#thy end was indeed now

[stalegravyart]

i never really got the feeling that listening to minos’ fight theme on its own didn’t feel the same without his constant voice lines, but after trying to get any rank higher than a d…

i get it.

[call-me-overcomer]

My problem with reading theology type books is that they mention other theology type books and suddenly I'm still trying to read the first one while also off on at least two other bunny trails...

[trulyumai]

the beginning of the end - (I)

—Pairing: past! Messmer / Reader

synopsis: finally, the story could be told. the first glance Messmer took upon his wife.

warnings: family disputes, lots of fluff, Messmer on edge.

enjoy!

How did Messmer meet his wife?

Now, that’s a story laid in ashes; burned down along with the capital, surrounded in the ghosts of grace.

But somewhere— deep, deep down in the core of living, their story resides.

And it will be told today.

The festivals began with a loud bang. Quite literally, as catapults shot off arrows in the sky, with gold and white flowers adorning the tip. Flowers rained down upon the merriment of people.

Everyone was happy— for Queen Marika had chosen an heir.

Her eldest, Godwyn, perched himself upon the balcony, waving gracefully to the citizens below.

Behind him, his siblings lay in line.

Morgott, a silent but stoic man, always seen in the line of duty.

Mohg, who was a little out of sorts, but worthy nonetheless stood with his hands clasped behind his back, squinting upon the masses.

Then lay the half siblings. Of course there was Malenia, the most fearsome with a blade yet elegant. Beside her was Miquella— long hair flowed down upon his white robes and it was hard not to stare. There was something quite… mesmerizing about him, wasn’t there?

Radahn stood furthest in the back, for he was the widest— and biggest of the siblings.

And lastly there was Ranni, perched upon the side of the building with ease. She was always so far away— looking upon the sky with endearment.

But… there seems to be one missing, right?

Ah, yes.

The everliving flame. Messmer.

If it wasn’t for his mother’s obvious shame; the tall flame would have been up there too, basking in the light, the love. For what more could a man like him need?

Instead, he had trudged his way through the empty town. For all the residents lay upon the capital, screaming and cheering for his dear sibling. Godwyn the golden.

“Regrettable.” He growled. Mad his mother had brushed him away. Mad that he couldn’t stand in glory just like his own blood.

All because of some rumored curse. Bah.

His feet soon met with soft ground; flowers adorned the spaces in every which way, in every color and shade. It would have been a peaceful sight if the man’s hands hadn’t burned with utter contempt.

He hadn’t even realized he walked so far. And to the flower lands no less. Somewhere he was forbidden to cross, for his, “curse,” had put it at risk.

If only he had blonde hair. If only he hadn’t picked up the flames, this all could be so easy!

“E-excuse me, sir knight?” Whipping around, his hands instantly went to seize the neck of the one who interrupted him. Only to pause, just barely grazing his fingernails across their neck.

It was a… woman?

Squealing at the sudden action, she reeled back, dropping the basket of flowers and herbs with a clunk.

“I’m sorry— im so sorry!” Confusion etched around Messmers features, taking his hand back he stood tall, instantly towering over the poor girl.

He eyes her suspiciously. Sure, she looked harmless with those wet eyes, little frame and sunkissed face, but who was he to assume? Ranni looked innocent enough to, yet held the force of a moon between her palms.

“State thou’s purpose.” The girls lip wobbled, brushing her shaking hands off her dress she nodded.

“I— im a gatherer, sir knight. I collect uhm, herbs and florals for the town,” she blinked slowly at the red haired man and he did nothing butch watch on, analyzing each breath— each move she took.

“And why is your… stature so close to thys own?”

She let out a shaky smile, it ran across her face smoothly and perfect teeth shined back brightly at the man.

She was indeed lovely to look at.

“I— I thought you could use some company, or, perhaps a flower?”

Messmer squinted. “Flower?”

It only made the girl smile wider, as she looked around curiously for her basket of goodies.

“Yes! Of course, flowers help with everything.”

“Flowers help with nothing.” The flame scoffed, already itching to leave the girls presence.

Her expression had changed almost instantly and Messmer wanted to set himself ablaze. A torn look ran across her, mixed with confusion, sadness. Never before had such a man spoken to her so… loosely.

“W-well that’s not true,” she rebutted, already grabbing out a special plant for the man.

She felt the familiar texture and pulled the flower lightly, until both their eyes settled upon it.

It was a Erdleaf flower. It was so bright, shining on with golden purpose. The petals were held delicately upon the bud and the stem was being placed into the man’s hands before he could blink.

“You’re of royal descent. Gold shines through your blood like no other, so it’s perfect!” She beamed. Her hands had grazed his in the process, and gods, were they soft. So much smaller than his too.

“I don’t have anything in exchange,” he breathed out. Entranced by the order of petals and the way it sat upon his monstrous hands.

No one had spoken so softly to him before. Or even acknowledged his fealty to the golden order.

So for her to say it so easy; so casually. It made the man sag with newfound joy and comfortability.

“That’s okay, it’s a gift!” Her neck was starting to get sore from looking up upon the flame. Yet she stood there still, lovingly gazing from him to the flower perched upon his palms.

“Just take care of it for me, okay?” Already grabbing at the heavy basket, the lady began to back away waving goodbye to the royal knight warmly.

Messmer could do nothing but watch.

‘Say something you fool!’ He had thought, but it was too late, she was too far, her frame a mere dot in his vision.

Tingles erupted upon his body. He didn’t understand it. To feel so hot, yet cold at the same time.

Surely this isn’t.. adoration?

He shook his head, of course not. Such a thing has no place in a mind like his.

Finally gaining control over his senses, the man marched back.

And it was so silly, to see a man of his stature, cradling an erdleaf flower between his hands.

[shegatsby]

Love Thy Enemy

Summary; Y/N Atreides had always been a stranger to the entire galaxy, her bed wasn’t her bed, her home wasn’t her home due to the fact that she was sent to accompany and be sisters with Irulan. She had limited access to her actual family and over the years they grew distant. She thought she would be like Reverend Mother, alone, yet powerful, and soon she would realize that there was no need of being alone when a wild creature had his eyes on her for a long time.

A/n; Hi little doves, how are you?! I've missed you so much and here i am. Let me know what you think of this chapter. xxx

TAG LIST IS OPEN! (let me know if i forgot to tag you)

Warnings; Baron being a pedo, he is a pedo in the books and i wanted to keep it that way. Little bit of NSFW!

Words; 4.708K

Chapter Seven ''The Wedding''

Y/N Atreides found herself laying flat back on his bed, alone. After their small exchange of comfort Feyd Rautha didn’t say anything but left her to sleep in the living room section. Y/N changed, got ready and she noticed she was stumbling in the bed chambers, walking around, brushing her hair slowly but why? After some time she huffed in annoyance trying to get rid of what happened today from start to finish. She had bigger problems such as her wedding in two days. She turned on her side, curled up into a fetus position and closed her weary eyes.

Feyd Rautha Harkonnen was sweating under the Black sun of Giedi Prime, he had his morning training with his coach, an ex commander from Salusa Secundus, at his prime he used to crush men’s skulls with his bare hands, now he was an old man and transferring his skills to younger generations. Baron himself bought this man to guide Feyd in combat.

A strong hit came to his cheek, ‘’You seem distracted, Na-Baron.’’ Feyd heard the man’s rough voice, indeed he was distracted. ‘’Is it because of the stupid fight you had with your brother or.. something else?’’ the old man attacked again but Feyd was able to block it. ‘’I’m fine.’’ He growled in distress, sweating under the hot sun, ‘’Then prove it.’’ The man was skilled at getting under his skin too. Feyd launched at the man, he was screaming. The sun was boiling him like an egg, he had pent up rage within him and he unleashed the beast. The old man’s face turned into Rabban’s in his twisted mind and Feyd attacked religiously. At the end of the training the old man was on the floor with a bleeding face and he was laughing, ‘’Well done boy,’’ he was out of breath, ‘’Bring that to the upcoming battles at the arena for your wedding.’’

