#they probably broke or threw away their sword once they had even a little freedom to do so

[rukafais]

Doodling. I had the idea of a knight that was a different creature wearing armor/assuming a humanoid shape, but forced and sealed into that shell in a way that renders it painfully palatable as a way to break them and make them pliable/obedient.

[immersional]

eight - c!wilbur (dream smp)

genre: angst ):

word count: 1454

warnings: blood, character death, explosions, fighting, dream smp election arc & wilbur’s downfall

authors note: uHm so this is my first time ever posting my writing on tumblr… this is genuinely probably the worst thing you’ll ever read so that’s just a preface. also I didn’t know exactly what to put for like - the warnings - so if anyone could help me with those that’d be great! all that aside, i hope u enjoy ): i REALLY recommend listening to eight by sleeping at last whilst reading this! ALSO i didn’t proofread it so if it’s bad or has grammatical errors I am very sorry.

****

I remember the minute,

It was like a switch was flipped - 

“Tommy, I am a slow-burning fuse. I am a long, slow-burning fuse, but I’m telling you now, over the next couple of weeks, I’m gonna be a different man the one Schlatt crossed.” 

Sounds, sounds of joy and celebration, infiltrated my ears as we clambered to the top of the hill and stared down at the very inauguration that we were dismissed from. Although, some may say, less ‘dismissed’ and more ‘chased away by an entire city with fire arrows and netherite swords’. 

Tommy was speaking from his spot beside me, but the words failed to register as I observed the way Niki slid away from the function and began making the journey back to her bakery. The way she furiously wiped at her eyes as she cautiously checked behind her was a painful reminder that she could no longer feel safe in her own country. 

How did this happen? We won the war. We won our freedom. Now we had nothing. 

God that was so long ago, long ago, long ago…

I was little, I was weak and perfectly naive,

And I grew up too quick.

“I know you’re scared, Tommy, I understand you’re scared. And it’s scary! It’s scary Tommy, but you know what? In a time like this, when a man has nothing to lose, do you know what that means? It means we can do what we want.” The laugh that exited my chapped lips was dark; I could tell by the look on Tommy’s face that he was taken aback by my words. 

He stuttered. “Wilbur, I don’t know what you’re trying to say but-”

“Have you not noticed? Everyone who is claiming to be on our side, they’re lying to us! Tubbo?! He’s lying to you! He would drop us the second he realises we’re not in the lead anymore.” 

“No, no! STOP IT!”

It was a mixture of unexpected and expected, the fist that flew across my face. As I fell to the solid concrete floor of the ravine I realised that Tommy was still in denial. He still believed there was a route we could take ending with us regaining L’Manburg and going back to the way things were before Schlatt came into power. 

“You’re being reckless, Wilbur.” It took me a few minutes to focus on the hand reaching out to me, but in a few fleeting moments I was back on my feet with Tommy watching me with a hard stare. “You’re not the man that came in as president.” 

Another dark chuckle. “I told you, Tommy. What did I say to you the night we were exiled from L’Manburg? I said I was a slow-burning fuse, and right now I’m closer than ever to exploding.”

I’m all in, palms out, I’m at your mercy now and I’m ready to begin.

“Do you know what happens to traitors, Tubbo? Nothing good.” 

Tommy was visibly shaking. A crossbow, wielded by Technoblade, was pointed straight at Tubbo’s forehead. One shot, one life lost. 

The button.

Without another thought, my legs began carrying me from the top of the building and down to the mountains behind L’Manburg. Chaos was ensuing behind me, but that was fine. It could all be fixed by the button. The button connected to stacks upon stacks of TNT underneath the country I built from the ground up. 

My fingers clawed urgently at the dirt as sweat began to gather in beads on my forehead; grime and filth began to cover my body as I raked through the mountain in search of the room. Where was the button?

What seemed like hours, but was only minutes, passed by before my arms gave out and I collapsed against the mountainside. It hurt to breathe and the rain began pouring from the sky, battering down on me like a thousand punches. 

I laid there until I heard the distant cries of the citizens of L’Manburg. A L’Manburg that was no longer mine. My unfinished symphony.

And I’ll give all I have, I’ll give my blood, give my sweat - 

An ocean of tears will spill for what is broken. 

Blood coated the floor from where my knees were being cut open by the cobblestone. My breathing was uneven and my nails were leaving deep red indents on my palms. With every sound, sounds of joys and celebration, that filtered down through the walls, I came one step closer to pushing the button. 

Would it even work? Was the TNT even connected anymore? My battered hand hovered sadly over the wooden square. 

“The thing that I built this nation for doesn’t exist anymore. Th-The thing that I worked towards… doesn’t exist anymore. It’s over.”

A gust of wind swept through the room. “What are you doing?” 

I didn’t need to turn my head to know who was behind me. He’d come to persuade me to make the ‘right’ decision, the ‘better’ decision; just like Tommy had endeavoured towards many times before. 

“Do you know what this button is?” My voice was shaky, and it was then I realised my eyes were beginning to cloud and become blurry. “Have you heard the song? On the walls? Have you heard the song. I was just thinking that there was a special place where men could go, but it’s not there anymore. You know?

Footsteps. “It still is there. You just won it back, Wil!” 

“Phil.” I spun around to face him, and by the look in his eyes I saw that I was nothing but the shell of the boy he watched grow up. “I’m always so close to pressing this button, Phil. I’ve been here - like - seven or eight times now.” 

Fireworks began to go off outside, followed by terrified screams and the clanks of swords being unsheathed. They were fighting. Ten minutes ago, they were rejoicing in the face of a new government and now they were trying to kill each other? 

“You fought so hard to get this land back… you fought so hard.” He was pleading, begging at this point to get me to change my mind. Phil was trying so hard to coerce me to leave the room, remove the TNT and go back to the way things were.

Nothing would ever go back to the way things used to be. If nothing changed, then history would just continue to repeat itself. Although I could hear Phil speaking to me, it seemed like the button was speaking louder. Pleading, begging me to press it and end everyone’s suffering once and for all. End my suffering once and for all. 

“Phil…” I turned away from him for the last time. “There was a saying Phil. By a traitor. A traitor who used to be a part of L’Manburg - Eret?” With every word spoken, I felt my throat begin to close up.

 “He had a saying, Phil,” A sharp exhale. “It was never meant to be.”

There was a moment. A moment that I thought it hadn’t worked. Had Tommy or Dream removed the TNT? What if Schlatt had realised and gotten rid of it before he died? 

An incredible amount of thoughts ran across my mind, but they came to a halt when the first piece of TNT went off. As the city I created and once ruled began to detonate, as the bawls of the citizens of L’Manburg increased and became fiercer, I just threw my head back in euphoria. 

The ground shuddered and broke beneath my knees. Phil’s exclamations of horror were heard behind me as the button room was unveiled to the perplexed and panic-stricken faces of old acquaintances, friends and enemies. Tommy’s eyes were wide and full of tears as he gaped at the damage the explosion had done. Niki’s face held an expression of extreme despair whilst she fought to pull a distraught Tubbo away from the massacre. 

As the smoke began to drift up from the rubble, I quickly realised that my job was done. 

‘Phil, kill me. Kill me, Phil.” I pulled out the diamond sword I carried with me and slid it towards the man who’d raised me. “Stab me with this sword, murder me now, kill me. They all want you to, so do it.”

“I- You’re my SON!” 

“Look at how much work went into this.” Ignoring the searing pain from my bloody knees, I stood and gestured towards the broken country. “Look how much time and effort went into this and it’s gone. Do it. Do it.”

Wilbur Soot was slain by Philza

Now you won’t see all that I had to lose,

And all I’ve lost in the fight to protect it.

[pinnithin-writes]

you’re only mortal

A short narrative for an NPC in my current dnd campaign. 1486 words.

The first time Reynin Carlile died, it was a surprise. 

A sword between his shoulder blades and he was done. The steel severed his spinal cord, punched through his lungs, and emerged on the other side. Reynin didn’t even see who stabbed him. He was dead before he hit the ground. 

The second time was a surprise, too, if only for the fact that dying doesn’t happen twice. 

Reynin awoke to a dark silence and a dull pain in his back. His hands were clasped together, which was odd, because Reynin didn’t sleep like this. He felt cold metal beneath his fingers and his confusion grew, because he definitely didn’t sleep with his sword. His dark vision did little to orient him, and his breathing quickly thickened the surrounding air, so he deduced he was in an enclosed space. Rich cushioning cradled him on all sides, soft and almost comfortable.

Oh, he was in a coffin. 

Reynin’s pulse spiked. He rapidly remembered dying, and then dreaming, and then faint traces of a conversation. Something older than him, older than Eunara, had decided he would live again, but the details slipped away when he reached for them. All he could deduce was that his goddess had touched him and he was blessed to return.

Some use that was, locked in a casket. Reynin swiftly panicked, beating on the lid and shouting for someone, anyone, to hear him. His own voice was close and too loud in his ears, the pounding of his fists ringing dead. It occurred to him that there was likely a mountain of graveyard dirt overhead, the realization lodging in his throat and choking him. He swallowed and hiccupped, terrified as his thoughts raced to Hartline, to his friends, and the sword that had buried itself in his chest.

Someone had killed him. As the air thinned around him, Reynin was able to cobble this truth together. Someone deliberately drove their blade into his back - a real, living person, because the wraiths they’d been fighting were unarmed - and ended his life. He remembered a brief flash of steel breaking through his ribcage, mild surprise, and then nothing. His lungs burned as he sucked for air, tears streaming down either side of his face and pooling in his ears.

It fully hit him. I died. 

I died and they buried me.

His oxygen went quick and his life burned away again.

The third, fourth, and fifth times were much the same - awakening, remembering, and dying quickly of hypoxia. It took a few deaths for the panic to settle down, to use the precious minutes of lucidity he had before confusion set in, and assess his situation. Reynin’s suffocation took a little longer the sixth time around as he forced himself to breathe slower and think.

Soyinka wouldn’t have given him this gift for nothing. It would be a waste to bring him back - repeatedly, at that - only for him to remain locked underground for eternity. She must believe he was capable of escaping, and that he had all the necessary resources to do so. His chest ached as he struggled for air. What tools were in this box with him?

His sword. His hands. His brain. That pretty much summed it up. He didn’t have the space for a good strike with his fists and his sword was all but useless, but Reynin could still feel magic guttering low within him. That candle flame of hope was all he had.

With a murmured plea to Soyinka, Reynin summoned what little magic remained and blasted the roof of his prison. The force of the impact knocked the air from his lungs, but he was rewarded with the sharp CRACK of splitting wood. Dizzy, uncoordinated, he hit it again, and blow by blow he worked the lid loose. Every breath was fire until, suddenly, it was earth - clods of soil rushed in to bury Reynin further.

He threw a sleeve over his face as graveyard dirt surged around him, coughing and swearing and struggling. This sort of suffocation was somehow worse, loam crowding his lungs and crusting his eyes. He sucked a breath through his sleeve, making his choice in the same moment he recognized it. Choke on dirt and continue to die here, or crawl to the surface and live. 

Reynin crawled. 

He only died once more in his desperate scramble to freedom. By the time he suffocated for the seventh time, Reynin concluded he’d much rather be stabbed again than experience another death like that. Earth was everywhere- it blocked his ears and caked his hair and coated his throat and sealed his eyes shut. He was no longer an elf but a worm, and for what felt like an eternity the crawling was all he knew.

Until he finally emerged on the surface, retching and coughing up grave soil, limbs trembling from the effort. Vaguely, he registered cool night air on his skin. He was alive. Somehow, despite everything, he was alive. He wept and knuckled debris from his eyes, greedily pulling in gasp after gasp of blessed fresh air. He was never taking breathing for granted ever again.

When he was finally able to see, he found himself staring at his own headstone, washed pale in the moonlight.

REYNIN CARLILE 1588 - 1611 BELOVED COMPANION AND FRIEND

With shaking fingers, Reynin checked his own pulse. It tapped out an abnormally rapid rhythm, but blood was moving through his veins. He certainly felt alive. Living hurt - his skin stung with the scrapes of clawing through the soil and oxygen deprivation made his head ache. He knelt in the dirt and listened to the wind in the grass, at a loss for what to do next. 

It wasn’t like he could go back to the temple. He would be decried as a heretic for his resurrection. Or murdered again. Both, in all likelihood. The space between his shoulder blades ached where the blade pierced him. He didn’t have a clue who killed him - none of his fellow paladins hated him enough to do such a thing, as far as he was aware - but whoever was responsible likely lurked within the temple walls this very moment.

He could draw conclusions about motives. Reynin Carlile wasn’t a vain individual, but he possessed enough self awareness to know he was both admired and reviled, depending on who was asked. Over the years, he’d collected enough information about the Mortal Coil’s history to be dangerous. In hindsight, the level to which he spoke out against his leadership was probably what did him in.

He glanced down at his funeral whites, muddied and ruined from his escape, searching for regret and failing to find any. This was a death Hartline would approve of, he thought wryly. Then his breath snagged in his throat.

Hartline. 

Reynin’s heart broke all at once when he realized what this meant for them. He couldn’t tell Hartline he was alive. That he had been murdered, met Soyinka, and returned. Hartline would make a hotblooded decision and get themself killed in ten seconds flat. Guilt crawled inside him. His absence ensured Hartline’s safety. Maybe in their grief they’d be overlooked by whoever chose to end Reynin’s life. 

Tears rolled down his cheeks, carving tracks through the grime on his face. My lady, he thought, what a heavy gift you’ve given me. 

Suddenly, rather than feeling bewildered and inconvenienced, he was very sad that he’d died. Even though he returned, the life he knew was over, his path abruptly diverted to a bigger purpose. A different sort of dying, unmourned and unremarkable. He cried with a lot of dignity for someone who just emerged from his own grave. As he watched the soil soak up his tears, he decided he deserved a good and proper breakdown once he was safely away from Whitecap. A private funeral, just for himself.

Unsteady, chest aching, Reynin stood. He picked his way out of the bed of loose earth until he stood on solid grass, gaze lingering on the distant temple spires that speared through the gray dawn. Unconsciously, he tried to brush the dirt off his robes before realizing how utterly useless that would be. A long, thin sigh stuttered out of him. But then he wiped his eyes. Raised his chin.

Enough of this. He had the right to feel sorry for himself, but certainly not the time. Running into his own mourners was not ideal, and the sun was quickly rising. Reynin turned his eyes from the horizon and began picking his way through the graveyard. 

Soyinka’s Blessed, he mused as he went. What a joke. He wondered if his goddess was regretting her decision, watching her Blessed leave town on foot with his death count already at seven.

A few miles from Whitecap, he stopped short with a barely audible, “Fuck.”

He’d left his sword in the coffin.

[missypawz]

This is for the anonymous who asked for Petra and levi fighting alongside one another in the uprising arc! So finally here it is, hope you enjoy 💕

____________________________________________

“Captain, how is your leg now?” Petra averted her attention away from keeping watch and motioned to Levi’s leg that he had injured in the 57th expedition when he had landed in a bad position on the female titans hardened skin.

“Its better now.”

“Good, I’m glad it healed well.”

“And how are your injuries feeling now?”

“Much better, luckily.” She smiled, patting her shoulder were she had accumulated a scar from the mission, it had been a nasty injury.

She only got a nod in response and then went back to keeping an eye out, Levi returned to doing the same thing, he kept his eyes slimmed and waited for any movement.

