#this is our heir!

[apricote]

winterfest baby!

[starrynightsxo]

[quelmdn]

More Anharion and Sarcean ✨🌘

[shyaringan]

on a scale of one to ten how homosexual is gerry keay to tou

this man has never had a straight thought in his life

[illyrianbitch]

Of Our Own Devices — Part Two

For @erisweekofficial Day 2: Legacy

Pairing: Reader x Eris

Summary: Eris Vanserra carries a legacy of cruelty, a reputation forged in whispers and fear. But something doesn't quite fit anymore. You’re beginning to think that the male doesn't truly match the legend he's left behind.

Warnings: brief mentions of abuse, cruelty, injury, battling to death, introspection? like a lot, readers head is soooo big from these big thoughts

Word Count: 3.1k

did someone say eris week mini series???? technically can be read as a stand alone, just squint

Part One | Part Three

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

When Eris Vanserra was born, his mother wept in the bathroom for hours after.

Her trembling hands muffled her soft cries as her handmaidens swaddled a newborn Eris in fine cloth. Beron hadn’t been there for most of the birth—hadn’t held her hand the way her father had held her mother’s. He came only at the end, just in time to praise the heir as he left her womb, presenting him like a trophy before promptly leaving for court business.

She was still young, felt like a child herself— at least in her own mind. So, while she loved her son dearly, his birth had cemented her fate to a male she didn’t love, a male whose hands she feared more than death itself.

His mother loved him, this Eris knew. Even at a young age, he felt that love. It burned in him like a comforting flame, the same warmth as the heavy blanket she would tuck around him at night or the sunlight that seeped into his skin on warm afternoons.

And yet, even surrounded by that love, Eris grew up lonely.

His loneliness led him to finding a home in curiosity, in sticking his pointed nose into matters that often didn’t concern him, picking out small details he'd unconsciously store for later. He was a collector from the beginning—of people, of excuses, of emotions he had yet to name.

Perhaps that was why he was so sickeningly fond of you, so starkly different from the others, equally curious, equally lonely.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

It wasn't Eris who people met first.

It was his reputation.

Eldest son of the High Lord, equal parts cunning and cruel, a loyal soldier with the venom of a viper. Anguish seemed to follow him, seemed to follow any with Vanserra blood, but there was something distinct about Eris, something divinely alluring. Terrifyingly sinful.

It was all true. So you weren't sure why it bothered you so much when your patrons talked about him, when his name was thrown into conversations surrounding the High Lord.

Your family's tavern was always filled with stories. Its dimly lit, worn wooden tables had overheard more whispered secrets and slurred confessions than you could ever count. Most nights were like this, with drinks spilling over into the laps of locals, the hum of conversation swirling in the air like smoke from the hearth. Tucked in a corner of the court’s lands, it was a place for those not high enough to feast in grand halls but not low enough to beg in the streets. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was home. A comfortable middle ground.

You placed a handful foaming drinks before the three males at the bar, taking a moment to analyze their appearance. They were relatively large, muscular builds hinting at some form of laborious profession. The callouses on their hands told you that they handled weapons often. But their clothes weren't nice enough to be one of Beron's men, weren't tailored enough to be one of Eris's either. Perhaps they were border patrollers, the lowest and grimiest of the forces.

They thanked you with lingering, appraising eyes as you moved away to fetch more drinks.

“I heard,” one of the them said, leaning closer to his companions, “that the eldest boy has a new game he plays with those who cross him. A real spectacle.”

The male next to him, the oldest of the three, nodded eagerly. “They say he’s got a private arena where he forces traitors to fight each other to the death. It’s supposed to be brutal—nothing but blood and screams. And Eris just sits there, like it’s a grand show.”

You clenched your teeth, turning around to face the wall behind you, forcing yourself to attend to the pile of glasses waiting to be wiped down. You tried to focus on your task, hoping to drown out their disturbing conversation, but it was no use. You could feel your grip tightening on the material of the rag, knuckles white as they continued to talk, their voices growing louder and louder with every drink they took.