Harkonnen custom was to fight on your wedding day to prove to your wife that you can protect her and defend her no matter what. With the old man’s words Feyd’s mind altered a vision, a dream, last night he had a taste of fighting for someone, someone he is going to share his life with and he liked it. The animalistic instincts in him were triggered since that night and when they shared that soft moment between them last night he internally promised to himself that he is going to protect his wife no matter the outcome is.

He left the training grounds, his routine was to go to the baths to shower and relax, his legs were taking him there but his mind was too occupied to notice his surroundings, he marched to the bath chambers and closed the door behind him, ‘’Hello nephew.’’ Came the Baron’s voice, Feyd composed himself in a second. His uncle was in the stone bathtub, smoking, Feyd could see his ugly form.

‘’Hello uncle.’’ He said with a flat tone, and he walked to the bathtub, he wanted to be alone but he couldn’t leave now, his uncle would get suspicious. ‘’Seeing your disposition your training was successful.’’ He motioned to Feyd’s sweaty and muscular chest, ‘’Yes uncle. It was successful.’’ He repeated his uncle. ‘’Get in the tub. You deserve to relax now, perhaps take a servant to your room eh?’’ he laughed with his raspy voice, Feyd had to laugh with him, he took off his pants under his uncle’s curious eyes and got into the tub. Feyd leaned his back on the stone and closed his eyes, arms spread wide on the stone, ‘’Rumor has it that you haven’t visited any of your ‘’darlings’’ are they entertaining you anymore?’’ his uncle asked, Feyd knew that whenever Baron opened his mouth to speak he had a motive, his words hid something underneath, ‘’I have been busy recently.’’ He replied, his eyes closed, ‘’How does your wife-to-be take the news of your darling, is she jealous?’’

Feyd didn’t think to bother Y/N with this detail but if his uncle is mentioning it, it meant that she would be hearing it soon, ‘’I do not care what she thinks, as long as she does her duty then I shall be content.’’ He opened his azure eyes to face his uncle and caught him staring at his chest, ‘’Good boy. I expect great things from you Feyd and you have never failed me. Keep up the good work son.’’

Tomorrow was their wedding day and Y/N was occupied heavily, seamstress and other servants kept coming and going to her, getting measurements, talking about the design and the color scheme and the guests… ‘’Of course you must be ready to greet the Na-Baron after he wins the battle in your name..’’

‘’I do apologies but,’’ Y/N turned to face the servant girl, ‘’What battle?’’

Servants looked at each other before one of them bowed her head and spoke, ‘’In order to prove himself that he is the protector and provider.. Na-Baron will fight in the arena, for you.’’

Y/N never asked for a battle, whenever she runs from blood the blood follows her, she never asked to watch prisoners die before her eyes and the fact that  it would be on her wedding day.. she calmed herself with a Bene Gesserit trick. ‘’Thank you for the information.’’ She smiled kindly and continued with her day.

With a huff she walked into the living room, her skirts swirling, she shut the door and leaned her forehead on the cool metal, yes, the doors were metal.. like a prison.

‘’Long day I assume?’’ a raspy voice startled her, she turned to face the owner of that voice that haunts her dreams. He was sitting on the dining table’s chair, the table was set, candles lit, he leaned his back on the chair, his shirt looking tight on his chest. He gestured to the empty chair at the opposite top of the table, ‘’Sit.’’ She didn’t say anything, this was the first encounter after their soft ending of yesterday night, his face looked better, perhaps his doctor gave him medicine to make his wounds heal quicker.

She sat. The meat on the table smelled delicious and her mouth started watering, ‘’Please,’’ he gestured again to the table, ‘’eat. I bet you didn’t eat much today.’’

‘’I was busy.��’ She said and started her dinner, ‘’I figured.’’ He said in short, she was surprised that he wasn’t tormenting her. ‘’Are you-‘’ she began but stopped when she caught his complete attention.

He looked puzzled when she stopped herself, ‘’Please, continue.’’ She heard him say please two times in few minutes, was the galaxy dying? Was it Doomsday?

She kept her hands busy with cutting the meat, ‘’You seem tired.’’ She said with a flat tone, the meat she was dealing with looked more interesting than Feyd’s surprised face, if only she looked up to meet his azure gaze.

‘’Is someone worried about her husband?’’ his mocking tone came back, ‘’You are not my husband.’’ It was her generic response. ‘’Aren’t you tired little dove, tomorrow is our wedding day after all.’’ He drank his wine, enjoying cornering her, ‘’I cannot wait to become a widow.’’ She snapped back and earned his laughter, he enjoyed this banter dearly, ‘’Finish your dinner, I want to take you somewhere.’’

Y/N panicked for a second, ‘’Where?’’ she asked immediately, ‘’It’s a surprise.’’  He whispered jokingly.

It was late at night, full moon casting mysterious shadow, it wasn’t cold and yet she could feel her hands go ice, maybe it was because of unknown intentions of Feyd or maybe she felt the slight breeze. Feyd and Y/N were walking side by side, their shoes made echoes in the corridors, halls, guards were present at certain doors and they had their night shifts but they were so silent and blend in with the black walls Y/N felt as if her and Feyd were the only residence of the fortress. His hands were behind his back, ‘’Where are we going?’’ she couldn’t help her curiosity. Feyd stopped in his tracks, turned his face to the side, Y/N took a step back, ‘’Curiosity killed the cat.’’ He said mockingly but she could sense the irritation underneath so she didn’t reply and kept following him.

Feyd-Rautha had been planning and organizing this since Y/N first stepped foot on Giedi Prime, it was hard work but he managed to pull it off and he did it under the radar, he made some excuses for it so that his uncle wouldn’t search for a deeper meaning.

Together they walked out of the fortress to the barren courtyard, Giedi Prime’s courtyard was nothing but stone, few marble status and that’s it. Y/N noticed how quiet it was, guards were scarce and it was late, she was getting more suspicious with each passing second. The stars were bright, almost like glowglobs hanging in the sky to show them the path.

Feyd now was making her walk through shadows, and they reached to a glass door, he stepped away and extended his hand to the door, ‘’Would you like to do the honors?’’ he said and waited for her to open the glass door. It was dark and all she saw was the handle of the door, she opened the door and walked in. For a second the darkness continued until Feyd also walked inside and hit the switch for the glowglobes inside and Y/N had to close her eyes, it was too bright all of a sudden and when she opened her eyes she could feel her mouth open with shock.

They were inside of a garden filled with flowers and small trees from Caladan and Kaitain, the fresh smell hit her nostrils in a pleasing way, she had dreams where she walked in the gardens of Kaitain and her dream now came true, she slowly walked among the plants, flowers, there was a fountain in the middle of the garden, it was white marble and had fishes in it, everything inside made her peaceful.

‘’I didn’t know this place existed.’’ She said smelling a red rose, ‘’It didn’t.’’

Y/N turned to him, looking puzzled, ‘’I have arranged this,’’ he began, coming closer to her, he came to a stop in front of her, ‘’for you.’’ He confessed, his head low, suddenly the soil ground looked more interesting to him than her pretty eyes. Maybe he didn’t want to find any confrontation or rejection.

Y/N had no idea what to say or even react to his kind gesture, her Bene Gesserit mind immediately looked for any strategy or profit, why would he do something like this if he has no gain from it? However, a dark corner in her mind whispered to her that he did this for her comfort and to see her happy and content, she had been going through a lot especially with the rude comments of  Rabban…

He dared to see her reaction with his yearning blue orbits, her face soften when she saw his expression, he looked like a lost little boy, the boy she had met years ago.

‘’Feyd I-‘’ she began but failed to express how grateful she was, be that as it may, her hands went to his pale face, caressing gently, Feyd’s touched starved soul leaned in to her touch, of course he had been touched many times he was yearning for this kind of touch; soft, gentle and nurturing.