There was silence, the only thing that they could hear was the wind gently blowing and the every so often tweeting of a bird sat on the roof top next to them, it would usually be nice, but the current mission wasn’t allowing either of them to enjoy the peace and quiet.

Bang

“PETRA!” As quick as he could, he pushed himself forward and grabbed her, pulling her down the roof slightly with him, giving them some cover. The bullet skimmed over them and a low laugh could be heard coming from the other side of the roof. Both of their eyes widened, Petra’s face went slightly pale and she held onto her blades even tighter, that was an extremely close call.

“Ah Levi, it’s been a while huh runt? You grown any yet?” He made his way up the roof, stalking closer to the pair before reloading his gun.

“Still pretty small eh? Haven’t grown much.” A grin creeped its way onto his face as he went to aim again. Before he could Levi pushed himself as well as Petra down, not taking any chances, this time they might not be so lucky. “KENNY!” In an instant he threw his one blade towards Kenny that he had gripped tightly after the first shot, it was deflected quickly, making the sword fly off in a different direction. A clang was heard when it fell down onto the street below.

Levi knew this man. Petra wasn’t sure how though, Perhaps in Levi’s underground days, things weren’t completely clear to her from that part of Levi’s life, and she didn’t blame him, if he didn’t want to speak about it very much then he didn’t need to, it was in the past. She had heard a few things though, like how he had two friends, some would say they were more like siblings, especially Isabel who had adopted the name bro for levi. Farlan was a nice sounding guy, he always stuck by Levi’s side no matter the situation, he had known him before they found Isabel. The three all lived together in a small house, one thing was that it was always clean, if you wanted to live with Levi, cleaning was a must.

The raven haired man grabbed his cape and threw it in front of Kenny before another shot was fired, with a signal to Petra he jumped down from the roof, with her following. The rest of Kenny’s squad must have been waiting somewhere, hiding, they needed to just move fast and get out of this whole situation as quickly as possible. It was unknown to them just how many of Kenny’s people were actually here and after them, so it was best for them to split up from here onto two different streets and attempt to meet back at the same place after losing the group, or, they were hoping it would go like that.

Petra slipped off into the opposite direction, her hooks grappling onto the buildings as she propelled herself through the air, then back down towards the ground as she began seeing more people who had the same gear as Kenny. She put in everything she remembered from the years she had spent in the scouts, just to escape these people, doing tricky maneuvers and spinning through the streets towards a bar that was located just a bit further down, she only hoped levi had the same thought and they could manage to meet back up, she didn’t want to be separated, especially when there were so many in the squad.

Her heart was beating so fast it almost felt as if it was going to break out from her rib cage, maybe even her chest. Her breath was ragged and short as she pushed to get forward at top speed, avoiding carts that were filled with food and little stalls where people were selling bits and bobs to make their living.

The bar came closer into view as she let her hooks fall out of the building and landed outside of the bar, as fast as her legs would move she ran inside, the wooden floor boards creaking underneath her form.

Almost a second later she spun her head round to stare outside the window where she watched her partner be chased by all of Kenny’s gang, he moved so fast, it was mesmerising, every movement was so precise and careful, never once did he under or over calculate one of his moves, he slid over top of a wooden cart and continued zipping through the street, shocking the civilians and even making some watch in awe, a few children had large smiles on their face, thinking that maybe one day, they could be doing cool things like that, they could fly through the air.

She nearly even got distracted watching him, she couldn’t, she knew these people were nothing compared to the strength that levi held, she had to get ready encase they entered the bar. “A-ah hello miss! Uhm make yourself at home..” a man stood behind the bar said, his voice wavering slightly as he shook, clearly this man wasn’t used to members of the scouts making their way into their establishment, he probably knew some sort of trouble would be following behind them, everyone did.

In a matter of seconds later she watched levi fly through the door, landing onto the wooden table that the bar server was stood behind, he flicked the blood from his eye that he’d accumulated along the chase and nodded to Petra. “Ah- you too sir! Hello!” He spoke again and nodded at the captain, the man looked like he was ready to faint.

Levi moved from the counter to behind the bar, he sat down and called Petra’s name, making her join in and sit besides him.

There were an array of bottles of fine wines and beers on the shelves, aswell as things like whiskey, most importantly, a shot gun, they were allowed encase someone behind the bar was attacked, they could use it in self defence.

“Oi, Levi, you got your little red head in here? Never knew you were capable of keeping a girl around.” He already knew they were here, but he didn’t know what was about to happen.

With a small motion Levi turned around one of the bottles, giving them both a good view of Kenny stood at the entrance of the bar. The men sat down who were eating and drinking suddenly stopped, looking at the man with shocked expressions.

Petra and Levi were amazing at communicating, no words needed to be spoke between them, yet they would still know what each other meant. Levi’s grey orbs made their way over to look at the couple of guns that were behind the bar, encase Petra hadn’t got the message he made his hands to look like a gun, she just nodded, knowing what they had to do. She knew they would have to kill this “Kenny” to save everyone else, but killing another human felt so wrong..a feeling of anxiety sat in her stomach, the feeling that she and every other soldier would get in situations like this, when you came right down to it, it was life or death, one person or another, and it was cruel.

“Not gonna talk? You’re both just cornered rats sat in here, I don’t know what the hell you were thinking, didn’t I teach you better?” His voice was laced with amusement as he spoke.

For a long time Kenny had wondered what had happened to levi, he had made it up to the surface.. he was even in the scout regiment, the military brigade that fought for humanity against the titans to bring freedom to everybody inside the walls. He was even more curious what his nephew was like, if he’d changed much or if he still used all of the techniques that he taught the boy back in the underground, he learnt him how to survive, how to fight, kill and steal, everything that he needed to know to get him through his years in the underground after his mom had passed away.

He was practically a father figure to levi, he always denied the fact, saying something along the lines of ‘I’m not suited to look after a brat like you’, every time he contradicted himself, despite his sometimes harsh treatment to get the ravenette as strong as possible, he did care for him, he wanted him to grow up powerful to get him out of the hell hole, get him a better life where he could bask in the sun each day.

Slowly, levi counted down the seconds in his head, Kenny got even closer and the he nodded fast. The pair grabbed the shot guns and pulled them, they positioned them over the bar and pulled the triggers at the same time, almost unbelievable how they were so in sync.

Bang

As fast as possible, the older man grabbed one of the chairs and held it in front of him to keep the bullets from reaching him. The chair broke into pieces and he fell backwards outside onto the hard ground with a groan. Caven watched as he fell, she could only sigh and wave her hands, getting the others to lower their guns, it was only their leader.

“Lets go.’ The red head and her partner got up before thanking the man and using the window to get out, as soon as they were back in fresh air they felt all eyes on them, there were lots of them, all getting ready to fire.

“Don’t hesitate, I don’t want you dead.”

“Of course.”

As soon as they were out the pub, there were tens of people all waiting for them, guns loaded and ready for blood, getting rid of two of the best and elite soldiers would help their plan succeed, there would be less people to go after Historia and Eren once they captured them. “There!” One yelled before aiming their gun towards them, Levi propelled his hook into the persons chest and slashed his blade across their torso before letting their body fall limply to the ground. No hesitating, just like Levi had said, right now it was kill or be killed, these guys wouldn’t hold back, he wasn’t planning on it either.

With a large gulp Petra followed, slicing anyone who got near, it hurt to do it, these people..they all had their own lives, they might even have families or wives or husbands..even so, it was for humanity, of course, it always was.

As she made her way up towards Levi she gripped her blades tighter and clenched her teeth, killing people, something she had never once wanted to do. She joined the scouts to kill titans, not humans, yet it seemed it couldn’t be helped..not this time.

Within no time they were passed the main group and there were only a couple left, a fast as possible they were taken out and the pair were back on the move again, towards where Eren and Historia were being taken down the streets by one of Kenny’s people, they had to act fast to get them back.

As they flew through the air, Petra could feel her hair blowing in the wind, it was a feeling she would never get enough of, even when everything is going so wrong, she’d even killed somebody, the breeze was just so relaxing, it even brought a smile onto her face. Levi was about to ask what she was smiling about, but instead shook his head and decided it would wait for later, when they were all properly out of danger.

The 104th squad were also there in no time, once gunshots had been heard and the pair had been spotted, they hurried after them, most of them afraid of what was awaiting them. It was hard not to notice how Mikasa’s eyes were slimmed, there was rage in those steel orbs, absolute anger for anyone daring to take Eren away.

“We’re gonna lose them!” Connie yelled, making Sasha pull a face of concern as they hurried towards the wagon. “Armin, Jean, secure the wagon quickly.” Levi instructed, putting his trust into the younger soldiers, he knew they would do fine, all of their training went into moments like these.

Jean rushed down and landed in the cart before pulling the one who was driving back down into the cart while Armin took the place and began steering instead. While Armin was taking the wagon away, Jean had the woman who had been driving on the floor, his blade pointed against her head. He looked scared, he didn’t want to kill this woman, he was still practically a child and he didn’t want to live with himself after killing another human, he decided with giving her a chance and just using threats. “Don’t move.. or I’ll have to kill you.” His hands were shaking, as much as he wanted to look tough, it was a difficult situation, still, he gritted his teeth and frowned, looking as confident as possible.

The blond haired woman reached behind her and grabbed her gun that was thrown across the cart, she pointed it at Jean, with no hesitation she reached towards the trigger. He looked behind him and then tripped, ending up on the floor with a gun pointed at his head. A gun shot went off, and the woman fell limply on the floor, revealing a horrified looking Armin, holding another gun. His eyes were wide with fear and his brows were furrowed together with complete worry, he was disgusted at himself, even though it saved his friend, it had been the only way, there had been no time.

“Armin, Jean!” Petra quickly jumped down and noticed the two who were about to jump down on the younger boys, she grabbed Armin and saw Levi who had also noticed. He pulled Jean back from the cart as the two took it back over, hurrying away with Historia and Eren. Despite them getting away with Eren and Historia, Jean and Armin were still alive, that was what matters, the two who had been taken could still be rescued.

“Eren!”

“Mikasa wait! We can’t go after them right now..we need to have a plan.” As soon as Armin was down on the floor, the red head was hurrying after Mikasa, the only thing that was on her mind was Eren which was dangerous, she wanted to rush after him into any situation.. though Petra couldn’t blame her, it was what you did for somebody you loved, no doubt, she would be reckless and try and do whatever she could if Levi was taken away. “Eren! Eren…” her voice trailed off, the anger faded and her voice was laced with sadness, this always happened, she only wanted to protect him. “We’ll get him back, I promise you.” Petra’s grip loosened on Mikasa, she was now only hugging her, a sign of telling her it would all be okay, even when things felt helpless, the scouts never gave up, it wasn’t part of their motto. Petra’s arms fell from around Mikasa and she turned back to face Levi. “We should take cover for a while, rest up, try and get some information out the bastards we caught then think of a plan to get them back” 

“Yes sir.” everyone replied, following after Levi who would lead the way to their hideout. 

_______________________________________________

“Captain.”

“What is it Petra?” 

“You need stitches don’t you..? Let me do them, I’ve done some before.”

“very well” He Ravenette unbuttoned his shirt before slipping it off, of course not without folding it neatly and putting it next to him. Petra moved towards the wooden table and grabbed the needle and thread sitting on it before getting to work, she had done this before on multiple soldiers that had been injured in battle, but mainly if her own squad got any injuries, she always seemed to fix them back up again. 

“It might hurt but I’m sure you know that-”

“Go ahead, it’s fine.” He stared ahead as she began working, tensing slightly when she moved the needle and thread through his skin, despite her being as careful as she could be. She continued stitching for some time, before a satisfied sigh left her lips and she cut the thread at the end. Petra admired her work for a moment before realising she was..definitely staring.

“Thank you.” 

……

“Anything for you, Captain.” 

____________________________________________

I’ve gotta say I apologise for this taking so long, but here it is, I hope you like it and I’m going to start posting drawings soon 🥰 plus more fluffy writing in some time, I’ve been more inactive so I apologise but here is something.

[dragonotaku-justineverything]

Erza has been trying to using violence to stop Natsu from fighting all the time. However one day she decides to use a differen tactic... seduction and Natsu doesn't know how to react to that.

“Hahahaha! Is that all you got Elfman!?”

The Fairy Tail guild hall was in another all out brawl. At the center of it was of course their resident Fire Dragon Slayer. It’d all started with Elfman annoying Natsu more than usual with his “being a real Man” talk. Before anyone knew it, magic was being thrown left and right throughout the guild. 

Natsu dodged to the side to avoid a spell from Gajeel and threw a Fire Dragon’s Wing back at him, grinning wildly the entire time. He burst out laughing when he saw it connect dead on.

While this brawl was raging, Erza was sitting down out of the way. She listened to Natsu laugh and grin away as the guild hall turned into a storm of dust, magic, and debris. She really didn’t understand why he had to start a fight at least once a week. She sighed and just took another bite of her cake. 

‘I really wish Natsu would stop causing so many fights. But, that’s simply who he is I suppose. I’ll just give him another talking to later once again, so long as the fight stays contained and away from me.’ Erza thought.

Juuuuust as the shattered remains of a bench soared into the back of her head

…

…

Oh dear…

Erza sighed, finished the last two bites of her strawberry cake, dabbed her mouth clean with her napkin, and stood up. She took a deep breath in through her nose, and then...

“NAAAAAATTSSSSUUUUUUUU!”

The entire guild hall froze to a halt when they heard a roar that was way more terrifying than any kind of S-class monster could make. 

Natsu was the worst off, because he was the target of the rage behind that roar. Natsu froze on the table he was standing on and stood ramrod straight. He started to shiver as he looked behind him. Approaching slowly was the silhouette of his pissed off girlfriend. A blood red aura flicked behind her like flames and her eyes entirely red.

Natsu did the only thing he knew how to do in this situation.

Beg for his salmon haired life. 

“E-Erza! N-now I know y-your p-p-probably mad at me, b-but Elfman started it!” 

Elfman managed to find his voice just enough to defend himself. “H-hey! I-It’s not very manly to throw others to the wolves!”

Natsu hoped that would have been enough to divert Erza’s furious gaze, but seeing as she was still stomping towards him, it didn’t work. “E-Erza? H-hey…”Erza was only 10 feet away when she yelled “REQUIP!” and her silhouette was engulfed by a bright yellow light as she kept moving towards Natsu.

Natsu dropped to his knees on the table top and pressed hands together. He repeatedly bowed his head so low and fast that he actually started cracking the table on accident. “I’m sorry Erza! Please have mercy! Mercy I beg of you! Y-you love me right?! So please d-don’t….don’t…” Natsu had stopped bowing/slamming his head to look at Erza, and he watched her reemerge. 

Instead of coming out of her silhouette in her Black Wing Armor, her Flame Empress Armor, or dragons forbid her Purgatory Armor, Erza came out wearing an armor set that no one expected.

The armor consisted of common steel gauntlets that covered her arms up to her bicep; thigh high, dark mesh stockings; pink panties with very thin strings; and a maid’s hat in her loose scarlet hair. The only thing she was wearing as a top was a long white apron….with no bra. In her left hand was the armor set’s weapon, a simple sword with a golden blade and a purple handle. Along the flat of the blade was an inscription that read, “Come on Boy”. 

