unraveling her grandmother's hands to hold onto the bento box in the blue cloth. "I have been placed on a team with Kiba Inuzuka and Shino Aburame."

"An Inuzuka?" The other woman with the bandana, Kayake's younger sister and Hinata's Aunt Mitsu, giggled. She continued to slice open the shrimps from their shells on a cutting board, placing them in a separate bowl. Mitsu leaned forward slightly towards the other three woman, keeping her voice low so that only Homura, with her age causing her poor hearing, could not hear.“The Inuzuka men are quite rugged, don’t you think?”

“Mitsu, we do not care for your love affairs,” Kayake waved her sister’s comment off, returning her attention to the stove, but Suzume’s face contorted in a frantic frown.

“Mitsu! Do not plant such ideas in Lady Hinata’s mind!” Suzume scolded her with a hiss, lifting the rice paddle from the pot, waving it slightly as if she were about to hit Mitsu with it. Hinata could feel her neck start to flush slightly as it started to reach her cheeks at her implications. “She is still a child!”

“Tell me, Hinata,” Mitsu ignored them and ushered Hinata to come closer. The young heiress gravitated towards them. “What are your teammates like?”

“They’re…” Hinata started, hesitating slightly about the words she could use. How were her teammates like?

She was apprehensive of being placed on Team 8, and she was sure Shino and Kiba were too. She saw how Kiba’s friends, the two boys and the girl he always sat next to, snickered and whispered amongst themselves when they heard Hinata and Shino's name, and something about them being 'weirdos'.

Hinata wasn't surprised by their words. She knows that, compared to the rest of her classmates, she was off. Painfully shy and quieter than a mouse, Hinata was a stark contrast to what the usual kid her age was like. Her mannerisms, her voice, hell, even her looks, made her a wallflower, a pale white wallpaper that people know is there, but never bothered to be looked at. Only her blood made her truly visible. The only times that people willingly engaged with her is when her family's name is mentioned during a lecture, in which all the kids would turn over to wherever she was sitting to look at her, to see her reaction.

Most of the time, she would look away.

She didn't like looking at people. She didn't like making eye contact.

She felt it was too heavy, too intimate, too much for her soul to handle. She feels like people try to analyze too much of what she says, trying to reach into her soul, trying to unlock the pandora box that is her emotions.

And she didn't like that.

That's why she liked Shino a lot. She knew they would get along well, he was equally as quiet as her, though he was by no means shy. If yesterday's team meeting probed anything, it was that Shino Aburame was vocal, raising himself as an equal to whoever he spoke to. But he respected their space, respected Hinata's space, not looking at her unless she initiated (though, it could be because his glasses made it hard for her to see his irises, making her feel at ease).

Kiba on the other hand, she wasn't sure what to say. He was on the opposite spectrum to her, being outgoing and rowdy with his ways, and the confidence he exudated made Hinata envious. She didn't mind loud people- she found them fascinating and admirable.

But he was also subtly witty, something that she didn't think she would describe the Inuzuka as. Usually he is vocal about how he feels, calling someone out on their nonsense without a second thought, but yesterday showed her that there was more to him than meets the eye.

She had to admit thought; while envious of Kiba's personality, she was incredibly intimidated by him. It's not as if she didn't see his bad side, when he would dive head first into a fight against another kid if they talked smack about him to his face, his fists brimming purple with bruises and face speckled with blood. And he always came out victorious with a grin on his face, and Iruka-sensei fuming as he had to drag him off of the poor kid who tried to get a rise out of him, only to be crying on the ground with a bloody nose.

Just remembering it sent chills down her spine.

She definitely did not want to get on his bad side.

"They're nice," she said, fidgeting with the bento box as she glanced away, the way Mitsu looked at her with anticipation making her nervous. "A-and, they're very interesting."

"Interesting in what way?"

"U-uh-"

"Mitsu, you'll get in trouble if Lord Hiashi hears what you insinuate," Kayake warned her sister with a weary look towards Homura, but the old woman barely heeded their words, enjoying a cup of tea as she swayed slightly in the rocking chair.

Mitsu giggled at her words and straightening herself, before continued slicing the shrimp's shell in her hand. "Can't I ask the young heiress about these things? It's not like they won't ask her about it later."

Hinata could feel herself blush at her aunt's notion.

There was someone that she admired in her life...but she was not going to disclose that to them, not until the entirety of hell freezes over.

"Do that when it is time to do so," Suzume scoffed. "Knowing Lord Hiashi, however, it would be a long process."

I hope it doesn't happen anytime soon, Hinata thought, biting the bottom of her lips slightly. Talks of marriage and whatnot were not her main concern- perhaps one day, but right now, she had more things to worry about than her supposed betrothal.

"Isn't it interesting though," Kayake suddenly started after a pause, turning back to look at towards the two other women and Hinata. "That they always put an Aburame, an Inuzuka, and a Hyuuga on the same team whenever the graduating class had all three?"

To this, Hinata's eyebrows raised slightly. Her words were too precise not to ignore. "A-always? Who was apart of the last of this group formation?"

All three women looked at one another when Hinata asked her question, their faces suddenly become weary, and Hinata could feel the room fall still all of the sudden. She glanced between them, not knowing what to do, and suddenly felt like becoming very small to hide herself, not knowing what had warranted this tenseness.

"Lord Hiashi hasn't told you yet?" Suzume asked in a suddenly low tone, hushed as if she didn't want anyone else to hear. When Hinata nodded, she glanced around for a second, her eyes flitting cautiously towards the door, before landing back on Hinata. "Well...it doesn't hurt to know but...the last time they had a Aburame-Inuzuka-Hyuuga team was with-"

They suddenly heard the tatami door wiggle a bit and abruptly stopped talking, waiting for the person to reveal themselves.

“Lord Hiashi,” all the women in the kitchen said in unison as they bowed, and Hinata turned around towards the tatami door, a tall man in a deep blue yukata and a darker grey jacket standing between the frame.

Her father had his usual stoic face, his eyebrows naturally arched to look like he was frowning most of the times and his mouth in a straight line. He gave an acknowledged bow to Hinata’s grandmother, his mother, before looking over to Hinata.

“G-good morning, Father,” Hinata quickly whispered with a slight bow of her head, gripping the sides of her lunch box. Hiashi stared at Hinata for a moment, as if analyzing what he saw, trying to pick out any sort of flaw in how she appeared.

“Today is your final test, is it not?” Hiashi asked in an even tone, never breaking eye contact from Hinata, who glanced away towards the lines of the floorboard. “Why are you still here? And look at me when I speak to you.”

“Yes!” she squeaked at how much sharper his tone became, and straightened her gaze. “I just had more time left so...so I thought I could take my time today.”

Hiashi narrowed his eyes.

“ Heedfulness is the path to the Deathless. Heedlessness is the path to death. The heedful do not die. The heedless are as if already dead* .” Hiashi quoted the proverb from ancient scriptures without missing a beat, and Hinata could see the frown lines deepening on his tanned face. “If you were going to mindlessly be on the compound this whole time, then you could have been practicing your forms. Your sister has already mastered all of the basic forms; you have yet to perform them efficiently.”

“I-I,” Hinata started, now feeling her neck burning in embarrassment of being put on the spot in this way, but she couldn’t finish her sentence, feeling the heat rising to her face.

“Mother,” Hiashi turned his attention towards her grandmother, who had simply been keeping her mouth closed as Hiashi gave Hinata the third degree. “Hinata is grown and she can make her own meals. You’re spoiling her by making her lunch.”

“Hiashi,” Homura said with a slight hum to her voice, soft and slow, as she started to sway lightly on the chair. "If you believe this to be true, then you should make your own tempura from now on, do you not think so?"

To this, Hiashi eyes slightly widened in hesitation for only a split second, but he quickly fixed himself back to neutrality. Hinata had to stifle her laugh, and she looked down to hide the amused smile she couldn't suppress.

Leave it to Homura to be as eloquently blunt as her son.

"That is not the same," Hiashi replied coolly. "The food you make is for the entire family."

"Tempura is usually reserved for dinners," Homura said as equally calm. "But you still insist on eating it for breakfast as well. You should eat better; you're a grown man."

Hinata could see her father's jaws clenching, muscle along his jawline flexing- being told off by one's mother in front of an audience was not on the top of every clan leader's to do lists.

"Hinata." His eyes returned to her, and she quickly kept her lips in a line. "It is best if you left for your test. You don't want to keep your team waiting for you."

I didn't even eat breakfast, Hinata thought, but refused to say this outloud. She didn't want to be scolded anymore than she needed to be. "Yes."

“Do not be a burden to your teammate,” Hiashi said courtly, before stepping aside to let Hinata walk through the open doorway.

Hinata gritted her teeth, feeling her throat suddenly lodged with emotion, but she kept it to herself. She nodded, and quickly exited the kitchen, giving a quick bow to her grandmother before she made her way towards the courtyard to leave the compound.

I won’t burden anyone, Hinata thought as she inhaled and exhaled slowly, trying her best to maintain her confidence, but she could already feel the tips of her eyes started to sting with tears. I promise, I won’t burden anyone.

----

When Hinata made it to the top of the Hokage Rock, she was surprised to see that Shino was the only one there, waiting underneath a tree. She glanced up to the sky, the morning sun bearing white in the east slightly above the horizon. It was nearly time for their test, she could tell, but where could their sensei and Kiba be?

She wasn't sure where Shino was looking at, his dark frames shading his eyes from anyone to see, but from the way his face tilted down, she could tell she was looking at the ground with intent.

Should I call out to him? She thought, ready to raise her hand to wave towards him, but hesitated slightly. No, he looks busy...I don't want to disturb him. But, then again, I should ask him where everyone else is...

Hinata continued this debate on whether she should call out to Shino or walk up to him as she crossed clearing, but she wasn't given the opportunity to think it through. All of the sudden, she heard a high pitched bark becoming louder from the trail she just walked on, and a voice yelling, "Akamaru! Wait up buddy!"

She knew who it was immediately, and spun on her heels to look behind her. Unfortunately, she was not prepared for the small flash of white coming towards her at full speed, already a metre away from her.

Hinata didn't have time to react, and she wasn't sure whether she could or not- by the time she blinked, the flash of white had jumped up towards her and hit her chest, pushing her backwards and making her land on her behind, before laying flat on her back.

Talk about a double whammy. This is the second time she was sent flying onto her back. Her tailbone was starting to hurt a bit. It didn't help that she had her backpack on during the fall, and had placed her bento box inside, making the impact harder against her lower back when she fell, the side of the bento box digging into her sharply.

Hinata blacked out for a few seconds, eyes closed in shock and her ears momentarily blanking. When she slowly opened her eyes, she was greeted by a little brown nose against hers and the sound of slight panting.

Her eyes started to take in everything beyond the nose, seeing it attached to a white puppy with long, floppy ears and small, brown eyes that looked at her with excitement. The puppy barked at her once, and she could feel a thump thump thump on her abdomen, his tail wagging happily.

"H-hello...Akamaru," Hinata managed to say in a soft voice, remembering the puppy's name from how Kiba had introduced him as yesterday. This only made Akamaru even more excited because he barked a few times and his tail wagged faster, before he gave Hinata's cheek a little lick.

Hinata could feel her heart soar at this little gesture by the puppy. Is this what feeling wanted is like?

"Akamaru!" Kiba's voice exclaimed as he ran up towards Hinata, who was still being licked by the puppy. "Get off of her! Sit!"

Akamaru did as he was told with a slight whine, and hopped off of Hinata's chest, sitting down beside her as he looked expectantly at Kiba. Hinata managed to prop herself up with her elbows, lifting her back up into a sitting position. She glanced up to see Kiba standing near her feet, both hands on his hips as he gave Akamaru a disapproving look.

Hinata could feel her heart start beating fast while looking at her now teammate; he was much more intimidating from where she was sitting, narrow eyes shifting around with a frown on his face. Kiba had always scared her slightly, with his red markings making him look like a warrior on his way to a battleground, and the way his eyebrows, sharp and fierce, made his narrow eyes look even more piercing. She was half ready to apologize, but then she saw his frown disappear as he softened his look, now looking at Hinata with...was it concern?

"Sorry about that," Kiba said, almost in a mumble, and Hinata could see that his cheeks flushed pink suddenly, as if embarrassed. "I swear, he's usually better behaved than this."

"It's okay," Hinata replied softly, and Akamaru barked at Hinata, taking a step closer.

"What d'ya think you were doing, Akamaru?" Kiba looked at Akamaru with a stern look, his arms crossing over, eyebrows pulled in. The puppy stopped in his tracks and looked up to his owner, his dog wagging in the air.

"Arf! Arf!"

"So what? You could've hurt Hinata!"

"Arf! Arf, arf, arf!"

"I don't want to hear it," Kiba huffed. "Now sit and think about what you did! You're not getting any treats until you obey!"

Akamaru let out a whining sound, his happy demeanor dropping as his tail stopped wagging, his eyes looking back at Kiba big and glistening in woe. When Kiba raised an eyebrow at Akamaru, waiting for the puppy to continue, Akamaru stopped his attempt at persuading Kiba to let him be and he laid down on his stomach sadly, a whine emitting from his throat.

"...you need a hand?" Kiba asked after a moment when Akamaru settled down.

Hinata, meanwhile, was preoccupied staring between him and Akamaru in awe, watching them have a conversation she couldn't understand, only going by Kiba's words. What kind of technique helped you communicate with animals? She knew about shinobi being able to summon animals for their services, forming a blood pact between the master and the animal, but she often heard of summoning animals being able to speak in their tongue.

When she noticed Kiba's hand reaching out towards her, she looked at him for a split second, feeling less intimidated by her new teammate. Should she accept his aid?

I won't be a burden, she reminded herself, while shaking her head lightly. I won't be coddled.

"N-no," she said quickly, her inflection making her voice crack, and she stood up, brushing her behind while doing so. She added in a much more normal rhythm, "Thank you, t-though."

"Hinata, are you hurt?" a low, monotone voice suddenly said behind her. She nearly jumped by how close the voice, low and soft, was, but she stopped herself from doing so upon recognition, and turned around towards the source.

"I-I'm not," Hinata said with a slight smile, tilting her head up to look at Shino, him being taller than she, even with her sandals. She placed her arms slightly in front of her, refraining from showing any signs of pain from her back. "I'm fine."

Shino stood by with his hands in his coat pocket, half his face still being hidden the collar, not saying anything for a moment. Hinata couldn't tell where he was looking, but from the way his arched eyebrows pulled in slightly, she assumed she was looking at Kiba. He softened his face again quickly, as if realising that they were staring at him.

"Did something break in your bag?" Shino asked smoothly, without moving whatsoever. He paused again for a split second, before continuing, "Because I heard a crack when you fell."

"Oh!" Hinata exclaimed in a light voice, swinging her bag around in front of her quickly, remembering her poor bento box that she had inside. She opened her bag and peered inside and…

"Oh no," Hinata moaned as she looked at what was supposed to be her lunch. The rice, vegetables, everything was outside of the bento box, scattered everywhere and she could see the box has a slight fissure along the side, likely due to her landing.

"My l-lunch," Hinata mumbled, and she could feel her stomach churn at the sight of food being spoiled. She really should have eaten something before leaving.

Shino leaned over slightly, head barely moving downwards but Hinata could tell he was looking into her bag. He stood there motionless for a moment, before tilting his head slightly on the side, looking beyond Hinata.

"Can't you keep your dog on a leash?" Shino said suddenly, his voice low and a bit forceful, inflecting slightly at the end as if unsure how to end the sentence.

Hinata could feel a shift in the atmosphere amongst them at Shino's words, and she stared at him wide eyes before looking over at Kiba. Kiba stared at him for a split second, eyes blinking at Shino, before his eyebrows pulled in quickly, jaw clenching, when their teammate's words were finally processed in their minds.

"What did you say?"

"I said 'can't you keep your dog on a leash'," Shino repeated in an equal tone. The atmosphere was tense as they stared at each other, and Hinata took a slight step back, not wanting to be caught in between, fidgeting with her fingers slightly.

"His name is Akamaru, " Kiba replied sharply, his words punctuated with a slightly louder tone, and Hinata could see the flame of anger spark in his eyes as he glared at Shino. "And Akamaru isn't some pet I can put on a leash. Like how you don't put your bugs in a container ."

"We're talking about Akamaru, not my insects," Shino replied stiffly. "Maybe you should train him to listen to you more before using him on our mission. Because it looks like he doesn't even obey simple commands."

"Arf!" Akamaru barked lightly, looking between the two of them, but Kiba ignored him.

"She said she was fine, didn't she? It wasn't like he was attacking her- and besides, you don't need to tell me what I should do with my ninken!"

They had an important test that would determine whether they could become Shinobi, why were they having an argument at this very moment?

Hinata wasn't sure what to do with herself at that moment, finding herself hesitating to even look at either of the boys, fearing they might explode into an altercation if she dared to see. Should she stop them from arguing? How would she even stop them? What if they start getting into a fight? Would she be able to stop them? No way.

She was too weak, too cowardly, no way would she be able to stop a fight.

"U-uh, guys," Hinata started, but her voice barely came out, a light airy tone that was easily overpowered by Kiba's voice.

"What's your problem with me, huh?" Kiba started, suddenly taking a step forward passing Hinata to stand directly in front of Shino, his fists clenching. "If you got something you want to say about me, then say it to my face!"

"I have nothing to say to you," Shino replied. "I was talking about your dog."

"If you have a problem with Akamaru , then you have a problem with me ," Kiba said, his voice filled with venom as he looked up to Shino, who didn't flinch in the slightest. "Yesterday you had a lot to say- why are you acting all mute now?"

They stood there for a moment, neither of them moving. Akamaru let out a slight whine, and shuffled closer to Hinata's leg, as if seeking some sort of comfort, but she couldn’t move. The pressure in the atmosphere is making her head tense up with adrenaline, and Hinata could feel her forehead starting to scrunch up. She couldn’t activate the Byakugan, not now, no, and she tried to focus by glancing between them, waiting for someone to say something.

Shino was the first to break the silence.

"If you don't know how to use him, then you shouldn't have brought him today," Shino said slowly and dully, as if talking to a child who didn't understand what he did wrong. "It would only hold us back. This test is important and we can't jeopardize our chances."

Kiba gritted his teeth, and Hinata could see his fists started to clench.

Oh no.

Was he going to swing at him? She shifted her legs slightly apart, ready to intervene, but she could barely move otherwise.