Y/N smiled, ear to ear, ‘’Even though we aren’t in good terms most of the time… this means a lot to me.’’ She finally said. ‘’Thank you Feyd.’’

Feyd started to take slow steps towards her, ‘’Say it again.’’ He begged, she could feel his hot breath on her face, she had to take steps back because of his movements towards her and she felt herself cornered between him and a tree, ‘’Feyd..’’ her hand still on his face, ‘’Again.’’ He demanded, his voice getting raspier and lower, his breathing getting quicker, ‘’Feyd-Rautha..’’ she whispered with her soft voice, so soft it made his insides melt, he was so close he could smell her fresh and sweet scent, her hair thick and long, his hand went to touch it. He was mesmerized every time, the texture of her hair was so soft it made him feel like he was touching pure silk.

Y/N lowered her hands and let him touch her hair, when he started to massage her scalp gently she closed her eyes, a soft moan leaving her shiny lips, Feyd smirked in victory. She was wearing a baby blue gown, fabric tight around her body and making her curves look dominant, he could see the cleavage of her chest, his mouth was watering but he had to keep himself for he promised to himself that she had to come to him, willingly. When he stopped massaging her scalp she opened her eyes in protest, fire in her eyes, ‘’The garden isn’t the only thing I want to give you.’’ He said and his hand went to his pocket, he showed her a golden ring with obsidian stone, ‘’It was my mother’s, now it’s yours.’’ And he took her left hand to place the ring, Y/N mind went to the knowledge she had of his parents’, was it a good time to ask? She decided that it wasn’t time or the place for that conversation but Feyd sensed her trouble, ‘’You don’t like the ring?’’ he asked with defense in his tone, ‘’No, no. I love it. I just.. I don’t have anything to give you.’’ Feyd chuckled, his hand went to caress her cheek, ‘’You are giving your hand in marriage to me. That is more than enough.’’ She was relieved, ‘’Although,’’ he began with a cunning smile, his eyes shining like a predator on a hunt, Y/N raised her eyebrows in question, ‘’a kiss would suffice.’’

Y/N wasn’t shocked to see his boldness, but why now? Her mind was racing like a race horse, she was comparing pros and cons, over the days he was getting more and more nice but there were things he did in the past such as beheading a servant because she refused to dine with him, but he defend her against Rabban who is his flesh and blood. And now they were standing in the garden he had built for her…

Y/N’s hands went to his face again and she kissed his plump lips, his lips felt so welcoming that she kept kissing him but her intention was to just give him a quick kiss. Feyd wrapped his arms around her to pull her extremely close. Wet sounds and soft moans leaving their enchanted mouths, she was water he was thirsting over, and he was the darkness she ran into. She could feel his stone of a body pressing her against the tree, his body felt so firm she wanted to touch him but in this position she let him use her mouth, he was getting more and more eager, Y/N pulled back when she needed breath and together they chuckled. ‘’Let’s go. We have a big day tomorrow.’’ Feyd extended his hand and together they left, till they reach to their chambers neither of them spoke or let go of each others’ hand.

(for some reason i listened to this when i was writing the Baron's part lol)

‘’My Baron-‘’ Baron Vladimir Harkonnen’s spy ran to his chambers, Baron was getting ready to sleep, his room was extra dark, ‘’How dare you disturb me at this ungodly hour? You better have something worthy to say.’’ Baron was furious, he never liked being disturbed, especially when there was a servant boy laying under his sheets, the spy’s eyes gazed upon the sleeping boy… he looked immobile and the spy understood the situation. ‘’Na-Baron and his wife to be, they have been spotted hand in hand leaving the garden Na-Baron had built for her.’’ He explained what he saw in details. Baron didn’t say anything and dismissed the spy with the promise of gold and the spy left smiling.

Baron Vladimir poured himself a drink, he loved to drink after he used one of the boys, he was in his device which made him float in the air, he moved to his window overlooking his city, ‘’So, you choose her over me..’’ he was talking to himself, his icy cold eyes focused on a distant building, he could feel the rage in him building but years made him act in a more strategic way, he learned how to manipulate his rage into the right path, he only agreed to take the Atreides girl as a pawn, to use her name and family to his ways. It seemed like the girl had her own plans, ‘’Not for long..’’ he said and finished his drink, his hand was shaking rapidly so he exhaled his breath.  He smashed the glass against the floor which made the boy in his sleep startle and wake up in terror, Baron turned to the boy, his eyes made the boy cover himself in fear, ‘’Please Baron,’’ the boy begged, he was moving towards the boy, ‘’No more, please..’’

And that night, as usual, the guards at Baron’s door heard the painful screams of the boy.

Y/N started her day earlier than usual, it was her wedding day. She was happy because she was going to see her family but she was also dreading the day. After having a small breakfast they made her wear a black velvet gown, the dress covered her body entirely, only her hands and face could be seen, it was the custom so she said nothing. Before the wedding she had to watch Feyd fight for her so she was guided to the seating areas of the arena, the guests and Y/N were going to witness the fights behind glass, their seats were high, the pit was under them so she had to use a device to see the fight like others. She greeted the guests, Minor and Major houses were there, their wedding was the talk of the ton, everyone was talking about how Feyd-Rautha demanded her and got her, how brave he was… no one asked her how she was, no one wondered how she was surviving in a place like this, among the monsters.

‘’Y/N..’’ she heard her mother’s voice, ‘’Mother!’’ she turned excitedly to see her and her smile turned into a frown when she saw her mother with that woman, Reverend Mother Helen Mohiam. ‘’The Reverend Mother wishes to speak to you… alone.’’ Her mother announced with her formal tone, ‘’I would love to talk to her alone.’’ Y/N said with an icy bite. Together they moved to a small room, Jessica closed the door for them to speak.

‘’You have been handful, get your mind organized or you will lose everything.’’ Reverend Mother began, ‘’I was brought here against my will!’’ Y/N protested,  ‘’Silence!’’ Helen used the Voice on her and made her stop talking, ‘’You listen carefully, this arrangement had been in the progress since before you and Na-Baron were born. You are a woman, you are superior than him, use your mind to manipulate him and you shall live or..’’ Helen noticed the change in the girls eyes, ‘’You are very pretty,’’ her voice softened like a mother, ‘’however that isn’t enough for you to survive. Baron Vladimir is a dangerous and jealous man. He has spies everywhere, don’t talk to anyone about anything. Watch your back all the time and convince him.. convince Feyd to get rid of his uncle. Or he shall be the end of you and your children.’’ With that Reverend Mother left the small room, Y/N knew how dangerous the Harkonnens were, especially Baron but if Reverend Mother herself was warning her directly then it meant Baron had made his moves already. As soon as she become Feyd’s wife she was going to be thrown into the battle so she had to be ready and she had to manipulate Feyd to get rid of his uncle one way or another.

The black sun of Giedi Prime made the arena look bright white, the spectators were cheering to see their Na-Baron, before the doors opened a male voice announced the importance of today and screamed his name, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen. The doors were opened and prisoners, slaves entered, Feyd entered from a different door in the middle.  He had his two blades and the shield device to protect him. He greeted everyone and waved at her, she only bowed.  She was uneasy, never liked to watch battles, the fireworks were the color of black because of the sun, she hated the sun of Giedi Prime, it’s light made everything look black and white. One of Y/N’s maids whispered in her ear, ‘’My lady, the prisoners your husband-to-be is ought to fight are drugged before the event. See that one, he is limping as he is walking.’’ Y/N turned to the maid, ‘’So it isn’t a fair fight.’’ She cursed herself for saying that, ‘’It is the custom. Baron cannot risk his one and only heir’s life.’’ She noticed the maid’s eyes following a young man, ‘’Oh no, that slave isn’t drugged.’’ And she turned to see the man. The maid was right, others were limping but he wasn’t, he was walking straight.