This was Erza’s Seduction Armor. It was an armor Natsu had only ever seen in his dreams since Erza’s told him about it.

Erza wasn’t stomping towards Natsu’s kneeling form anymore. Now, she was swaying her way towards him. Her hips slowly moved side to side as she put one foot in front of the other. Natsu’s cheeks lit up red as he stuttered out, “Er-Er-Er-Erz-za-za-”

Erza placed her right knee on the bench in front of the table, and leaned in towards Natsu who was still on his needs. Her face came directly in front of his, only a few inches apart. Her glossy lips were slightly parted as she sensually breathed out, “Naaatsuuuu~” Her free right hand reach up and the cool metal of her gauntlet gently brushed along the right side of Natsu’s defined jaw.

Natsu felt the cool steel stroke his jaw, and promptly threw himself back in sheer panic. However, he did forget he was on a table. So when he threw himself back, he also threw himself off the table, and the back of his head smacked into the floor. He paid no mind to the throb of pain from the back of his head and sat back up to look back to where he had just been. Back towards Erza.

She’d kept crawling forward along the table after Natsu. When she reached the table’s edge, she swung her legs forward slowly and stretched them outward. Natsu and anyone else in the guild that were watching, which was basically the few remaining who hadn’t passed out from massive blood loss from their nosebleeds, got a perfect look at her long, smooth, stocking clad legs. Said legs gently touched their feet down on the wooden floor and Erza slid off the table.

She immediately sauntered right up to Natsu’s sitting form. She shifted her golden sword into a reverse grip in her left hand. She swiftly raised her left hand and drove the blade down into the wooden floor between Natsu’s spread legs. The blade sank into the floor like it was made out of clay. The blade came to a stop in the floor and Natsu was left staring dead at the “Boy” printed on the flat of the blade.

Erza squatted down alongside her sword, her butt being stuck out slightly as a wonderful side effect. She let go of the handle and moved towards Natsu. She was kneeling right in front of Natsu, pressing her well endowed bosom right into his face. 

She looked down into his dark onyx eyes and he looked up into her visible chocolate brown left eye as best he could past her apron covered chest. Erza brushed her hair out of the way of her left eye with her right, though her hair fell immediately back down so Natsu wasn’t sure why she bothered. Either way, she looked absolutely gorgeous.

Erza lowered her right hand to softly caress Natsu’s cheek. She finally spoke after a few seconds of them just looking at one another in that position. It was in a very breathy and light tone, almost sultry. “Natsu, why do you always have to cause trouble like this? That’s very naughty of you~.” She softly traced her fingers along Natsu’s cheek. She made a small pout that somehow only added to her sexiness. “You can be such a bad boy at times.”

Natsu tried to speak and defend himself. However, with the lower half of his face being covered by an apron clad F cup pair of tits, and his face finally knowing what it felt like to be on fire, the only noises he was able to make that were audible were, “Mmmur…..herm….phermf…” Even without being smother it would have sounded like nonsense anyways.

Erza however acted like she understood him. “I know, I know you love to fight, but fighting so much is what bad boys do. I want you to be a good boy, because then I could reward you~. Would you like me to reward you Natsu~?” 

Natsu didn’t even try to speak this time. He just nodded dumbly, which also made his face slightly rub into her massive bust.

Erza smiled and licked her lips. “That’s good, because I want to reward you to~. Do you promise to be a good boy for me? At least for a little while~?” Erza pressed her tits into Natsu’s face just a bit more. Her answer was another nod from Natsu. “That’s my good boy. Now let me give my good boy a little reward for being so understanding~.”

Erza pulled her chest back from Natsu’s face, a cruel blessing that allowed Natsu to breathe freely again, even if he preferred the method of suffocation he was under. Though Natsu’s freedom to breathe was quickly taken away once again when Erza latched her mouth onto his.

Erza’s eyes were closed as she melded into her kiss. Her lips moved slowly against Natsu’s, fitting perfectly against them as she closed them, sucking on Natsu’s lower lip very briefly before she let go and started again. Her cheeks took on a little pink dusting when she slipped her tongue easily into Natsu’s warm mouth. Her tongue lightly touched Natsu’s, like it was curious about it’s new surroundings. Then it went all in, pushing harder against his tongue and easily won dominance she easily moved it any which way she wanted.

On Natsu’s side of the tongue wrestling, he was completely wide eyed in shock. He’d made out with Erza like this countless times before, but she was never this forward in public, and she had never been wearing that wonderful ‘armor’! He lost himself in the kiss and the feeling of Erza’s wonderful tongue dancing and rubbing with his. He felt his mind slow begin to overheat from the kiss, embarrassment, confusion, and with how insanely aroused he was. 

As blissful as this punishment/reward was, it only lasted a short ten seconds. Erza pulled away, her tongue still out of her mouth when their mouths broke apart, a bridge of saliva was made between their bottom lips, until it sadly broke and the two sides swung down onto their chins. 

Erza let out a throaty moan and slowly opened her eyes. She bit her bottom lip when she saw Natsu’s shocked face with his mouth agape and a line of saliva on his chin. Something about seeing him like that made her love her decision to use this armor even more.

Erza took her hand off Natsu’s cheek and wiped off the strand of saliva off of his chin and then did the same to herself all with one finger. She slipped the finger into her mouth to clean it off. She sucked lightly on it, letting her cheeks sink in just a bit, and then pulled it out. “I hoped you liked that reward Natsu, cause there’s plenty more where that came from~.”

Erza leaned in close to Natsu’s ear to whisper something only he could hear. “If you're a good enough boy for me, I’ll let you pound me into your bed until either you, I, or the bed breaks~. Preferably me~. I promise I’ll scream your name so loud all of Magnolia will hear me~.”

Erza pulled away to look at Natsu once more for a response. Her chances of getting one weren’t high though as Natsu’s brain had finally been fried. His head was slumped back and his mouth was hanging open, as limp as a wet noodle. Steam was pouring out of his mouth and ears.

Erza chuckled to herself, more than proud of her handiwork. She lent forward one last time to place a loving kiss on his red cheek. Then she stood up and let her body be engulfed as the same yellow light as earlier. She reemerged in her classic Heart Kreuz Armor. 

She let out a long sigh to calm herself down. When she was finished, she looked around to the rest of the guild. 

She recoiled as she so the numerous passed out bodies littered around the entire guild hall. There were people passed out on the floor, bar, tables, stage, second floor, hanging over the railings. All of them were by their own little puddle of blood from the nosebleeds they all had. The only people who were spared were a few of their close friends such as Mira, Gray, Gajeel, Laxus, Lucy, etc.

Though even they all had red cheeks at the very least. Lucy looked like she was about to faint herself, and Mira had a devilish smile despite her blush.

Erza’s own cheeks lit up a bit as the ‘consequences’ of her actions dawned on her.

‘....Perhaps I shouldn’t have used that armor in the guild...’

[nomnomzombies]

8x05: Dany’s Inferno, fulfilling the YMBQ, the Fall of the Golden Queen

> Part 2 < “Two Graves, The Pale Mare”

> Part 3 < “Going Forward”

This is probably going to be the longest of the analyses. Also on the docket is “Two Graves and The Pale Mare,” and “Going Forward, Political Jon.” I still have a final to finish today, so I’ll be updating this post with links as I get the other pieces posted.

I’ve been trying to figure out the best way to format this, since I have a handful of quotes from A Storm of Swords to contrast to the sack of King’s Landing, so we might have a point of reference when we look at the series of events. So I have them at the top, numbered, and I’ll be referring back to their number as they become relevant.

These chapters are quotes that involved the overthrowing of Astapor, Yunkai and Meereen. I’m going to be using these (9) quotes as points of reference throughout my analysis, in reference to Daenerys, to compare the four instances in which Dany has sacked a city.  

ASOS Daenerys III  

(1) “Unsullied!’ Dany galloped before them, her silver-gold braid flying behind her, her bell chiming with every stride. “Slay the Good Masters, slay the soldiers, slay every man who wears a tokar or holds a whip, but harm no child under twelve, and strike the chains off every slave you see.” She raised the hapry’s fingers in the air.... and then she flung the scourge aside. “Freedom!” she sang out. “Dracarys! Dracarys!”  

“Dracarys!” they shouted back, the sweetest word she’d ever heard. “Dracarys! Dracarys!”

ASOS Daenerys IV

(2) “When he was gone, Dany threw herself down on her pillows beside her dragons. She had not meant to be so sharp with Ser Jorah, but his endless suspicion had finally awoken her dragon. ‘He will forgive me,’ she told herself. ‘I am his liege.’  ….. She felt very lonely all of a sudden.”  

(3) “On the morning of the third day, the city gates swung open and a line of slaves began to emerge. Dany mounted her silver to greet them. As they passed, little Missandei told them that they owed their freedom to Daenerys Stormborn [titles, titles] ….

“Mhysa!’ a brown-skinned man shouted at her. He had a child on his shoulder, a little girl, and she screamed the same word in her thin voice. ‘Mhysa! Mhysa!’ …..

Dany felt a lightness in her chest. ‘I will never bear a living child,’ she remembered. Her hand trembled as she raised it. Perhaps she smiled.”  

Daenerys V

(4) “I am the blood of the dragon,’ Dany reminded herself. Her thoughts were spinning in circles, like a rat chasing its tail.”

(5) Inside Meereen the slavers would soon be reclining on their fringed tokars to feast... whilst outside her children went hungry. A sudden wild anger filled her. ‘I will bring you down,’ she swore.

(6) “How could you? What did the Usurper promise you? Gold, was it gold?” The undying said that she would be betrayed twice more, once for gold and once for love. “Tell me what you were promised.”

“Varys said... I might go home.” He bowed his head.

‘I was going to take you home!’ Her dragons sensed her fury. Viserion roared, and smoke rose grey from his snout. Drogon beat the air with black wings, and Rhaegal twisted his head back and belched flame. ‘I should say the word and burn the two of them.’ Was there no one she could trust, no one to keep her safe? “Are all the knights of Westeros so false as you two? Get out, before my dragons roast you both. What does a roast liar smell like? As foul as Brown Ben’s sewers? Go!”  

Daenerys VI

(7) Dany broke her fast under the persimmon tree that grew in the terrace garden, watching her dragons chase each other about the apex of the Great Pyramid..... From here she could see the whole city... And beyond the walls...

‘Do all gods feel so lonely?’  

(8) “This one is content to stay with you, Your Grace. Naath will be there, always. You are good to this—to me.”  

“And you to me.” Dany took the girl by the hand. “Come help me dress.”  

(9) “I want your leaders,” Dany told them. “Give them up, and the rest of you shall be spared.”  

“How many?” one old woman had asked, sobbing. “How many must you have to spare us?”

“One hundred and sixty-three,” she answered.  

She had them nailed to wooden posts around the plaza, each man pointing at the next. The anger was fierce and hot inside her when she gave the command; it made her feel like an avenging dragon. But later, when she passed the men dying on the posts, when she heard their moans and smelled their bowels and blood..... Dany put the glass aside, frowning. ‘It was just. It was. I did it for the children.’

For the first time since the season premiere, I actually found myself wishing that we’d gotten a little bit more of Dan’s POV last episode—not a lot! (she’s eaten up enough of the season as it is) But there’s a real difficulty in trying to understand what was going on through the character’s head. Because, as it is, we don’t even get the chance to see how she’s engaging with the smallfolk. When I was writing out my initial outline, I’d entertained the idea that part of the reason that she burned the city was because she hadn’t been engaged by the smallfolk as she had in the past. In Yunkai (3) when Dany is greeted by the slaves, she describes a wholesome feeling—one that contrasts the feelings of emptiness and loneliness she experienced earlier in the chapter (2). It would make a lot of sense if we were seeing her saviour complex roaring its ugly head. She goes to the North and feels as though she should be heralded because she put her conquest on hold, but when the people don’t love her, she’ll accept their fear.  

So what happens when she comes south, again? We hear the conversation between Dany and Tyrion.

Interestingly, when he enters the tactical room to tell her of Varys’ betrayal, he’s quite perfectly framed to be standing in front of the dragon’s maw. Now, “Three Heads” tinfoilers may feel a sense of foreshadowing and absolution, but I think it’s more likely to either be alluding to 1) Tyrion’s possible execution or 2) a reference to the fact that Dany is no longer herself, but she is the dragon now. In their conversation, she’s overtaken with paranoia and grief... just because she happened to be right about the fact that she was betrayed doesn’t take away the fact that she was waiting to be betrayed.

This may be a bit of a sidenote, but the first thing that I actually started analyzing about GoT was the music, all the way back in 2016—I picked up on the fact that, in season 5, Jon had gotten his own character theme, and this is how I knew that he wasn’t actually dead. Fast forward to season 6? When Dany is burning the Khals, you hear the scary dragon theme (not the inspiring one). In this scene, when Dany turns back to stare out over the Blackwater, we hear the scary dragon theme again—I'd guess it was played by a single bass or cello.. Certainly not an orchestra. There is no unification; there’s no chorus of people heralding the might of the dragon. It is only the dragon.

Then we hear the conversation between her and Jon

but the most important part, here, is the piece where she simultaneously threatens Sansa and attempts to bring Jon back into her bed. Immediately before Jon enters the room, we see Dany and Grey Worm saying their goodbyes to Missandei in the form of tossing her collar into the fireplace. This moment is emphasizing the state of Dany in mourning the last person who provided a barrier between Dany and her worst impulses. I mentioned in my 804 analysis that Missandei has given awful advice, but the presence of Missandei was enough to remind Dany of how loved she was. Dany understands that the situation between her and Jon is not the loving connection she wishes it was. In the 804 bedroom scene, she acknowledges that fact when she says that Jorah loves her—this is contrasts to the dynamic between her and Jon.  

When Jon stands before her, he looks terrified. He just saw Dany burning Varys alive without so much as a trial—the complication of this interaction may have to do with Jon’s beheading of Janos Slynt at the Night’s Watch (there wasn’t a trial for that, either, but the circumstances were entirely different, as Janos was speaking out against him in a room full of people rather than conspiring behind Jon’s back). Conversely, however, Jon is probably also scared shitless because he knows that all of this is coming about because of his decision to tell Sansa and he’s worried that he will also be burned. This interaction begins to feel as though Jon is on trial.  

The reason that none of this is just, however, is that neither Jon nor Varys have done anything that they didn’t tell Dany they would do. Varys told Dany that he would first confront her before conspiring, which he did. Jon told Dany that he was going to tell Sansa and Arya, which he did. As demonstrated in quote (6), Dany is very quick to perceive things as betrayals, despite knowing that the situation is just more complicated than that. In (6), she demands to hear Ser Barriston’s reasoning for going undercover as Arstan Whitebeard, and in the end, she sends him to go into the city with Ser Jorah anyway. She still denounces him. Jon’s ‘trial’ and Varys’ execution is not madness. It is Dany’s flawed reasoning in action. Just as Ser Barriston’s quote demonstrates, “Your father gave people the justice he thought they deserved.”

At the end of it all, Dany concedes “Let it be fear, then.” aka if I can’t manipulate you into loving me, then I will accept your servitude through fearing me.  