Before Kiba could move, the wind started to pick up pace around them, swirling in front of the trio and forcing them to plant their feet on the ground and concentrate on not being blown away. Hinata could see the leaves from the trees nearby creating a sparse tornado as a sudden figure appeared in the middle of the vortex.

“K-Kurenai-sensei,” Hinata mumbled as she watched with wide eyes as the leaves settled around the figure, revealing their long black hair and deep red outfit.

"Looks like everyone came here on time,” Kurenai looked between them with a nonchalant smile. “I was going to give you guys some time together, but it looks like something was happening. Is everything alright?”

Kiba unclenched his fists and placed them in his hoodie pockets, balling them up inside. He gave a dejected, “Yeah, everything’s fine.”

She glanced over to Shino, who didn’t say anything and was looking away from her, before her eyes landed on Hinata. Hinata felt flustered and started to glance away, her nerves getting the best of her as red eyes scanned over her, waiting to see if she had anything to say.

"Y-yes," Hinata said, still glancing away. "All fine."

"Alright then," Kurenai replied after giving them another questionable look, and she reached into her dress pocket and pulled out what appeared to be a small clock. "Since everyone is here, we can get started with the test. Gather around."

All three of them obeyed and followed Kurenai as she walked towards a wooden picnic table underneath a tree nearby. After leaving their bags on the table, they formed a semi circle around Kurenai, with Hinata standing between Kiba and Shino as Akamaru rejoined his master by his side with a few little bounds off his small paws. It took a good amount of self-restraint for Hinata to not look at the puppy and coo at how cute he looked as he sat down, his tail waving around slowly as he waited for Kurenai to speak.

"Since this is my first time having a Genin team, I decided that this test would be much easier that I had originally planned,” Kurenai started, her gaze resting on them as she spoke. “Your test will be…”

There was a fraction of pause in her sentence, and Hinata could feel the anticipation in the air as they hung over her every word. What was the test going to be? Are they going to have to prove their worth by winning a match? Would have to fight each other?

Or worse; would they have to win a fight against Kurenai?

Hinata gripped a string of her hoodie, her hand already placed over her chest while she was standing and listening to Kurenai talk, and she swallowed.

“A little game of hide and seek tag," Kurenai said, and Hinata could have sworn there was a flash of amusement on her face. "With a little added twist of capture the flag. Sounds fun, right?"

Hinata glanced over to her teammates, and she could see Kiba shift his eyes around to them as well, apprehensive and wary about her intentions.

"You've played those games before, haven't you?" Kurenai asked with a slight quirk of her fine brow, looking between them as they stared silently back, uncertainty in the atmosphere.

"We have," Shino responded for the group. "As children, though. "

Hinata noticed the slight hesitation in Kurenai at his words, her lips pursing slightly, but it left as quickly as it came. She smiled instead, and continued in a much softer voice, "Then you should already know the rules. But there are a few things I added and changed for this test."

She held a hand up and placed a finger onto the metal plate of her red headband, right beside the Konoha symbol edged deep. She tapped it with the tip of her deep red nails.

"This headband right here is the flag,” she said in the same tone. “The goal of this test is to get this headband off of my forehead."

Hinata felt an overwhelming sense of anxiety and worry building up in her stomach at Kurenai's words, and her eyebrows refused to relax from the frown. This doesn't sound like a hard task, but considering that this is a Jonin they were facing, only a rank below the Hokage, makes this little task...well...much more difficult than anything they had ever gone through before.

From her ranking, and from what Hinata remembered from the previous day, she knew Kurenai's strongest skill was in the realm of Genjutsu. Genjutsu in itself was such a vast field, limited only by the users' own unbrittled imagination. It is the art of illusion, after all, preying on the senses of your opponents by affecting the specific parts of the brain in order to make them believe that the illusion are true, making them vulnerable to experience things that are not happening in the physical world. Unlike Ninjutsu, though, it was much harder to control, with the user having to be able to control their chakra as well as being able to come up with a way to reach the opponents senses, those being five more extra things to worry about, unlike the other ninja arts.

The expanse of Genjutsu was not taught during their Academy years, instead focusing on Ninjutsu and Taijutsu to prepare them as shinobi. The only Genjutsu they had to learn was the Clone Illusion Jutsu, but even that D-level jutsu was incredibly hard to master, taking many a year to make at least one competent clone illusion.

Even Iruka rarely employed that technique during the mock battles he would have with another teacher, opting for the easier Ninjustu, Clone Jutsu , telling them that clones are better used to distract the enemy and less taxing for them to control.

"Okay," Kiba replied slowly, eyebrows furrowing slightly. "What's the hide and seek part for?"

“That’s the fun part," Kurenai replied. “Like a usual game of hide and seek, I'll hide around the Village with the flag, and you three would have to find me in order to capture the flag. I’ve decided to make it easier, though, since this is the first time I’m doing this test. The only places I’ll hide is on the Hokage Rock or the training grounds. Nowhere else in the Village."

A game of capture the flag that required them to find the flag in a pretty expanded area ...

This was definitely not an easy task, but it was definitely not a hard one. They’ve played these kind of games in the Academy, in the form of a treasure hunt in the middle of one of their training grounds in order to utilize their survival skills for a few hours, but it was limited to a certain area and one target. That, and they usually had a much more obvious trail to lead them on the right path.

It was clear to Hinata as why Kurenai set up the test in the way she did. She must have read their datasheets when they were first assigned to her: with Kiba hailing from the Inuzuka clan and having a keen sense of smell, and Hinata having the Byakugan that allowed her heightened sight, this test was to see how they would do in tracking a target. Hinata wasn’t sure exactly how Shino fit into the team, but she knew he was extremely perceptive, more so than she was, even without her clan’s abilities.

Hinata felt like she should have an advantage for this task, with her Byakugan and all, but she still had an immature grasp of the skill. It was taxing to control, and took up a good amount of her strength to maintain; even with all those years of training, she couldn’t understand how to control it efficiently.

And that’s what worries her the most.

She should have an advantage, but this advantage was easily be a disadvantage.

"That's it?" Kiba said, a smirk growing on his face. "That makes this too easy!"

"There’s three extra rules, though,” Kurenai added as she smiled at Kiba's enthusiasm, as she held up the clock. “The first one is the time limit. I’m only giving you exactly five hours from when we start to find me. I’ll leave the timer here.”

“Would that be wise?’ Shino suddenly asked. Hinata looked at him questionably, as did everyone else, and it took him a minute to continue his though. “It’s possible that one of us could change the clock, and give us the advantage of having extra time."

“Good point Shino, but this is mostly for you three,” Kurenai said. “I don’t need a clock to tell time. Besides, if one of you touch this clock, it would self implode. You could try it yourselves if you don’t believe me though.”

Hinata gulped as she stared at the clock in her hand as it sat on the table. No way is she going anywhere near that.

“This leads me to the second rule. If none of you get the headband before the designated five hours, then you all will fail the test and be sent back to the Academy.”

That made sense. This was like a final exam, it made sense for her to be this strict on them.

"The last thing is the most crucial part, so listen carefully," Kurenai continued. "The reason why the Academy decided to put you in a team because each of you possessed the abilities to become impeccable trackers.”

"But after meeting all of you yesterday, I gave it some thought," she said slowly. "I figured that there's no point in having all three of you become Genin when we could use the person with the best tracking skills so far. Therefore, the first person to find me and capture the flag will become a Genin. The other two will return to the Academy."

“Wha-” Hinata muttered in shock, taken aback by her words, her fist clenching tighter on her chest.

"Are you even allowed to do that?" Kiba asked. "There must have been a reason to put us all together like this!"

"Yes, there must have been. But at the end of the day, I'm the one who has to teach and guide you to becoming a remarkable shinobi during your time as a Genin," Kurenai emphasized. "The Academy doesn't have control over who passes here on out- but I do. And I have decided that whoever is the most capable gets to be Genin."

That’s not fair, Hinata wanted to say, but she held her tongue, realizing the stupidity in her thought. The ninja world is never fair to begin with; so why would this testing be?

"Remember you only have 5 hours," Kurenai said as she hit the button on the clock. The clock hand started to tick, and Hinata instinctively took a shuriken from the blue holster around her leg, readying herself. “Do you have any more questions?’

"Do we need to give you time to hide or-" Kiba started, his question tapering off as he took a stance, readying himself for Kurenai to move. Hinata’s eyes never left her sensei, who simply smiled at them.

"There's no need," she said as the wind suddenly picked up pace around her, the grass around her twirling at a rapid pace. "The real me is hiding already. This…"

Hinata’s eyes widened as Kurenai’s legs started to blend into the background, fading away and being replaced by pink petals. Her body morphed against the gradience, rising up to her body as more petals fell, as she watched in amusement with how taken aback they were.

"Was all a genjutsu."

Her face faded as an echo in their minds, and the wind stood still as the last petal from the top of her head fell to the ground on top of the rest. The three of them stood still, none of them knowing what to do for a split second.

Shino was the first to move, taking a step forward towards the stacks of flower petals.

“Hey, wait,” Kiba started as Shino squatted down, holding one of the petals between his thumb and index finger, carefully surveying. “What are you doing?”

“Checking if this is real or not,” Shino said. “It could be useful to track her down.”

“Whoa, don’t hog the whole thing to yourself!” Kiba exclaimed as he ran towards Shino, Akamaru barking as he ran behind Kiba.

Hinata snapped out of her faze and found control over her feet, trailing behind Shino, unsure of what to do.

“You got her scent?” Kiba asked Akamaru, who let out a bark. Hinata could see Kiba’s nose move a bit as he inhaled sharply, moving his head around until he set towards east to where they were standing facing the other side of Konoha. “Alright. We got this. Let’s go Akamaru!”

“Hold on,” Shino said suddenly, making Kiba halt in his spot, and turn around quickly.

“There’s no ‘hold on’,” Kiba said, crossing his arms as he frowned. “This is a test and only one of us can pass.”

“That’s why I said hold on,” Shino continued. “There’s something weird about it.”

“And?” The Inuzuka asked sharply, his patience running thinner by the second. “What about it.”

“Listen,” Shino replied equally as fast. “It’s weird because her reasoning for only passing one of us is incredibly vague. Don’t you find it strange that they would go through the trouble of putting us in specific teams only for one of us to pass?”

Kiba grimaced, staring at Shino for moment, as if conflicted with his words. He then replied, slight hesitancy in his voice,“It...It doesn’t matter who I’m with. Even if I weren’t with you guys, I’m pretty sure the rules would be the same.”

Hinata felt a slight pang in her chest when he said those words, the bitterness seeping through like tea through a filter. She had to grit her teeth to refrain from being too hurt.

“Besides, she said it herself,” he continued as he started to turn his back towards them. “She’s in charge of us. There’s nothing stopping her from booting us back to the Academy. And there’s no way I’m going back there.”

“Kiba,” Hinata tried to start, but she couldn’t finish her sentence. She didn’t know what to say.

An uneasy silence fell over them.

“She’s headed towards Training Ground 1,” Kiba suddenly said in a quiet tone, never turning back to look at them. He tilted his head down, and said “Let’s go, Akamaru.”

With a bark of agreement from the puppy, he sped off at full speed, towards the direction of the training ground he mentioned, the one closest to the Hokage Rock and filled with hills and forest near the wall that encompasses Konoha.

That’s one of the larger ones , Hinata thought, as she stood there, trying to gather her thoughts. She could see from the corner of her eyes Shino looking at her, not saying anything, as if waiting for her to move.

Her gut was telling her the same thing that Shino was doubting; the reason for only one of them felt too vague, as if Kurenai wanted them to break that rule. Sure, they all have skills for tracking, but there’s something more to it than that.

But no, that wouldn’t make sense; she was very clear that she only wanted one. Why would she deceive them into believing a fake rule? Was Hinata thinking too hard into this?

“He’s right,” Hinata said when she made her decision, and she glanced up towards Shino. She looked directly at his glasses, dark enough to cover his eyes under the sun in the atmosphere, and maintained. “Even if we all work together, only one of us can pass.”

“Hinata-” Shino started, but stopped abruptly. He just stared at her in silence for a moment, and Hinata couldn’t tell what he was thinking, or even why she was standing there to begin with.

“I’ll see you there, Shino,” Hinata offered softly, and she started to run off towards the direction, focusing her chakra towards her legs to help them pick up her pace.

I won’t be a burden to myself, Hinata thought, a new sense of determination swelling in her stomach. I can take care of myself.

Can I?

#home is where my team is #naruto #team 8 #hinata #shino #kiba #naruhina #homeiswheremyteamis

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unfurleds · 4 years ago

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[ ALICIA VIKANDER , SHE/HER 」 ➳ banners are raised for MEREDYTH CRANE, LADY OF RED LAKE. they are TWENTY EIGHT years old and can often be described as THE INFORMER. their allegiance lies with HOUSE TARGARYEN, it’s brought them to king’s landing to SUPPORT HOUSE CRANE AND TYRELL. their songs will sing of EASY SMILES AND WATCHFUL EYES, WINGS UNFURLING ON A SPRING’S BREEZE. let’s hope they don’t lose their game of thrones. [ iris, gmt+1, 25 ]

basics

FULL NAME: Meredyth Crane NICKNAME: Merry TITLE: Lady of Red Lake AGE: twenty-eight GENDER / PRONOUNS: cis woman / she/her ORIENTATION: questioning PLACE OF BIRTH: Red Lake, the Reach CURRENT RESIDENCE: Red Keep, King’s Landing, the Crownlands RELIGION: Faith of the Seven

the deets

In terms of childhood, Merry’s your basic high born Reach baby. Good life, daughter of the ruling lord of Red Lake, bunch of siblings, and nothing particularly exceptional (but, you know, still exceptionally lucky considering Westeros). She grew up playing with other Reach high-born nobles and has been a pretty consistent member of Margaery Tyrell’s retinue since her teenage years.

She’s a skinchanger – but keeps it a close-guarded secret from everyone else. She’s dreamt of seeing through animal eyes for as long as she can remember dreaming, but she really started practicing her ability in her teens. She’s trained herself on small creatures, generally ones she has no bond with – and ones that go unnoticed in sprawling castles such as the Red Keep.

She’s used this ability to spy on people, mainly to get good gossip and social information. In Margaery’s retinue, she has a reputation for being always in the know when it comes to betrothals and secret trysts – part of it is because she can be genuinely charming and likeable, but also because she’s got a sixth sense for knowing when people aren’t telling her the whole story and is petty enough to change into the mouse sneaking around your chambers. (also, she used to be not particularly attuned to the political conflicts between the families. Should’ve wisened up earlier!) Her cover for it is headaches. She knows most of the maesters in and around King’s Landing by name because of her “mysterious illness”.

However, these are Troubling Times and she’s getting a little bit less harmless. She lost two siblings in the explosion of the Sept of Baelor and would’ve been in there herself if it hadn’t been for Tommen warning the Tyrells, and another brother fighting the Night King. Her first loyalty is to herself and her loved ones, which includes Margaery and by extension House Tyrell. However, she’s also very grateful to Daenerys and her dragons, because her eldest brother did survive the fight of Winterfell, because of her. She’s starting to realize that if she knew more, if the right people in power knew more, some of this may have been avoided. She aims to do better going forward, but she doesn’t truly know who to trust and who to support and What Is Best, so she’s trying to figure that out. She wants to help but would really rather keep herself safe and her methods secret.

Personality wise, Merry’s nickname is accurate. She’s lively, charming, and has taught herself to be able to keep a conversation going with anyone (at least, if they confirm to the Westerosi Standard of Manners or are grateful smallfolk). She was never particularly concerned with war until it got closer to her, and much more interested hearing the dirt of the court, going out riding or hawking with the rest Margaery’s retinue and talking to interesting notables. Recent events have put a bit of a damper on it though. She’s grieving her lost family members and just. Mad about it. She doesn’t really have a place to put her blame so she’s mostly mad at herself.

She’s pretty adventurous for someone who’s sheltered as fuck and reasonably open-minded, even if she will remember all your bad manners and mistakes, just for future reference. She’s got a certain dauntlessness to her (pretty much the type you only get when you’re popular in high school), and she’s certainly been superficial in the past, not that anything more was expected from her. She’s a good liar, has a streak of manipulativeness and a certain disregard for others, but she’s generally well-meaning, not just to the people she is/ought to be loyal to, but for people in general. She’s charitable to the smallfolk and does subscribe to the idea of noblesse oblige. She’s trying to figure out what exactly her obligations are, to whom they are, and of course, who ought to sit on the Iron Throne, for the Good of the People.

wanted connections/plots

A Leader Worth Fighting For [open to characters in power/with ambitions for power]: Merry’s currently thinking that she has a Gift which she probably ought to use for Good (subjective notion of what good is). Being a child of Westeros, this means serving a King or Queen -- but WHOMST. I’m open to preplotted history for personal loyalty or developing it in writing in the present time.

Old broken betrothal (/house member of the intended fiancé) [open to all highborns]: betrothal broken for whatever reason. Could be good terms, could be bad terms, all up to plot!

New potential betrothal [open to anyone but presumably highborn]: House Crane has gone through some Bad Times in terms of succession planning, because, you know, people died. Merry’s on the old side now to be unmarried and while previously she was a little too flighty to really prioritize it (nor important enough in the Game of Thrones), she’s the second eldest in the family (older brother still) and it is High Time she’s married. Of course, this is exactly the moment when she doesn’t particularly care for it, because she’s getting the conviction that she has Work To Do, and someone else expecting her to run a household doesn’t just cut it.

Courtly friends, enemies, frenemies [suggested for characters with a history in King’s Landing]: Merry’s been in King’s Landing with the Tyrells for quite some time and may have visited the court when she was younger as well. Ample time to make friends and enemies of similar stature.

#adreamofspring:intro

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snowbellewells · 4 years ago

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“A Cottage by the Sea”

And now, here’s the first real non-Prologue part of “A Cottage by the Sea”, my @cssns20 Enchanted Forest AU! Thank you SO much to those who have sent comments and offered enthusiasm for the Prologue of this one; I hope you’ll enjoy this continuation and keep going on the journey with me. There’s absolutely more Lieutenant Duckling development here, but I’ll have to beg your patience as the supernatural elements of this don’t really begin to show up until the end of this section and aren’t explained until Part Two.

**Thanks once again to @searchingwardrobes for this amazingly lovely cover art that I still can’t stop staring at! And to @tornadoamy for being my beta reader.