Y/N watched the entire fight with her heart at her throat, his death meant her demise, he had killed the drugged ones but the last one was a problem, he was a skilled fighter just like Feyd. There were men covered in black  at the corners of the arena just in case. When he killed the man Y/N found herself cheering for her husband-to-be, she was clapping and smiling, she was relieved that he was unharmed.

‘’My lady, it is your turn.’’ Her maid announced, ‘’My what?’’ she started to get looks from the guests and servants and her maid whispered again, ‘’You have to get down to the arena and kiss Na-Baron’s blade. It means you are satisfied with his efforts and you shall have him.’’ No one told her about this, when the maid saw that Y/N wasn’t moving she gently held her arm, ‘’Follow me my lady.’’

Feyd was waving at his people who were cheering for his victory, he loved the attention he got. He intentionally didn’t mention this tradition to her to see the irritation and shock on her face. The door was opened for her to enter, she was startled when she heard screams and cheers for her, she slowly walked towards him, it was way more hotter here,  the sun burnt her eyes, she was uneasy with the attention she got.

She bowed respectfully, ‘’My Na-Baron.’’ She had to follow the traditions if she wanted to survive.

Feyd bowed in return, ‘’My Lady.’’ And he extended the blade he had killed his enemies, Y/N looked up to meet his gaze, ‘’Kiss it.’’ He ordered, there was a strange light in his eyes, his chest was heaving and his hands and clothes were bloody, she could feel her stomach twist but she had to. Y/N gently kissed the metal of the blade, her lips covered in his enemies’ blood. Feyd lowered the blade and with another hand he grabbed her neck and pulled her for an animalistic kiss. Y/N was startled, she didn’t expect him to kiss her like that in front of thousands.  He let go after the heated kiss and whispered,

‘’See you at the altar.’’

Later she was taken to her chambers to wear the wedding gown, when she saw the completed version of the gown on the tall mirror she couldn’t believe her eyes. The fabric felt smooth like liquid, the color was silver white, with grey strands of fabrics, she was flowing like a fairy,

(this is the gown, i've found it on IG the account's handle is @etheralsoftwear.ai )

she expected a hair style but the maid said something which left her speechless, ‘’Na-Baron has requested for your hair to be loose.’’ She touched the strand of her hair, where he touched…

‘’You are ready my Lady.’’ His personal maid said and they opened the door for Leto Atreides to walk in. She didn’t see him among the guest and thought he didn’t come. ‘’Dad!’’ she jumped into his arms, ‘’Hello love.’’ He kissed her forehead, ‘’Look at my little duchess, you look amazing.’’ Even though she was mean to him and also heartbroken because of the fact that she was here she really missed him.

He extended his arm, ‘’Shall we?’’ Leto looked handsome in his black and green suit, his medals shining with the glowglobes’ lights.

The wedding ceremony was at the grand hall of the fortress where the Harkonnes held important events. The hall was decorated in black and white, flowers were white, symbolizing purity and innocence, guests were seated at their tables talking among themselves, when Leto and his daughter entered all conversations ended, she could see the looks they got, admiring her dress and beauty, she had always noticed the people watching her, observing her in detail.

Feyd was waiting at the black altar, in his black ceremonial clothing, he had his boots, made him look more tall and menacing, his hands clasped in front of him, he had his silver ring on his small finger, she came up with an idea of getting him a wedding ring maybe just like the one she has but in silver..

His face was as if made of marble, Y/N noticed how stiff he got among crowed but when he spotted her she noticed the small smile and the shine in his azure eyes.

Leto walked her daughter and left to take his seat remembering the conversation he had with Feyd earlier today;

‘’Duke Leto,’’ he called for him, ‘’May we speak in private?’’ it was before the arena.

‘’Yes, we may.’’ And Feyd took him to his study. ‘’Do not have any fear for your daughter’s future for I am her provider and protector starting today. She will be taken care of the way she wishes. Not a strand of her hair will be harmed. You have my word.’’ And he bowed respectfully.

Leto looked at him different than the day his daughter was taken. Today he was going to be his son-in-law, the father of his future grandchildren, ‘’If you need anything,’’ Leto began, ‘’I will be there for you, son.’’ And he hugged Feyd. Feyd wasn’t used to getting hugs or sentimental things from his family members so he was startled at first but he hugged Leto back.

At last she was standing in front of him, holding a small bouquet of white tulips, officiant of the wedding was the Reverend Mother herself. Y/N guessed that the Mother wanted to see this through.

‘’We are gathered here today to join two houses, Harkonnens and Atreides in holy matrimony,’’ Reverend Mother began, there was no sound in the room other than her strong one. Y/N glanced at the guests, they were so elegant and chic but she knew the lies laid underneath and she saw him with his family… Pyramus…

His brown eyes found hers, his clothing looked richer than usual, he was wearing colorful rings and necklace, he looked like an important man now but to her.. he was nothing.

Feyd noticed the small exchange while Reverend Mother was giving her speech, he was the one who personally sent a letter to invite the low life and watch Y/N ‘s reaction, a reaction that he completely misread. He didn’t like what he saw.

‘’I announce you, husband and wife.’’ The old lady finished and the ton cheered, smiling and yet Feyd wasn’t smiling. He looked at Pyramus, captured his gaze and leaned to kiss Y/N. The kiss was more passionate than earlier, Feyd’s soft lips encapsulated hers, his hands went to her waist to pull her close, she could hear the cheers, screams, the ton was having fun. She didn’t want to make a scene but her hand gently pressed on his chest, signaling for him to stop, he pulled back looking offended. Later he held her hand walked to their table.

‘’Let the feast began!’’ Baron Vladimir announced and the servants started to bring the food.

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[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

Virgin Mary, Galadriel and Sauron x Galadriel in “Rings of Power”

Understanding the connection between Galadriel and the Virgin Mary in Tolkien lore

The “Virgin Mary = Galadriel” headcanon is around for a very long time in the Tolkien fandom. But this is not what Tolkien wrote nor intended, as he made that distinction in his letters, very clear:

I was particularly interested in your remarks about Galadriel… I think it’s true that I owe much of this character to Christian and Catholic teachings and imagination of Mary, but actually Galadriel was a penitent, in her youth, a leader in the rebellion against the Valar (the angelic guardians). At the end of the First Age she proudly refused forgiveness or permission to return. She was pardoned because of her resistance to the final and overwhelming temptation to take the [One] Ring for herself.

Tolkien, Letter 320

Why are folks missing the mark here? Most likely because they aren’t familiar with the Catholic faith, Tolkien’s faith, nor its complexities. There is no direct Virgin Mary equivalent in Tolkien legendarium. Varda, the “Queen of the Valar”, comes close but not quite; there’s a clear inspiration there, but not a “copy-paste” situation like Eru (Christian God) and Morgoth (Christian Devil).

The mere mention of the Virgin Mary as a “repentant sinner” is not only unthinkable to Catholics, but blasphemous; it goes against everything the Catholics believe, against their religious doctrine. Although, I doubt other branches of Christianity accept this, either.

The “teachings of Mary” is the Marian devotion, the devotion of Virgin Mary; the ultimate Catholic devotion, which separates this Christian branch from all the others. Protestants, Eastern or Oriental Orthodoxy, and others, don’t share this devotion.

In Catholicism (and Tolkien was a very devoted Catholic), Jesus Christ is God, and Mary, being the mother of Jesus, is considered “mother of God”. Mary is considered a “virgin” because she was saved from the Original sin of Adam and Eve. Because, to Catholics, she’s the woman who carried God in her womb, after all. When Jesus died on the cross, Mary, as a mother, suffered alongside him; and from then on, she acts as a advocate for Catholics next to God (Catholics pray to Mary for her to intervene on their behalf next to God). That’s why she’s a saint (and this is the role of all Catholic saints).