We have the scene in the Throne room, Tyrion negotiating with her to surrender at the sounds of the bells. The most important part about this scene, however, is when Dany tells Tyrion that Jaime’s been taken prisoner and then tells Tyrion that “The next time you fail me will be the last time.” As we saw in 804, Dany is understanding how to be clever. And like she was not very clever in having a prisoner to manipulate Cersei, she now has a prisoner to manipulate Tyrion. The only reason that Jaime is still alive is because Dany needs to manipulate Tyrion into continuing to do her bidding. Varys had no one to use as leverage, and he was not useful as leverage against anyone. So here, we once again see the value of political prisoners. Dany doesn’t have access to Sansa right now, so she uses her words to constantly remind Jon about Sansa; Dany takes Jaime prisoner and reminds Tyrion what happens to people that she believes betrayed her.  

Once we see Dany’s Inferno begin by destroying the Iron Fleet and taking out the scorpions, we (as the audience) are at an impasse because, so far, what we see Dany doing is very reasonable war tactics. She’s disarming the enemy and providing an avenue for her ground forces to neutralize the opposing forces. She lands Drogon on the battlements, and we see how fucking terrified the people are of her. This is, not only, because of the fact that Drogon is the equivalent of WWII bombers, but also because Cersei has invested a lot of time into brainwashing the smallfolk into associating Dany with a blood thirsty conqueror. This is the point that I’m wishing that we’d had a moment of Dany taking in the townfolk, because I do want to have at least a modicum of reference to how she’s dealing with their reaction to her. However, based on the knowledge that we have from Jon’s ‘trial,’ it’s fair to assume that she’s embraced the fact that she will be ruling through fear. This plays into the conversation that Cersei and Sansa had at the siege at Blackwater when Cersei says, infamously, “make certain they fear you more than they do the enemy.”  

I don’t think that Dany burned the smallfolk because she wanted them to fear her, however. As I established in my “Gold and Silver” analysis; Drogon is Dany’s ‘throne.’ She feels the most powerful when she’s on his back, and the two have merged into a singular identity.  

In quote (7), we are illustrated with a direct comparison to what Dany was seeing on the back of Drogon as she was staring down the Red Keep,

“Do all gods feel so lonely?”

Dany (in the books) is as obsessed with prophecy as Rhaegar was, and she’s seeking men to fulfill the ‘three heads of the dragon’ prophecy, as she fancies herself to be Aegon she needs men to be Rhaenys and Visenya.  

In quote (9) we see Dany has an anger problem. Quote (8) illustrates that when Dany is angry, her dragons respond in kind. So, as Dany is isolated atop Drogon (and I brought up in a little vent that every time Dany climbs on top of Drogon, she is escaping reality), staring down the Red Keep, she starts to get angry that Cersei isn’t ringing the bells. And since she has no one to check those impulses, and is instead in her own little world, her and Drogon begin reciprocating rage.  

Missandei’s last words were, “Dracarys!” as quote (1) provides that it’s Dany’s favourite word when she’s feeling angry and powerful. On top of the world, she’s always loved to watch people burn and die. And here she is, on top of the world, staring down the Red Keep and seeing the entire symbol of her family’s dynasty in the hands of Cersei Lannister. It doesn’t matter that they’re surrendering, because she’s already angry. She’s already seething and ready to burn Cersei to the ground.  

Grey Worm is angry, too. The whole point of Grey Worm’s arc is not that “he’s a ruthless killing machine,” but the fact that he can once again feel. The Unsullied go through a process of dulling their physical and mental/emotional sensations. The fact that Grey Worm threw the spear without command, but rather precedent, from Daenerys illustrates how much he loved and cares for someone (“Love is the death of duty”). Grey Worm is in pain.  

Dany is the YMBQ

We see Cersei standing at the same balcony that she observed the Baelor explosion. While it can be easily explained as “that’s just the best balcony to look over the city,” we can’t deny the fact that this symmetry gives us (the audience) the idea that Cersei has a plan. We are expecting her to pop off some grandiose, Machiavellian scheme that proves that Cersei was baiting Dany into. Instead, we find Cersei regressing into a Janos Slynt.  

GOT 409 (sidenote: I’m trying to type up this dialogue but both Janos and Jon are JS so fml)

Slynt: “Bars of those gates are four inches of cold rolled steel.”  

Snow: “THOSE ARE GIANTS RIDING MAMMOTHS!”  

Slynt: “There’s no such thing as giants... stories for the children...”  

GOT 805

C: “All we need is one good shot.”  

Q: “All the scorpions have been destroyed...”

C: “The Red Keep has never fallen.”  

Q: bitch it’s falling rn

And let me say. Cersei. Deserved. Better. If we look at everything that Janos Slynt was: King’s Landing trash. And upjumped.... whatever he was—I don’t even remember if he was a sellsword or what before he was commander of the City Watch. Cersei Fucking Lannister deserved better than to be equated to Janos Slynt on her failure. /rant

So how does this make Dany the YMBQ? (Younger, more beautiful Queen)  

The YMBQ is meant to “cast [Cersei] down and take all that [she] hold dear.”

Once Dany goes on to assault the Red Keep after burning the Western half of King’s Landing, we have a distinct shot of Drogon blasting out the Lion sigil on the stained glass window. All throughout the series, Cersei has never stopped referring to herself as “The Queen,” even when she had moved on to being Queen Regent/Dowager Queen/Queen Mother. Cersei has insisted that King’s Landing is her home, twice, when Tywin tried to have her marry Loras and move to Highgarden and again when Tommen tried to convince her to move back to Casterly Rock. Cersei’s core identity is derived from the Iron Throne. In the siege at Blackwater, when Cersei thought the battle was lost, she was ready to meet her end via suicide sitting on the Iron Throne. She was ready to kill herself and Tommen. Now, though, she wants to live and attempts to flee to save her unborn child. And instead of meeting death on the Iron Throne, she meets it in the basement. So, all that Cersei holds dear: “The Queen” title, King’s Landing/The Red Keep, the Iron Throne, Cersei’s unborn child’s life. In one afternoon, Dany takes it all. And casts Cersei down (into the basement, specifically)

[djinmer4]

Family Ties (Amalgam!verse)

Takes place no more than a month before ‘Fashion Faux-Pas’.

“-die nachricht weitergeben.  Ja, wir sehen uns im Dezember.  Habe dich lieb Mama.“  Kurt hung up the phone and turned to the other members of the New Blood.  “There, you see?  Irene’s perfectly fine.  That letter you received was clearly some sort of prank.”

Runaway just curled further in herself.  She muttered in a low voice, “That’s good tah know.  But Ah don’t think the letter was referring to our foster mother.”

Kurt frowned.  “In that case just disregard it.  We certainly owe no care to the woman who abandoned both of us.”

At this point Kokoro broke in.  “Wait, I thought the two of you were only foster siblings.  Are you saying you’re actually related?”

The older man took up the responsibility of answering questions.  Clearly Anne-Marie wasn’t up to participating in long discussions right now.  “Yes, actually.  Irene never told us, but it’s the same name on the birth certificates.  Raven Darkholme.”

“So you have the same mother and foster mother?  That’s an odd coincidence.”

“No foolin’.”  Runaway roused herself to help her brother explain.  “Irene was listed as legal guardian by my parents.  When Dad died, she came tah the States tah adopt me.”

The British ninja turned to the other half of the sibling pair.  Kurt just shrugged.  “I just got dumped on Irene’s doorstep.  I guess since Raven saw she was willing, she felt fine dumping a second kid on her.”

“Irene and Raven are friends.  That’s what Irene says.”

“Mom puts up with way too much shit from this Raven chick.”

“Okay, time out.”  Wraith lifted his hands from where he was massaging his girlfriend’s shoulders.  “We’re getting off topic heah.  The point is-” The pitch-black man turned to the ninja, who only having walked in during Kurt’s phone call had missed some important parts.  “Runaway has received a lettah, stating that if she didn’t come to the-” He took a quick glance at the paper on the table.  “Dworshak Dam, in Clearwater, her mother would be killed.  The question is, do we go or not?”

“I vote no.  We have no proof that letter isn’t a hoax or a prank or a trap.”  Ryder crossed his arms and tactfully didn’t mention the lack of caring on his part.  It was pretty clear that wasn’t a winning argument with his little sister.

“Not your letter, mine.  Therefore my decision.  Ah’m going.”  Anne-Marie was usually fairly easy-going, but on this issue she wasn’t going to budge.

Finally Kurt lowered his eyes.  “Fine.  But not by yourself.  I’ll accompany you as Nightcreeper.”  He looked around.  “Anyone else want to come?”

“Ah’m coming!”  Announced Todd.  “It wouldn’t be right if Ah didn’t come to support my girlfriend in her hour of need.”

“I’m not,” stated Angelhawk.  “Actually I’d prefer if most of us stay here.  Amazon and Dark Claw currently have a lead on Green Skull and are pretty close to tracking him down.  We need to stay here to provide back-up once they find him.”  Runaway looked up with shock, fear and betrayal in her amber eyes.  “A-although I guess we can spare one more person to go on this . . . snipe hunt.”

For a while there was silence.  Kurt wondered if maybe he should back out.  Most of the JLX was uncomfortable dealing with Nightcreeper, perhaps they’d have more volunteers if he didn’t go.  Just as he was about to make the offer, Kokoro spoke up.  “I’ll go.”  She turned a glare on the taller man.  “But just to be clear, I’m doing this for Runaway, not you.”

He rolled his blue eyes.  “Ja, ja.  I’m over your.already.  Stop projecting.”

“Fine.”  The young woman with the bi-colored hair took charge, knowing that the sniping would go on for hours if no one did.  “We’ll leave tahmarrah, in the late afternoon.  That’ll give us enough time to case the joint before we attack.”

“Kokoro, what do you sense?”  Asked Wraith.

“About two dozen cult members, armed and acting as guards.  Not exactly brilliant but we’ll have problems if they gang up together on any of us.”  The ninja’s eyes glow pale white in the dim lighting.  “A couple more inside, probably high ranking members.”  She frowned.  “Several anxious individuals, but no one panicking or despairing the way a hostage would.  If they’ve got her, she’s been knocked out.”

“Can’t rule it as a prank yet then.”  Runaway bit down on her lip nervously.  “Okay, Nightcreeper, Wraith, you’re on distraction duty.  Kokoro and I will sneak it while their attention is focused on you.”

“Hihihi!  As you wish, mein schwester.”  Nightcreeper followed words to actions, teleporting directly in front of one of the spotlights.  While the cult members cried out in surprise and opened fire on the invulnerable mutate, Wraith charged a handful of cards and threw them at the helicopters they could see parked on the tarmac.  Amidst the smoke and confusion Kokoro and Runaway made their way to the wall.  Kokoro cut a hole in and they slipped away from the fighting.

Inside the telepathic ninja guided their way, avoiding the guards rushing out to reinforce their fellows.  Finally the two of them made their way to a large door.  Behind it they could hear a woman calling out for help.  Runaway looked at her co-worker.  Kokoro cast out her psychic senses.  “Only one living signature.  But muted.  I think there’s some shielding in the walls.”

“Okay.” said Runaway, and promptly punched the reinforced steel door in.  The two New Blood burst into the room, but unfortunately no hostage did they see.  Instead it was, “Graydon Quinn!”  The leader of the Pro-Earth movement, anti-alien movement.

“Hah!  I knew that letter would send the JLX running to investigate.  It’s only too bad that the other half of my trap didn’t pan out!  But I can kill the two of you and claim a job well done!”  The madman cackled behind his glass cage, pressing a button that called up a set of reinforced walls and opened up some spray nozzles.

“Gas!  Quick, make a hole before we’re overwhelmed!”  Runaway tried to punch an opening in the wall, but the gas made her dizzy and weak.  Kokoro was no better.  She raised her swords to cut they’re way to freedom, but saw them fizzle and fade away.  Strange, she should have greater resistance to the gas than Runaway but instead her strength was fading even faster.  As she looked at the glowing green mist she realized why.  “Runaway, they’ve got kryptonite mixed in!”

The human woman stopped trying to punch her way through the walls and started trying to block the nozzles.  But there were too many and placed too far apart.  At the going rate they were both doomed.

Then an explosion blasted one of the walls out.  Debris showered over the two women, hammering down on their bodies and cutting into their skin.  But it also brought blessedly fresh air as well so they didn’t care.  As they took a few moments to recover, gunfire cut through the air . . . and the glass walls of the control center Creed had been hiding in.  A pale woman with red hair, dressed in white and wielding a large automatic stepped into the room.  “Anne?  Anne, are you here?” she cried out.  When she saw the two of them, she rushed over.

The woman hesitated when she got there, looking at Kokoro then Runaway.  But when the latter looked up, exposing the starburst in her hair, the red-head rushed over to her with an expression of relief.  “Oh thank the Gods, you’re still alive!  I thought I was too late!”  With that she shoved the automatic off to her back and helped the younger woman stand up.

As the three of them made their way out of the compound, Kokoro got a good look at their rescuer.  “Kantique!” she hissed, summoning her swords again.  They were short and the blades looked brittle, but she dare not go undefended in this creature’s company.  “How dare you show your face here?”

The older woman looked at her coldly, clearly not recognizing her from their first encounter.  “Rescuing my daughter of course.  Who are you?”

“My name is Elizabeth Tatsu Braddock.  You killed my parents.  Prepare to die.”  With that she lunged towards the other two.

Kantique moved her daughter to a sheltered position behind her, using the gun to block Kokoro’s strikes.  “Braddock?  Braddock?  Oh yes, the Kryptonian survivor who went native on this planet.  I knew I should have spent more time cleaning up lose ends.”

“Well, you won’t have to worry about that anymore!  This is one loose end intent on cleaning up you!”  Kokoro continued to slash at the alien assassin while Kantique maneuvered her towards the edge of the dam.  Finally the red-head side-stepped a thrust, moving into the ninja’s personal space.  One hand on her shoulder, a well-braced stance and a quick shove were all she needed to knock the other over the guard rail.

As Kokoro screamed, she felt someone grab her, then smelt a familiar puff of sulfur and the usual disorientation that accompanied Nightcreeper’s teleports.  The two of them were back on the edge of the bridge, listening to Kantique answer Runaway’s questions.  “I’ve had many children over the years.  But you’re my only daughter.  You matter more to me than all the rest.”

“Well, that answers some questions about my childhood.” muttered Nightcreeper, wrapping his tail around Kokoro to prevent her from going after Kantique again.  “Mood lighting, action, the reveal after the fight, I give it four stars!”

“If Ah mean so much to you, why did you abandon father and Ah when Ah was only three?”

The older woman sighed.  “I’m an interstellar assassin in the employ of Thanoseid.  I stayed with Mark and you as long as I could.  But Irene warned me that my enemies were catching up to me.  I had to leave you for you to be safe.”

Runaway sank to her knees, shaking her head.  The look on her face was disbelief warring with shock.

The other sighed.  “Just stay away from your brother’s ploys in the future.  Not that he’s going to be having a long one now.”  She turned to where they could hear a helicopter rising.  As it crested the dam they could see Graydon Quinn inside, a look of hate distorting his face.  Upon seeing Runaway, Kantique and Kokoro together, a look of unholy glee came upon him.

“All three alien bitches here together!  Truly a sign from the Lord!”  He tried to open fire, but Kantique was faster.  She managed to clip his rotors with her spray, causing the helicopter to start spiraling down.

Runaway’s mind was still far away.  “Wait, Graydon Quinn’s my brother too?”