Summary: Princess Emma has always been drawn to the shores of Misthaven, where the sea meets the shore near her parents’ castle. When an unknown boy washes up on the sand, with eyes as fathomless and blue as the waters that brought him to her, he soon becomes Emma’s best friend, her partner in crime, and her other half. But the tides give and the tides take away, and as her blue-eyed boy sails in her father’s navy and risks all in defense of those who made him family, unexpected danger and challenge will try to tear them apart, and might well show him just where he came from that day he first appeared to her from the sea…”

Prologue

Part One

Three years later...

Morning dawned on the day Killian Jones was to set sail once more - for his first long distance voyage as lieutenant - much as it had done every other morn of his young life so far. Granted, that included many of those years he could not fully recall, but the sky streaked in radiant hues of pink and orange drove troubled thoughts from mind in his excitement to set out on his chosen course. At last he would be moving toward his goal: a ship of his own, a captaincy in King David and Queen Snow’s Navy, and a position that gave him the right to court the woman he loved - in truth, his soulmate - and seek her hand in marriage.

It was true he had not yet spoken those words aloud to anyone. Princess Emma, who had found him alone and washed up on the beach like forgotten detritus so long ago now, but had never treated him as such, had never treated him as anything less than family and a cherished companion, had no idea how his regard had changed. He could not yet bring himself to speak the desires of his heart to her - not when he was an orphan without name, station, or profession. She was the Crown Princess and sole heir to the monarchy of Misthaven. He must first have something to offer her, make something of himself, even if he knew she would argue with such a line of thinking. His will was no less resolved.

Granted, this would not be the first time he had shipped off on a naval excursion. Since the day he had turned fifteen, old enough to attend the naval academy along with his studies at Emma’s side, he had taken every opportunity to embark on short voyages with openings - first as a cabin boy learning the basics, and then as a quickly promoted ensign, which he had just a week prior followed with the award of a lieutenant ranking. Even if only to appease his own sense of duty and honor, he wished to serve the royal family who had given him a home and place to belong, and to feel himself worthy if he could ever bring himself to share his true heart’s desire with his love.

He was standing at his bureau, struggling to flatten the stubborn cowlicks always determined to stand up from the back of his head, when there was a short impatient knock, Emma’s voice calling out, “I hope you’re decent! It’s me!” and then his door burst open to reveal the lovely focus of his thoughts.

Emma’s blonde hair was a soft, wild cloud of gold about her head, mussed and unbound as if she had been running completely wild all morning, and if Killian had not been so utterly startled and flummoxed by her sudden appearance in his charmber, he might have laughed at the way he could just imagine his foster mother of sorts, the Queen, shaking her head in affectionate exasperation at her daughter’s less than polished care for her appearance. As it was, he gaped wide-eyed, in a sort of frozen trance as she stumbled to a halt just over the threshold, her cheeks, which had shown just a slight flush of exertion, going bright red and spreading over her neck and collarbones appealingly, making Killian’s unbidden mind wonder uninvited if every inch of her skin turned red when she was embarrassed and just how fetching that look might be. Squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head futilely in an attempt to clear such an improper vision from his inner eye, he had to gulp down several breaths before managing to croak out, “Emma, you’re here! I thought we were meeting in the main hall?”

She blinked back at him wordlessly, seeming to have a bit of trouble in finding words herself. Her liquid green eyes, so pure and bright Killian had often thought they looked like two jewels plucked from the richest treasure trove and set with the exquisite frame of her perfect face, seemed to sparkle and glow even more than usual, if a bit dazed by the sight before her. “Oh...I… uh… that is…” she stumbled gracelessly, bringing a bit of teasing humor back into Killian’s bearing where he had been fighting his own nervous embarrassment at being caught half-dressed and unprepared for her arrival. “I mean,” she finally managed to steady her voice a bit and carry on more clearly, “you are probably right. I just couldn’t wait any longer. I truly believe you might sometimes take longer to present yourself and get ready than I do. And besides…” she paused again, looking down at fidgeting hands and catching her lower lip between her teeth as she hesitated. “I wanted a moment with you all to myself - without everyone else hovering - before you left.”

Killian didn’t quite know how to respond to his princess’ admission - not that he ever minded being near Emma, however it came to be. Yet, it did not seem right to remind her that he was at her beck and call whenever she might wish. She was the one whose days were so often consumed of late; from breakfast until long past sundown at times, helping her parents more and more with royal duties as they strove to prepare her to someday take the throne herself, and also to introduce her to all the young princes and nobles of their acquaintance - not wanting to see her take up such a heavy mantle alone. He often tried not to think of those parts of her parents’ efforts for their daughter’s future. Neither of her loving parents would force her to marry where she harbored no feeling; they cherished True Love too much ever to keep their only child from finding the same. And yet, Killian couldn’t help but be glad when he found himself out at sea at the time royal balls and state dinners were held back in his adopted homeland. Seeing young Viscount Booth attempt to charm Emma with sweet, flirtatious talk at the banquet table and luring her in with whispered jokes and party tricks stole his appetite every time. And watching while Prince Baelfire of the Golden Coast placed his hands a bit too low on his princess’ waist as he swept her into reels and waltzes - more dances together at once than were considered acceptable - it was all he could do not to storm over and cut in before things could escalate, or the blush on Emma’s cheeks was determined to be of certain pleasure rather than mere flattery or humored politeness.

Something told him that none of this was at all what Emma wished to discuss. Could it be possible that she had some unspoken feeling for him she wished to express as well? Had he not been alone in his attention as he watched from the sidelines, sure she was meeting a better match than he each time? Had she instead been watching him as well?

It seemed nearly impossible to consider, and yet he held his breath, not wanting to do anything which might shatter the moment as Emma began to cross the room toward him on silent feet, her eyes never leaving his.

When she at last came within arm’s reach, she gently reached out her hand, fingers lightly brushing over his shoulderblade. The barest contact caused a frisson of electricity to shiver along his skin, awareness that it was Emma touching him with such delicacy affecting him beyond his power to control. At least until a sobering thought crept beneath the sensation.

At the moment she had entered his room, he had stood with his back to the door, and while he had twisted partially round to see who had burst in, he realized in clarity that froze him in an entirely different way that Emma was getting her first unobscured view of the scarred expanse of his shoulders and back she’d had since they were children, before she would have known what the marks left behind meant. He himself barely remembered the details of how they had been administered, but he knew they were unsightly - troubling, at best - the jagged criss cross of lines, some faded almost white and others still an angry red despite having been long healed. He knew before she spoke that her touch, which a moment ago had felt like Heaven, was prelude to questions he could not fully answer nor wish to discuss.

“K- Killian?” Emma whispered, her featherlight touch so gentle he wanted to shudder at the feel of it. She was tracing the darkest welt of the long ago lash that seemed to curl around his left shoulderblade down to his ribs. “What is this? Were you…” she swallowed as if forcing herself to say it. “Were you whipped?”

“Aye,” he grit out, anxious to pull away, don his shirt - though much too late to do any good - and hide it away once more. “It would seem so, though the memory of it is no more really than fragments and flashes. Not much else would leave behind that sort of damage.”

She shook her head, as if refusing to conceive what the evidence meant. “But you were so young when you washed ashore. No one here in Misthaven would dare.” She fumbled through her dawning comprehension, chin trembling, and bright eyes filling with tears that began to spill over silently. “That someone would lash a boy so young, mistreat him so horribly. It’s despicable. Oh, Killian…”

Her fingers shook as she made to smooth them along his skin once more. But in his shame and agitation, a flare of defensive anger went through him and he jerked away from her touch. Her words and tone felt all too much like pity, reminding him of the fear and doubt that occasionally - in his weakest moments - whispered to him that he had always been some foundling the Princess pitied, a charity case she had taken on as her own. He knew better; Emma had been his dearest friend, closer even than a sister, since the day they met. But the flood of conflict within was too much in that moment. Chest heaving, eyes stormy, he put several steps between them and shrugged his shirt on fully before facing her again.

“I don’t need your sympathy!” he hissed, not sure what had suddenly made him so angry, only that he was. The last thing he wanted to seem was needy and pathetic in her eyes, not when he was so desperate to prove himself strong, capable and worthy.

Emma’s glittering eyes went from teary to flashing with spite of their own in seconds, flinching back as if his words could physically strike her. “You ungrateful arse!” she seethed, looking for all the world as if it were the worst curse she could think of to fling back at him. The tenderness that had so affected him moments ago was gone, but all he could focus on was that the pitying look had fled as well. “Forgive me for caring!”

“Oh aye, you care alright,” he continued, not sure what was making such vitriol spew forth from his lips - and at Emma, of all people - but he couldn’t seem to stop it. It was as though all his worst fears about why she had stayed by him all these years, and why her family had ever taken him in to begin with, were finally spilling out into the open and demanding answers. “Your little project is hurt, and so you swoop in to the rescue.”

His fiery princess was shaking her head now, almost in denial; her hands fisted at her side, trembling in fury, even as those tears that had gathered in concern now poured down her cheeks in frustrated anger. “How dare you?” she spat, stepping up to be toe-to-toe with him once more. “You know it isn’t like that...don’t you?”

And just like that all the fire and fight drained from him at the lost quality of her question, the pained uncertainty in her voice as she searched his face for the truth. Once again, that soft, open, lovely face that he knew as well as his own - better, even - was his undoing. He couldn’t bear the hurt in her expression, the worried furrow in her brow, the pinched little bow her rosebud lips had become, knowing that he had been the cause. A bone-deep sigh rattled up from his chest, his raised shoulders falling. Dipping his head to catch her crestfallen gaze, Killian placed a gentle finger beneath her lowered chin, tilting her face up once more as he wet his lips and struggled for an apology that would suffice. He didn’t miss the way her eyes followed the path of his tongue across his lower lip or the increased flutter of her pulse, but - though it gave him hope - it was not the time to catalogue such responses.

“Emma, I’m sorry,” he finally offered simply. “Of course I know your care is genuine. You have been my best friend all these years - ever since you found me - and have given me no reason to doubt you. My own doubt and insecurity got the best of me. I did not wish for you to see what was done long ago and feel sorry for me. Not when I’m trying…” he swallowed hard, realizing he had reached the point of baring his soul, and knowing he needed to do so - both to help her understand his overreaction just then, and to leave with his heart at peace when he set sail that evening. “Not when,” he continued as steadily as he could manage, “I hope to prove my mettle, my strength and courage to the kingdom and to myself. I hope to return a decorated lieutenant, worthy - if you’ll have me - to seek your hand and court you properly.”

His princess’ eyes widened at his words, her mouth opening on a sharp, indrawn breath. She did not look shocked - perhaps she had guessed at his feelings already? - but the hope lit up across her face was magnificent to behold. “Truly, Killian?” she whispered, her voice soft and gentle as if she couldn’t bear to alter the air around them after such a declaration. She nodded rapidly, biting her lip against a few more renegade tears, though these were welcome emblems of joy. “Of course I would have you as a suitor. I have wished for it and hoped you might feel the same. I… I barged in here this morning hoping to confess just that to you before you left.”

Once more, she touched him tentatively, one trembling hand resting lightly on his shoulder as the other came up to cup his cheek. “You are already more than worthy. I have met no one as suited to me as you - nor will I ever. You have nothing to prove, Killian. Not to me, or my parents, or even this kingdom…”she paused, drawing a fortifying breath before capturing his gaze once more. “Yet I know you well enough to understand there is something yet your soul must seek, some answer you wish to find. Just know that I will be waiting here when you return, ready to accept your courtship with open arms.”

Killian’s eyes fell closed for a moment, his forehead coming to rest with hers as he tried to absorb the swirl of emotions welling between them. After all his yearning to set out, his preparation and his wondering, he wanted nothing more than to stay there with Emma. She tilted her face up to meet his as he lowered his mouth to hers, seeking just one first kiss to carry with him. As their lips met, a warmth suffused him, at once everything and more than he had dreamed, and like nothing he could have expected. Emma was all sweetness and light as she hummed lowly in the back of her throat, opening to him as the hand at his cheek trailed back to toy deliciously in the hair at the nape of his neck. Everything else faded away for a few precious, blissful moments, before he forced himself to pull away, breathless.

Emma stumbled forward, lips still seeking his own, dazed and pliant and blinking up at him curiously.

With agonizing effort, Killian shook his head, against the desire to surge forward, capture her mouth again, press her up against the nearest flat surface, and let their explorations run free. He was meant to be proving his honor, not losing it. Chest heaving, he brushed his thumb along those tantalizing lips, but then pressed a kiss to her forehead rather than diving back into temptation. He meant instead to seal a promise. “Emma, my heart, I love you. Perhaps I always have, before I even knew what those words meant. To know we understand each other is a blessing I had barely hoped for.”

Here he pulled her into his embrace, her arms immediately wrapping around him as well and her golden head nestling against his chest. Remaining like that for several quiet minutes, he could only hope and pray that the bond they had forged, the shared feelings would see them through this temporary parting. If she loved him too, then it was easy to have faith. “Not a day will go by that I won’t think of you,” he murmured softly in her ear, a secret promise for her alone to keep.

Smiling up at him, a pleased, teasing quirk to one side of her grin, his princess replied. “Seeing as I feel the same for you, that is very good indeed.”

~~***~~

Several weeks later, the voyage underway and well out at sea, Killian Jones still carried that moment with him, never far from the forefront of his mind. They were days yet from Agrabah, but making good time and so far had experienced smooth sailing. Their neighbor to the South had long been an ally, despite the distance between their two countries, and Killian relished seeing once more the arid land with air full of desert heat and exotic spices. He had just begun as a cabin boy the last time he had visited - and all of the sights there had seemed unimaginable wonders. Though none had meant any true harm, the older sailors had certainly been entertained by his wide-eyed gaping at the open air markets, the monkeys and brightly colored parrots, the endless expanse of sand, and the Sultan’s palace rising up from it with its stunning domed top that seemed made of pure gold. He’d been barely sixteen, and blushed furiously at the different manner of dress - the first harem girl that had brushed by him in the market, dark-lashed eyes blinking up at him and gauzy fabric of her attire more than a bit transparent despite the draped layers, had nearly made him swallow his tongue, blushing to the very tips of his ears as his crewmates hooted with raucous laughter and slapped him on the back hard enough to knock him over.

Still, despite those rather awkward moments he had enjoyed seeing a place so different from Misthaven’s forests and hills and rocky beaches. He tried to store up every detail to describe for Emma upon his return. She very much wished to see the kingdom for herself, but due to the distance and time involved in making the journey, it was not as yet a trip she had been allowed to embark upon. It seemed that several years ago at some diplomatic summit or gathering of numerous royals she had met and bonded with the Agrabahn princess - Jasmine. The two had exchanged correspondence ever since, courtesy of the Queen’s message birds, and they had much in common. Though Killian had only seen this Jasmine from a distance, Emma swore that she was a funny and bright soul who longed for adventure and excitement, and to make her own way in her world, not merely to be a demure ornament on a throne; indeed, much as his own beloved princess desired. Even now, Killian bore a message from Emma to the future Sultana with him, as they would be visiting and bringing gifts to the royal family upon their arrival.

He was looking out over the horizon as it darkened toward evening, mulling over the fact that Emma need not worry about being a mere figurehead or failing to make an impact in her future rule. Already she touched any life she came in contact with; her warmth and the goodness of her heart were unmistakable, her beauty was praised the kingdom over, and all who encountered her spoke of how like her mother and father she was - without airs, hard-working, dedicated in her caring compassion. She had long since marked his life for the better irrevocably with her kindness.

Killian’s musings were abruptly stopped however, as he registered just how rapidly the darkness before him was falling over the waves. Where the sea had been calm, the wind was now whipping up, the swells choppy, and the boat beginning to rock wildly up and down so much so that Killian had to clutch the railing for dear life to keep his feet. Most of the crew had gone below for the evening meal, but he could already hear alarmed yelling and feet pounding back up on deck as all ran to reclaim their stations against the coming storm.

Even as he took up the line to help maintain their course, a cold slide of disconcerted fear ran through Killian’s gut. The sudden shift wasn’t natural; the entire maelstrom blindsiding them when moments ago it had been sunshine and calm as far as the eye could see. It didn’t alter his fight to do his part and keep them afloat, but his heart dropped with the belief that this squall seemed almost alive, intent on dragging them to the depths.

A wall of water rose on their left just as the ship’s bow dipped on the rocking sea beneath them. It hit the vessel broadside, dousing them all and sending many skidding over the slick wooden planks. A sickening groan could be heard even over the wailing of the gale all around and the slap of the water on all sides. Horror filled the hearts of those on board who could now see that the monstrous wave’s impact had snapped the main mast. With cries of warning and alarm, men leapt out of the way of the heavy falling beam, all but that immediate threat momentarily forgotten.

Killian himself missed being flattened, but another sailor fell in his way as he dove to the side. Stumbling toward the siderail, he caught himself just in time, only to have the ship rock and shudder once again, rising only to have a bolt of jagged lightning flash across the blackened sky, seeming just above them.

Somehow a spark caught the whipping sails still aloft, and they were soon aflame, despite the rain and waves. They were going down, the possessed tempest beyond their ability to fight in a matter of minutes. Killian heard the Captain calling for the lifeboats, and he ran to help free the dinghies while there was still a chance to board and lower them. With every passing second, more water was rising on the deck and surely weighing them down, sinking to rise less with each rolling wave.

Unfortunately, as he focused on the wench to free the lifeboat, a flaming piece of the rigging overhead snapped and swung down from the sails, the fire and heavy weight attached catching Killian in the shoulder where he was already at the edge and sending him overboard. He hit the water hard, the cold shocking and the strength of the waves pulling him under. Fighting his way back to the surface, he was slammed against the side of the ship, the back of his head knocked hard enough to make his vision waver sickly. The others above might get the lifeboats free, but they would never survive these waves anymore than their mothership. Killian fought to stay afloat, managing to grasp a scrap of the downed mast as it swirled by.

He was being pulled further away from his ship, and it was all he could do to keep his head above water. There was no way to fight the currents back to her. Moments later though, that proved to him a blessing in disguise. Horror overcame him as suddenly, the raging waters seemed to open into a cavernous whirlpool, otherworldly and dark. His ship and all his comrades were pulled into its maw like a tiny toy boat circling a tub drain. There was no escape, and he could only watch as the whole was sucked down out of sight, the hugest wave yet crashed down after, and sailors, ship, and whirlpool were all gone with a loud, sucking finality he could hardly believe.