Michelangelo, “Pietà” (“Madonna della pietà”), 1498–1499 | Mary, the Lady of Pity | Masaccio, “The Madonna of Humility” (detail), c. 1424

Hail Mary, Full of Grace, The Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now, and at the hour of death. Glory Be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit.

Catholic prayer “Hail Mary”

Side note: every facet of Mary is devotional to Catholics, and that’s why you’ll find several saints connected to all stages of Mary’s life (the “Madonnas”). Even pregnant Mary is object of devotion (this was very popular in the Middle-ages, then changed after the Council of Trent, in 1545 - 1563, because the Vatican felt it could be heretical, and strip Mary of her divinity).

Indeed, Tolkien took obvious inspiration from Mary’s “Queen of Heaven” facet to create Varda, “Queen of the Stars”, and she’s also the Eldar highest devotion, as Mary is to Catholics. However, the role of “mother of God” is missing from Varda’s character, hence her not being the “stand-in character” for the Virgin Mary in the lore. And Tolkien, being a devoted Catholic would never do this.

Diego Velasquez, “The coronation of the Virgin”, 1599-1660

The “Catholic teachings of Mary” are humility, selflessness, charity and compassion; she teaches her devotees to renounce their pride and selfish ways. Because Mary had the extraordinary role of being Mother of God, and yet remained humble in her ways, and continued to serve the Lord with devotion.

And this is how she’s connected to Galadriel. Her character is not the “Virgin Mary”, but that of a devotee of the Virgin Mary. Which makes sense, because the Marian devotion is very dear to Catholic women, in particular.

Galadriel Sins

We know that Galadriel character arc in Tolkien legendarium is that of a sinner in repentance, and her actions are motivated by her wish to return to Valinor, because the Valar banished her. That’s why she becomes the “Lady of Light” and fights Sauron. But what are her sins, exactly?

Galadriel, in both the lore and in “Rings of Power”, is proud, greedy and lustful (she doesn’t wait to be married to have sex with Celeborn, which goes against the Eldar ways).

In “Rings of Power”, in particular, she’s obsessed and consumed with personal vendetta, she’s selfish, arrogant, power-hungry, and wants to be worshipped as the savior of Middle-earth by destroying Sauron, all by herself (selfishness). She’s also lustful for Sauron himself, as I talked about in these posts: here and here.

The catch is: in Tolkien legendarium, a “sin” isn’t truly a “sin” (a crime against Eru’s law) if it’s not acted upon. We’ve seen Galadriel acting on her pride, and greed, but not on her lust.

In order for her to sin, she will have to succumb to Sauron. And for this she’ll get banished from Valinor.

“A Penitent”

After having sinned, and facing the consequences for her sins (banishment from literal Heaven), Galadriel will start her penitence arc by following the example of the Virgin Mary, and her teachings, embracing the Marian devotion.

Galadriel will use the Virgin Mary as a guide for her actions, her beacon and role model of behavior, in order to repent for her past sins.

This is why Galadriel is a Elven-queen (like Mary is the “Queen of Heaven”) and has to learn the lessons of humility, charity and compassion, to let go of pride and her greed (power-hungry), and wield her power with grace and kindness.

Then there’s the “virgin” aspect, which is not at all appealing to our modern sensibilities of female sexuality, but it is what it is. Tolkien was a man of his time, and extremely religious. What does this mean? Galadriel will have to repress her sexual desires, and embrace temperance and chastity in her repentance. No more sexy times for Galadriel if she wants to be allowed to return to heaven.

[fraugwinska]

This is a prologue to 'Game Night' (about 80 years before) enjoy! TW: murder, gore, mentions of war, mentions of SA Minors DNI!

Getting called into you Boss's office was bad. But getting called into you boss's Boss office was even worse.

When Archie staggered over to you, almost tripping over his storck legs, he looked almost panicked. "I don't know what you did, but Zestial wants to talk to you. What the fuck did you do?!"

You didn't react. You kept on typing the end of the article you were currently writing, ignoring the worried stare from the other employees that were working on the same floor. Zestial was one of the overlords in hell and the owner of the newspaper agency you were working at, an extremely tall, thin and ancient demon that exuded a machiavellian charm, enticing yet dangerous. You had no idea why he would want to talk to you. You didn't remember doing anything wrong, or at least, nothing worth that would him getting personally involved.

When you finished the last sentence, you stood up and walked past Archie, who was still waiting nervously for an answer, his gaze fixated on you, a mixture of curiosity and horror on his face.

"Hey, aren't you even a little bit worried?", he called after you. You shrugged, and smiled.

"And what good will that do? If I'm in trouble, I can't change it now, can I?"

You walked through the hallway and knocked at the big, dark mahogany door. A deep, sonoric voice called out to you, and you opened the door. Zestial was sitting at his desk, his slender fingers intertwined on the tabletop, next to a steaming cup of tea.

"Ah, my dear. I wast awaiting thee. Cometh in and sitteth down."

"You wanted to see me, Sir?"

Zestial nodded, and smiled, gesturing at the chair in front of him.

"Ah, yes. Thy work has been quite outstanding for a while, mine lief. Thou hast impressed me greatly. Therefore, I have an offer."

Your smile widened, a little out of nervousness, but more out of curiosity. A job offer was the last thing you had expected from this meeting, based on Archibald's behavior and the fearsome looks of your coworkers. Zestial pushed the delicate cup in your direction.

"Drink, it'st not poisoned. It'st my own recipe."

"Thank you, sir."

You took the cup, careful not to spill the hot liquid, and sipped at it. The tea tasted unusual but delightful, earthy and tart and a little bitter. You couldn't quite identify the ingredients, but they had to be rare and expensive.

"A lovely blend, thank you."

"Thou art most welcome. So, my offer: One of mine aquaintances, Miss Rosie in Cannibal Town, hosts a party this evening. Sadly i wilt not beest able to attend... So i'd like for thee to go in mine stead."

Your eyebrows shot up. Not a job offer. This was a surprise, indeed. You had heard of Rosie and her own peculiar district. She was an overlord too, but in contrast to her peers she didn't show any desire to expand her territory, focusing instead on improving Cannibal Town as a community.

"I would be honored, Sir. What's the occasion for the party, if I may ask?"

"Ah, no occasion, really. Miss Rosie is just the kind to host parties whenever the fancy takes her. She'st a very charming woman, I am certain thou wilt enjoy thyself."

Zestial stood up and walked over to you, putting a hand on your shoulder and smiling down at you, a genuine smile, that even reached his four green eyes. You smiled back, and set down the cup. It was apparent that your work somehow got you in good grace with Zestial, and you would've been a fool not to seize the day.

"Thank you very much for the opportunity, sir. I shall be sure to make the best of the occasion."

***

Stepping out of the taxi, you made sure not to step on the hem of your ankle-length red dress, clutching the small purse with your invitation and essentials in one hand and a gift for the hostess in the other, and stepped onto the pavement. All the windows of Rosie's emporium were lit, creating a warm atmosphere and luring guests into the center of the colony with a glowing, eery yellow vibrance. There was music in the air, and a sense of unusual merriness as guests talked and laughed, holding colorful drinks and glasses in their hands.

You made your way through the crowd towards the towering demoness, who was greeting oncoming guests left and right.

"Miss Rosie, it's a pleasure to meet you."

The woman turned, her lips pursed as her pitch-black eyes focused on the source of the sound, on you. Your smile didn't waver.

"Pleasure is all mine, sweetie. You're... Zestial's little newcomer, aren't you?"

You nodded with a grin that matched hers. "Indeed, Miss Rosie, that's me. It's an honor to be invited." You handed her your gift - an embellished, silver cookie tin with long, golden filled cookies inside. "I hope you don't mind homemade treats? I made them myself - they're called langue de chat."

"Cat's tongue. How fitting... ", she giggled, peeking inside. "Thank you my darling one, I'll be sure to hide them from all the hungry mouths here - wouldn't want to waste them, wouldn't we? Now please, hop right in, mingle a little and have some fun tonight. No work! And enjoy my little buffet, you'll surely find something to suit your diet."