“Half-brother.  With some army officer named Creed Quinn.  Don’t worry my dear, I’ll take care of him shortly.”  With that the alien pulled a detonator out of nowhere- “Trouserspace!” crowed Nightcreeper- and pressed it.  Explosions rocked the section of the bridge they were on, and it began to separate from the rest of the damn.

Upon seeing this, the green man grabbed Kokoro and his sister and teleported them back onto dry land.  There they saw that section of the dam, plus thousands of tons of water go crashing down on the helicopter Quinn was on.  After all the rumbling they, plus the exhausted Wraith (”Don’t go skipping out having fun without me, pardner.”  “Ja, ja, es tut mir leid.”) spent time looking for both Graydon Quinn and Kantique.  But they turned up nothing.

Back at the station, Runaway and Wraith were taking time to recover in private.  Nightcreeper had delivered a report of what happened, to the frustrated, irritable Dark Claw.  As he applied the patch and started to shed fur and too sharp teeth and a tail, Kokoro decided to confront him.

“So your Mom’s Kantique.”

“Irene’s my mom,” he corrected forcefully.  “Kantique’s just the glorified egg donor.”

“Runaway doesn’t see it that way.”

“Anne-Marie still idolizes Raven.  It’ll take her a while to recover from the disappointment.”

“And you?”

The last of the fur fell away and dissolved on the breeze.  Kurt shrugged and started putting on his every day clothes (suit, shirt, tie and even matching vest).  “I’ve always known that my mother must not have cared for me.  The feeling’s mutual.”

Kokoro nodded, but seemed distracted.  When he was finally dressed, she sauntered over.  “Stay away from me.”

“Was?”

“I said, stay away from me.  Stay away from my brother and Angelhawk too.  And Gloria Mundi.  Don’t ever go to England if you can help it.”  She leaned up to speak directly into his ear.  “If I ever fucking see you again, I’ll take your head off!”

With that she stomped off.  Wraith, who had slipped in as shadow while they weren’t paying attention turned to watch her go.  Once the door had sealed behind her, he looked back at Ryder.  “Did she mean that for the super-heroing as well?  Because it’ll be hard to be on the same team if she wants to kill you every time she sees you.”

Kurt finished buttoning the vest and shrugged.  “Ah, it’s alright.  Dark Claw says he wants me to help mentor a new team that’s being created.  So I was going to leave the New Bloods anyway.”

Wraith was less sanguine about the matter.  “Hope you get along better with this one.  God knows, you can’t do any worse.”

[op-intensify]

Coffee with a Drop of Ketamine

He settled in as the lock did, its echo flashing through his chest. Cyan choked his eyes as he rolled them in a lazy arc. No anomalies, no errors. He reached for a panel, fingers ghosting over the rows of knobs and switches. Some might be used, most wouldn’t, but they had all received his fingerprint at least once. His hand hovered over a keyboard before slowly tapping out a series of commands. Lines of barium-green grew on a screen, a bar of distortion chasing after them; he watched it climb three before looking away.

“Beginning startup procedure.”

A voice buzzed in one ear, confirming his announcement. He didn’t quite catch what they said. Not that it mattered. Everyone knew what to do; easy as checking off a list.

He shifted in his seat to bring both hands over the first panel. Servos, actuators, flaps, heatsinks, thrusters; he checked them all, one by one, another voice parroting back his observations. Around him, Polaris shuddered with its waking breaths. Loose cables danced with every clang that crawled through the core. A few motes of dust broke free to shine in the dim light, and his eyes opened a little wider as some fatigue rattled away.

“Test completed. Activating display.”

The screens came on and the outside world bled in.

Fluorescent bulbs, bright as the sun, beamed down from rafters. They were sharper than any natural light, clean and cold. Maintenance crews scurried under the artificial stars. Workers in grey, wrinkled jumpsuits inspected Polaris’ joints below while some stood on platforms above, their shadows sifting through metal grating. He leaned back and watched, mouth slightly parted to let out a shallow breath.

“We’re plugging you in.”

The first pulse hit him hard. Ice spilled into his veins, spreading from his arms to shoulders, then crowding his head before pouring down into his feet. Something crept over his skin, all of it. The second pulse threw a warm blanket over him, and everything dropped away. His chair wasn’t there anymore, even though straps kept him locked firmly against its contours. The controls felt just out of reach while well within his grasp. The pipes hanging from his arms lifted without moving at all.

He was inside and out, one pair of hands clutching control columns, the other wrapped around three meters of metal and plastic. His legs whirred as couplings released thick tubes that slithered away. Technicians scurried from his berth to avoid the first steps that pounded up his bones. The lights were brighter, colors sharper, everything so beautifully clear. He smiled around a breath he wasn’t sure was coming in or going out.

“How are you feeling, Aldous?”

Numb. Anxious. Dizzy.

“Good,” he said.

---

He didn’t like mirrors, so they kept the walls of his room bare. The doctors said it had something to do with self-worth. But that wasn’t it. The face that looked back at him wasn’t complete, like an empty drip-feed or doors without locks. The ports in his arms, the metal plates in his head, those hinted at the truth. He was more than just throbbing veins under paper-thin skin, more than meat stuffed with metal. With Polaris he was whole. Life outside his frame was just waiting until he could be put back in.

When he jumped over a car, those were his legs. When a reticule highlighted danger, those were his eyes. When he tore open cores and pulverized the pilots inside, those were his hands.

He cried when an arm was blown off, the fire and sudden weightless freedom throwing him off balance. It hurt, but only for a little while. They’d push something new into his blood and the pain burrowed down into his bones until it was gone. He’d come back home with scorches on one layer and bruises underneath, but when he climbed into Polaris again everything was back where it should be, shiny with a fresh coat of paint.

He didn’t like mirrors because they didn’t show who he was.

---

They dropped him off a long way from the crash. He didn’t mind, and they probably knew. It was nice outside. The sun was hidden by a sheet of grey that pulsed with lightning. The rumbles were low and soft, like taking a step. There wasn’t any rain, and he wouldn’t have known about the crosswind without checking a gauge. His operator said everything looked drab, but the dull filter reminded him of home.

His stroll ended when the mangled wings of a plane peeked behind the ridge of dirt it had carved into the ground.

“Two proxies on site; unknown affiliation.”

He paused just below the rim, bending into a tight crouch. Red flickered in his vision that quickly solidified into the vague outline of two frames.

“All yours.”

Warmth slipped into his arms and curled around his chest. His head swam in the sudden rush, bobbing aimlessly until it abruptly snapped into place. He could feel his heart beating as the ground slipped away. It had a steady rhythm. One-two. One-two, against his ribs, from his rifle, into a frame’s back. One-two, and sparks splashed past his head. One two, as machines crashed together. The weapon in his hands broke the rhythm with a stream of endless beats that drilled into his target’s core. Both were rising to their feet. One shuddered before collapsing in a heap of twisted metal and sputtering wires.

One-two.

The first shot slammed into his waist. The second zipped under his arm. He sent his own back, scoring a hit as two plumes of smoke streaked away from the target. Fire bloomed across a shoulder and pushed him onto one leg. He flashed his jammer just in time to duck the second missile. The surviving frame supplied its own beat while he was still on his hands and knees, metal chipping away as each round dug deeper. Polaris would never make it up in one piece.

Thrusters came alive with a cough of flame that sent him skidding into his opponent's legs. The frame buckled and fell. Now they were both down; first one up wins. In awkward tandem, they stumbled upright. The target still clung to their weapon. He knew better than that, and found his balance first. They had just gained solid footing when his hands clamped over their wrist. A sharp tug pulled the machine back down, a good kick helped rip its arm off. Metal joints came apart with a shower of scrap and sparks that shimmered briefly in the dreary sky. Now was a good time to retrieve a weapon.

The mutilated frame was still struggling upward when he leveled his rifle with its core. An upturned sword cradled by leaves was painted on one side. He hadn’t noticed before.

---

There was a list of acceptable side effects. He found that out when his hair stopped growing. One of the nurses had to check when he showed them the irregular patches of fuzz that still clung to his head. A quick look at his file and they smiled. Everything was alright, he didn’t need to worry. They’d notify his doctor and she’d be by later to escort him for a proper examination.

He liked Dr. Zima, she never wasted time or laughed at something that wasn’t funny. It was weird when people laughed for no reason.

An hour passed before he heard her tap the steel doorframe to his room. She caught him scratching the rubbery lip of skin around an implant. He’d been told not to touch the cap of metal before, more than once by her. He knew better. It wouldn’t heal if he kept picking at it. Under her green eyes his face turned blister-red; she had a way of making him feel guilty without doing anything at all. She called and he followed.

Dr. Zima helped him onto the table and off, but it was the nurses that tightened the straps. He’d asked her about it once, why she didn’t help with everything. It wasn’t her job, she said.

The test confirmed he was healthy. He overheard Dr. Zima talking about blocking agents and blood pressure with the other specialists that took care of him. They argued amongst themselves regularly, usually over things with more syllables than he could remember. He was important, worth a lot, a huge investment from Solivex. He needed to be kept stable. They all agreed on that. Dr. Zima said it wasn’t enough.

She got her way; she knew what was best.

[greathammerhead]

The Stars Will Lead Me Home chapter: 1 summary: All she had left of her father was a book of the stars encrusted with a ruby. After years of wondering, she finally sets out on a voyage that she hopes will lead her to her father, not knowing she would find so much more. pairings: Harry Hook x Evie, mentioned Ben x Mal, past Evil Queen x Captain Hector Barbossa inspiration: eviarry’s headcannon of Evie being Barbossa’s daughter style: Multi-chapter; post-canon; Pirates of the Caribbean 5 crossover notes: Mild spoilers for that movie, as Evie’s plot is loosely based on one of the characters rated: T, possibly M for excessive violence (if needed); will feature strong language, violence, and sexual themes. other locations: ao3 | ffnet tumblr chapter listing: x

Tales had been told of the infamous group that had escaped the Isle of the Lost; the only ones to have ever escaped.

Many folks said they were a pirate crew, though Captain Hook told a different story, convinced that if a pirate crew were to ever escape, it would be his.

The details became very blurry over the years for most of the villains…except one.

The Evil Queen knew too well the tale of the men who escaped from the Isle.

They were, in fact, pirates, and probably the worst of all. When the crewmen took to the streets of the Isle a few years after its’ creation, they openly displayed their immortality, using it to garner whatever they wished from the poor masses.

They did stay away from most of the more well-feared villains, such as Maleficent, but tried storming her castle within the second week of their arrival.

She’d been sitting by the fire, looking picturesque and as if she’d been waiting for them all along when they threw her doors open.

“Just because we’re all villains here,” She began, taking an interest in the small chip that had formed in her nail polish, “doesn’t mean we can show up to each other’s houses uninvited. It’s quite rude, don’t you think?”

A portly man sneered. “Haven’t ye heard? Threats don’t work on us, pretty lady. We here are immortal.”

“But your ship isn’t.” Her words gave them pause. “Ships hold some form of sentimentality to pirates, don’t they?”

“Look who’s talkin’, held up ‘ere in yer castle.”

She rose a brow, completely unperturbed. “And so it does. The idea of a castle. And you have the idea of freedom. I wonder who will be wounded more?”

“Listen, wench-”

The man went to take a step forward when the blade of a sword pushed him back.

“Now lads, who are we to talk to such a creature like that?”

The Evil Queen gave as much of a smile as she could, the corner of her lip quirking only slightly for a moment. “Creature, you say? If I were a simple creature I don’t suppose we’d have having this conversation.”

“’Tis but a term, yer Highness.”

“You should expand your vocabulary then.” She lifted her hand, tapping her chin twice. “Why the sudden formality, I wonder? Your men were just trying to terrify me into giving up all my…riches.” She gestured to the room around her, decorated with nothing but mirrors. She had nothing left for them to take.

“We’re naught but humble pirates. My men see a castle and they believe there be gold within its walls.”

“I pity just how little control you have over them.”

The man she assumed was the captain narrowed his eyes.

“We be pirates, we’re all free men. We-”

“Free?” The Queen raised a perfectly arched brow. “Not on this island. That’s what you fail to understand.” She folded her hands on her lap, head held high as if she were addressing her subjects. “Once you and your…“free men” do as they please, there is no escape, nowhere for them to hide. If Auradon is paying any attention, they’ll sentence you as they see fit. If they don’t care, then the Isle will turn against you. Or, if you choose to kill everyone, you’ll end up all alone, trapped on an island with only yourselves, surrounded by a sea you cannot touch.”

A few of the pirates shared looks, as if they’d never even thought of the consequences prior to their pillaging. The captain weighted the options.

“And what do ye suggest?”

“Understanding that none of us wish to be trapped here and acting accordingly.”

Her words left no more room for argument.

The captain bowed before her, lifting his hat off with a flourish.

“I apologize. We will think on yer words. Is there a way I can repay ye for the inconvenience we caused ye?”

“I’m rather fond of apples.” For the second time that day, she felt herself smile, this time more than the last.

“An apple a day it ‘tis, yer Highness.”

The pirates left, many with scowls on their face, but the captain was the last to leave, taking his steps slowly, as if waiting…

“What is your name?” The Queen asked. Her voice was low, not wanting anyone to hear unless they were acutely listening.

And he was. The pirate turned around, trying to hide the smugness he felt.

“Captain Barbossa, at yer service.”

- - -

Captain Barbossa and the crew of The Black Pearl were on the Isle half a year before they were called back through the use of magic unlike the Queen had ever seen.

He’d been with her when he felt the call.

It had pulled at his skin, overpowering all his other sensations as awoke, still tangled her silken sheets.

He didn’t remember when he actually stumbled to her door, only that he was startled when she grabbed his forearm with enough force to hold him in place.

Her gaze was cold, but she no longer frightened him; her dark hair was a knotted mess from his hands and her skin marred from their frequent trysts. A few months had passed since they’d begun…whatever this was, and he was still shocked that such a fair creature let him into her bed.

He’d be reluctant to leave if he’d been called by anyone else but the sea.

Tia Dalma, whom he’d been introduced to by none other than Jack Sparrow, may have been a woman of flesh and bone, but he was one of few her knew her for what she was, the sea herself, bound to human form.

When it came to the sea and those that had a part in it, she held all control over them. He’d been surprised when they’d been captured and taken to Auradon, and she let it happen.

He could only imagine why he was being returned, but it wouldn’t be good.

The small part of himself that had surrendered to his fate, to living on the Isle, didn’t want to leave. After all, who would want to leave such pleasurable company?

But he was a pirate and his first love was the sea.

The Queen, for starters, would flat out refuse such a lifestyle.

Her home was a castle, all high ceilings, four poster beds, and a dining table so long it could fit most of his crew.

She would never choose to go, and he would never expect her.

Still, that didn’t mean it would be a happy goodbye.

“Magic,” His throat was dry, and it broke on his words, “is pulling me back to the sea.”

She immediately let go, body stiffening, as she returned herself back to the Evil Queen he’d met many months ago.

“There is no magic here.”

She watched his back as he left, as he left her. He didn’t even make it to the stairs before his body emitted a strange glow, and then he disappeared altogether.

The Queen rushed to the window, looking as best as she could for where the Pearl was docked. The ship, too, glowed that strange, ghostly light, before it vanished into thin air.

She stared out that window for what felt like hours.

She’d thought he was being cowardly, trying to sneak out on her and lie, but what she’d just witnessed was no less than truly powerful magic if it could break through Fairy Godmother’s barrier.