There was nothing left but the wind, the waves, and Killian clinging to the one shattered piece of wood beneath him, struggling to stay afloat. He had never seen or heard of a storm with such sudden and decided malevolence, as if it had blown up expressly to swallow their ship.

Unfortunately, there was little he could do about it, and the blow to the head he had taken against the ship’s hull was affecting his perception, making his movements sluggish. Fighting to cling to his makeshift raft and continue to hold his head aboe the waves grew harder and harder as shock and the cold set in. He didn’t consciously give up, but his grip loosened on the wooden board, his paddling grew lethargic, as his eyes closed and he slid beneath the water.

~~***~~

Even as he began to sink beneath the waves, Killian heard a strange sort of singing echoing through the water. No longer was the wind howling and the water slapping against his skin; instead he felt suspended and weightless, floating lower, but no longer fighting. At peace. For whatever reason, he wasn’t struggling to breathe, feeling his lungs fill and burn for air. No panic set in as he had always imagined it might if his ship were to wreck and he drowned.

A lovely song, a voice with notes that echoed beautifully in the water grew in volume and seemed to surround him with a suffused sort of light. The hazy brightness and the gentle voice encircled him, though it made no sense, and the light and comfort of it made him think of Emma. At that, he did attempt to kick back up toward the surface, hating the thought of causing her pain when he did not return to her. Yet those dulcet tones soothed him once more, and he ceased his short-lived struggle. What seemed a gentle hand, though he couldn’t see clearly or understand how it was possible smoothed across his brow.

The singing around him surged and swelled, and then he felt the grip of hands beneath his arms as he was hauled upward to the surface, at a speed he couldn’t fathom. His awareness seemed to lag, failing him again for a stretch, and then he felt the pull against him letting go and sand and pebbles beneath him. He’d reached shore. Staggering and half-crawling, he lumbered forward dazedly, enough to feel he would not be pulled back out or drowned by the tide. He fell bonelessly to the sand beneath him, his energy sapped and his consciousness wavering. Once more he was shipwrecked - a lone survivor for some reason that was beyond him.

Blindly, Killian felt someone roll him carefully onto his back, and a rich, melodious voice - the voice he had heard singing underwater - spoke sweetly at his ear. It was soothing and almost familiar as it eased him to rest. “You will be alright now, Killian. Trust me,” the voice assured him. “This will all make sense when you wake. You’re safe here.” And with that, he once more succumbed to the haze that swallowed him.

Tagging some shipmates who might enjoy: @cssns @searchingwardrobes @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi @stahlop @ineffablecolors @let-it-raines @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @shireness-says @snidgetsafan @mayquita @thislassishooked @drowned-dreamer @carpedzem @kday426 @lfh1226-linda @winterbaby89 @darkcolinodonorgasm @hollyethecurious @resident-of-storybrooke @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @thisonesatellite

#cssns20 #cs ff #lieutenant duckling au #a cottage by the sea #part one #Enchanted Forest au

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dinosaurtsukki · 4 years ago

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across the sea | a bokuaka fanfic (act. III)

inspired by the movie ‘portrait of a lady on fire’ by celine sciamma which is sad and lesbian

pairing: bokuto koutarou x akaashi keiji

word count: 21.8k words

contains: historical setting (actually the setting is vague bec if i tried to describe it more it would take 5 extra pages), heavy angst, slight fluff, greek mythology references, implied smut

summary: when Bokuto accepted a portrait commission for the young, engaged Akaashi Keiji, he never expected him to be so beautiful. he knows it's a mistake to be attached, a mistake for them to fall in love in a time when they know it's impossible for them to be together.

a/n: i’m a sad gay who loves sad lesbian movies and portait of a lady on fire is peak film. a lot of the things here are based on the film so i suggest you check out this beautiful movie, but i added a few tweaks here and there to make it my own.

chapters: act. I, act. II., act. III

Bokuto only saw Akaashi two more times since he last left the Elysium Manor. The first time was three years after that unforgettable summer in a secluded house. Thanks to finishing the portrait commission that pleased Mikoto, a woman of relatively high social standing, Bokuto gained a bit more status within the artist circles. Rich nobles commissioned him for portraits, scholars and other writers and artists commissioned him to create paintings of fantastical scenes, and almost any painting that he made was guaranteed a spot in a museum. Bokuto was invited to join the upper social circles at their dinners and luncheons or visits to the opera, but he would politely decline. He couldn’t imagine himself being a part of that social circle and let them paint a picture of mystery around him.

Instead, he decided to teach. He used his money to open a studio for young artists and taught them the basics of sketching and painting with different mediums, instructing them the way his master did. Bokuto had his own studio situated on the floor above where he would teach that came with a bedroom. At night, he’d open the windows for the smell of turpentine and oil to air out, but he’d keep the windows closed, the lights off, and the backdoor open for Kuroo to come in.

He was a male model, one quite famous with fellow artists for being a good one. There were probably a number of sculptures in the nearby museum, Asphodel, based on his physique. He didn’t discriminate when it came to preferring the company of men and women and hit his preferences just as well as Bokuto did. Kuroo was a nice man, a kind one, and Bokuto knew that maybe the dark-haired model had feelings for him. And yet, he never crossed that line. Most likely, Kuroo could see that faraway look in Bokuto’s eyes when he woke up in the morning, his eyes searching for the sea and whatever was across it.

The first time he saw Akaashi was in Asphodel. Bokuto had recently finished a painting that was going to be a centerpiece in their main gallery. On that day, he wore his best shirt and tried to wet his hair and comb it down but to no avail. ‘It’s alright. You’re known for your skills. Not your looks,’ he told himself before putting on a coat and heading out to leave.

The museum was already packed when he arrived with a good number of people circled around his painting. Bokuto pushed his way through the crowd, muttering ‘Excuse me’ along the way, until he was standing near it with his back to the wall. He was aware that he was drawing attention to himself looking like a sentinel instead of the painter but he couldn’t help but wonder about the things people would say. One of the viewers, a young couple, were in conversation as they scanned the painting.

“It’s that Greek legend, isn’t it? The one with Orpheus.”

“Yes. And his wife Eurydice. He traveled to the Underworld after she died with the hope of being able to bring her to life again.”

“I remember! But then there was a condition, right? He couldn’t turn around.”

“That’s right. Although… most painters and writers depict Eurydice already just as Orpheus turned around. In this one, it’s as if he turned around just in time to see her fall.”

“Kind of like he expected it?”

“Maybe. It’s quite an interesting take, if you ask me.”

“Indeed, it is.”

Bokuto smiled to himself, satisfied at the exchange generated by his painting. It was all about the exchanges, the different conversations that his art generated. He stayed by his painting for a few more minutes, listening to conversations, before deciding to stroll through the museum and peruse the other collections. His best sources of inspiration were other artists, but during this visit, it wasn’t just inspiration he found.

It was another portrait of Akaashi Keiji.

It hung in one of the museum wings that they dedicated to portraits. Bokuto rarely needed inspiration for those but something about that day pulled him into the wing to view the collections until he caught a familiar painted face. ‘Is it really him?’ he wondered, eyes flying to the placard to the right that confirmed his suspicions: Portrait of Akaashi Keiji, oil on canvas. It was him. In the portrait, Akaashi was sitting on a chair, elbows on a desk, hands holding up a book. His posture was impeccable as always but his face was completely absorbed in what he was reading. But it was him: same high cheekbones, same curly brown hair, same delicate fingers, same emerald eyes.

Bokuto didn’t know how long he stood there just drinking in the portrait and attempted to memorize every detail when he came to the book in Akaashi’s hands. The worn spine, the burgundy leather jacket, even the size of it: it was his book on Greek Mythology. The book was angled just so, enough for the viewer to see the top corner of the righthand page. “Page 57,” Bokuto whispered, overcome with sheer sadness and joy at the encounter, “You remember.”

The second and last time Bokuto saw Akaashi happened two years later at the Museum Greek History, this time in a different city. Bokuto was there working on a commission for a noblewoman who wanted portraits of each of her children. It was a lot of work, but the money was good and he got to see much of the city. Bokuto decided to explore the museum during a day off. His favorite part was the collection of ancient texts and scrolls that were each displayed in a glass case. He couldn’t read anything that was written, but he liked knowing that they had such a collection. ‘Maybe this time they won’t keep the homosexual subtext out of translation,’ he thought with a smile. He still held out hope that maybe someday, people would accept that Achilles and Patroclus were lovers.

With that thought in mind, Bokuto decided he was done looking around for the day and get ready for the amount of work he would have to do on the way back home. He was walking down the flights of stairs, deep in thought, when a voice shook him out of his thoughts.

“Bokuto-san.”

He had to hold onto the railing to keep himself from falling. It was just like that time he saw Akaashi’s portrait two years ago. Nobody else said his name like that: all crisp syllables and with more than a little warmth in the tone. Bokuto remembered the last time he actually saw Akaashi back at Elysium Manor, and turned around.

There he was, standing at the top of the staircase. He looked as if five years had barely laid a finger on him and looked just as surprised as Bokuto did. Akaashi took a hesitant step forward and walked down two steps. Bokuto felt as if he was back in Elysium Manor as their surroundings fell away.

“It’s you.”

“It’s me.”

“H-how… how have you been?” Bokuto stammered. So many questions overwhelmed his mind and yet he could only pick out that one. An inkling of a smile appeared on Akaashi’s face as he nodded his head in understanding. ‘Even now, we still have this connection,’ Bokuto thought.

“I’m alright. Married. We live in a nice house. My wife is kind, beautiful, friendly. Sometimes we play card games at night,” he enumerated, tapping absentmindedly at the railing of the stairway. “A good life actually.” He looked back at Bokuto. ‘But you’re not in it,’ he seemed to say. “How about you?”

“I could say the same,” Bokuto managed a smile. “My paintings have been pretty famous. I get commissioned often. I teach young artists. I make enough to keep my studio and do some traveling here and there.”

“Sounds like a good life.”

“It does.” But it was just that: good. Bokuto opened his mouth to say something when a child came running down the staircase from above.

“Father!” he exclaimed, barreling into Akaashi’s side. ‘Father,’ Bokuto echoed in his mind. The little boy looked to be about five or four years old. He mostly took after his mother as he had fair hair and fair skins, but when Bokuto looked at closer, he could tell that the boy had his father’s eyes.

“Hiro. Please don’t run down the stairs, you could slip,” Akaashi gently scolded him, leaning down a bit to fix his tie. It was such a small gesture but it made Bokuto’s heart ache just to watch.

“I saw this really cool looking spear in the Weapons Wing. It looked just like the one in the book you read to me!” the young boy exclaimed excitedly.

“Is that so? I hope you remember it well then,” Akaashi fondly patted his son’s head before turning to Bokuto. “Hiro, this is one of my… good friends, Bokuto. Bokuto, this is Hiro. My son.”

“Nice to meet you,” Bokuto smiled down at him. Hiro cocked his head and waved shyly, making Bokuto chuckle. “He has your eyes, Akaashi.” During the past five years, Bokuto had held out hope that maybe he and Akaashi would cross paths again, that maybe they could run away like what Akaashi dreamed of. But now, he knew that he was too late. Ever since he left Elysium Manor, it was all too late for that.

“It was great seeing you again, Akaashi,” Bokuto cleared his throat and feigned a smile. “I… I have to take my leave now.” He didn’t want to leave. With every fiber of his being, he didn’t want to leave. He would hold this encounter in his heart for the rest of his life but nothing good would come out of him speaking his mind.

“Alright, say goodbye, Hiro,” Akaashi said, tight-lipped. ‘You know it too,’ Bokuto thought.

“Bye,” Hiro waved shyly. Just as Bokuto was about to turn and leave, Akaashi quickly ran down the rest of the steps and wrapped both of his arms around him before he could say anything. Bokuto held his arms awkwardly at his sides before wrapping them around Akaashi’s waist. He wondered how much Akaashi had tried to hold himself back from doing this.

“Koutarou,” he whispered. “Until now, do you…?”

“I do. I think of you every single day,” Bokuto whispered back. “I still love you, Keiji.”

“I’m glad,” Akaashi swallowed and pulled back, leaving the feeling of that loss of warmth that Bokuto would carry with him for the rest of his life. And with that, he nodded once, and left.

Five more years passed. Bokuto had begun to grow tired of the fame and attention and decided to move to a provincial town along the coast. He left his studio to one of his young apprentices, packed up his materials, and bought a small house with a garden that sat near a cliff, overlooking the sea. He still painted, it was something he never grew tired of, but he chose to paint nature or the people at the countryside instead of the portraits of noblemen and fantastical scenes. He liked getting to know his neighbors, going to the festivals held at the town square, and looking out of his window to see the birds that chirped on the trees or dove into the sea for food. He was sitting on his chair outside, trying to sketch the charming woodpecker he saw that morning from memory, when Kageyama came.

“If it isn’t Elysium Manor’s most loyal butler,” Bokuto grinned at him as he saw the familiar head of black hair approach his porch. He looked different from the last time Bokuto saw him. His arms were thicker and his complexion was slightly tanned. But it was still him.

“It took a while for me to find you, Bokuto,” he returned the smile.

“Find me?” Bokuto said, puzzled. “Did you suddenly become a fan of my paintings?”

“No, it’s…” Kageyama paused and exhaled, the look on his face somber. “Can we talk inside?” Bokuto felt his stomach drop. He knew he wasn’t going to like whatever it is Kageyama was going to say.

“Sure. I’ll make tea.”

Once they were sitting at the table with two mugs of tea between them, Kageyama broke the news.

“Akaashi-san passed away last winter.”

The news hit Bokuto like cold water to the face. Akaashi Keiji. The man that Bokuto had loved ten summers ago. The man he just saw five years ago. The one that haunted him at midnight, tossing and turning and longing for that touch and wondering about all the what-could-have-been’s. His Akaashi Keiji. His Akaashi Keiji whose sketch Bokuto still kept in a small pocketbook close to his heart. Who grew up a lonely, sickly boy in a house full of books. His Akaashi Keiji, who would mumble ‘Koutarou’ every time they woke up together during those numbered mornings. His Akaashi Keiji.

“I’m sorry, Bokuto. I truly am,” Kageyama sighed, reaching out to touch his fingertips.

“How—how did you know?” he stammered.

“I received a letter,” he said. “It said that he contracted tuberculosis from a trip abroad and, well you know how sickly he is. He wasn’t able to survive it.”

“God…” Bokuto rubbed a hand over his eyes. “I… I didn’t think… of all things…”

“I know,” Kageyama nodded. “The letter said that I was mentioned in Akaashi-san’s will. He entrusted two items to me to deliver to you.” With that, he pulled a package wrapped in brown paper and tied with twin from his satchel and placed it on the table. Bokuto made no move to accept it. All he wanted was Akaashi back. He didn’t care if had to take ten, twenty more years for them to meet again. He just wanted to know he was alive somewhere and still thinking of him.

“I…I think I know why he had these sent to me instead of having them delivered directly to you,” Kageyama cleared his throat. “Akaashi-san cared about you, and yes, I know he cared about you in that way. I could see it in the way he looked at you. I was skeptical at first of your relationship but ten years after, the moments I witnessed of the two you stand out starkly.”

At this, Bokuto could feel himself collapse with his head on the table, the dam of tears finally breaking as he sobbed into his arms. “It’s true. We did love each other.”

“I know he thought of you in those last moments,” Kageyama consoled him. “You were too important for him to think of breaking the news to you through just a letter.”

Bokuto didn’t know how long he had cried there on the table for. He could hear Kageyama busying himself in the kitchen and the smell of dinner being cooked, as if they were both back at Elysium Manor. Finally, when his tears had all run out, he sat up to open the package that Akaashi had entrusted to Kageyama. Inside, there were two books: the Greek Mythology book that Akaashi loved so much, much worn down than the last time Bokuto had used it to sketch a portrait of himself, and a soft, leather-bound notebook.

It was late so Kageyama stayed the night and slept on a roll-out cot beside Bokuto’s bed before he left the next morning. “It’s a nice place,” he told him, as they stood at the cliffside overlooking the sea. “I could see why you chose to be here.”

The next few months after that was the longest that Bokuto spent without painting. Every time he tried to pick up a brush or a piece of drawing charcoal, his hands shook and all he could see in front of him was the half-finished portrait of Akaashi, and Akaashi himself posing in the distance. And at night, he’d find himself looking over his shoulder more than once to see that vision of his beloved, pale as a ghost.

Finally, he picked up the leather notebook that Akaashi left for him. He had expected it to be a diary but it ended up being slightly more than that. It was a story: about a lonely boy who spent his days reading books in an empty house and the beautiful painter who entered his life and made it worth living. ‘He came on a little lifeboat from across the sea,’ it began. Bokuto found himself tearing up again at the sight of Akaashi’s handwriting.

Every day, little by little, he read a bit more of the story, mostly while he was sitting on a chair near the cliffside. He relived everything: the time Akaashi drank the sea from his cupped hands, the look on his face when he saw the ruined portrait, Akaashi dancing around the maypole with his crown of chrysanthemums, the summer night kiss, the feeling of their bodies pressed together, the sound of his voice when he read out loud, Akaashi’s emerald green suit in the portrait, their last night together, the morning after and the sketches to remember each other by, Akaashi illuminated by a single shaft of light in the middle of the floor, the portrait of him hanging in the museum with the pages of his book turned to the 57th page, the last time Bokuto heard Akaashi say his name.

At the very last page of the notebook was a note, directly addressed to him: I know for a fact that there are others like us, Koutarou. Afraid of the punishment, afraid of the scorn. I don’t think I’ve ever cared about what people would think of me once I died, but if there is one thing I want people to remember about me, its that I was yours, always yours. Maybe someday there will be a place for people like us, a better place. And I want them to know that we’ve always been around. We’ve hid. We’ve suffered. We’ve lost. But we’ve also loved.

“We have loved, haven’t we Akaashi?” Bokuto whispered, closing the notebook. He knew that he was going to finally pick up his charcoals and later on, his brush. He remembered what Akaashi said about how texts were continuously misinterpreted to remove the homoerotic subtext and as much as he knew it would be difficult to do so with Akaashi’s journal, Bokuto wanted to further ensure how history would remember them. He would sketch and paint everything he could possibly remember. But for now, he wanted to finish his day staring out across the sea.

Kageyama knew why Bokuto purposely chose to make his home here. The town and house he lived in was just on the other side of the sea, across where Elysium Manor still reportedly stood. Nobody went there and it was still Akaashi’s name, but the land and the manor would eventually be donated to the nearby town. Under the condition that Akaashi Keiji’s final resting place wouldn’t be disturbed.