Relieved from your official obligation, you snatched a glass of rose colored champagne as you decided to wander a bit without being seen and made yourself invisible. It was the newest of your powers you developed, and a most useful one for looking around and observing, very interested in the strange but not unfriendly atmosphere that lingered. An atmosphere that was so different from the district you had settled in - It seemed almost human. The cannibals were old-fashioned - you appreciated that- but they were friendly, courteous and downright delightful sinners to be around (if you were minful of their diet).

You watched the dancing couples, women twirling around in colorful dresses, the men accompanying them with fine suits, everyone adorned with flamboyant bow ties and flashy hats, wearing shiny leather shoes and polished heels. And that music, jazz at it's peak. Everyone was laughing, joking, the air was electric with happy chatter and jokes and it felt as if all your worries simply evaporated. It had to be, one of the most unique places you had been, in Hell.

You made yourself visible again, startling a group of young cannibals next to the buffet. With a giggle and a swish of your magenta-and-black striped tail, you set down your emptied glass on one of the silver trays. Turning back to look for another refreshment, your vision was blocked by a red pinstripe suit. A man had stepped in your path, a charming smile on his lips, and he seemed amused.

"Moving is a funny thing to do when no one's watching."

He offered you a glass of wine with the same burnt red color of his hair, his teeth glinting as his eyes scanned your body - not in a lewd way, but with bemused interest and impish curiosity. You chuckled, taking the glass with a head tilt.

"Why thank you, stranger, but you know, moving without being seen is just half the fun. Getting where you want without being noticed is the other."

You twirled the glass in between your fingers, sipping the expensive beverage, watching his expression with delight - how his grin widened, eyes locked to yours, amused and captivated by what you just said. Of course you knew who he was, your tail shivered and bushed up as you thought about it. Hell, you wrote more than one article about him.

One couldn't exist in hell without hearing the stories about the radio demon - the up and coming overlord, toppling long-established powerholders like dominoes and broadcasting their screams on every radio in the pride ring. Known for his gentlemanly manners, his brutal ruthlessness - and his never-fading, signature smile.

"Spoken like a true feline. The name's Alastor, darling, pleasure to be meeting you.", he mused, and tilted his glass towards yours, awaiting you to clink it. His crimson eyes were shining like rubies, glinting dangerously yet so strangely intriguing as they watched your every reaction, and his lips curled up into a challenging, cocky grin as your glasses chimed together and you told him your name.

"Say, would you care for a little dance, dear? Your tail seems quite desperate for some frivolity, why it looks like it will come to life in a moment."

You glanced towards your backside, the traitorous appendage whipping completely out of control in anticipated excitement, the damned thing. You laughed, downing the rest of the drink, and made the tail disappear. Alastor rose a brow at your innocent expression.

“Seems like my tail has a full dance card. I, on the other hand, am quite free..."

His other eyebrow raised along the first one, and he chuckled ass he gave you a little bow, which he coupled with an outstretched, clawed hand.

"I can only hope you are able to compensate the loss - it looked quite eager."

The next thing you knew he had you on the dance floor, pulling you close to his body and guiding your steps, spinning you around with ease. One hand was around your waist, the other had a hold of one of yours. You quickly lost the feeling of time and space - all you were able to focus on was him.

"Your smile never falters, darling. I can't help but wonder why?"

You giggled, a gloved hand covering your mouth as he turned you, crimson glowing eyes never leaving yours.

"I don't know, really. My papan used to tell me that it was the only thing I had going for me, and it's what made silly soldiers so easy to kill."

You could feel the air around him tense and shift, his grin widening at your words as he turned you in again.

"Ah, a lady after my own heart. I can appreciate a woman who knows how to have fun."

You didn't say anything to his comment, just smiled, and he pulled you closer.

"Why don't we have a little fun of our own? I have the right mind for a little game, if you're up to it, darling?"

The music ended, everyone around you applauding but you were captured. Entranced. Frozen. By those eyes, this most unique and alluring voice. Oh, yes it was alluring. He was charming and intense, the mystery of this person was attracting you so hard, you could almost taste his taste, feel his touch.

The way he offered a game... he had the same dangerously mischievous expression you had, back when you planned what to do with your next victim. Only that you were absolutely sure, you were invited as a player, not as a pawn. And that made you burst with excitement, you hadn't felt such thrill and lust for a challenge in so long, you could almost physically feel your hunger taking hold of you, your craving for that sensation, for an opportunity to rise to this occasion.

***

The night was chilly, for hell's standards. You both had bid your farewells to Rosie, who in response only cocked an amused brow at Alastor and wished you both a fun rest of the night. After Alastor gallantly offered his arm, you had started walking, seemingly aimless, but you didn't mind. He proved to be a very pleasant conversation partner, and you soon found yourself very relaxed and amused around him.

You enjoyed listening to him, laughing in amusement about his animated gesticulation and his storytelling skills. And there was more, a tension, a strange attraction in the air, an electromagnetic current that almost hummed between you two. When he asked about your heritage, you were pleased to notice how enthralled he seemed that you were french in origin and the fact that you killed german soldiers during the still raging world war stirred up his sadistic and malicious sense of humor. When you explained to him how you met your end, a grin that could only be described as purely diabolic curled up on his lips.

"Why, you're my favorite type of femme diabolique, aren't you a scintillating creature?"

His ears flicked and he stopped in his tracks, grin widening as gestured for you to walk next to him into the shadows of an alley. Intrigued, you made yourself invisible and followed him, hearing faint voices as if in a fight.

"As exciting as I found our conversation to be, darling, the night is young - and I do owe you a little fun, wouldn't you agree?"

His voice sounded lower and remarkably more sinister, shoulders tense and almost trembling as he stalked forwards, pressing you into his side. "It seems we have found the finest opportunity. What luck he have."

The voices became eligible, and you instantly knew what he was talking about. Two shark sinners were standing in front of the back-entrance of some dubious bar, sharing a smoke. The fight seemed to be about a girl they intended to drug and take advantage of - both of them insisting to 'break her in' the first. Abominable scum. You felt your teeth itching to sink into their necks to break them.

"So, madame - two wasteful beings, two players. How would you like to set the rules for our game, hm?"

You shivered with delight. "Sometimes I find the most simple approach is the best, d'accord? You show me what you can do, I show you what I can. After they're dead, we vote who won best kill. If it's a draw, no one wins et la partie est perdue."

Alastor grinned wider and hummed, apparently delighted by your idea.

"An uncompromising game - I like the style, I say, game on! Now, for the winner's reward..."

"Une carte blanche? - but no souls, I'm afraid.", you grinned at him, slowly fading into nothing from the bottom to the top, until there were only your eyes and your smile left.

"Sounds fair enough, let the games begin, darling! I'll take the left one."

And with that, he melted into his own shadows, creeping up behind the left sinner who had just extinguished the cigarette to a tiny piece of tobacco butt on the floor. You followed him entranced, fully invisible now, and rounded the right one - he wasn't as fat and greasy as Alastor's victim, with droopy eyes and lanky legs - perfect for breaking.

"Fuck you, Ollie, I saw her first, so I get the first fuck, too."

With a last glance to the moving shadow you leaned into your prey.

"How about we make it a threesome, baby?"

The man spun around in a panicked startle, and you could smell the alcohol seeping out of his pores. He was intoxicated, and sloppy on his feet. Just how you liked it. His friend tried to say something in warning, but was quickly muffled by dark tendrils that shot out of the dark shade below him, binding his limbs and wrapping around his face.

"What the fuck... who are you, bitch?"

"Aw, come on chèrie, you don't need to know my name to have a great time. You don't even have to drug me first."

You shifted to become visible, the man's eyes bulging out of his skull as you did and took a tentative step towards him. His friend was screaming behind him, his arms and legs wrapped up in shadowy tentacles, the sound muffled and the tendrils slowly squeezing him, wringing him out like a moist rag. It was a truly bizarre and yet absolutely hypnotizing sight.