It was a lie. A rumor. Nothing more.

Yes, Eris was cruel. He was manipulative and calculated. But you'd seen slivers of something else, something brighter, kinder, even. While you believed that a male should face the consequences of his actions, there was no honor in perpetuating lies that simply weren’t true.

It made no sense, anyway. Eris had done plenty of questionable things. There were multitudes of actions to choose from, many things worthy of criticism. There was no need to indulge in falsehoods. The image they painted of Eris—a male reduced to a sadistic spectator in a grotesque spectacle—seemed far removed even from him.

“A grand show?” the third scoffed. “He’s not just watching. He’s placing bets on who’ll survive, like it’s some sick sport. It’s all for his amusement. I’ve heard he gets pleasure out of the carnage. Let's his hounds ravage the bodies.”

A knot tightened in your chest and you gripped the glassware harder, cloth bunching in your grasp. Before you could register the motion yourself, you spun around, the movement abrupt enough to make the males flinch.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," you sneered. The males stiffened, large angry eyes boring into yours. You continued. "Bold of you to traverse around spreading rumors of a High Lord's son. Be grateful he isn't around to correct you himself."

You blinked, the anger draining away as quickly as it had surged, leaving a wave of embarrassment in its place. You took in the male’s faces—initially stunned, then quickly morphing into anger. It was an expected reaction from those who felt their pride wounded, especially from males who had just been scolded by a low-court fae like yourself.

You straightened, trying to regain your composure as you cleared your throat.

The largest of the men leaned forward, his eyes narrowing with a sneer. “Well, well, boys,” he drawled, his voice dripping with disdain. “I think our pretty little bartender might be one of the Princeling’s whores.”

You weighed your options as you stood there, hand still gripping the glass. For a fleeting moment, you were tempted to shatter it over his head. The thought of the glass breaking, of the shards embedding themselves in his skin, was almost satisfying.

But you didn't. Your father would be angry, would be disappointed above all. You needed the business.

You took a deep breath and your grip on the glass loosened.

“Allow me to apologize,” you said. “It seems I’m more sensitive about our court’s reputation than I realized. I don’t know what came over me. How about a round on the house?”

Their faces shifted to smug satisfaction as they accepted the offer with eager grins and, soon, their cups were filled once more. As they happily downed their next round of drinks, you slipped out from behind the bar.

The door’s bell chimed softly as you stepped outside, itching to find the heir that was imprinted into your mind.

Strangely enough, you knew exactly where he'd be.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

You found him in a clearing south of The Forest House, an expansive area bathed in the warm light of the afternoon sun. It was a dedicated space for the hounds, adorned in various obstacles that Eris used during their training—wooden jumps, tunnels, and agility courses set up with careful precision. You'd seen the area of land a handful of times before, times when Lucien found Eris to argue or hurl curses.

You approached carefully, watching as Eris kneeled by one of the hounds, gently tending to what seemed to be a cut on its paw.

After a moment, he finally looked up, his gaze meeting yours. The corners of his mouth quirked upwards and a playful glint manifested in his eyes.

"Even after all these years, a vixen without a fox at her side is still a strange sight."

You gritted your teeth, taking a deep breath as your eyes roamed the face of the male before you.

It was an unnecessary jab.

Lucien hadn’t been by your side for centuries now. Though you had visited him as often as you could, the friendship you once shared had changed. He had changed. You had, too. You'd grown into your life at Autumn—managing the tavern that bore your family’s name and living vicariously through the stories that came your way.

The last time you had seen Lucien was marked by a change. You'd looked into his eyes and somehow understood that things were different beyond what had been anticipated.

"Why do you do that?" You asked. "Be a dick when you don't need to be?"

Eris stood, brushing his hands clean as the hound trotted away to rejoin the rest. He narrowed his eyes at you for a moment, a scrutinizing, analyzing moment. Then he offered you a shrug, something so casual and dismissive. You were sure it would've warded off anyone else, that his disinterestedness would have begun to tired them already, turn them the other way.