“That clause in his will was only allowed for me to hear,” Kageyama had said a few months ago before he left. “That small plot of land next to where Akaashi-san is buried is entrusted to me to be passed on to you. Bokuto-san, I will ensure that that will be your final resting place. And if I pass on before you, I will entrust the task to my nephew. I can promise you that.”

“You do love your Greek myths, don’t you Akaashi?” Bokuto smiled to himself. He could almost hear his laugh in the back of his mind. As he looked out to the sea, he could just barely make out what lay across it. It made Bokuto remember how Orpheus and Eurydice’s tale truly ended. After losing his wife a second time, Orpheus wandered the Earth, lost and mourning, until he was torn apart and killed by Maenads, Dionysus’ traveling followers. When Orpheus soul traveled down to the Underworld, Eurydice was there, standing on the banks of the River Styx, arms outstretched to her lover who finally came home.

#across the sea #bokuaka #bokuto koutarou #akaashi keiji #bokuaka fanfic #haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! fanfic #across the sea: act. III

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wickedgxmes · 4 years ago

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e&&. cauldron above, ( leopald “leo” fletcher ) was just spotted in the fae lands — word has it ( he ) is/are affiliated with ( dawn court ). ( he ) is a(n) ( 320, appears 37 ) year old ( half-warrior fae/half-human). it’s been said that ( he ) resembles ( nathan owens ). ( he ) has been said to be ( dashing & comedic ) but also quite ( cocky & fickle ). ( he ) is currently serving as ( court jester/charlatan).

basics:

Full Name: Leopald “Leo” Fletcher

Sexuality: Pansexual

Past Occupation: Ex-Squire

Nicknames: Leo has taken on many aliases over the years- each one becoming more ridiculous from the next

Place of Origin: The Autumn Court

bio:

If there was one thing life was quick to teach young Leopald Fletcher, it was that he would and always be a nobody. His mother, although the sun in her young boy’s eyes, was no more than a maid for the Autumn Court. And his father? Well, that was one mystery he had no care to ever find out. His mom used to whisper him stories as she tucked him into bed about the great and well respected knight of a far off court whom had swept her off her feet all of those years ago, attempting to the best of her ability to bead around the bush of why the man who was still alive wanted absolutely nothing to do with them. Leo would later put two and two together that he was a product of a wedlock and the warrior fae was either too ashamed to want him or didn’t even remember or believe his mother when the woman approached him saying that was with child. Either way, he was a man Leo wanted nothing to do with.

But, once upon a time, when Leo was a scrawny little kid pretending he wasn’t hungry so that his mom could have a slightly larger portion of food for that night as they lived day to day barely scrapping by, he used to idolize the faceless man he’d hear heroic tales of. He used to lay awake at night imagining his dad coming back from some epic quest to sweep them away and pluck them up from their life of obscurity. He used to practice with a wooden sword for hours on end, rambling on and on how he would be a fierce knight too and give his mom everything they had ever dreamed of. He’d become a well-respected man in society. He would follow the knight’s code and work his way up until he could win a metal or make enough to afford to buy a piece of land that he could build a house on for his mom to live in. He’d be great, just like any of the members of the royal family his mother devoted her life to serve. Leo remembered spending hours as a child playing in the servants quarters of the Autumn court palace. His mother would warn him to stay out of sight and not wander the halls, but he was a curious child with a big heart and he’d often sneak out to the gardens and present a rose to some princess or duchess. He was just a happy-go-lucky kid who wanted his mom to not have to work as hard as she did. He sometimes felt like she spent more time with the High Lord’s family than she did with him. But, it would be worth it. The smile on his mom’s face when he came home to tell his mother he joined the Knighthood was an image that would be engrained his head probably until the day he dies. It was a smile that warmed his chest, even if he was only a squire and still had a lot of work to do, before he’d be a recognized knight of his own. But, he was hard worker and he had the drive. He would get there and he probably would have too. That is if his mother hadn’t gone missing the day he was suppose to say swear his oath of allegiance.

The only person he had in the whole wide world, vanished into the night just like that. He knew something had happened to her. He knew she wouldn’t just pick up and leave without a word. He knew she had to be in trouble. He knew she needed him. But, no one listened. She was just a maid after all and he was just some street rat. They may have been fae, but they were easily replaceable. The head maid made that fact all too clear, shrugging it off and spewing some story that she must have just gotten fed up and left. When he tried to push further, he heard that if she hadn’t shown up yet, a human like that was probably as good as dead, not that she ‘would have lived long anyhow’. He begged and begged for someone to help him, but everyone he spoke to made one thing abundantly clear- she was a servant at the end of the day and as much as they’d like to help, their hands were tied.

So, he left. Leo packed up what few belongs he had and left the Autumn court just as the rumors said his mother had. He struggled for the first few years. Sticking with the knights would have been simpler. It would have given him a far more comfortable life than living on the streets did. But, he couldn’t just stand back and forget about his family even when the world already seemed to. So, he did what he had to. He shacked up with the wrong crowds, getting mixed up with a group of thieves and criminals. Before he knew it, any code of honor he once held, was replaced by a charming grin and a cocky disposition as he pickpocketed and conned his way around Astralis, traveling from court to court in search of some clue of what might have happened, only to turn up empty handed. He managed to figure out that she had been taken by some noble fae who had thought she was a member of the resistance. But, by the time he had gotten a lead, it was already too late. His mother had been human after all and given all of the time that had passed, there was no more use in searching. It was like the other knights had said. She was gone by now.

Nowadays, Leo has given up on any chance of being anything, not seeing the use in trying to be someone great anymore when the one person he had wanted to be great for is no more than a fleeting memory. He’d rather be a thief and a nobody than put on a fake smile and devote his life to protecting people who may not even care if he’s gone. Leo may come across as a goofy and charming court jester, but he’s not against taking the law into his own hands, not minding making nobles chuckle as long as he’s the one to have the last laugh.

#c: leo #leo bio #ahqintro

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thatcatangelwriter · 4 years ago

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Our queen's music haunts these Halls : Part I

Summary : Instruments let alone music, had never been a thing in the horde so Adora was intrigued when she heard soft sounds in the empty halls during a small walk at night.

Angella teaches Adora how to play piano and it quickly becomes a big part of her.

[Next] Ao3

Adora felt weak every single part of her body ached and burned. She slowly got on her feet slowly taking in her surroundings. Everything was pitch black. Where in She-Ra's name was she ? How did she even get here in the first place ?

Her train of thoughts however, was interrupted as she heard someone walking towards her direction "Who's there ?" she demanded in a very firm voice her infamous sword in hand the only response she got was a very familiar chuckle "Hey Adora" Adora gritted her teeth "Catra..what on earth do you want ? Where are we ? What even is this place ?" the magicat once again chuckled which only aggravated Adora "I'm surprised you're even still alive and are still here. I mean just look around you. You lost but yet again you were always stubborn" Adora was completely confused by her words "Look around ? Look around where ? There is only darkness.." the blonde haired girl couldn't manage to find the words needed to finish her sentence as she registered in her surroundings.

The surroundings in question had changed considerably, the once black environnement was now filled with smoke and bright flames.

All the buildings that were close by were either burned down or just completely destroyed. The blue eyed warrior could also see some horde tanks and soldiers in the distance. However, she didn't really pay attention to them. She was much more focused and most importantly absolutely horrified at all the dead bodies below their feet. She stood there frozen in place not sure what to think or even how to react. As the blonde haired girl stood in place, sword still in hand, something caught her eye. That something was in the far middle of all the dead bodies. It was also pink and purple and seemed rather bloody. Adora's eyes shot wide open in fear as her heart started beating faster and faster. She prayed to the first ones that it wasn't who she thought it was.

She swallowed her fear before moving closer to it. She then stopped walking and she once again stood in place as glistening tears formed in her eyes. Before her was Glimmer's body which was extremely bloody and heavily bruised. It was obvious when taking a single look at the Brightmoon princess's body that she was dead. A bit farther away was… Bow ? The hero fell to her knees, her hand on her mouth due to extreme shock she felt. She also noticed the bodies of the other princesses that were even further away. Their bodies just like Glimmer and Bow were also bloody and heavily bruised.

She couldn't understand what stood before her eyes "What…" Catra looked at her before saying "What do you mean "What" Isn't it obvious by now ? You failed. Just like i said you would" Adora gritted her teeth before starting to break down as she started hearing voices that kept saying and repeating over and over again that she failed. She put both of her hands on her head screaming "No….No...NO! NO!!!" and then everything went black.

Adora shot up awake, her body dripping in sweat. She took in her environnement. She was in Brightmoon castle or more accurately in Glimmer's room which made her relax. She knew she was safe here. Wait...if she was in Glimmer's room, then that would mean...she took a glance at her left and sure enough Glimmer was asleep on the other side of the floating bed.

Adora reached for the short pink and purple haired girl's shoulder before pulling away. The princess already had so much on her plate. Adora wasn't going to wake her up for a silly nightmare. She knew the short girl needed as much rest as possible. Despite all of this, Adora was still rather shaken up by the horrible nightmare she just had.

She then chose to go to the gym to loosen her mind a bit. I mean, making it focus on something else wasn't that bad of an idea, right ? Ok yeah, the current host of She-Ra had no idea what good coping mechanisms were or even bad ones. To be honest, she didn't care about it that much, it was just some silly nightmare after all. She got up and very carefully went down the gold stairs, not wanting to wake Glimmer up and make her worry before quietly leaving the room. She slowly closed the door to the short princess's rather large room.

As the princess of power walked in the hollow halls of the castle in direction of the gym, a sound caught her attention. The sound was soft and soothing, it seemed to be coming from one of the rooms at the end of the hall. She headed in there curious of what was the source of that soothing melody. When she got there she noticed a bright dim light coming from one of the rooms. She took a little peek inside. She wasn't sure what she expected to see but it definitely wasn't this. What she saw was Queen Angella sitting on a bench with a rather large object in front of her.

The queen was pressing something on it. While Adora wasn't really sure what the large object in front of the queen was, it was obvious it was the source of the sounds she heard.

She then fully entered the room walking closer to the immortal woman but she somehow tripped "Woah!" thankfully she caught herself before planting herself on the ground. This caused the queen to turn around confused before her expression morphed into one of shock. "Adora ? What are you doing up at this hour ? You should be asleep !" exclaimed the queen shocked to see the blonde haired warrior up at this hour "Hum.." Adora was hesitant to answer as she did not want to burden the older woman with her problems.

Angella raised an eyebrow at the girl seeing the hesitant look on her face "Adora, are you alright ?" "Huh ? Yeah i'm fine just..hum.." the queen took Adora's hands in hers before saying "Adora what is bothering you ? You can tell me."

The seventeen year old gulped before muttering "Well...i had a nightmare, a pretty bad one actually" the queen nodded in understanding before saying "That's why you are up at such an hour isn't it " Adora slowly nodded. There was a bit of silence between the two before Adora chose to break the ice by asking the queen "So what are you doing ?" the queen took a quick look at the large object behind her before answering "Oh,i was just playing the piano before you barged in" Adora raised an eyebrow at the queen's words "A piano ?" she had never heard that word before.

The queen simply smiled at her "Yes a piano, remember when we showed you music and instruments a while ago ?" Oh ! How could Adora forget ? Queen Angella, Glimmer and Bow had introduced her to the concept a couple of weeks prior. They made her listen quite a number of songs and showed a lot of instruments and while the whole situation was pretty chaotic she did enjoy learning about it . It would seem the piano was one of these objects that were rather intriguing and new to her. Bow did tell her they were a lot more then the numerous ones they showed her such as different types of flutes,guitars,violin and xylophones.

" Of course i remember it sure was something after all. I would guess this 'piano' was one of these famous instruments right ?" asked the girl curious to see if her assumption was correct. The queen smiled "Yes it is" she then asked "Would you like to try it ? You could use more non-violent hobbies" Adora was pretty shocked and did not except such a request from the queen but she couldn't find a reason to refuse her offer "Sure" the queen had put her hand on the space that was left on the other side of the large bench.

Adora seated herself on that spot taking a closer look at the instrument in front of her. It was a beautiful deep shade of purple and blue and had a silky smooth surface. It also had weird little black and white things which were probably the keys of the instrument. She pressed them curious to hear what other sounds it could make.

Angella couldn't help but smile lightly at the girl's reaction as she behind her once again taking the warrior's hand's into hers "Here let me show you" the queen placed the girl's hands on certain keys which made the blonde haired girl's fingers curved. She found the position a bit awkward and uncomfortable but she would probably get used to it as time passes. The queen then started explaining the names of the numerous black and white keys. Afterwards she started teaching her basics tunes and songs which Adora found out would take a lot of patience to play correctly. No matter how many times she tried and failed Angella never seemed angry at her which took her by surprise if this was the horde she probably would have been screamed at multiple times. The queen however, only encouraged her to keep trying.

After some time, Adora started to get the hang of it. It was still pretty obvious there was quite some room for improvement but it was a start. After some more practicing, Angella convinced Adora to head back to bed making sure to tell her that they could practice some more the next day.

It then quickly became routine for the blue eyed warrior to learn more about the soft sounding instrument with the immortal queen. She eventually became quite skilled at playing it. Sometimes her and the queen would even do duets together which was always fun to do especially with the songs Adora found most challenging.

Speaking of songs, the immortal queen made sure to teach the current host of She-Ra all the traditional ones such as the one for princess prom, weddings, birthday for the princesses and finally a proposal song. The last one had understandably caught Adora off guard since the queen had specified that this was a Brightmoon only tradition and reserved to nobles. Adora was baffled. She had to admit it was pretty sweet. The person proposing could play this on any instrument or they could play the song and add their own lyrics and sing it to the noble. This then led her to learning how to sing and writing basic songs which went better than expected. She still didn't understand why the queen taught it to her. Why would Angella the queen of brightmoon teach her a proposal song reserved for nobles ? When she asked her this the queen chuckled saying these words.

"One day this knowledge will come of use for you"

Adora kept those words in mind that was for sure. Despite how often they did, they never mentioned it to the others which the girl always found strange. The only people who could know where the guards.If somebody asked her why she never said anything she wouldn't have an answer. In the case of Angella, she had no idea the queen probably had her reasons but she wasn't too keen to find out what they were.

Despite all of this, playing the piano or rather music in general grew on her a whole lot. Adora knew that for sure her and the queen would share this mutual love of music for a very long time.

Or so she thought….

Adora enters the room that was once filled with light and radiated life. It was now dark and soulless had taken it all with her. The piano looked about the same, the only difference being the dust that was starting to form on it. It felt like she hadn't come in the room in years while it had only been two weeks or so.

After queen Angella's...passing she couldn't even bring herself to even take a quick glance at this place. She just couldn't because it made her remember all the memories she shared with the queen and it hurt to know that they were just memories now. It just didn't feel the same without the queen happy to spend some time with her in here.

Adora had thought the queen would always be there with them and so did everybody else. But now ? She was gone and nothing could bring her back. She stood there for a moment as a certain person came to her mind. Catra…

It was because of her that Angella was gone. It was because of her Glimmer didn't have her mother anymore and dear lord was she angry about it. It made her heart ache every time Glimmer had a sad look or when she would break down and cry in her arms every night. No matter how much she,Bow and everyone tried comforting her she was still sad and distant. Adora felt powerless. The last thing the queen had asked her was to take care of Glimmer and she couldn't even do that right.

Every single time she saw the horrible mental state Glimmer was in her anger towards Catra only grew more and more.

For once she knew how she felt about the wild cat.

For a very long time, she wasn't sure how she exactly felt about her ex-best friend. All she knew was just hearing her name or talking about her would make her heart ache like crazy. They both loved each other in the most toxic ways. Well she knew she had loved Catra at some point. But Catra ? She seemed much more into having her all for herself and controlling her. Which was a bit hard considering she wasn't the only one who wanted her all for herself. Adora had always been rather charming to the people around her and the blonde girl did know that the wild cat hated the way she looked at Glimmer.

She had always known this didn't she ? She just started accepting it now. She always dismissed the idea that Catra hated her, that she was bad but it only took one look at the large marks on her back to know that she was.

Never once in her life did she thought simply hearing the hybrid cat's name or just thinking about her would leave such a bitter taste in her mouth.

She shook her head. She didn't want to think about her now she had something to do. The reason she was back in this room in this first was because she needed to practice the song for Glimmer's coronation and Queen Angella's...funeral.

Apparently, the original pianist had a change of plans for some reason. Adora had no idea what came over but when she overheard about this issue she blurted out that she could replace them. The staff were extremely grateful for that.

So here she was practicing the songs that were to be played at the two events. She started playing Queen Angella's favorite song and the one Adora found the most challenging yet fun to play. She played it all alone in the dark.

Glimmer was lying in bed with Bow who had decided to stay with her ,sleeping well more like she was trying too but she just couldn't manage too. But maybe..? She turned around expecting to see Adora fast asleep on the other side of her bed but she was shocked to find she wasn't her eyes shot wide. She turned to see Bow asleep before waking him up "What..?" "Bow ! Adora is not here !" he shot up "What !?" before they had time to even start looking for her a sound caught their attention. It sounded rather familiar as both of their eyes widened as they recognized the melody Bow looked at her "Isn't that …?"

"The blood moon song ? Yeah…" it was her mother's favorite song to play on the piano and just favorite song all around. From what she could recall her mother was the only one who knew how to play this song on the piano. So who on Etheria is the one playing right now ? In the middle of the night nonetheless.

They stepped outside but froze seeing what was in front of them. Pretty much everyone who was in the castle had also stepped outside into the halls to listen to the music. A lot of them were holding hands swaying their bodies along with the melody. Bow and Glimmer then did the same. No one said a word, but then someone whispered

"Our queen's music lives on"

When the song came to an end, everybody retreated back to their rooms including Bow and Glimmer.

When they heard the melody at night during the days that followed Glimmer couldn't help but wonder who was the one playing.

A few weeks later, Adora had found herself seated next to Glimmer and Bow in the middle front row. They had been here for quite some time. They were the first present in the room,in fact which made sense. Both her and Bow would look at Glimmer every once in a while making sure she was alright. The now soon to be queen had leaned her head on Adora's shoulder and a sad look on her face with red puffy eyes. Her two friends shot worried looks at each other. Not only was Adora concerned about the emotional state of her friend she was also preoccupied or rather stressed about her upcoming performance on the piano that was coming up very soon.