She didn’t dare go back to sleep, not with his smell still on her sheets, knowing she would fool herself into thinking he’d be there when she woke up, like before.

But, if the light that stole his ship away was any indication, he wouldn’t be returning.

He wouldn’t return to her.

She innocently placed a hand on her stomach, knowing only of the marks left there and not of what grew inside.

Upon being banished to the Isle, the Queen lost hope of marrying a King again. Everyone on the Isle was a ruffian that she would never touch, but that train of thought was broken the day Barbossa and his pirates came to her castle.

He wasn’t a particularly handsome man. He was a bit older than her, or at least looked it from the abuse he’d taken over the years, but he’d charmed her in a way she hadn’t thought possible, and his betrayl — as she came to think of it; she didn’t care he had no choice, or that even if he did, he would have chosen the sea over her — was a knife to her heart.

One didn’t need love. Love was fleeting, love was fickle.

Beauty mattered. Beauty, true beauty, couldn’t be broken, even by time.

It didn’t matter that the sun hadn’t risen yet. The Queen sat at her vanity, taking out the make-up she’d be using that day, and began to apply it.

She covered up every mark he left her with, and soon there was no trace of him left.

If life had been permitting, that would’ve been the end of it. A few washes of the sheets would rid his smell, a few days the marks would fade…

She hadn’t anticipated he, a man cursed with immortality, would leave her with a child.

[theimaginesyouneveraskedfor]

Give No Quarter III

You could not be sure but after your restless hours of sleep and the painfully slow pass of time, you figured it was a new day. Not that it mattered much as it only meant another in the dank cell, one of many you would no doubt spend in such misery. You sat against the only wall not made of bars, leaning your head lazily against the musty wood in silent despair.

As you let yourself relax into the subtle sway of the ship, you were suddenly shaken from your calm by the clatter of heavy steps upon the creaky stairs. It was becoming a much too familiar sound and filled you with a sense of foreboding as they were even louder than those which had preceded the dark-haired captain the day before. You inhaled deeply and held the air in your lungs as you assured yourself that you were to be released from your cell but only to atone for your assault upon the ship’s leader.

The bald-headed pirate with the thick muscles entered through the slanting doorway, his thick brow heavy over his fierce eyes as he caught sight of you. He was even more intimidating than the stony-eyed captain and you fought to withhold the fear which nipped at your hard-fought veneer. He pulled the keys from his broad leather belt and forced them wordlessly into the door of your cell.

You tried to flatten yourself against the wall as he opened the door, though you forced yourself to release the breath you had been holding for far too long. You exhaled slowly as you stared at the burly man and waited to be dealt your sentence.

“Out,” He ordered gruffly.

You could do not but gaze back at him wide-eyed, unable to will yourself to move a single inch.

“I said ‘out’,” He crossed his arms as his jaw set fiercely, “Or I’ll drag ye out meself.”

You remained unmoving against the damp wood of the wall and watch as he dropped his arms with a frightful growl of exasperation. He stepped forward into the cell and inched his way closer as if giving you the chance to act on your own. He was almost upon you when you finally regained your sense and your mind was freed from its panic. Desperation sparked within you as your fear peaked and you rolled out of his path and onto all fours before he could reach you.

He was surprised by your swift movement as you crawled around his legs towards the open door, with nothing but the thought of escape drawing you forward. You had not even thought past the door but you could sense his delayed reaction and his own movement behind you. You climbed up to your knees and threw yourself through the door as your adrenaline told you to hurry.

You twisted in midair and fell onto your back as you lifted your foot to kick the door closed. The bars slammed just as he reached them and you shuffled hurriedly forward on your knees to wrench free the keys from the slot.

“Oi!” He shook the door violently, “You open this right now!”

“Um, no?” You replied as you held the keys aloft.

“You cannot--” He began with brimming anger.

“You told me to get out,” You grinned as your new-found freedom brought upon you a sense of hope, “I’m out.”

“Don’t ye do this, lass,” He warned as he glared darkly through the bars, “I seen what ye did to the Captain, but it don’t scare me none.”

“I didn’t do anything to him that he didn’t deserve,” You retorted, backing away as one of his burly hands shot out towards you and climbing to your feet.

“How far do ye think ye’ll get, lass?” He asked as he once more gripped the bars in his thick hands, “One of the other will spot ye and ye’ll be right back where you began.”

“Mmm, maybe....probably,” You shrugged as you looked to the stairs, “But I’ve never given up without a fight.”

“Oh, it’ll be a fight fer sure,” He brooded, “To the death.”

“So be it,” You returned before turning and racing to the steps.

You crept up the stairs warily and peeked up onto the deck through the open hatch door. Footsteps barreled behind you and you ducked your head down and flattened yourself against the steps. You looked up as the pig-tailed pirate ran by and you waited for him to disappear around the other side before you once more raised your head above deck.

No other sound of approach came and you carefully climbed onto the deck, creeping across the swaying boat as you tried to devise a plan. You heard footsteps once more and dodged behind a barrel, waiting and watching for whoever was on their way. You saw the back of the golden-haired man, Fili, you recalled, as he walked by your hiding spot and you gave a silent apology. He had seemed rather nice but you had to get out somehow.

As he passed the barrel, you tiptoed out behind him and followed silently, urging yourself to do what you must. You latched onto the sword hanging upon his hip and pulled it free with a ring of metal. He exclaimed in surprise as he turned back and you held out the blade to keep him from disarming you.

“How did--” He frowned with confusion as his voice wavered, “You best return my sword before I make you.”

“And how would you do that?” You challenged as the adrenaline coursed through your veins, “Without your sword?”

“With this,” He slipped a long dagger from his sleeve and pushed aside your blade’s point, “I agree it lacks the same reach but it is just as sharp.”

You stepped back as he lunged swiftly and you batted away the knife in response. He tried again and you easily dodged the slice as something whistled past your head, only narrowly missing your ear. You heard his other blade thunk into the wood of the deck behind you as your heart raced at the near miss. You had not seen him draw the second knife and you knew you had been fortunate not to have been skewered by it.

The sound of your duel was undoubtedly drawing attention as you heard another set of footsteps approaching and you deflected another swipe as you turned to face the pig-tailed pirate. His own sword was unsheathed in seconds and you found yourself dodging and swinging between the two men. The one with the floppy hat and pig-tails shouted for the rest of the crew and you could hear the stampede as they came from the other side of the deck.

One by one, the rest of the crew appeared and you were assured of your death with every additional foe. Yet, you were managing to weave between them, your blade in constant motion as you parried theirs away. You knew there was no escape to be had but you set course for the head of the boat, hoping to think of something. You rolled under a round man’s sword point and scrambled up to your feet, running to the front of the boat with heavy breaths. You climbed up the bronze statue of the wrathful swashbuckler, fighting to keep hold of your weapon.

You poked your blade downward as you glanced away another jab and knew that there was little choice to be had; die or dive. You pushed yourself further up the tarnished statue and heard the waves crashing against the ship below. You looked down anxiously as you pondered your escape and a deafening blast came from behind you, nearly scaring you into the depths as you slipped slightly.

In your battle-driven scramble, you had failed to notice the ship nearing along the horizon. Its ominous horn broke you from your desperate trance and you turned to stare at the massive vessel as it approached menacingly through the dark waves. You had seen the ship before and you knew it did not bode well...for any one.

[prettycanarybird]

Chapter 5

With a start, I jolted back to consciousness. The spasm sent a shockwave of pain up and down my side, stealing my breath away. There was an echo of pain in my forearm, but nothing compared to my battered and sliced ribs. It took every ounce of control to stay silent, biting my lip till I tasted blood. Even if I had wanted to struggle more, I couldn’t. Rough rope looped around my wrists, pinning them to my sides. My feet were tied as one, thankfully my boots protecting my ankles.

The pain made my vision spin and it took a few moments, four or five shallow breaths, before things came into focus. We were in a small room, several lanterns lit casting a warm glow, so night must have begun to fall. I was laying upon a wooden cot, straw or something of the like, stuffed behind my head for a pillow. Hera was on her stomach on a similar cot, her wrists bound closer to her head. She was watching me, her eyes glazed over with pain or something else, I couldn’t make out in the dancing shadows. What I could see was the way her eyes shifted when she saw me try to move.

“Stay still, General.” Her young voice was reassuring. “That rib didn’t look so good when they brought you in.”

I blinked at her a few times. How could she be trying to comfort me in such a time? I was her general, even more so, I was her empress. It was my job to get her home, safe, and I was failing miserably. 

“Oh, well.” I didn’t bother to even look down at my side. No doubt it was a few broken ribs which were probably bruising colorfully, and stitches through an angry red cut. If I was lucky, the scar would heal up attractively. If not? Well, I had plenty of others that it could join. “Did I tell you,” I attempted to shift and sucked in air when my side objected too much, “about the time that Gil’s stubborn horse threw me?”

Hera shook her head. 

“Broke a lot more ribs than I have right now.” The crooked smile I gave her, I hoped was convincing. “How are you?”

Hera glanced down the length of her cot. They hadn’t bothered to tie up her legs. “I can’t feel anything from my hips down,” her breath caught, “I keep trying to wiggle my toes.” 

I swallowed hard. Even in the lantern light, it was easy to see that she was trying not to let the darkness take her. Brave, young Hera, cut down. A thousand thoughts must have been circling her head, and all of them were my fault. “I’m so sorry.”

She lifted her head. “For what? I knew what I was signing up for when I joined you.”

Her kindness was too much; I had to look away. “You didn’t sign up for this.”

“No,” her voice dropped, “but you didn’t sign up to wear a crown.” I snapped my head back around as she continued, “Any fool can see you hate it. I saw it earlier. Swinging that sword? That’s the general we love and follow. I follow. 

“It’s not fair what’s happened to us. But when has it ever been fair? I know I haven’t seen it. And I know you haven’t seen it. We’ll figure this out. The empire needs us.”

The way she paired us together broke my heart. I had always walked a path alone with people either trying to pave a way before me, or watching my back, but never by my side. Hera had no other thoughts but to do just that: be by my side, even if it killed her. The problem was, I wanted her behind me, safe and well protected. If I did nothing else, and I had finally reached the end of my life, I would make sure that Hera returned home.

I opened my mouth to tell her just that when we heard steps outside the wood door. Instead, we shared a look and collectively braced ourselves. We were soldiers first and foremost, and it was plain to see the resolve on her face, which I knew mine echoed back in response, that we were not going to break. Our bodies may give in, but our minds never would.

The footsteps paused outside the door a long moment before we heard a key slide into the lock and turn. The wooden door swung open slowly, but no other light followed. My guess had to be correct: darkness had fallen. By now I could only imagine the guards and soldiers who were turning over the streets to find me. It was only a matter of time before I was found, even if these assassins had found a good hiding spot. They had to have known that. Still, there was no sense of haste when a tall woman with braided hair stepped into the room, flanked by the archer.

“I hope you are comfortable.” Her voice had a sweet melody to it, smooth and almost soothing. 

“Very.” I quipped back, sharpness in my tone.

The woman’s smile was slow, but tender. “Yes, I’m sure. I apologize for the ropes, but you were rather… resistant to our services.”

My eyebrows went up. “Services? Is that what you call broken ribs, a gash, and a hole through my arm?”

The woman walked further into the room so she could address the two of us. “Yes. Your injuries are regrettable.”

“Regrettable?” I felt the heat rising in my cheeks. “Untie me and we’ll see who regrets what.”

“I’m afraid, little Empress, that you are not fit for that fight. Yet. I look forward to the day you are.” She chuckled a little bit, and regardless of the pain, I pulled at the ropes holding my wrists. “Now, now. Don’t go opening up your wounds. Infections are nasty things.”

I balled my good hand into a fist. My other hand was too bandaged to do much more than lay there. My good sword arm, ruined. But Merien and my father had taught me the use of both hands, for such an occasion. Foolishly, I had always leaned heavily on my dominant hand. I would need to re-train, and I would, if only to cut down the archer who ruined me.

“I admire your fighting spirit. Both of you. If only your father had sent you to us when you were younger, perhaps… Nevertheless, there’s still time, especially for you, my dear.” The woman turned her attention to Hera, who had kept silent. As the woman knelt to look Hera in the eyes, the girl tried to pull away, putting distance between herself and the woman before her.

“Leave her alone.” I dropped my voice dangerously low.

“Hmmm.” She hummed before standing up and moving away from Hera. “A father’s debt becomes the daughter’s. Your freedom for her.”

My eyes went wide. “What? Never.” There was no bargain enticing enough to convince me to hand Hera over to the hired hands.

The woman nodded in understanding. “I know. I know the responsibility on your shoulders. I, too, have such responsibility. You’d do anything for her. Give your life for her…”

“No!” Hera begged.

“Shhh, girl. The adults are speaking.” The woman held up her finger before squaring off to me. “I propose this: pay off your father’s debt. Your life is ours, and the girl is freed. We’ll even ensure she is returned to the Capitol in one piece.”

Hera pulled at her ropes. Even in the dim light I could see how raw they were becoming. “No, General. Together. Us, remember?”

I watched her pull and pull, her wrists becoming redder and redder. She was too young to lose her life to the hired hands. She was too young to be crippled like she was, but if I could return her without more harm, it was my duty to do so. It would be harder to plan an escape alone, but Hera would be safe. My life would be the only one on the line. 

“The Empire!” She pulled harder while the woman stood over me, waiting patiently.

The Empire would survive. My mother would ensure it. She was the one who should have ruled all along. If I managed an escape, then it would only be a temporary thing, but if I didn’t? Then the people were in good, caring hands. 

“Tell my mother…”

“No!”

“Hera, listen to me, that’s an order.” I waited until she stilled. “Tell her that I am alive. Leave out the injuries portion. That will only upset her. Tell her to give the Twin Armies over to General Merien. They’ll listen to him. Tell them both…”  I didn’t know what I wanted to tell them. They could very well be my last words to them, and I had never even thought to prepare. “Tell them I fly on silver wings. I will be fine, I promise you.”

I wished I could slice the satisfied smile off the woman’s face as she nodded to the archer, who went to Hera’s beside to begin untying her. She lashed out at him, but he held her wrists firm. Even as she fought him, he took care to lift her from the bed, despite her agonizing groan, taking her poor, useless legs in one swoop. I met her eyes one last time and prayed I would see them again. The archer swung around, and once through the door, slammed it shut.

I heard Hera screaming for me all down the hall and to wherever they were taking her. I closed my eyes and tried to block it out.

The woman waited until Hera’s voice disappeared from earshot. She pulled up a stool, dragging it over to my bedside and sat down. Her keen eyes looked me over, tongue clicking. “Empress Jade Virillia. You know, I attended your coronation.”

“I hope you enjoyed it.”

“Immensely,” she mused. “We don’t need to be enemies, you and I. I quite support your reign. A woman who fought with her men, rose up the ranks. Disposed of a vicious man who fancied he knew how to rule an empire. Men are foolish that way, but you did it. Impressive.”

I snorted. “ Yes, that’s why you slaughtered my men in the north. You support my reign.”

She nodded. “Hmm. Yes. We often go where we are hired. Even if that is not what we, as individuals, desire. That does not negate my respect for you. Business is business, little Empress.”

I shook my head, and tried pulling at the ropes at my feet. Tight. 