"Maybe it's part of my charm," he finally responded, "Or maybe I'm just a dick."

He made no attempt to hide the amusement in his voice as he emphasized your insult. Eris had been called many things— you'd heard them, even delivered a few of the titles. But so far, you were the only one to call him two things: a dick, and a prick. Perhaps it was delusion, but you swore that he seemed to enjoy it when you said such things, seemed to smirk in a way that wasn't just cruel, but impressed.

You rolled your eyes. "Most wouldn't wear that title with such pride."

He narrowed his eyes for a moment, the corners of his lips twitching upwards. "What's the use in denying my nature?"

You sighed, a sound of frustration, of annoyance. "Do you not grow bored of your little games?"

Eris rolled his shoulders and straightened his back. He always had immaculate posture, his stature was often so perfect that it was almost uncomfortable to witness. It emphasized his wealth, somehow— emphasized his power. He towered over you even more now.

"Did you seek me out solely to criticize me?"

You bit the inside of your cheek. "No."

"Then why?"

You still weren't entirely sure why you had come.

"Perhaps I was bored."

Eris raised an eyebrow. "Do you not have any friends?"

You bristled. "I have plenty." You paused, allowing your gaze to settle on the view before you, on the open land and the animals that in the open expanse. You turned back to Eris. "It's you that doesn't seem to have any. Your only companionship recently seems to be those hounds. I'm surprised you're not running on all fours."

Eris's expression shifted. He let out a small chuckle and you fought against the twitch in your lips, cursed the warmth that blossomed in your chest. But the amusement dissipated from his face soon after, replaced be a resolve of cold indifference. His eyes seemed tired in this light.

"As much as I…enjoy our little talks," He began after a moment, "I didn't ask for company. You should find someone who wants it."

A small sense of rejection passed through your skin like a cold, morning chill. You were never foolish enough to think Eris would welcome your presence with open arms and a smile, never naive enough to consider yourself anything more than semi-peaceful acquaintances. But still, there was something deep within you that wished he’d show you something beyond the disregard he showed others.

That wasn't a fool's wish— because you knew it was possible.

You'd seen it.

Strangely enough, you had. In the stolen glances when he thought no one was looking, how he lingered after you stumbled, offered a hand before quickly retracting it. There had been flowers at your door after your mother passed of Autumn fever, an unusual number of wealthy patrons who had frequented your father’s tavern for months afterward, tipping generously despite only having a drink or two. They all adorned attire of a specific, deep green that you’d come to recognize easily—the shade often worn by Eris’s personal guard.

His name was never attached to any of it, but you could trace it back to him. You'd always wondered why he'd never taken credit, never basked in somehow proving your presumptions about him wrong.

Twenty-nine year old you, freshly bonded to Lucien after he'd stumbled across your father's tavern, would be shocked that centuries later, she'd be spending more time alongside his cruel brother than Lucien himself.

You’d had an image of Eris back then—an image painted by Lucien’s words. It was accurate, to an extent. You never doubted your best friend’s judgment, never questioned the stories of cruelty and ambition that followed Eris like a shadow. He had, indeed, made Lucien suffer. There were reasons he disliked his brothers so deeply, reasons you knew were valid.

But you were curious by nature, always craving to understand things deeply, intricately. And Eris Vanserra called to you like a riddle from an ancient tale—dangerous, alluring, and impossible to ignore.

Above all else, you wanted answers. Throughout the years, Eris had never called upon your bargain, never asked for a favor, never even mentioned the price you’d paid for that first visit with Lucien. Not once.

It unnerved you.

"I don't understand you," you said, without realizing the words had fallen from your lips.

You hadn't intended on voicing it so blatantly. You weren't quite sure how Eris would respond, how he would interpret your words. It was a tossup, really, between a snarky response or something condescending, something to make you feel silly, naive.

Silence.