There was also another problem, she kinda..forgot to mention it to Bow and Glimmer so she should probably do that. It was a bit last minute but better late than never.

She sighed before whispering as she would have to go on stage soon "Hum, guys i'm gonna have to get up soon" Bow shot up "What !? Why !?" Glimmer tightened her hold on the blonde haired girl which made her frown "Well i'm actually going to play piano since the original pianist couldn't come so i took over."

The shock on their faces was priceless as something dawned on them "Wait...so the person playing piano at night..was you !?" exclaimed Bow as Glimmer's mouth was left wide open. Adora was pretty shocked at his words "Wait you guys heard me playing !?" "Yeah everyone did " spoke Glimmer.

Adora wasn't really sure how to feel about that. Should she be angry at herself for letting everybody hear her playing the instrument ? Or embarrassed ? She wasn't really sure.

She left her personal crisis aside as Bow asked "Wait where did you even learn how to play the piano to begin with and Angella's favorite song nonetheless " Adora was hesitant to respond so she mumbled her answer "Queen Angella taught me" Bow and Glimmer's eyes once again widen at her words as Adora nervously rubbed her neck.

"Wait what ? Adora you're going to play the piano !? Guys this is crazy !" The best friend squad turned around at the sound of the voice turns out it was Frosta who had a huge grin on her face.

She was seated on the bench next to them with Mermista, Sea Hawk, Perfuma, Netossa, Spinnerella and Castaspella. They all had their attention focused on Adora shock written all over their faces "Wait then that means you're the one playing at night ! Since you could even play ? " asked Sea Hawk aghast. Adora couldn't blame them for their reactions. She had never told them about her piano lessons with the queen.

She didn't know why she never said anything at first but with the fact that she was..gone. Simply mentioning her name could make everyone emotional herself included even if she wouldn't dare show it. She couldn't answer all their questions as the ceremony was starting.

As the ceremony went on, many people came up on stage and gave speeches that were all quite emotional. Glimmer's speech had definitely stolen the show. It left everyone present in tears, even her ! Thankfully her friends didn't notice probably because they were too busy crying themselves. When Glimmer finished her speech, the priest talked for a couple more minutes before saying "Now Adora,current host of She Ra, Princess of Power, will now be doing a tribute to Queen Angella on the piano a skill that she learned from the late queen herself according to the guards so i would like her to come up on stage" Adora's blood pressure shot to the roof at those words.

She took some deep breaths standing up as people cheered and clapped their hands. She heard the kind words of encouragement from her friends

"Yeah!! Adora !!!"

" You'll do great !!"

"Good luck !!"

"I can't wait to hear you play !!"

"You'll do amazingly just like everything else you do and are "

Adora froze at the last words she turned around it was Glimmer who had said that. The princess's eyes were still red and puffy but she was smiling. Adora blushed before bending down taking the soon to be queen's hand and giving it a light kiss. Netossa and a few of their friends whistled while Bow and Castaspella's eyes widened including Glimmer as a blush coated her face. Adora then went up on stage.

The priest gave her the microphone which made her quite nervous. She looked at her friends that were at the front seats. They all had supportive looks on their faces, especially Glimmer. Adora started to feel much more confident looking at her. She spoke up "Hello everyone ! I hope you are all doing ok despite the reason why we are all here.

She took a deep breath before speaking up again "I might have not known Queen Angella for as long as other people in this room have or known that much about her but, I do know this, she was an amazing person and an amazing mother at that. She was a bit overbearing at times but that overbearingness came from a place of love and not greed. I don't think any adults in my life loved me the way she did. She trusted and taught so much" she paused holding her tears and sadness in.

"Such as the piano and her favorite song which i will be demonstrating" These words had gotten the crowd quite excited as she sat on the bench.

She once again took a deep breath before placing her fingers above the black and white notes and started playing as a deep silence overcame the room. Her friend's jaws dropped. She was amazing ! It was clear she had perfected the song. It must have taken days and days of practice. How come she had never mentioned this talent of hers ?

It was obvious she and the late queen had been doing this for some time. Glimmer knew her mother could play piano; she would even play for her sometimes. Why would she not tell her she was teaching Adora ? The group would ask her their burning questions later.

The song was chilling and fast paced. Something about the way Adora played it was different than the way Angella did but Glimmer loved it all the same.

Adora had found herself reciting all the notes on her mind like the back of her hand.

Bow leaned close to Glimmer's ear whispering " She is really good at this, isn't she ? " Glimmer had an admiring smile on her face as she spoke "Yeah she is"

The song came to an end. Adora stood up and bowed as the audience clapped and cheered. She got off the stage being greeted by the smiles of her friends who were still clapping their hands.

She retook her seat next to Glimmer and Bow. They got closer to her "You were great !" spoke Bow Glimmer then added "You really were" Adora smiled at their comments before responding "Thanks guys, i'm glad you liked it "

They then turned their attention to the priest "She-Ra, i must thank you for that outstanding performance ! Truly you have a lot of talent ! Now i must thank you all for attending this celebration of Queen Angella's life !!" the people then started leaving the rebellion however, stayed they had no reason to but they did anyways.

Adora felt like she could finally breathe. She had been anxious the whole time. She was thankful the audience had enjoyed her performance. There was a bit of silence but Bow decided to break it "So were you ever going to mention the fact that Angella taught you how to play piano or…?" everyone looked at her they wanted to ask her the same thing

Adora shifted a bit awkwardly "Hum...well the reason i didn't say anything was hum we were still grieving and talking about Angella did not seem like a good idea to me and i wasn't even able to look at the piano room for a while so saying something about it just...i couldn't do it."

Everyone in the group frowned at her words; they all had been grieving; they still were; Adora had spent so much time helping them but she dealt with her own pain alone.

Frosta wanted to lift the mood a little so she asked " So do you know any other songs ?" "Yeah a couple few" "When do you even practice ?" chimed Mermista curious.

Adora was about to answer but Bow beat her to it "Well actually she was the one who played at night so she probably practices then" she relented "What he said"

Glimmer raised an eyebrow at her " About that, don't tell me you have missed hours of sleep because you're occupied playing the piano" Adora wasn't expecting her to say that "Hum...i'm not ?" she cringed at her words; it sounded more like a question than an actual answer. Glimmer was unconvinced by her claim.

While it was true that she spent some time practicing she didn't take too long. It was only about two hours these days had been a bit of an exception due to the songs of the funeral and Glimmer's upcoming coronation that she had to learn.

They asked a couple more questions before leaving the room. It was starting to get dark. The group went to their rooms,except Glimmer and Adora. The latter was planning to practice the songs for Glimmer's coronation that was coming up soon. As she was about to go to the room where the piano was located Glimmer grabbed her arm, she turned her head at her " What's wrong ?"

Glimmer bit her lip "Nothing i'm fine. It's just.." she trailed off a bit hesitant to answer "Come on, you can tell me" encouraged her friend. Glimmer glanced at her "Could you..could you play the piano for me ? Adora blinked Glimmer's request had took her off guard; she then smiled at her "Of course !"

Funny enough Glimmer didn't expect her to accept her request "Really !?" Adora laughed lightly " Yeah, i was planning to go practice for your coronation anyways, so why not ?" Glimmer practically tackled her "Thank you !" and off they went to the piano room.

The two very close friends were now seated on the bench, the gorgeous crystal clear blue and purple piano in front of them. Just like at the funeral that had taken place not too long ago, Glimmer's head was resting on Adora's shoulder. The soon to be queen had a nostalgic smile on her face with tears in her eyes. Here thoughts were filled with memories of her mother playing the piano for her. More tears spilled from her eyes as Adora started playing her favorite song. It was the song that Glimmer asked her mother to play everytime. She recalled how much it amused her mother.

A little eight year old Glimmer entered the room with her mother Angella. The young girl was pretty excited since her mother had promised her that she would spend some time with her today.

The queen always had a quite large amount of duties to attend to but, she always made sure to have some time for her young daughter. These days however, her workload was just building up. It only got bigger and bigger with each passing day.

Unfortunately,because of this, the queen wasn't able to spend as much time with Glimmer as usual or rather that she would have liked. The little girl ran to the purple and blue instrument before sitting on the bench. Her mother joined her not too long after.

Glimmer had a big grin plastered all over her face. Angella chuckled saying "Let me guess, you want me to play' the princess's lullaby' for you ?" her daughter smiled nodding as the queen let out a little laugh at the young girl's enthusiasm.

Glimmer's grin got even bigger when her mother started playing. When the queen was done with the song she turned her attention to her young daughter "So did you like it ?" "Yes ! Thank you so much !" they then smiled at each other leaving the room content and ready to spend some more time together.

Glimmer smiled as she was slowly starting to bring herself back into the present time. She softly hummed along the song as Adora played it. Her friend took a quick glance at her, a smile appeared on her face as she saw Glimmer's calm and happy smile on her face.

It was without a doubt a welcomed sight. It felt like she hadn't seen her friend actually happy. Adora played the final note, letting it camly echo throughout the room. Glimmer looked at her, eyes filled with admiration murmuring "Thank you…" the warrior smiled at her before saying "Your welcome"

They didn't think it would be the last time they would be happy with each other for a long time.

Adora storms out the room, tears in her eyes as Bow screams her name. All of her friends and Micah stood shocked. She felt angry,sad,heartbroken and just frustrated. It was just too much for her, all of these emotions taking over her.

She ran to the piano room,harshly slamming the door and locking it shut. She placed her hands on her knees trying desperately to calm down after acting up like that. She walked slowly to the piano, still emotional after what happened just a bit earlier or rather what happened these past few weeks.

First of all, her relationship with Glimmer was a big mess right now. A lot of her relationships had turned into a big mess this year. Last thing she wanted was to add another one to the list. Especially since this one hurted so much, too much in fact.

And yet, she had felt like this before. Glimmer wasn't the only one she fell in love with and then broke her heart. Catra did as well. It's kinda funny they kinda act the same now that she thought about it. She never expected the woman she fell in love with would almost destroy the world all while as she said break her heart. Let alone that it would happen twice.

It would seem hearts of gold are the ones who get broken the worst. How oddly poetic. She laughed as tears fell from her eyes. Looks like falling in love as She-Ra is a nightmare dressed like the most gorgeous daydream.

She recalled the events from earlier.

The rebellion and her were all seated at the table. Micah at what once was Angella's seat. The sorcerer sighed putting his hand on his forehead "Look, i have been thinking about what we were going to do now with these drones that have been terrorizing the entire population or safest bet is to leave the castle and set up bases in multiple areas''

This plan was gonna take some time to execute and while logical there were some big risks to it.

Bow spoke up "What about Glimmer ? What do we do ?" Adora looked at the king; this was what she really wanted to know. It was what kept her up at night.

Micah looked away; he knew they wouldn't like his answer. He sighed saying "For now ? Nothing. We can't get her right now"

Adora shot up at those words shouting "What !!?" The king flinched "Look i understand this might be hard" She went up to him blood boiling "Hard !? You damn right it is !" she waved her arms in frustration "If we don't do anything we might lose another Queen of Brightmoon !"

Bow walked up to her " Adora i know this a lot for you." Micah then joined in "I'm sure Glimmer was one of your dearest friends but…"

Tears spilled from Adora's eyes as she clenched her fist " She's more than a friend" Everyone gasped their eyes getting wide. Adora snapped her head at the king sorcerer "You lost your queen and it's not going to happen again. Not while I'm around. We can't lose another queen of Brightmoon ...i can't. Especially when this one is mine."

She stopped dead in her tracks. She saw the shocked expression on her friends faces. Shit. Why did she say that ? Her emotions had gotten the better off her. Bow tried to get close to her "Adora…" she bolted out of the room.

Adora covered her face with her hands groaning. Why did she have to make such a scene ? She recomposed herself taking a look at the instrument behind her. Due to Micha's new plan, she wouldn't be able to play for a while and she might as well make it count.

Positioning her fingers above the delicate keys she started playing but then she found herself singing.

I've been here before

But always hit the floor

I've spent a lifetime running

And I always get away

Adora didn't stay. She always ran to what others told her too. What her destiny led to. To what she thought was right.

But with you I'm feeling something

That makes me want to stay

Looking back she never truly wanted to stay in the horde now did she ? While they were some people that she once deeply cared about, that place was bad. And now the people she cared about probably didn't care about her either now.

And then came the rebellion, after coming from such an awful and terrible environnement to this new one that was pretty much the complete opposite of everything she knew and learned for years. It was..a bit of a 'culture' shock per say.

However as time went on, it started to feel more like..well a home. She finally felt like she had a place that she could always go back too. Her new friends weren't like the one she had back in the horde. And Glimmer…

No one made her feel the way she did. No one and nobody seemed to care for her the way her queen did. She stayed for her and she always will.

I'm prepared for this

I never shoot to miss

But I feel like a storm is coming

If I'm gonna make it through the day

Then there's no more use in running

This is something I gotta face

Adora wouldn't let herself fail. She wouldn't give up. She wouldn't let other people break her down anymore.

If I risk it all

Could you break my fall?

Adora gave and she risked a lot. She never wanted a lot. She gave and gave but she never took. Losing herself for others what something she did and would do again.

How do I live? How do I breathe?

When you're not here I'm suffocating

I want to feel love, run through my blood

Tell me is this where I give it all up?

For you I have to risk it all

'Cause the writing's on the wall

Adora only ever wanted to prove that she was worthy of something, of love. It was what she wanted. For others to love her as much she did them. But they never understood that which was strange. She gave everything but it never felt like it was enough.

A million shards of glass

That haunt me from my past

As the stars begin to gather

And the light begins to fade

When all hope begins to shatter

Know that I won't be afraid

She had a vague memory of seeing stars and now ? It could be the last time she ever sees them. It was the only thing she had from where she came from,before the portal. It was a bit sentimental but this wasn't about her. This was about the fate of the world. She was the only hope it had left.

She kept on singing the melody not realising that she had gotten herself an audience close to the door. They didn't say a word as she went on and on.

For you I have to risk it all

Cause the writing's on the wall

They had done it.They had ended the war.

It hadn't been easy, far from it but it had been worth it in the end. As she and Glimmer cuddled in bed together she thought that while maybe hearts of gold are the ones that get hurt the worst they all get mended in the end. This was their happy ending and Adora wouldn't change it for the world.

#angel writes #my writing #glimmadora #she ra #spop #adora #glimmer #queen angella #bow #micah #fanfic #os #one shot #angst #piano #angel's edits #my edits

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green-eyed-whumpster · 4 years ago

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My OC Universe: Rowan 48

Chapter 48 Summary: Rowan meets Marie’s consort and it is revealed that he and Oliver have a past together. (Tag: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi, @much-ado-about-whumping, @abitefullofeverything, @whump-me-all-night-long and @sky-or-something-idfk)

Trigger Warnings: Conditioning, reference to previous abuse, dehumanisation

When Rowan awoke there were some servants in the corner, they were assembling something. As he sat up and peered over at them he saw the mattress and pillows and felt his heart jump slightly.

A bed? Is it for me? Is this because the Prince said I wasn’t allowed to sleep in his bed anymore? The door opened and a different man was led into the room by a junior advisor. He had fawny-brown hair which was slicked back cleanly, a soft shadow ran along his jaw and cheeks, his eyes, a bright, pale blue, fell on Rowan and the boy flinched, looking away quickly. The man was as tall as Oliver, and only slightly slimmer, which meant he towered over Rowan easily. I’m the size of a fucking child. I’m basically made for manhandling. “That’s your bed, there.” The junior advisor said, indicating to the structure being built by the servants. The man nodded sternly before glancing back at Rowan. “Why is there only one?” He asked. “You need more than one bed?” The junior advisor asked incredulously. “Well, what about the Prince’s consort?” The man asked, Rowan flinched as the junior advisor began laughing and shook his head. “He doesn’t sleep on a bed unless he’s with the Prince.” Rowan looked down in his lap and sat up, shifting from the lounge to sit up straighter. “Anyway, for today, because of the wedding and coronation in the one day, it would be best if you remained here until tomorrow. Have a guard get whatever you need.” The junior advisor left and Rowan found himself uncomfortably alone with the man and Oliver. On the one hand I have Oliver, who I’ve fought with and don’t really want to be near to right now. On the other, I have this new man who’s presumably the future Queen’s consort, who already thinks I’m nothing much. I wish Oliver would let me onto the balcony. Having seen the fragile state in which Rowan was in having left the dungeon and arguing with him, Oliver thought it would be better to keep the boy away from the dangerous precipice. “Does he always treat you like that?” It took Rowan a moment to realise it was him that the man was talking to. “Sorry?” He asked and the man jerked his head to the door. “His royal highness. Does he always treat you like that?” “Oh, no of course not,” He didn’t trust you to make yourself a cup of tea. He’s just looking out for me. He doesn’t want me to hurt myself. “I suppose it’s just, I haven’t behaved well recently and this is my punishment.” Punishment’s lasting a long time, especially when you’ll still be marked with his crest long after he’s tossed you aside. I killed his friend. I’m lucky I’m not dead. It wasn’t fun being punished, but I deserved it. “Oh yeah? What indiscretion warranted him treating you like a dog?” I hate being compared to dogs. “I-I’m sorry, what –“ “There was an incident, he ended up striking one of the nobles and the noble died.” Oliver spoke over Rowan and the boy looked down gratefully. Alexander was right. I’m stupid. I’m lucky I’m pretty. “Gods. What did the noble do?” Oliver glanced at Rowan, not wishing to speak for him, but finding the boy thoroughly studying his lap. “Details are unclear, but the general understanding is that he became upset and attacked the consort.” “What do you mean ‘details are unclear’? The man’s right here.” Man is a questionable term. I’m just an overgrown boy. Rowan could feel their eyes on him and swallowed heavily. “I insulted him first. I forgot my place and he became angry. He went mad with rage and if it wasn’t him it would have been me.” He said finally and the man whistled. “That’s awful. He didn’t hurt you too bad, did he?” Rowan turned a hesitant look to him and tilted his head curiously. “Who?” The man appeared startled by the question and paused. “The noble.” Rowan shook his head and rubbed at the skin where the cuts had healed. “No, not too bad, thank you.” He said softly and looked down again. “I just panicked, I only hit him once, I really wasn’t intending to…to kill him, I just wanted him to stop.” The man looked at him piteously and Rowan ignored the look by gratefully stretching his neck. The cricks as his vertebrae snapped were immensely satisfying, so much so that he almost moaned in pleasure. “Well, I’m Johnathan,” Rowan was surprised to see the hand of the man being extended to him, it scared him how long it took to remember that it was most likely to shake his hand. “My name’s Rowan.” He replied softly as he reached out to shake the large hand. I’m so small beside him. I may as well be a child. “You can use my bed, if you like,” Johnathan suggested, and Rowan shook his head. “No-no thank you,” He swallowed and rubbed at his eyes furiously. “He doesn’t want me to so I won’t.” He covered his mouth as a yawn stretched through his throat. “I’m-I’m sorry, I’m quite tired, do you mind?” “No, of course not. You sleep.” Jonathan quieted as Rowan curled up on the pillows again, hiding his face under a woollen blanket he had slept with before.