She watched me. “We’ve gotten off on the wrong foot, I’m afraid. My name is Marlena. These men and women take their cues from me, so let’s clear things up a bit. You have a fire in you that you’re going to need to control, if you want to live long enough to try and pull off that escape plan you are putting together in your head.”

My eyes narrowed. “Don’t underestimate me.”

Marlena smiled her sweet smile. “Oh, I don’t intend to. I know you are quite capable of doing just as you set your mind to. It’s why I made the bargain with her father all those years ago, and more than likely, why he broke that bargain. And if you want to hear more of that story, you’ll need to be a good little Empress and behave, or a crippled arm will be the least of your worries.”

Again with my father. I was beginning to regret having Lord Icarius reach out to the assassins. On one hand, I had an admittance of involvement with the North. Whether I could use that would determine if I could escape and get back to court in time to find out. On the other hand, my father was somehow playing part from the grave. I wasn’t too keen on what part he was playing either.

“You have a lot of questions, I know.” Marlena cut through my thoughts.

“Who hired you from the North?”

She sighed heavily. “And that is such a boring one. I had hoped you would have started with your father. That is a much more interesting one.”

“And irrelevant at the moment. You said you understood responsibility, then you’ll understand why my empire comes first.”

Marlena nodded. She leaned forward onto the cot, shifting it slightly. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from voicing the pain that shot up my arm and side. She noted it with her eyes but said nothing about it. “I’ll answer your questions, but you won’t be successful in your escape, and you won’t be able to tell your advisors. That dastardly pirate, Lord Icarius might figure it out, but will he in time to change the course? Without you, will your precious armies fight just as hard for the Empire?”

I grit my teeth. “The Empire is bigger than me.” My men and women were wiser and stronger. They believed in a better future. I had to believe they would keep fighting for it after me, or what was it all for?

“Is it?” Marlena’s hawk gaze held mine. “I’m not trying to anger you, little Empress. But is it really? Those men followed you. They saw you fight in the field with them. They heard you speak and preach your new world. They watched you from the time you were young become injured, and broken, and still held your sword high for them. It wasn’t your mother, or General Merien. It was you. Empires are no bigger than their ruler.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Don’t be foolish. You’re smarter than that.”

I refused to follow her train of thought, or all those lives lost, on both sides, were all mine to carry. While in my darkest moments, I felt that weight without her telling me so, in these moments, I had to push those thoughts away, or the darkness would drown me. The Empire deserved better than that.

“Who hired you.”

She leaned back from the cot, shifting it again. I couldn’t hold back a whimper. “Would it surprise you if I said my own blood? A daughter who has delusions of power on a tiny scale. So you see. Regardless of my regard for you, I am still a mother, and she offered enough coin to ensure that several Wasteland tribes will eat this dry season. What’s a mother to do?”

So our enemy had enough wealth to pay off the best assassins in the world. It could only mean that it was someone in a position of power in the North. But who? Last I heard, the Northerners were governed by man. Surely that meant a courtier, but what courtier had that much wealth in their pockets?

“Going through the Northern courtiers, little Empress? How long have you been at court? A handful of days? Without your advisors, would you even know them?” Melena taunted.

But she was right. My education was on the battlefield, or snatched as we traveled. My mother and General Merien had done their part to ensure I was well learned, and knew enough of the several languages that spanned the Empire to converse, but learning the roster of other courts had not been foremost in my mind. Like a child procrastinating, I thought I would have time to learn them now, or at the very least, be able to write them down and cheat.

“They were brave men, little Empress. Strong, determined, and some of the best we have ever fought. You would have been proud of them.”

And I was, even as their deaths tore at my soul. I stared up at the ceiling, following the cracks to keep the tears at bay. General Merien had marched out after them. Had he already met his end by the hired hands? Were they all dead now too?

“Little Empress,” Melena moved to gently touch my hand, but I pulled it away from her as much as I could, hissing in pain. “Know that slaughtering good men does not bring us joy.” I gave her a look that said I didn’t believe her. “You’ll learn this in time.”

“Right,” my voice was hoarse with pent up emotion. “I’m yours now. A bargain made long ago.”

“That’s right. We turned the tide of the war for him, and you, and all for just a few years of your life with us. A small price for an entirely new future.” She was watching me, judging me.

“And I had no say in this.”

A shoulder rose and fell. “You were a child.”

“I’m not now.”

“No,” she conceded, “You are not. And you made your own bargain, little Empress.”

I had, and I had no regrets so long as they were true, and Hera was now safe. I also knew that in freeing Hera, I would be giving my men information. Hera was a 51st squire. She would know how to lead them back to me. Even if the hire hands moved me now, it would only be a matter of time. I had to survive that long, and I had to do everything that General Merien had taught me to ensure that rescue or escape would come.

I continued my visual trek of the cracks in the ceiling. “And how long did I make my bargain?”

“Her life for yours.”

“Right.”

“Until I see fit.”

“Of course.” I closed my eyes. How much pain could I feign? Much of my pain was real, but could I feign enough that they would scarcely want to move me? Infection, I wouldn’t be able to fake, but if they valued my life, as Melena seemed to imply, perhaps I could hope to slow them down. Just enough for my men to find me.

“Little Empress - “

“I’m sure you’ll be moving me soon.” I closed my eyes, doing my best to seem as tired as I could, which wasn’t all that difficult. “I should like to rest before then. I can’t imagine it’ll be too comfortable.”

I didn’t see Melena stand, but I heard her put the stool back where she had found it. There was a pause, and a shadow that came over my eyelids, but I refused to open them. She leaned down so I could feel her breath on my cheek. It smelled of honeyed tea with a hint of rose. “Do not make this difficult, Jade.”

“Melena,” I began, “you don’t know me, so let me share a secret: I will always make things difficult. But you wouldn’t want me if I was any less.”

She didn’t return a quip. Instead, she leaned away, and I imagined she was watching me, judging me for any signs of deceit. Too bad I was already riddled with them. If she wanted to know which I’d play first, well, that was a secret event to me.

The door closed behind her, but the lanterns remained lit. I opened my eyes to the world around me: the knots at my wrists and ankles, and the empty cot where Hera had only just been laying. I felt the trickle of blood between my knuckles on my injured arm, no doubt I had caused the wound to reopen with my struggles. My fingers barely wiggled when I commanded them to move, and pain shot up to my shoulder.

I doubt I’d be feigning pain. I would simply be making sure they knew how much pain I was in rather than swallowing it down. There had been a time or two after a battle where I had been in rough shape. A man had stomped on my leg bad enough that I had hobbled around on crutches for some time. Never had I been injured and held captive.

I laid there, staring up at the ceiling again, wondering what my father had done when he was captured. Wondering again what mistakes of his I could avoid. In the end, he hadn’t escaped, and Gil and I had found his body, relieved of his head, in the woods as a warning. I wasn’t going to end up that way. That day, Gil and I had vowed to go out in a blaze of glory. Now I had to figure out how to either do that, or get back to him, and my mother, and Thea, and Merien. With my head still on my body.

[roksanalyasin]

The Warden’s Rose

Chapter 1: Freedom

The Circle Tower

Lake Calenhad, Ferelden

She stumbled, the vibrations through the Tower becoming more violent. The clash of steel and the thunder of magic in the floors above no longer seemed so muffled. She threw herself into the stairwell, losing her footing in a pool of gore. She felt the slick of blood on her hands, but her fear drove her to her feet.

She reached the library, her breath heaving from her lungs. Her eyes darted, as fast as the frenzied thoughts in her mind as she sought a way to freedom. She averted her gaze from the corpses that littered the floor, not wanting to notice familiar faces scattered between the bodies of demons.

She made it only as far as a table before she ducked beneath the heavy frame. Armour clad men and women stomped past, a voice calling from the front.

'This floor is clear, head to the next and spread out. Exterminate all abominations.'

She held her breath, watching as steel-clad feet filtered past her vision. One pair remained, motionless.

The fighting had darkened the room. She slowly clamped her hands over her mouth, hoping her dark robes would obscure her into shadows.

She squashed the panic that rose inside her as he took a step towards her, but he faltered when screams echoed in the stairwell. He turned, sprinting in the direction of the Templar force. She waited only long enough for him to get out of sight before she sprinted out from under the table. She scooped up the nearest staff, ignoring the blood that soaked the grip.

Escape.

She sprinted through the library, almost sliding into another pool of gore. Her thoughts raced, her ears straining for the sound of armour, but the fighting seemed to be behind her now. She focused on her goal, knowing she neared the basement stairs, but she was forced to duck into the shadows once more. She hid in the nearest room.

She only heard one set of armoured footsteps, but softer steps sounded. A tall, heavily armoured soldier passed first with a sword and shield, his armour and blade splattered with blood. She could not see his face behind his helmet, but she could tell that he was broad and strong: the weight of his heavy armour did not slow his determined steps.

Were there more demons on this level?

She could not tell, but they had certainly been fighting.

'We must hurry,' a voice called, and a face she recognised passed. She hardly knew the older mage, despite their confinement in such close quarters, but she knew her name.

Wynne...

Two more mages followed. One wore a ragged belt-lined skirt, her slim figure bared around the dark fabric that draped from her neck. Her black hair shone in the firelight, her staff at the ready. Beside her was another mage, the mage who had become a Grey Warden shortly after her Harrowing: Lilara. Her pale hair was tied in her customary bun, a few strands escaping. As an apprentice, her features had been soft. Now, she wore a hard, determined glare, but it did not mask her beauty.

Pieces fell into place quickly. Demons were loose in the Tower, and the Grey Wardens were here to clean house. She did not want to believe that fellow mages would be prepared to wipe out their kind, their friends, but she knew the Templars. They would not be above manipulation.

When their footfalls disappeared into the distance, following the sounds of battle, she made her way to the basement door. The normal magical barriers were damaged, the Tower slowly crumbling in places from the battle that had raged in the room, from the battle that still raged above. She heaved at the door, the hinges grinding as she gained purchase. The gap was small, but her petite frame slid through easily. Although she was only an apprentice, she knew what she sought.

What they stole from me.

All the magic barriers that would have hindered her before were broken or fractured enough for her to destroy. She dared to hope as she reached the room she had dreamed of for so many years. In the shelves, shining among the rest, was her goal. She leant the staff against a shelf.

As she reached to grasp the phial, she paused, waiting for some invisible force to fling her backwards, but none came. Her fingers grasped the small glass phial. In her hand, the phylactery glowed brighter, blood recognising blood. She reached into her pocket, retrieving a length of leather cord. She secured the phylactery to it, then deftly tied the cord around her neck, tucking the phial and leather beneath her robes.

She gripped the staff once more, sprinting back up the stairs. Little stood between her and her escape. Her feet carried her on the route she had planned for months, her lungs burning with effort. Through a door, then another, her goal in sight.

As she reached for the handle, a heavy force crashed into her side. She slammed into the stone floor with a broken cry. She heard something crack inside her, blistering pain searing her right side. She gasped in a pained breath, looking up to see the rage demon approaching her.

Without a thought, she threw her staff up. Lighting cracked above, and the demon exploded, spattering her with gore. She held her side, her ribs aching as she stood. She gripped the staff for support, her hand finally touching the large handle of the external door. The turn was the most satisfying movement she could remember, a gust of fresh air filling her lungs as she heaved the heavy door open. She stumbled into the light. Her vision blurred, the pain in her ribs spiking as she stepped onto the bridge.

So close.

Dark spots danced in her vision, and she stumbled. Despair rocked her. She had never thought she would make it so far, and now she had, her bruised and broken body was failing her.

She gripped the stone support of the bridge, her blood encrusted hand leaving a blotchy print. She gasped desperately for air, but each breath was more agonising than the last. No breath seemed to sate her lungs, and the dark spots spread. She lost her balance, plummeting into the cold embrace of Lake Calenhad.

A stab of pain woke her. Her teeth chattered loudly, the sound almost deafening. She dragged her eyes open, wincing, grit from the lake scratching beneath the lids. She pulled herself from the water, collapsing on the muddy shoreline. Her breaths came in sharp gasps, her body heaving, bringing up the water she had swallowed. A new wave of agony washed over her exhausted body. She knew she had to have at least one broken rib, and by the throbbing in her hand and wrist, the fall she had suffered after the demon attacked had damaged her already broken body further.

She dipped her hand back into the water, the remains of the blood washing away. Dark splotches were slowly blooming on her wrist.

The cold water probably helped, she thought wryly, not daring to flex her fingers.

She slowly knelt at the edge of the water, washing her face. Some of the grit cleared from her eyes, and although it was painful, she finally settled her breathing. Before her, a dark cloud surrounded the Tower. She thought she could still hear screaming from within, her mind flashing to recall the bodies that littered the floor. A strange calm settled over her. The horrors within had finally given her the chance she had waited for, becoming more desperate with each passing day.

She looked at her surroundings, hoping to see the staff washed up on shore. When she made it to her feet, she staggered along the edge, finding it a short distance away. She had to reach the docks. From there, she could hide in a cart. Traders travelled nearby regularly, the Circle Tower part of their standard route, and with their regular patterns, one should be at the docks now, waiting for daylight. She could end up in Denerim, Redcliffe, Orzammar: she didn't care. She needed to get as far away from the Tower as possible, as fast as possible.

She moved as quickly as she could. The Templars were occupied in the Tower, but she had no way to know if one remained at the docks. The frigid wind chilled her to her bones in her soaked robes, but a renewed rush of hope spurred her on. She would hide behind The Spoiled Princess, watching for the trader to return to his cart. The sun would rise soon. Once they had strapped the horses and climbed on, their focus on the road ahead, she would climb into the back.

As she neared the Inn, a voice called out behind her. She turned, knowing that in her drenched robes, an outright lie would fail her.

A Templar approached. She felt her veins fill with icy fear, her grip on her staff tightening.

'You, what are you doing here?'

His hand gripped the hilt of his blade. Although he moved slowly, the intent was clear. Carroll wasn't the brightest Templar in the lot, but Templars were known for their distrust of mages.

'The Tower is under attack. The Grey Wardens are inside now,' she said, 'I got out, but I'm hurt. I fell from the bridge.'

'Hurt?'

'A rage demon. I think it broke my ribs.'

'There are demons in the tower?'

She heard the soft sound of his blade rising a fraction from the sheath. Her eyes darted down, eyeing the glint of metal revealed.

'Yes, in the upper levels. I was on the second floor with a friend. I hid in a room and then got out through the library.'

'And where is First Enchanter Irving?'

'He was in the higher levels. I… I have no idea if he is alive, but he is a powerful mage.'

'Powerful mages still fall.'

'What does that mean?'

'I have seen even the strongest of mages fall to the embrace of demons. I know you. You're only an apprentice. The Templars will be preparing to purge the Tower.'

Her fist tightened on the staff. 'I'm not in the Tower.'

'But you will return there. I cannot let you leave.'

'I'm not going back, nor will I be the first mage murdered in the name of the Right of Annulment.'

Carroll pulled his blade, but she was faster. Fire crept from the Templar's armour, engulfing him. He screamed, his blade clattering to on the solid earth. His body landed with a heavy thud.

She moved quickly. There was no time to strap the cart herself. She limped to the gate behind the Inn, coaxing a richly coloured black mare over. Her grooming marked her as a Templar horse. She would be fast and strong.