Eris shifted, turning his body to look out into the horizon before him.

"Not everything in life is meant to be understood."

You paused.

Eris was complicated. Unfortunately for you, you loved complicated. It wasn't boring. It made you think, made you wonder. You gravitated towards the eldest Vanserra more often than you'd like to admit. It was easier now, you decided, since Lucien's watchful eye wasn't around. He didn't have to witness your betrayal first hand, didn't have to see as you attempted to find something in his brother. You weren't sure what that something was, but you were certain you were searching for it. You had been for years.

"That's not true. I can understand things if I try hard enough."

Eris played idly with the rings on his hands. "You set yourself up for disappointment, Vixen," he said to the empty air before him, not turning to look at you. "Why does everything need to have a deeper meaning?"

You studied his face further. Noting the lines etched around his eyes and the set of his jaw. He was beautiful. You weren’t one to deny it—all of the Vanserras were. But where Lucien had been handsome, radiating a gentle charm that made you blush with every lingering gaze, Eris was more akin to the sharp edge of the season’s chill—striking, with an air of regal severity. His amber eyes alone seemed to hold the crisp, unyielding essence of autumn itself—beautiful, but not without its bite.

"It doesn't need to," you replied. "But it often does. I think details are important."

He didn't respond as he turned to face you. You glanced up at him, his eyes fixed on yours with an intensity that seemed almost tangible.

"You've never lied to me," you stated. It was a statement more than it was a question.

"No," Eris replied.

His gaze didn't waver. You were almost impressed that you'd managed to hold his stare for so long. No one had ever looked at you like this before—so deeply, so penetrating. You understood now how his mere gaze could make people crumble, understood the rumors of how he only took his partners from behind, how he never made eye contact.

You pushed away the burning thoughts that arose.

"Is it true?" Your gaze bounced around his face. "Do you force your traitors to fight for your amusement? Place bets on them like animals?"

Eris's eyes flickered with something dark, but he didn't move.

"Do you think it is?" he countered.

You shook your head. You were certain of your answer, but you needed to hear his. "No. I don't."

The corner of his mouth twitched upward, and he gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. "Then it’s not," he said simply.

His expression revealed nothing more as you scanned his face. He didn't seem startled by your question, didn't seem confused at the context. He was aware of the rumors, of the stories circulating like the last morsels of food at a feast—passed around, savored, and eagerly consumed.

"It doesn't bother you? That these lies exist?"

A hint of confusion crossed his features, as if the question itself was somewhat absurd.

"Why would it?"

You blinked, momentarily retracting into yourself.

As a hound trotted up to Eris, his attention shifted. He crouched down, meeting the beast at its level. The gentle manner with which the hound regarded him, the affection in its eyes, stirred something inside you, deep within your gut. Your father had always said that a male’s nature could be understood through how animals responded to him.

Eris clearly cared for his hounds, and they, in turn, cared for him.

You found yourself wondering if, deep down, Eris was ever troubled by his reputation.

Lucien always had been.

He cursed the blood than ran through his veins, spent every moment trying to prove himself to be better than the legacy of his family— he did everything he could to avoid the curse of a wicked kin.

But then there was the male before you.

Eris, the rightful heir and firstborn son, was different.

You had always assumed he was bestowed with the legacy of the kingdom, that he was born for the role of High Lord, eagerly embracing the title and its accompanying glory. He seemed built for it, seemed to thrive under its weight.

You watched as more hounds approached him, watched as they surrounded him like a loyal fleet.

Could it be possible, you thought, that perhaps it wasn't all gifted. That it was possible Eris was burdened with the legacy of a Court?

You realized, then, that you'd never truly acknowledged that what he had become allowed for a kinder brother to grow in his wake.

The thoughts came faster, hazy, so many that your vision began to blur. It all made you itch, made you uncomfortable, made you overwhelmed and desperate for more.

None of this felt right.

You stared at Eris for a few more moments. When he stood up straight once more, about to turn toward you, you turned and ran to your horse.