~ The two men were left with their own company when Rowan’s breathing lengthened and his slender frame relaxed among the blankets. “What’s your job, then? Royal consort’s babysitter?” Oliver looked up and met Jonathan’s eyes humorously. “You could say that.” He shrugged and Jonathan chuckled. “Gods, he looks like he’s been thrown off a cliff. What did the Prince do to him?” He asked, eyes drifting back to the purple and blue pattern of Rowan’s skin. “Had him thoroughly punished.” Was all Oliver could reply. “Is he even old enough to be a consort?” Jonathan asked. “He looks like he isn’t more than a boy.” “He’s old enough,” Oliver sighed gently. “I don’t know if he’s ever actually done any manual labour or been fed properly in his life, though, so that’s probably why he’s so small.” There was a brief pause where Oliver’s sadness was squashed by the memory of the boy insulting him and he shrugged. “Maybe that’s why the Prince was so interested.” Jonathan’s face lifted in surprise and Oliver had the decency to flush slightly at the statement. “I see you don’t really favour your current position much, do you?” Oliver sighed softly and shook his head. “No. I don’t. It’s not really because of Ro-the consort himself, it’s just, I’m better suited to other soldiers. He’s a bit too delicate for me to be around.” Jonathan believed that wholeheartedly, looking at the boy he could see the fragility that surrounded him like a cloud. “It’s definitely a come down from since we were together last,” He sighed softly and Oliver snorted. “Excuse me? What about you? Sir professional lover?” Jonathan laughed and shrugged good-naturedly. “It’s an easy life. My job consists solely of spending time with a woman I love, what’s not to like?” Oliver’s smile faltered and he glanced at Rowan again. “Well, it’s easy if you like your master.” He said and Jonathan paused, sighing gently. “Poor creature, I suppose.”

#whump #medieval whump #my writing #oc #Rowan #Oliver #conditioning #scars #dehumanisation

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reallifesultanas · 5 years ago

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Portrait of Osman I / I. Oszmán portréja

Everyone know that Osman was the founder of the House of Osman, he remembered as the first of the Ottoman sultans. No one knows when or where he was born, and for a long time not a single artefact existed that could be confidently dated to his lifetime. There are two coins (which I already mentioned in the previous post about Ertugrul) from his time, and there are some legends, some descriptions about him, but we don't know too much about him still. So we know Osman was a historical person, but who was he?

His early life

Legends say he was born around 1260 as the son of Ertugrul Bey and Halime Hatun, and was from the Kayi tribe. It seems he had at least two brothers, Gündüz and Savci, who were both older than him. But there are no evidences for these legends. Yes based on the coins he was the son of Ertugrul so it can be true.

He became the bey of his tribe after the death of his father. Some chroniclers hint that after Ertugrul’s death Osman’s uncle, Dündar became the bey, but Osman didn’t want to accept, so he rebelled. Otheres says Osman ebcame the leader and it was Dündar who didn't accept him. Anyhow most chroniclers agree that Dündar and Osman had a fight and in the end Osman killed Dündar with an arrow. The modern sources stay silent about this, because they find it not too glorious to kill your own uncle for the throne. It's hypocrite in my opinion, since fratricide and civil wars were main part of the Ottoman History. So in my opinion there was nothing wrong with this act (if Osman really did that) in such circumstances. Anyhow he became the leader of his tribe at a relatively young age.

Osman's dream

Osman at first was loyal to the Seljuks, but then he began to act independently around 1299. The reason of this act is not known. But the legends say that the whole idea of the Empire – and so his kind of rebel againsts the Seljuks – began quite literally with a dream:

"One night, the first sultan, Osman, was sleeping in the house of a holy man called Edebali when: „He saw that a moon arose from the holy man’s breast and came to sink in his own breast. A tree then sprouted from his navel and its shade compassed the world. Beneath this shade there were mountains, and streams flowed forth from the foot of each mountain. Some people drank from these running waters, others watered gardens, while yet others caused fountains to flow. When Osman awoke he told the story to the holy man, who said “Osman, my son, congratulations, for God has given the imperial office to you and your descendants and my daughter Malhun shall be your wife”."

So after this dream Osman decided that he will creat his own Empire and will not be a servant of another state. Most probably this is just a legend, because these kind of „dreams” have a history with the Central-Asian origin nomad people. For example in the early Hungarian history there is also a dream like this, called „Emese’s dream”. This one is basically the same and story. Emese was the wife of Chief Ügyek, and she was impregnated by a turul bird. The turul appeared to her in a dream and told her that from her womb a great river would begin, and flow out over strange lands. According to dream interpreters, this meant that she would give birth to a son who would lead his people out of their homeland, and that her descendants would be glorious kings. Emese's son was named Álmos, whose name derives from the Hungarian word "álom", meaning dream, thus "Álmos" can be interpreted as "the Dreamt One". And it happened like that, because Álmos became the founder of House Árpád. Interesting fact is that the name Emese had a türk origin, originates from the Old Turkic eme, ana or ene, which mean mother.

So we clearly can see, that these kind of drem-stories can be found in any Central-Asian origin nation's legends and they aremostly have the same meaning.

Osman's life after his dream

Most probably it didn't happened like, Osman had this dream – or not – and he started to build an Empire... Most probably he never even dreamt of such a huge Empire, what later happened to the Ottomans. Most probably he just wanted to make his own beylik, with his own cities.

His first indisputable evidence comes from a Byzantine chronicler, who tells the story of a battle at Bapheus, quite near Nicomedia (Izmit), in July 1302, in which Osman and a force of nomad archers defeated a Byzantine force accompanied by Alan auxiliaries. It is possible that badweather upstream and a rare flood of the Sakarya river downstream made it attractive to Osman and other türk beys to seek to recoup damage to their herds in the lowlands. At this time Osman was no more powerful than a number of other minor beys.

Within a very short time, türk raiders had reached the Sea of Marmara. A contemporary Byzantine chronicler describes how news of Osman’s victories spread and attracted Türks from other areas of western Anatolia to join his following, and how his force was strong enough to defeat a Byzantine army near Nikomedia (Izmit). From their base in the Sakarya valley, where Osman had occupied the old Byzantine fortified places, his men plundered the countryside to the west, forcing the inhabitants into the walled towns. These remained secure, since Osman obviously lacked the military skills to undertake formal sieges: his assault on Nikaia failed. He did take several other fortresses and fortified towns in the Sakarya valley, using them to store his plunder. In a similar manner he destroyed the countryside around Bursa, but also failed to take that city.

His personal life and family

Osman had at least two wives. One was Edebali's daughter for sure, as his dream also suggest. She was named Rabia Bala, or simply Bala but sometimes called Malhun as well. She was the mother of Alaeddin Bey and maybe had other children also. It seems she may had problems with the nomadic lifestyle or her relationship with Osman went wrong, because she spent the last years of her life with her father. She died in Bilecik in 1324 and was buried next to her father’s tomb.

Osman's other wife was Mal Hatun, who possibly was the daughter of the ruler of the Umuri or Amouri principality. According to a Byzantine historian “a son of Umur fought with Osman in one of his first raids against local Byzantine lords”, which may explain the marriage between Osman and Mal Hatun as a political alliance. Mal Hatun was the mother of Osman’s successor Orhan, and she actually outlived her husband as she was buried in the family tomb around Osman’s grave in Bursa. It is not known when she died.

In the first sentence I said at least two wifes... Well yes "a historical tradition regarding the acquisition of one of Osman’s wives calls to mind the Turkish nomadic practice of acquiring women through raids on neighboring tribes. As the story goes, one day on his way to Eskisehir. Osman caught sight of a woman in the village of ltburnu, fell in love with her, and, without telling his father, sent someone to ask for her in marriage. She refused on the grounds that she was not worthy of him, although this may have been an excuse, since there were rumors that Osman intended only a brief dalliance with her. Osman was spurred to kidnap the woman when an erstwhile ally of his, listening to his description of her manifold virtues, decided to take her for himself. Although the sources confuse this woman with Mal Khatun and Edebali’s daughter, she was clearly a person of lesser status. The details of the story indicate that the kidnapping occurred when Osman was quite young and before he had gained more than a local reputation. Women of standing themselves, selves, Edebali’s daughter and Mal Khatun probably married a more mature and powerful Osman."

Osman had at least eight sons and one daughter.

Osman's eldest son - whose name is unfortunatelly unknown - was given to the Selcuk Sultan Gıyasuddin III Keyhusrev to be raised in his household when Ertugrul stipulated a peace treaty with him. He had descendants who were alive at the time in which Bayezid I conquered Malatya. The fact that this son of Osman was sent to the Seljuk Sultan during Ertugrul’s life, suggest that he maybe was born to the women, who Osman captured.

His second son most probably was Orhan, who was born around 1281 and became the second ruler of the Ottoman dynasty. During Orhan's reign the little principality began to acquire a more settled aspect. Osman’s territory had contained no large towns. But in 1326, however, the city of Bursa succumbed to starvation and became, from this date, the first capital of the Ottomans. In the next year, following an earthquake which damaged its fortifications, Orhan’s men occupied the Byzantine town of Lopadion (Ulubat), towards the Dardanelles. Moreover Orhan was the first one who established an Ottoman bridgehead in Europe. He achieved this by exploiting a civil war in Byzantium between the rival Emperors John [VI] Kantakuzenos and John [V] Palajologos. Kantakuzenos sought allies among the Turkish rulers of western Anatolia and, in 1346 formed a pact with Orhan by marrying him to his daughter Theodora. The strategy was successful and, in 1347, Kantakuzenos entered Constantinople and proclaimed himself Emperor, with the other John as his co-regent. So beside his great victories Orhan was the first to use marriage as a tool to get himself supporters. His successors used to do this until Mehmed II, who changed the tradition and stopped the sultans from marrying noble women.

His third son was Alaeddin Ali Bey, who was born around 1290 and later he was made governor of Bilecik. He had a son Kiliç Bey, and their last descendant died in 1530. Aleaddin also built a mosque complex in Bursa. He didn't lived a long life, sources don't agree, but most probably he died around 1330.

Osman's other children are less knowns. We don't know anything for example about Savci Bey, just that his son married one of the daughters of Orhan

I. Melik Bey is also not known, we only know that he had a daughter.

Çoban Bey was surely Osman's son, because he built a mosque in Bursa, and by his complex it is known who he was.

Osman's other son was Pazarli Bey, who was the commander of his brother Orhan I for years, so maybe he was the closest to Orhan? Pazarli Bey also had a daughter, and two sons.

Osman also had another son, Hamid Bey, but we have zero information about him.

Osman had most probably more than one daughter, but we only have evidence for the existence of one. Fatma was named in the foundation deed of later Orhan I, so we know that se existed, but nothing else.

It seems like we know a lot about Osman, isnt it? But actually, even his name is the subject of some controversy!

A Greek historian gave us the description of the Sakarya flood and is the one contemporary writer to mention Osman ’s name, did not call him Osman at all but rather Ataman. The surprising notion that Osman had another name finds support in two later sources. Ataman is a Turkish name or maybe Mongol, while Osman is impeccably Muslim. This has led to some suspicion that Osman, or Ataman, the Ottoman, might have been born a pagan, that he may have taken his new name Osman later when he became a Muslim. But if this were true, if Osman were indeed a convert to Islam who changed his name, why would his sons have kept their genuinely Turkish names, who were Muslims beyond any doubt? From what the greek historian wrote, about the only thing we can surmise of the Turk he called Ataman is that he was a warrior.

Osman's death and legacy

The date of Osman's death too is uncertain. He probably died by 1324, the date of a trust deed registered by his son Orhan. The Moroccan world traveler Ibn Battuta, who visited the area in 1331 - 32, wrote that Osman was buried in the mosque of Bursa, probably the former Church of Saint Elias. This church is no longer standing, due to an earthquake two hundred years ago. Osman's remains now lie next to those of Orhan, father and son in suitable twin mausoleums erected in 1863. All in all it was Osman who was the founder of the Ottoman Empire, and who was to give his name to the Ottoman – or Osmanlı – dynasty.

Used sorces: Colin Imber - The Ottoman Empire, 1300-1650; Peirce - The imperial harem; Faroqhi - The Ottoman Empire and the World; Fleet - The Cambridge History of Turkey, 1071-1453; Howard - A History of the Ottoman Empire; Öztuna - Devletler ve Hanedanlar Cilt 2; Uluçay - Padişahların Kadınları ve Kızları

* * *

Azt mindenki tudja, hogy Oszmán volt az Oszmán-ház megalapítója, és úgy emlékszünk rá, mint az első oszmán szultánra. Azonban senki sem tudja mikor és hol született, évszázadokig létezésére sem volt bizonyíték. Azóta előkerült például két aranyérme, melyeket ő veretett (és amelyekről már szó esett a korábbi, Ertugrulos posztban); ismert néhány leírás is róla, azonban nem tudunk még mindig túl sokat. Tehát akkor ki is volt Oszmán?

Korai évei

A legendák szerint Ertugrul Bég és Halime Hatun fiaként született 1260 körül a Kayi törzsben. Azonban nincs erre bizonyítékunk. Igen, itt vannak az érmék, melyek arra utalnak, hogy Oszmán apja valóban Ertugrul volt, de semmi mást nem tudunk biztosan.

Apja halála után vált a törzs fejévé. Néhány történetíró szerint Ertugrul halála után annak öccse, Dündar lett a bég, amelyet Oszmán nem fogadott el és fellázadt ellene. Más források szerint épp fordítva történt és Oszmán lett a bég, Dündar pedig fellázadt ellene. Akárhogyan is, abban egyetértenek a történetírók, hogy Oszmán és Dündar harcoltak egymással, melynek végén Oszmán egy nyíllal megölte Dündart. A modern források csendben maradnak ezzel kapcsolatban, hiszen méltatlannak érzik, hogy a dinasztia alapító ilyen véres családi küzdelem árán lett bég. Ez véleményem szerint nagy álszentség, hiszen tudjuk, hogy a testvérgyilkosság és a polgárháborúk milyen komoly részét tették ki a birodalom több évszázados történelmének. Véleményem szerint tehát a körülmények ismeretében semmi rossz nem volt abban sem, ha Oszmán valóban így ragadta magához a hatalmat. Mindenesetre azt tudjuk, hogy Oszmán kifejezetten fiatalon vált a törzsét vezető béggé.

Oszmán álma

Oszmán törzsfőként eleinte hűséges volt a Szeldzsuk Államhoz, azonban idővel, 1299 körültől függetlenül kezdett el cselekedni. Ennek oka ismeretlen. A legendák szerint az egész birodalom alapítási ötlet - és ezzel együtt a Szeldzsuk Birodalom elleni lázadás ötlete - egy álommal kezdődött.

"Egyik este az első szultán, oszmán egy szent ember, Edebali házában aludt, amikor:"Azt látta, hogy a hold a szent ember mellkasából a magasba emelkedik, átlebeg az ő mellkasára, majd belesüllyed. Ezekután testéből egy fa nőtt ki és behálózta a világot. Lombja alatt hegyek voltak, folyók folytak azok lábainál. Néhány ember a folyókból ivott, mások kertjüket locsolták, míg mások szökőkutat alkottak a folyók vizéből." Amikor Oszmán felébredt, elmondta az álmát ennek a szent embernek, aki erre eképpen felelt: " Oszmán, fiam, gratulálok, Isten téged választott, rád és utódaidra bízta a dicső feladatot. Leányom Malhun legyen a feleséged."

Ezután az álom után döntötte el Oszmán, hogy birodalmat alapít, nem pedig más birodalmakat fog szolgálni. Nagy valószínűséggel ez csak egy legenda, hiszen a hasonló álmok kifejezetten gyakranjelennek meg a Belső-Ázsiai eredetű nomád népek hiedelem világában. Például a korai magyar történelemből is ismert egy ilyen álom, Emese álma. Ez alapvetően szinte ugyanaz, mint Oszmáné. Emese Ügyek felesége volt és egy turul madártól esett teherbe, aki álmában meglátogatta és azt mondta neki, hogy méhéből hatalmas folyó fog áradni, mely új vidékekre is eljut. Az álomfejtől szerint ez arra utal, hogy ő fogja világrahozni azt, aki elvezeti új hazájába népüket és, hogy utódaik dicső uralkodókká fognak válni. Emese később világrahozta fiát, aki az Álmos nevet kapta, utalva Emese álmára. Külön érdekessé teszi Oszmán szempontjából a történetet az, hogy maga az Emese név is türk eredetű, amely az ősi török eme/ana/ene szóból ered, mely anyát jelent.

Egyértelmű tehát, hogy ezek az álom-történetek megtalálhatóak a legtöbb Belső-Ázsiai nép legendái között, és szinte minden esetben alapvetően hasonlóak, hasonló jelentéssel bírnak.

Oszmán élete az álma után

Nyilvánvalóan az álom után nem az történt, hogy Oszmán hirtelen birodalmat akart építeni (már ha álmodott egyáltalán)... Valószínűleg még csak álmodni sem mert arról, ami valójában történt leszármazottjaival, hogy ilyen hatalmas birodalmat hoztak létre.Valószínűleg ő csak egy kis bégséget akart magának, néhány városkával.

Első kétségtelen bizonyíték Oszmán uralkodásáról egy bizánci történetírótól származik, aki leírta Bapheus-i csatát, mely Nicomedia (Izmit) közelében történt 1302 júliusában. Eszerint Oszmán és nomádokból álló íjászai legyőztek egy csapat bizánci katonát. Lehetséges, hogy az időjárási körülmények nagyban felbátorították Oszmánt. Ekkoriban ugyanis hatalmas áradás zajlott a Sakarya folyó mentén, amely miatt Oszmán és csapatai szükségét érezték a terjeszkedésnek, hogy legyen hol legeltetni és hová menekíteni állataikat. Ekkoriban azonban Oszmán nem volt több, mint egyike a sok kicsi törzs vezetőinek.