The horse eyed her wearily as she unlatched the gate and approached, but soft strokes down its face calmed it. She found the standard Templar gear and grabbed the leather harness. The horse protested with a huff as she strapped it on, but it did not fight, even when she set the saddle on its back. Using the fence as a ladder, she eased herself up, gently soothing the mare as it whinnied.

'It's ok, you take care of me, and I'll take care of you.'

She gripped the reigns, riding into the night and away from the Circle of Magi.

Continue reading The Warden’s Rose on AO3 and FF.net!

[prettycanarybird]

Chapter 5

With a start, I jolted back to consciousness. The spasm sent a shockwave of pain up and down my side, stealing my breath away. There was an echo of pain in my forearm, but nothing compared to my battered and sliced ribs. It took every ounce of control to stay silent, biting my lip till I tasted blood. Even if I had wanted to struggle more, I couldn’t. Rough rope looped around my wrists, pinning them to my sides. My feet were tied as one, thankfully my boots protecting my ankles.

The pain made my vision spin and it took a few moments, four or five shallow breaths, before things came into focus. We were in a small room, several lanterns lit casting a warm glow, so night must have begun to fall. I was laying upon a wooden cot, straw or something of the like, stuffed behind my head for a pillow. Hera was on her stomach on a similar cot, her wrists bound closer to her head. She was watching me, her eyes glazed over with pain or something else, I couldn’t make out in the dancing shadows. What I could see was the way her eyes shifted when she saw me try to move.

“Stay still, General.” Her young voice was reassuring. “That rib didn’t look so good when they brought you in.”

I blinked at her a few times. How could she be trying to comfort me in such a time? I was her general, even more so, I was her empress. It was my job to get her home, safe, and I was failing miserably. 

“Oh, well.” I didn’t bother to even look down at my side. No doubt it was a few broken ribs which were probably bruising colorfully, and stitches through an angry red cut. If I was lucky, the scar would heal up attractively. If not? Well, I had plenty of others that it could join. “Did I tell you,” I attempted to shift and sucked in air when my side objected too much, “about the time that Gil’s stubborn horse threw me?”

Hera shook her head. 

“Broke a lot more ribs than I have right now.” The crooked smile I gave her, I hoped was convincing. “How are you?”

Hera glanced down the length of her cot. They hadn’t bothered to tie up her legs. “I can’t feel anything from my hips down,” her breath caught, “I keep trying to wiggle my toes.” 

I swallowed hard. Even in the lantern light, it was easy to see that she was trying not to let the darkness take her. Brave, young Hera, cut down. A thousand thoughts must have been circling her head, and all of them were my fault. “I’m so sorry.”

She lifted her head. “For what? I knew what I was signing up for when I joined you.”

Her kindness was too much; I had to look away. “You didn’t sign up for this.”

“No,” her voice dropped, “but you didn’t sign up to wear a crown.” I snapped my head back around as she continued, “Any fool can see you hate it. I saw it earlier. Swinging that sword? That’s the general we love and follow. I follow. 

“It’s not fair what’s happened to us. But when has it ever been fair? I know I haven’t seen it. And I know you haven’t seen it. We’ll figure this out. The empire needs us.”

The way she paired us together broke my heart. I had always walked a path alone with people either trying to pave a way before me, or watching my back, but never by my side. Hera had no other thoughts but to do just that: be by my side, even if it killed her. The problem was, I wanted her behind me, safe and well protected. If I did nothing else, and I had finally reached the end of my life, I would make sure that Hera returned home.

I opened my mouth to tell her just that when we heard steps outside the wood door. Instead, we shared a look and collectively braced ourselves. We were soldiers first and foremost, and it was plain to see the resolve on her face, which I knew mine echoed back in response, that we were not going to break. Our bodies may give in, but our minds never would.

The footsteps paused outside the door a long moment before we heard a key slide into the lock and turn. The wooden door swung open slowly, but no other light followed. My guess had to be correct: darkness had fallen. By now I could only imagine the guards and soldiers who were turning over the streets to find me. It was only a matter of time before I was found, even if these assassins had found a good hiding spot. They had to have known that. Still, there was no sense of haste when a tall woman with braided hair stepped into the room, flanked by the archer.

“I hope you are comfortable.” Her voice had a sweet melody to it, smooth and almost soothing. 

“Very.” I quipped back, sharpness in my tone.

The woman’s smile was slow, but tender. “Yes, I’m sure. I apologize for the ropes, but you were rather… resistant to our services.”

My eyebrows went up. “Services? Is that what you call broken ribs, a gash, and a hole through my arm?”

The woman walked further into the room so she could address the two of us. “Yes. Your injuries are regrettable.”

“Regrettable?” I felt the heat rising in my cheeks. “Untie me and we’ll see who regrets what.”

“I’m afraid, little Empress, that you are not fit for that fight. Yet. I look forward to the day you are.” She chuckled a little bit, and regardless of the pain, I pulled at the ropes holding my wrists. “Now, now. Don’t go opening up your wounds. Infections are nasty things.”

I balled my good hand into a fist. My other hand was too bandaged to do much more than lay there. My good sword arm, ruined. But Merien and my father had taught me the use of both hands, for such an occasion. Foolishly, I had always leaned heavily on my dominant hand. I would need to re-train, and I would, if only to cut down the archer who ruined me.

“I admire your fighting spirit. Both of you. If only your father had sent you to us when you were younger, perhaps… Nevertheless, there’s still time, especially for you, my dear.” The woman turned her attention to Hera, who had kept silent. As the woman knelt to look Hera in the eyes, the girl tried to pull away, putting distance between herself and the woman before her.

“Leave her alone.” I dropped my voice dangerously low.

“Hmmm.” She hummed before standing up and moving away from Hera. “A father’s debt becomes the daughter’s. Your freedom for her.”

My eyes went wide. “What? Never.” There was no bargain enticing enough to convince me to hand Hera over to the hired hands.

The woman nodded in understanding. “I know. I know the responsibility on your shoulders. I, too, have such responsibility. You’d do anything for her. Give your life for her…”

“No!” Hera begged.

“Shhh, girl. The adults are speaking.” The woman held up her finger before squaring off to me. “I propose this: pay off your father’s debt. Your life is ours, and the girl is freed. We’ll even ensure she is returned to the Capitol in one piece.”

Hera pulled at her ropes. Even in the dim light I could see how raw they were becoming. “No, General. Together. Us, remember?”

I watched her pull and pull, her wrists becoming redder and redder. She was too young to lose her life to the hired hands. She was too young to be crippled like she was, but if I could return her without more harm, it was my duty to do so. It would be harder to plan an escape alone, but Hera would be safe. My life would be the only one on the line. 

“The Empire!” She pulled harder while the woman stood over me, waiting patiently.

The Empire would survive. My mother would ensure it. She was the one who should have ruled all along. If I managed an escape, then it would only be a temporary thing, but if I didn’t? Then the people were in good, caring hands. 

“Tell my mother…”

“No!”

“Hera, listen to me, that’s an order.” I waited until she stilled. “Tell her that I am alive. Leave out the injuries portion. That will only upset her. Tell her to give the Twin Armies over to General Merien. They’ll listen to him. Tell them both…”  I didn’t know what I wanted to tell them. They could very well be my last words to them, and I had never even thought to prepare. “Tell them I fly on silver wings. I will be fine, I promise you.”

I wished I could slice the satisfied smile off the woman’s face as she nodded to the archer, who went to Hera’s beside to begin untying her. She lashed out at him, but he held her wrists firm. Even as she fought him, he took care to lift her from the bed, despite her agonizing groan, taking her poor, useless legs in one swoop. I met her eyes one last time and prayed I would see them again. The archer swung around, and once through the door, slammed it shut.

I heard Hera screaming for me all down the hall and to wherever they were taking her. I closed my eyes and tried to block it out.

The woman waited until Hera’s voice disappeared from earshot. She pulled up a stool, dragging it over to my bedside and sat down. Her keen eyes looked me over, tongue clicking. “Empress Jade Virillia. You know, I attended your coronation.”

“I hope you enjoyed it.”

“Immensely,” she mused. “We don’t need to be enemies, you and I. I quite support your reign. A woman who fought with her men, rose up the ranks. Disposed of a vicious man who fancied he knew how to rule an empire. Men are foolish that way, but you did it. Impressive.”

I snorted. “ Yes, that’s why you slaughtered my men in the north. You support my reign.”

She nodded. “Hmm. Yes. We often go where we are hired. Even if that is not what we, as individuals, desire. That does not negate my respect for you. Business is business, little Empress.”

I shook my head, and tried pulling at the ropes at my feet. Tight. 

She watched me. “We’ve gotten off on the wrong foot, I’m afraid. My name is Marlena. These men and women take their cues from me, so let’s clear things up a bit. You have a fire in you that you’re going to need to control, if you want to live long enough to try and pull off that escape plan you are putting together in your head.”

My eyes narrowed. “Don’t underestimate me.”

Marlena smiled her sweet smile. “Oh, I don’t intend to. I know you are quite capable of doing just as you set your mind to. It’s why I made the bargain with her father all those years ago, and more than likely, why he broke that bargain. And if you want to hear more of that story, you’ll need to be a good little Empress and behave, or a crippled arm will be the least of your worries.”

Again with my father. I was beginning to regret having Lord Icarius reach out to the assassins. On one hand, I had an admittance of involvement with the North. Whether I could use that would determine if I could escape and get back to court in time to find out. On the other hand, my father was somehow playing part from the grave. I wasn’t too keen on what part he was playing either.

“You have a lot of questions, I know.” Marlena cut through my thoughts.

“Who hired you from the North?”

She sighed heavily. “And that is such a boring one. I had hoped you would have started with your father. That is a much more interesting one.”

“And irrelevant at the moment. You said you understood responsibility, then you’ll understand why my empire comes first.”

Marlena nodded. She leaned forward onto the cot, shifting it slightly. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from voicing the pain that shot up my arm and side. She noted it with her eyes but said nothing about it. “I’ll answer your questions, but you won’t be successful in your escape, and you won’t be able to tell your advisors. That dastardly pirate, Lord Icarius might figure it out, but will he in time to change the course? Without you, will your precious armies fight just as hard for the Empire?”

I grit my teeth. “The Empire is bigger than me.” My men and women were wiser and stronger. They believed in a better future. I had to believe they would keep fighting for it after me, or what was it all for?

“Is it?” Marlena’s hawk gaze held mine. “I’m not trying to anger you, little Empress. But is it really? Those men followed you. They saw you fight in the field with them. They heard you speak and preach your new world. They watched you from the time you were young become injured, and broken, and still held your sword high for them. It wasn’t your mother, or General Merien. It was you. Empires are no bigger than their ruler.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Don’t be foolish. You’re smarter than that.”

I refused to follow her train of thought, or all those lives lost, on both sides, were all mine to carry. While in my darkest moments, I felt that weight without her telling me so, in these moments, I had to push those thoughts away, or the darkness would drown me. The Empire deserved better than that.

“Who hired you.”

She leaned back from the cot, shifting it again. I couldn’t hold back a whimper. “Would it surprise you if I said my own blood? A daughter who has delusions of power on a tiny scale. So you see. Regardless of my regard for you, I am still a mother, and she offered enough coin to ensure that several Wasteland tribes will eat this dry season. What’s a mother to do?”

So our enemy had enough wealth to pay off the best assassins in the world. It could only mean that it was someone in a position of power in the North. But who? Last I heard, the Northerners were governed by man. Surely that meant a courtier, but what courtier had that much wealth in their pockets?

“Going through the Northern courtiers, little Empress? How long have you been at court? A handful of days? Without your advisors, would you even know them?” Melena taunted.

But she was right. My education was on the battlefield, or snatched as we traveled. My mother and General Merien had done their part to ensure I was well learned, and knew enough of the several languages that spanned the Empire to converse, but learning the roster of other courts had not been foremost in my mind. Like a child procrastinating, I thought I would have time to learn them now, or at the very least, be able to write them down and cheat.

“They were brave men, little Empress. Strong, determined, and some of the best we have ever fought. You would have been proud of them.”

And I was, even as their deaths tore at my soul. I stared up at the ceiling, following the cracks to keep the tears at bay. General Merien had marched out after them. Had he already met his end by the hired hands? Were they all dead now too?

“Little Empress,” Melena moved to gently touch my hand, but I pulled it away from her as much as I could, hissing in pain. “Know that slaughtering good men does not bring us joy.” I gave her a look that said I didn’t believe her. “You’ll learn this in time.”

“Right,” my voice was hoarse with pent up emotion. “I’m yours now. A bargain made long ago.”

“That’s right. We turned the tide of the war for him, and you, and all for just a few years of your life with us. A small price for an entirely new future.” She was watching me, judging me.

“And I had no say in this.”

A shoulder rose and fell. “You were a child.”

“I’m not now.”

“No,” she conceded, “You are not. And you made your own bargain, little Empress.”

I had, and I had no regrets so long as they were true, and Hera was now safe. I also knew that in freeing Hera, I would be giving my men information. Hera was a 51st squire. She would know how to lead them back to me. Even if the hire hands moved me now, it would only be a matter of time. I had to survive that long, and I had to do everything that General Merien had taught me to ensure that rescue or escape would come.

I continued my visual trek of the cracks in the ceiling. “And how long did I make my bargain?”

“Her life for yours.”

“Right.”

“Until I see fit.”

“Of course.” I closed my eyes. How much pain could I feign? Much of my pain was real, but could I feign enough that they would scarcely want to move me? Infection, I wouldn’t be able to fake, but if they valued my life, as Melena seemed to imply, perhaps I could hope to slow them down. Just enough for my men to find me.

“Little Empress - “

“I’m sure you’ll be moving me soon.” I closed my eyes, doing my best to seem as tired as I could, which wasn’t all that difficult. “I should like to rest before then. I can’t imagine it’ll be too comfortable.”

I didn’t see Melena stand, but I heard her put the stool back where she had found it. There was a pause, and a shadow that came over my eyelids, but I refused to open them. She leaned down so I could feel her breath on my cheek. It smelled of honeyed tea with a hint of rose. “Do not make this difficult, Jade.”

“Melena,” I began, “you don’t know me, so let me share a secret: I will always make things difficult. But you wouldn’t want me if I was any less.”

She didn’t return a quip. Instead, she leaned away, and I imagined she was watching me, judging me for any signs of deceit. Too bad I was already riddled with them. If she wanted to know which I’d play first, well, that was a secret event to me.

The door closed behind her, but the lanterns remained lit. I opened my eyes to the world around me: the knots at my wrists and ankles, and the empty cot where Hera had only just been laying. I felt the trickle of blood between my knuckles on my ignored arm, no doubt I had caused the wound to reopen with my struggles. My fingers barely wiggled when I commanded them to move, and pain shot up to my shoulder.

I doubt I’d be feigning pain. I would simply be making sure they knew how much pain I was in rather than swallowing it down. There had been a time or two after a battle where I had been in rough shape. A man had stomped on my leg bad enough that I had hobbled around on crutches for some time. Never had I been injured and held captive.

I laid there, staring up at the ceiling again, wondering what my father had done when he was captured. Wondering again what mistakes of his I could avoid. In the end, he hadn’t escaped, and Gil and I had found his body, relieved of his head, in the woods as a warning. I wasn’t going to end up that way. That day, Gil and I had vowed to go out in a blaze of glory. Now I had to figure out how to either do that, or get back to him, and my mother, and Thea, and Merien. With my head still on my body.