You could feel his stare burning into you as you left.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

reader panicking when she has deep intellectual thoughts about sexy man as he tends for his dogs. shes so me fr

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[teiasviago]

colin 🤝 anthony: making an heir in s3

[sa2mping]

twins au… yeah… yeah… *nods*

[thebonekingdom]

Here’s a "little" compilation of what we know from Will/Sarcean’s memories of his past life in Dark Heir (Because I thought it could maybe help us untangle what is true or not about the old world and Sarcean):

In his first life, Sarcean was the Dark General, one of the army commanders, of the Sun King. He had been the one tasked with taking care of the Sun King's secret deeds and was feared by most. [Edit: he also was "lithe as a fish" and had long silky black hair. 🧜‍♀️]

He was also friend with Anharion, who wouldn't be called that way until much later, "in the far future".

At the time "he wasn't wearing the Collar. The affection in his eyes was real.", and while an intimate relationship between the two was forbidden, due to the vows Anharion had taken, it didn't stop him from sometimes watching him "like this". His words had "the sweetest hint of flirtation"¹ he "offered to no one else"¹ but Sarcean. [¹This last quote is from when Will is freshly awake, but the narration makes it clear that it still is Sarcean's memory and not an interpretation from Will. It says "Sarcean knew well that Anharion would never—"]

When Sarcean met Anharion under a spray of orange blossom, he was already entertaining the idea of him becoming king and Anharion being his queen. He asked him what he thought about it, becoming his queen, and "the words were [...] too soft to be entirely playful".

Later, during a procession, not long before the lady-to-be-Queen arrived, Sarcean had a plan and wanted to take the "true secret that lay deep in the heart of the palace" to use it to do something unmentioned. [But that we can guess following the following events in the pit.]

But for that, he was waiting for the lady to arrive, and then he could set it in motion.

[Did that procession happen before or after his first meeting with the lady, I can’t say for sure.]

The Sun King was riding first "with a gold mask covering his face". Then followed his golden general, Anharion, and next "white-cloaked soldiers".

Sarcean was the only one dressed in black on his equally black steed Valdithar.

This is during this procession that he felt Visander eyes on him, the new Sun guard who "shared Anharion's colouring" and decided that if he was feeling magnanimous, he might give him his attention later. Which he eventually did.

When he first met the lady, Sarcean had carefully chosen a time "when the Sun King would be absent." and feigned stumbling upon the lady by accident.

She wasn't what he had excepted, a "formidable sorceress", on the contrary she was a "young lady, stepping unawares into a darkly tangled web.".

She told him she wasn't believing the rumors about him, unknowing he was Sarcean from what he knows. He felt surprised and after she continued talking, he was watching in shock and "had never felt anything like this sweet exhilaration".

They spent a night together and, later, he left the palace for months and only came back when she called to him, knowing it was a trap.

His feelings for her were still sharp and intense, and proximity to her was painful.

When he told her he knew of the trap, she "sounded like it hurt her" when she asked him why did he come if he knew.

It's Anharion who put the manacles on his wrists, which was like being "braced for the blow, and instead to receive a knife to the heart". His beauty was painful to look at, "Yet Sarcean had never been able to look away.".

The Sun King had told them Sarcean had tried to "ensorcell [him] against his will" and Sarcean asked "Is that what he told you?" and he almost felt pride that the king considered him "enough of a threat" that he would "move openly against him." But he also felt anger, and when facing the Sun King, his "anger burned like acid in his veins".

When Sarcean asked Anharion what he would do if he fought instead of surrendering, Anharion replied “You know my power is the greater.”, and when he asked about what if he ran, Anharion told him. “I will find you. [...] I will always find you, try to run.”

[It is interesting to note that this last quote is the one James remembers/hears when the collar closes around his throat.]

Being arrested was the first step of his plan and as he knew it, the Sun King locked him beneath the throne room, where blood and "the memory of blood" remains and he knows that "in blood there is a great deal of power.". He had studied the place.