Rövid időn belül azonban győzelmének híre elért a többi türk táborba is, elkezdték őt csodálni és egyre több türk tábor csatlakozott hozzá Nyugat-Anatóliából is. Így a türkök már a Marmara tengerhe is elértek nemsokára. A Sakarya völgyben táboroztak, és innen indultak újra meg újra lerohanni a környező területeket. Valóban sikerült ezzel területet, legelőket szerezniük, azonban egyetlen fallal körülvett várost vagy erődítményt sem sikerült bevenniük. Oszmán megpróbálta Nikaia-t is bevenni, ám nem járt sikerrel, mint ahogy a Sakarya-völgy más városainak esetében sem. Hasonlóan járt Bursával: bár a környéket sikerült meghódítania, a várost magát nem tudta bevenni.

Magánélete

Oszmánnak legalább két felesége volt. Egyikük Edebali Seyk leánya volt, akire az álom is utalt. Rabia Balának, Balának vagy Malhunnak hívták. A források nem értenek egyet nevében. Az bizonyos, hogy ő volt Aleaddin Bég anyja, de lehetséges, hogy más gyermekei is születtek. Úgy tűnik, hogy idővel kapcsolta megromlott Oszmánnal, vagy a nomád élet nem volt nekivaló, de utolsó éveiben visszaköltözött apjához. Bilecikben halt meg 1324-ben és apja mellé temették.

Oszmán másik felesége Mal Hatun volt, aki feltehetőleg az Umuri vagy Amouri területek urának leánya volt. Bizánci történészek szerint "Umur fia Oszmán mellett harcolt, amikor azelőször győzte le a bizánciakat", ami megmagyarázná a valószínűleg politikaiházasságot is Mal és Oszmán között. Mal volt Oszmán örökösének, Orhannak az anyja. Bizonyosan túlélte Oszmánt, ám pontos dátum nem ismert haláláról. Végül családi türbébe temették Bursa közelében.

Az első mondatban azt írtam, LEGALÁBB két feleség... Igen, a történészek szerint Oszmán egyik feleségét a nomádokra jellemző asszony-rablással szerezte. A történet szerint Oszmán egyik nap Eskisehirbe tartott, amikor meglátott egy gyönyörű leányt Itburnu falujánál és azonnal beleszeretett. Apja (Ertugrul) engedélye nélkül odaküldött valakit, hogy kérje ki neki a lányt. A lány elutasította azzal az ürüggyel, hogy nem méltó a férfihoz, ám ez valószínűleg csak kifogás volt. Oszmán ezekután elrabolta a lányt. Sok forrás összekveri ezt a lányt Edebali lányával vagy Mal Hatunnal, azonban egyértelmű, hogy egyikük sem lehetett, hiszen mindketten jóval magasabb rangú nők voltak. A történet részletei arra is utalnak, hogy ez még Ertugrul élete során zajlott, tehát Oszmán igen fiatal volt és nem volt semmiféle befolyása. Edebali leánya és Mal Hatun egy már érettebb Oszmánhoz mentek feleségül.

Oszmánnak legalább nyolc fia és egy leánya volt.

Legidősebb fiát - akinek neve sajnos elveszett az idők során - a Szeldzsuk Szultán, III Giyasuddin Keyhusrev nevelte. A fiúval pecsételődött meg Ertugrul és a szultán béke megállapodása. A fiú Szeldzsukoknak való átadásának idejéből következtethetünk arra, hogy talán az elrabolt parasztlány volt az anyja? Mindenesetre a fiú utódjai egészen I. Bayezid uralkodásának idejéig Malatya környékén éltek.

Második fia valószínűleg Orhan volt, aki 1281 körül született és később ő lett a második oszmán szultán. Orhan uralkodása alatt a kis bégség, melyet Oszmán hozott létre sokkal kifinomultabbá vált. Oszmán ugyanis nem tudott elfoglalni városokat, Orhan azonban 1326-ban sikeresen kiéheztette és elfoglalta Bursa városát. A következő évben pedig egy földrengés után Orhan seregével sikeresen tudta elfoglalni a megrongálódott Lopadion (Ulubat) városát a bizánciaktól. Mindezek mellett Orhan lett az első, aki az európai politikai színtérbe is bele tudott avatkozni. Kihasználta a háborút, amely két rivális között, VI. János Kantakuzenos és V. János Palajologos között zajlott. Kantakuzenos egyezséget kötött Orhannal, ennek megpecsételésére pedig hozzáadta feleségül saját leányát, Teodorát 1346-ban. A stratégia sikeres volt, 1347-ben Kantakuzenos belépett Isztambulba, és császárrá nevezte ki magát. Tehát győzelmei mellett Orhan volt az, aki először kötött jelentős politikai házasságot is. Utódiai egészen II. Mehmed uralkodásáig rendszeresen használták a szövetségkötésnek ezen módját.

Oszmán harmadik fia Aleaddin Ali Bég volt, aki 1290 körül született és életében Bilecik helytartója volt. Született egy fia Kiliç, akinek leszármazottjai még 1530-ban is jelen voltak. Aleaddin emellett mecsetkomplexumot és építtetett Bursában. Nem élt sokáig, a források szerint 1330 körül hunyt el.

Oszmán további fiai kevéssé ismertek. Nem tudunk például semmit Savciról azonkívül, hogy született egy fia, aki később feleségül vette unokatestvérét, I. Orhán leányát.

Oszmán, Pazarli nevű fia Orhan mellett tevékenykedett annak parancsnokaként, tehát lehetséges, hogy a két férfi közel állt egymáshoz. Pazarli bég gyermekei is ismertek, legalább egy lánya és két fia született.

Oszmánnak volt egy Hamid nevű fia is, akiről sajnos nincs semmi információnk.

Oszmánnak mindezek mellett valószínűleg több lánya is volt, azonban csak egyikük létezésére van konkrét bizonyíték. Fatma ugyanis meg volt nevezve I. Orhan egyik alapítványának papírjain, mint Orhan testvére, így ő bizonyosan létezett és Oszmán lánya volt, ám semmi mást nem tudunk róla.

Úgy tűnik sokat tudunk Oszmánról, igaz? Azonban valójában még a neve is ellentmondásos!

Egy görög történész, aki a Sakarya folyó menti ütközetet taglalja Oszmánt nem Oszmán néven említi, hanem Atamanként. A meglepő tény, hogy Oszmánnak lehet egy másik neve is, két másik forrásban is bizonyításra lel. Ataman egy türk vagy mongol eredetű név, amely arra utal, hogy Oszmán eredetileg nem volt talán muszlim sem. Ebből történészek olyan következtetéseket vonnak le, hogy Oszmán talán idővel tért át az iszlámra és vette fel az Oszmán nevet. Azonban ezt cáfolja, hogy fiai kétségkívül muszlimok voltak, mégsem változtatták meg eredeti türk nevüket. Abból, amit a görög történész jegyez az egyetlen plusz információ Atamanról, hogy nagyszerű harcos.

Oszmán halála és hagyatéka

Halálának pontos ideje nem ismert. Valószínűleg 1324-ben hunyt el, mert fiának alapítványi papírjai ezt a dátumot említik. Emellett egy marokkói világutazó, Ibn Battuta 1331-32 körül meglátogatta Bursát és lejegyezte, hogy Oszmán Bursa mecsetjében nyugszik, mely korábban a Szent Elias templom volt. Mára a templom/mecset már nem áll, ugyanis 200 éve egy földrengés elpusztította. Oszmán földimaradványai most Orhan mellett nyugszanak egy ikermauzóleumban, melyet 1863-ban építtettek számukra.

Összességében tehát Oszmán volt az Oszmán Birodalom alapítója és az Oszmán - Osmanlı - dinasztia neve is tőle eredeztethető.

Felhasznált források: Colin Imber - The Ottoman Empire, 1300-1650; Peirce - The imperial harem; Faroqhi - The Ottoman Empire and the World; Fleet - The Cambridge History of Turkey, 1071-1453; Howard - A History of the Ottoman Empire; Öztuna - Devletler ve Hanedanlar Cilt 2; Uluçay - Padişahların Kadınları ve Kızları

#osman i #bala hatun #malhun #malhun hatun #rabia bala #orhan i #bursa #ottoman empire #osmanlı #ataman #osman #orhan #şeyh edebali #edebali

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inquistior-a · 5 years ago

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@ofrevas said : 𝙷𝙾𝚆 𝙳𝙴𝚅𝙾𝚄𝚃 𝙸𝚂 𝙷𝙰𝙻𝚆𝚈𝙽? 𝙳𝙾 𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝙱𝙴𝙻𝙸𝙴𝙵𝚂 𝙴𝚇𝚃𝙴𝙽𝙳 𝚃𝙾 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙻𝙴𝙶𝙸𝚃𝙸𝙼𝙰𝙲𝚈 (𝙾𝚁 𝙻𝙰𝙲𝙺) 𝙾𝙵 𝙰𝙽𝙳𝚁𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙰𝙽 𝙾𝚁𝙶𝙰𝙽𝙸𝚉𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙳𝙾𝙲𝚃𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙴? 𝙷𝙾𝚆 𝙳𝙾 𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝙴𝚇𝙿𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙴𝙽𝙲𝙴𝚂 𝚆𝙸𝚃𝙷 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙸𝙽𝚀𝚄𝙸𝚂𝙸𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽 𝙰𝙵𝙵𝙴𝙲𝚃 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝙼?

halwn believes in the maker, and considers himself andrastian---but he is certainly not devout in the way that he understands the term from childhood. he was raised in a highly religious city-state, a member of nobility in a place where devoutness is both traditional and, at a certain level, even considered fashionable. ostwick is essentially ruled by the chantry, in the sense that its laws are ruled by chantric values and its people assert their identity (their historic non-tevinter-ism, for lack of better term) through andrastianism. given that it is literally a tevinter city populated by a variety of transplants, many of whom have at least a few tevinter origins, the great houses use andrastianism as a way of reinforcing their adherence to the traditions of the origins of ostwick and the andrastian rebellions. basically, all good ostwick families, all the players of note, are andrastian, and if they aren’t andrastian then they aren’t really an ostwick house. there are in fact many minor houses in oswtick who remain in good social graces only because of a strong connection to the chantry that enables them to continue to access the upper echelons of of trade and resource negotiation.

halwn’s mother is a deeply devout woman, whose faith is the central focus of her life. she is from the anderfels, where the chantry is perhaps even more influential than it is in ostwick---and the advertisable devoutness of her anders family was what made her an appealing match for halwn’s father. when he was a boy, halwn can remember both a certain jealousy and a then contingent shame that followed that jealousy over the attention his mother paid the chantry vs what she paid to him. essentially, he has always known that his mother loved the maker more than she loved him. while she wasn’t cold or cruel to her children, they were something of a distraction to her dedication to her faith. the older he became, and the more he was able to understand her, he saw that his mother /needed/ religion, needed the focus of established belief and ritual, and the connection it ran in her through her own family, in order to have both structure and meaning in her life. or, at least, to distract her from the emptiness in the rest of her life. in the end, halwn questions whether his mother has ever really thought critically about what she believes, really ever considered the alternatives, and as such he sees her faith as a blind love, and therefor empty---and since it is the greatest love she has in her life, halwn sort of mourns his mother’s religion ?? though he also, as a son, would feel it cruel to ever try to take it from her, to challenge it directly, because he knows that it would be essentially removing her gravity. she is, to him, a lukewarm woman, who only had so much love to give and chose to give it all to the ritual of organized religion rather than to other people. he thinks of that as a terrible waste.

his father, on the opposite end, preforms religion as a member of the gentry in a highly religious state---because it is simply ‘what people do’, but has never shown any indication that he genuinely believes in any of it. there are things that he has said to halwn throughout his life that lead halwn to believe that his father is not a genuinely religious man, and does not actually put any stock in the lore or moral philosophy of the chantry outside of how it informs the law and serves as a basis for tradition, and even seems to look down on those who do---including his own wife. he’s a draconian man, and his religion was always a thin veneer that painted one of two extremes for halwn when it came to understanding the ‘faithful’: one as his mother, the fragility of the mindlessly devout and unwilling or unable to sacrifice imposed surety for genuine reflection, and the other as his father, using faith as a shield and an excuse to prop up a lack of legitimate confluence with other people. either way, halwn saw religion as something that separated people, something that dehumanized the notion of love and worship.

when halwn refused to marry, his father ‘suggested’ that he join the templars---this being the only other socially acceptable way for a noble in ostwick to avoid marriage without seeming to disregard their parents’ wishes, which is really the onus of where the stigma of not marrying is placed: on house loyalty and participation in the practice of nobility. there was a time for him when he was a boy who still wanted to please his parents that he thought that being a templar would be a heroic occupation for him, ideal since he’d get to leave, but by his early teens his disillusionment with the chantry was complete enough that he knew he could never be happy with a life centered around formal religion. he also had no idea what templars /actually/ do until he left the city. it should be noted that ostwick is highly insular and extremely ‘traditional’ in the chantric sense. the circle at ostwick is separated from the city by a narrow landbridge, the sort meant to prevent anyone from crossing unless in single-file thus making it easy to pick them off from above. mages do not enter the city walls without templar escort, and even then rarely. as a noble child, halwn would have been instructed to ignore them / not interact with them in a sense that is very much intensely classist---though he was never told this, and wouldn’t have been unless the situation presented itself, for even discussing mages was taboo among the elite houses. halwn did not actually meet a mage or witness magic at all until he left the city at 17 to serve as a knight errant in the teyrn’s name, and even then it was in passing. magick was not discussed, and political topics revolving around mages were relegated to ‘rude’ topics that were only whispered about behind close doors. magick was evil, of course, but almost presented as a non-issue, mythical, since it was understood that no one in good society was ever going to encounter it---proof of the power of the chantry, a kind of self-rewarding and self-perpetuating tactic to avoid the possibility of uncomfortable or even remotely challenging questions.

halwn is something of a natural skeptic. he’s curious, and he loves to learn, and anything rigid or dogmatic tends to darken to him on impulse. he has always been this way, and he was quite young when he realized that he didn’t believe in the same way that the people around him seemed to believe. initially, this awareness was almost guilty. all of his education, outside of the military, was preformed by teachers involved in the clergy somehow, and the amount of shame used as an educational tool in a religious education worked on him for only so long. halwn’s natural mistrust and even animosity for those who are unfailingly dogmatic comes in part from a revulsion he has for those that try to make others feel ashamed---and this revulsion is a protective impulse rooted in the fact that he is the eldest of three children, with a large gap between him and his younger siblings, and he was nine years old when he felt he had to begin silently defending his siblings from their tutors and providing them emotional support to counteract the lack left behind by their ‘religious’ parents in a devout family.

his impulse to defend people comes from this: from the way that always conceiving of himself as a ‘we’ makes his thinking almost inherently communal, ‘this is what we’re going to do’ / ‘this is what we need’ / etc, as a lot of eldest siblings can probably identify with. in his case, this is because he wanted to provide emotionally for his siblings. this why he’s so warm, so tender, so patient, and so gentle. it’s also why he is so driven to understand, and then forgive, because they are the opposite of what his upbringing taught him, and he never felt like a real ‘part’ of his own childhood and its methods.

he was defending his siblings from their parents absence, but also from the shame and guilt-based tactics of behavioral reinforcement used by the clergy who helped to raise them.

in many ways, halwn associates the chantry with stifling, performance, and wasted lives. he has no nostalgia for the organized religion that dominated his youth, and he was happy to leave it. leaving the city to travel as a knight was the first time he felt he had his head above water. his sexuality factors into this as well, but that’s honestly another entire meta in and of itself. living in ferelden, away from his family and away from the chantry, allowed him to breathe. it should be noted that northern ferelden is a very scattered place home to many refugees, and a lot of halwn’s neighbours and those with whom he became very close with when they formed sort of a communal group during the blight were from all over thedas, and those who were andrastian worshiped in many different ways. faith did not really rise in his mind again until the blight---when he watched people of varied backgrounds / classes / races, and varied religions, comforting one another with what he perceived to be genuine religious principles. he had witnessed a lot of violence and hideousness as a knight errant, had learned more about the world outside of ostwick that way, had suffered emotionally in his early life, but it wasn’t until the blight that halwn was actually stripped of the privilege inherent in his status, though he’d lost a lot of that after being informally disinherited he was still living comfortably by world standards, still had a farm and a house and work and freedom. the blight was the first time he felt real and genuine life-or-death responsibility for other’s lives (outside of leading a small group of knights, but even then the danger was less dire and lacked the element of despair that thickened the danger of the blight), he was responsible for feeding people, defending people, but also for being part of a group that just mentally had to find a way to sleep through the night. it was the first time in his life since he was very young that he felt a genuine desire to pray.

the transition from seeing religion as the power-based artifice of the wealthy to finally understanding it as the thing that gets the frightened and hungry through the night is what allowed halwn to accept the part of himself that still believed, and wanted to, that allowed him to let go of the stigma of religion he developed in youth. he hasn’t practiced formally since leaving ostwick, but he never did more genuine ‘believing’ than during the blight and the tumult that followed. saying prayers over the dead, and the ones who hadn’t died, and having to practice martial law based on collective morals, returned some of the private tenderness of belief that he once felt as a child, before that feeling was corrupted.

it’s difficult to exactly quantify his beliefs, as they are partly agnostic though, as i’ve said, he does consider himself andrastian. as a leader, he doesn’t act out of a sense of duty to chantric ideals or chantric laws anymore than he acts out of a sense of duty over anything other than to try to ascertain the truth and act in the most just way possible. he has his own compass, he has since he was a child, and he balances that against as many varied opinions as he can trust to be presented to him honestly. he also doesn’t particularly like being in chantric settings---you may sometimes, particularly when he’s drinking, hear him quote the chant, and hear that tired sting of sarcasm in it, the recitation of a disillusioned youth having his knuckles whipped by a tutor, but you may also hear him quote some small part in a dark time, using the words as words, genuinely hoping to draw and give comfort. there’s a tension, certainly, between his belief and his disillusionment, and it makes being the leader of what is essentially a renegade arm of the chantry both deeply ironic and deeply appropriate for him.

#answered.#headcanon.#ofrevas #hmmm reposting since tumblr cannot #handle its own formatting without glitching massively wow

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