"Oh shit, Ollie... H-hey, listen, we didn't... uh, fuck, we can all just forget this and, and... fuck, get the hell out of here!"

You laughed, it echoed in the cold night, a sound so eerie that even the man before you shuddered, his eyes fixated on you as you advanced and circled him, claws dragging over his neck and shoulder, and a shiver went down your spine when you saw Alastor, emerging from the shadows, as fixed on you as your victim was, but with fascination and satisfaction rather than fear and panic.

"Oh no, cherie... let's make this a night to remember, oui?"

With that, you pushed the man forward, your tail wrapping around his ankle to swipe his leg off the ground. With a sickening crack he fell onto his back, a pained scream escaping his lips and rendered helpless as you pinned him down by kneeling right onto his crotch before he could even move. This bastard would never be able to use his dick on poor, unsuspecting women again. You let your head fall back into an unnatural angle, watching behind you to a still unmoving, enthralled Alastor.

"Are you just going to watch, cher? It's quite rude to stare at a lady like that."

For a split second, his grin faltered, before widening once more, a low chuckle resounding in his chest, a sound that made you shudder.

"Why, my dear, how could I not, when you're making such a captivating sight."

His words spurred you on and stretched your smile so wide it started to hurt, your body hot and eager - you wanted to impress him, make him crave more of this. More of you. You shifted, turning your head back, and reached a clawed hand onto the man's throat. You concentrated on the feeling of your claws against his grayish, leathery skin as he choked.

"Let's make it a real party, then."

You willed magenta glowing mirror images of your claws into existence, envisioned them scratching and slicing the sinners body into long, thin ribbons - his screams told you it was working. He was cut up alive, his thrashing restrained by a few of the many hands you conjured. They lifted his mangled body up, it looked almost like a bastardized version of a crucifixion, and gave him a sickeningly sweet smile.

"Cela ne fera que très mal."

You've only ever let your full demon form come out once - right after you fell and were attacked by other newcomers. It still felt new, almost untamable, but you were desperate to show him. For Alastor to see you, not as a damsel in distress, or some silly girl playing checkers where others played chess. So you let it take over, your form growing longer, your skin becoming black fur with glowing pink streaks, claws sharpening, and your maw growing. Your victim was still howling and fighting the hands holding him, his blood dripping onto the street and mixing with the puddles on the concrete. He screamed in terror as your jaws opened and you bit into his throat, ripping him to shreds with your sharp teeth, his intestines sloshing onto the pavement and the smell of blood filling the air and the sweet and bitter iron taste ran down your throat.

And just like that, the last remains of his body hit the floor with a mundane, squelching noise. The silence that followed was deafening. You couldn't hear anything, except for the rapid beating of your heart and the rush of blood in your ears. Then, you heard clapping, slow and rhythmical. You turned your head to see Alastor standing, the other sinner still bound, his face twisted in agony and his eyes bulging out of his eye holes.

"My my, a breathtakingly gruesome display, my dear. Truly enticing!"

He walked towards you, the shadows dissolving as he came closer, the tentacles retreating and the man falling onto the pavement. You watched him with a manic expression, your smile still on your face as your demonic form receded and you could feel the coolness of your victims blood on your fangs as a gust of wind blew through the alley, ruffling your hair.

"Now, for my own part... I have to admit, yours is a little hard to follow, but, oh well."

He snapped his fingers and his shadow stretched out behind him, towering above him with its head bowed, and you saw his eyes glow and transform into dials as a green glow and strange symbols surrounded the sinner's body, his limbs bending and his joints cracking, the sound of snapping bones and gurgling blood filling the alley, as the shadow slowly pulled the man's insides out through his mouth and ripped his head from his neck. It fell onto the concrete, and rolled right into your direction. You watched the eyes of the severed head turn gray, and smiled.

"Very impressive, cher. A true work of art, no?"

"Thank you, darling, I appreciate the compliment."

With another snap of his fingers the gore was gone, the streets cleaned and the corpses - or rather, what had been left of them - vanished, leaving no evidence behind. He turned to face you, the shadow retreating behind him as his dial eyes vanished and returned to their normal, intense red ones, an inquisitive grin plastered on his face as he came to a stop just before you.

"Now, there's only one thing left to do - the determination of the winner."

You laughed, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You couldn't care less who won. Alastor's eyes darted downwards, to your lips, and you felt the corners of your mouth twitch, the urge to bite your lower lip growing.

"I'd say we're both winners, but rules are rules."

"I fear so, darling."

There was a pause, neither of you said a word. Then, slowly, he raised a hand and brushed his fingers over your bloodied cheek. You closed your eyes, your breath catching as his claws traced the outlines of your lips. The moment was charged and electrifying, you didn't want to say anything and maybe break the spell. He laughed, low and sweet, leaning into you.

"I think I'm inclined to give my vote to you, darling. Do I have a choice, really?"

Before you could respond, your words were stolen from your lips as they met his, crashing together in a passionate, heated, long overdue kiss. He wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you and pressing you into his body with ease and your tail curved behind you, happy to know your feelings were mutual as his long claws buried themselves in you blood-stained hair. You sighed against his lips, your own hands clutching to his neck and shoulders, a feeling you couldn't describe in your stomach.

For the first time in forever, you were kissed without it being because you were just pretty, or just a girl, perceived as a weak thing to be taken advantage of. This kiss was because you were powerful, you were impressive, because you were something of an equal in his own image - and if the world wouldn't stop here, if it went on forever and on and if time itself would cease to exist, this kind of passion would not.

A purr escaped your throat as his tongue danced with yours, tasting you - the sweet yet bittersweet, almost metallic taste of blood - yours, the sinners, you didn't care. You'd die all over again, a thousand times more painful than the original time, just for another second of this bloody kiss.

All too soon, it ended and his mouth left yours, making you feel the strange warmth radiating from his skin as he pressed a light peck on your parted lips, brushing his fingertips over your soft skin, red-stained and glowing. You panted, opening your eyes, and your own magenta irises met his, staring deep into them.

"It's a draw, then.", you said, the corners of your mouth tugging up to a smirk as you gave your vote to him unspoken.

"Which means the game is lost.", he answered, and you laughed, knowing you'd never been happier to lose at anything ever, and with a smile your lips chased after his once again.

"Hmmm... with a reward like this, I suppose a victory wouldn't be near as satisfying, anyway." He chuckled into the kiss. "And there's always a next time, right, darling?"

Translations: et la partie est perdue - And the game is lost Cela ne fera que très mal - This will only hurt a lot

[bardofhype]

hi limbus company fandom

so i had a thought. and that thought was "what if the sinners and all their identities had voicelines for when it was your/the manager's birthday" and what was supposed to be a funny "what if" scenario rapidly expanded into me actually thinking about it. so. because it ended up so long, i'm putting all of this under the cut so that no one has to scroll for a mile to read it all in the tag. you're welcome btw /lh

Yi Sang Base LCB: "Another year prolonging your stay in this world… may the rest of it be to your ideal pleasantness, Dante."

Seven Section 6: "The director informed me it was your birthday today, and instructed me to hand you this parcel as a gift. … I cannot tell you why she has it memorized. I try not to bother the director with such queries."

Blade Lineage Salsu: "How old are you now, Dante? … You do not know. I see. Yet another mysterious facet of you to be intrigued by…"

Faust Base LCB: "This is for you, Dante. I hope you enjoy it. … Hm? What is it for? Yes, Faust expected you to ask such a thing. It is your birthday, Manager."

W Corp Cleanup Agent: "Due to the nature of my occupation, personal occasions and celebrations are not common around the work environment. However, I am not bothered with taking a small portion of time to wish you a happy birthday."