When the King and his court left for Garayan, it's Visander who came to him to help him out, even as Sarcean secretly hoped it would be Anharion, and this is when he killed his last alive ally for him to be reborn.

The Sun King was furious about Sarcean's escape and his now dead followers were "brought out [of the pit] and interred".

Now, his followers would rise again when Sarcean would need them the most and it would be directly inside the Palace's magical defence to help him take it.

According to Kettering, he "warred with the Sun Kingdom for years before he conquered it"². [²Not out of Sarcean's memories, but to have little guess about the time that has passed]

Once he took the Palace, "a great deal of time" had passed since Sarcean was cast out of it. At this point, the Sun King had fled with Anharion, his stewards and inner guards.

When he stepped into the throne room, it was "piled with the dead" and "the slaughter pleased him". He liked the irony of a Dark Guard to replace the Sun Guard and a Dark King to replace the Sun King.

In here, he faced the Queen and her champion, Visander, and in that moment, she told him "You will never be the true king. Those who serve you will only ever be unwilling slaves. No one would ever join you by choice. Not if they knew what you were." ("And what is that?" "Dead" said the Queen)

"Decades later"³ Sarcean "commanded his army to die when he did"³ and when he was scrying, Anharion was the one who stood guard since "his loyalty was absolute, because he was bound by the Collar."

[³Again for time purpose, said in the narration but not 100% sure if it’s a memory or an interpretation of what Will was told.]

Somewhere during his story, the Queen said "I cannot return when I am called to fight. So I will have a child." This quote was written on her medallion. [I believe she would have said that near the end of Sarcean first life or after his first death, but I could be wrong.]

[biffybobs]

And on the seventh day...

[insert pre-parental panic here]

"What if I'm no good at this? What if she turns out like me?"

"Then she'll be amazing. Come on, let's go meet our little girl."

"Hello Sunday."

[sapphira-mydnyte]

Since Sebastian's storyline was the favorite...

... there's no doubt that Ominis now needs his own.

[beginnerblueglass]

I was telling my sister about Titans, and she was like, “the whole Bruce/Dick/Jason storyline is like the prodigal son story, with the older and younger brothers' positions switched,” and I was like ohhhh???

[starrynightsxo]

what people say: "jude is a slay", "omg I love jude", "jude duarte what a queen"

the real fans: "all hail queen jude" *we say in unison*

[brainrotcharacters]

tell me I'm wrong

[mia-nina-lilly]

Since it's a book about Oak and Suren, and indeed it's a sequel, I suppose I should be paying attention to them, however, nevertheless, every time Cardan appeared or was mentioned, I couldn't help but think about how my boy went from the Cruel Prince to the damn badass king of Elfhame. Guys, Cardan practically owns anyone in conversation, knows the schemes alongside Jude, and on top of that, he's super powerful, a present husband, brother-in-law, and uncle. He's everything and then some. The way that Oak sees him aaaaaa.

I love Holly for giving us this development 🥹😭

[serpentface]

What's the Wardi cultural take on Akoshos sleeping with/partnering with/marrying other Akoshos?

It's not highly regulated to a degree that there are overwhelming cultural norms about it. There's a lot of societal focus on akoshos being theoretically suitable sexual partners for both men and women due to being dual-gendered, but not to an extent that relationships with One Another are stigmatized.

They also largely get to escape from the most severe concerns about penetrator/penetrated power dynamics because they're not regarded as Men (they're regarded as dual-gendered, and they're a female social class on every practical level), there's no status of manhood to Lose by receiving sexual penetration. The only real thing you see in that department is people assuming that one acts as 'the man' and one acts as 'the woman', but this is largely due to preoccupation with a notion of sex being Penetration With A Penis (and that Penetration With A Penis means that one person is in a Man's Role and one person is in a Woman's Role). But this will not be regarded as unnatural as in same-gender male relations, akoshos will Have to take up a position in this sexual dichotomy if they want to have Real Sex (Penetration With A Penis) with each other, and this is not unnatural and doesn't involve gaining or losing status since they are simultaneously male and female, not men.

So like you might see individual culture critics finding stuff to nitpick about it as their annoyance of the week or a singular Guy here or there who thinks it's weird, but this isn't a widespread norm. The vast majority of people don't give a shit about akoshos having sex with each other. The worst thing you're likely to experience Solely by virtue of being in an akoshos-akoshos relationship is someone asking you (probably with genuine curiosity) which one does the man stuff and which one does the woman stuff.

Akoshos also don't experience Hard expectations for marriage (though there are societal pressures that make marriage an attractive safety net all the same, ESPECIALLY marriage to a man) so unofficial life-partnerships between akoshos are pretty much the Only same gender partnerships between unwed people that are going to go unquestioned. ((Sworn brotherhood is technically a same gender life partnership for men that is Functionally similar to marriage (in that it's a kin-making practice between unrelated adults), but the tradition is Built upon the assumption that both parties will be married to women and that a primary goal of this kinship is to provide security for both parties' wives and children)). Marriage obligations in general are more lax in the economically secure but not Wealthy lower mercantile classes (as obligations to support and perpetuate one's family are universal, but these obligations can be filled simply by having at least One son who can get hitched, and marriages in the lower classes have no political functions and therefore there's less reason to ensure All your children are wed (there's still incentives like dowry, but this is not desperately needed when a family is economically secure)). So akoshos in this class group tend to have a Lot more freedom in terms of their life arrangements and chosen partners (though still experience the limiting frameworks of structural misogyny in other capacities).

The only thing that is out of the picture is akoshos/akoshos marriage. Marriage in this society has a predominantly reproductive function, the concept of reproductively non-viable marriages is generally considered absurd. This is not JUST this culture's form of homophobia, as marriage is a very practical arrangement at its core - both in a reproductive capacity and as bedrock for the patriarchal blood-kinship family system that forms the core social unit. The idea of same gender marriage isn't just absurd because 'ewwww weird' it's like, that Cannot work within this system, it Cannot fill core functions of what a marriage intends to do here, the ways on which marriage and kinship are BUILT makes same gender marriage practically (rather than just socially) untenable.

The sole exception to the 'marriage = reproductively viable" rule is that akoshos can be married to men (which in practice is almost always as a remarriage after a man has secured At Least an heir). This has a Little bit of internal logic here in that they perform predominantly female social roles (thus are suited to being a wife, even if they can't bear children) (and also on practical levels of them having the same legal status as women) but it's really more of a 'this is just how it's always been' kind of thing. A lot of the older pre-Wardi identity dual-gender roles that got mashed together under the 'akoshos' name would have involved marriage to a man as a second wife/concubine, in addition to his primary wife who would bear his children. Men potentially having multiple spouses has not been retained as a cultural practice, but the notion that an akoshos Can be a wife to a man has survived into modern day legal and doctrinal practices around marriage.

So like this being said, marriage as it is legally defined is only between a man and a woman, a man and an akoshos, or a woman and an akoshos. In practice the latter two are comparatively VERY rare- a man/akoshos marriage cannot provide children (though an akoshos can practically fulfill all other obligations and duties of a wife), a woman/akoshos marriage Can provide children (and while akoshos cannot function as a male heir, these children Will take their akoshos-parent's family name (though the wife retains her father's family name)), but akoshos are legally grouped with women in terms of rights and privileges (including being permanently under legal domain of their father unless they have been legally handed off to a male husband) and Cannot provide hard power patriarchal support that this family system is built upon and therefore depends upon, which makes these marriages socio-economically insecure. They can obviously still be a good partner and parent, but this is not the same as having the Legal hard power of a patriarch.

Akoshos marrying each other would be reproductively and socially nonviable, and is treated as a similarly absurd concept to a man marrying a man or a woman marrying a woman. It's just not a part of the marriage and kinship framework, it's not a thing that you can Do.