L. Corp Remnant: "Birthdays were rarely given much worth in my old place of work- if we were lucky, a few of us would simultaneously take our breaks in order to have a small celebration. Perhaps it may not be so different here… but I hope you have a proper celebration nonetheless."

The One Who Grips: "How fortunate you are, to have lived another full year in this world with your humanity intact! Such a wondrous thing indeed… though, must you still wear that mask, even on such a glorious occasion that's just for you… ?"

Don Quixote Base LCB: "Manager Esquire!! I doth heard today is your birthday! I have collected up the others, and we are planning a stupendous secret arrangement for thee! I hope thee shalt be prepared!!"

W Corp Cleanup Agent: "Doth my ears deceive me? Is it truly your birthday, Manager Esquire?!?! What ho!!! I shall pay for thy next ride on the Warp Train, friend- the greatest gift I could bestow anybody!"

Shi Section 5 Director: "Happy birthday, Manager Esquire!! I have acquired thee a cake and gift! … Ah, I seem to have surprised thee- was I too quiet, walking up to you? Aheh, 'tis a habit of mine!"

Ryoshu Base LCB: "Congratulations. You're now one year closer to the B.D." (boundary of death)

Kurokumo Wakashu: "That's one more year you've survived now. IFFY." (impressive feat for you)

Seven Section 6: "The director told me to give this to you. Use it wisely, or I'll CUT on you." (crudely utilize tranquilizers)

R.B. Chef de Cuisine: "Word travels fast through these streets- H.B.D. I made a special pie this morning, just in case you dropped by… enjoy."

Meursault Base LCB: "Congratulations on another year. … I was only expected to give you a statement like that for today, nothing more."

Liu Section 6: "I was asked to deliver this cake to you. The candles were lit by my flame, so please do not feel obligated to blow them out immediately."

W Corp Cleanup Agent: "I was told today is a special occasion for you. Here- it is a first-class ticket you can use on the next Warp Train you board."

N Corp Groẞhammer: "You may take a day of rest today. For The One Who Grips has deemed it so- and for today is one you must experience in all its purity."

Hong Lu Base LCB: "It's your birthday today? How exciting~! Tell me, Dante- are you going to choose the acres of land, the pony, or the-- Hm? My siblings and I were able to choose between several gifts on our birthdays, was that not possible where you're from?"

Kurokumo Wakashu: "It's a special day today, is it not, Lord Dante?~ Come with me… ah, haha, no need to be so scared. I'm simply going to treat you to the finest dining I know of. Come on then~"

Tingtang Gangleader: "Happy birthday, Manager Dante~ Why don't we hit the casino floor, hmm? I've heard birthdays can be days of immense luck for the fortunate."

Liu Section 5: "Ah, you're just in time- I just finished brewing some high-class tea. Would you like some? I'll even let you have an extra cup for your birthday~"

Heathcliff Base LCB: "Mm. Happy birthday, clockface. As a gift, I'll try not to make too many wounds for you to turn the clock back for today. You're welcome."

Shi Section 5: "If you're expecting much out of me today just 'cause it's your birthday, you can bugger off. I'm not doing anything bloody special for you. … 'Less you're in the mood for some right scran."

R Corp 4th Pack Rabbit: "Oh? It's your birthday today? Bloody brilliant- come with me. As a gift, this hare's gonna teach you how to graze some grass!"

N Corp Kleinhammer: "O-oh- happy day of birth to you. I'll… see if I have time to do something better than that between all the gatherings today…"

Ishmael Base LCB: "Happy birthday, Dante. I'll try to do work without much complaint today."

Shi Section 5: "Happy birthday, Manager. This is for you. … Huh. Did I really catch you by surprise that much?"

LCCB Assistant Manager: "Today's your birthday. An important occasion that's going to make it all the more terrible if one of us slips up… I can assure you that won't be a worry with my presence here."

R Corp 4th Pack Reindeer: "Ah… happy birthday- kgh. Can you make sure not to stir up too big a racket in celebration?"

Rodion Base LCB: "Happy birthday, Dante~ Surprise! I got you something. Open it up whenever you feel like- just make sure to tell me when you do."

LCCB Assistant Manager: "Today's your birthday, yeah? Figured- so I got you something good as a gift. … Hm? Where'd I get the money for it? Oh, don't you worry your silly head about that~"

N Corp Mittelhammer: "A glorious day for you, is it not? The One Who Grips tasked me with delivering you a present today- how lucky for you, fuhu. Treasure it as much as you can, her gifts are worth slaying thousands of heretics for!"

Kurokumo Henchwoman: "Surprise, Dante~ I got you a little something with my protection fee today. Put it to good use now, you hear? Or else my sword will be a bit rash in the next battle~"

Sinclair Base LCB: "Ah- I-I completely forgot it was your birthday today, Dante- I promise, I'll be sure to buy something for you at our next stop."

Zwei Section 6: "I have a package for you, Dante. For all the good you've done for the team… you deserve this gift. Happy birthday, and may I continue being your shield!"

Jefe de Los Mariachis: "I'm doing a special performance tonight- you'll be there for it, won't you, Dante? It's a routine I've been practicing just for you, after all…"

Blade Lineage Salsu: "I hope you have a nice birthday today. I'm afraid I won't be around much- I'm needed today."

Outis Base LCB: "Happy birthday to you, Executive Manager. If you'd like, I will gather the others and have them sing your praises for the rest of today."

Blade Linage Cutthroat: "I see it is a special day for you, Executive Manager. I shall leave you to it, then- I wish not to impede what you have in mind for it."

G Corp Head Manager: "For today, I will grant you a day of rest. Only today, though- try to get out of your duties on any day but this one, and you will regret it."

Seven Section 6 Director: "I'm very glad I was able to catch you- here's some money. Treat yourself to something good today. You've earned it."

Gregor Base LCB: "Oh, hey, happy birthday, Manager bud. You think Vergilius is gonna put a little less pressure on you today 'cause of it… ? Ha, wishful thinking, huh."

Liu Section 6: "Hey, Manager bud. Come find me when it gets dark, alright? It's your birthday and all… and fireworks are much more impressive against a black sky."

G Corp Manager Corporal: "Greetings, Manager Dante, and a very happy birthday to you! I have cleared your schedule for today and have prepared several squadrons to help celebrate this special day of yours!"

R.B. Sous-chef: "Glad you stopped by. I've made a few special pies for a certain someone's special day today- put a little extra love into them, haha. Enjoy."

[riverssongs13]

Finally being able to watch ep09 Maiden Mother Crone without uncontrollably sobbing, I can now see and compare the differences between The Ballad as performed in ep09 vs in ep02 Circle Sewn With Fate Unlock Thy Hidden Gate.

Here's a side by side image of the waveforms from both versions, last verse just after "blood and tears and bones, maiden mother crone":

As I suspected (and hoped), the Basement part was re-recorded (or at least a different version was used). Around the 45 second mark is Patti belting "down, down, down":

In episode 9, it's noticeable how in the last line of "follow me my friend" instead of fading out, it started building a crescendo of strings, right up until "the end" when the instruments finally halted to rest.

Compared to episode 2 where we get a decrescendo by "follow me my friend" and there are only vocals in "to glory at the end":

I absolutely love how these subtle differences give so much details in the storytelling. We set out gathering this ragtag of witches as a temp coven just so The Road can be accessed, and because we know not of The Road's true nature, we're given this silent, almost solemn hymn of prayer, hoping The Road would show itself to us, to the coven. We were fed the information that its quite difficult to reach The Road, and of course we didn't immediately believe Agatha when she said it does not exist. Thus we have this silent prayer, this plea to the Maiden to show us the way so we can help Lilia and the gang get what they want. The instruments fading out giving the feels of slow acceptance that maybe, The Road just wouldn't show itself this time, maybe it needed an actual coven, maybe this maybe that, things go wrong, let's pack it up, nice singing, thank you for belting the best parts Lilia.

Compared to the utter instrumentality of ep09. Even before the Ballad started, as the first victim approached Agatha we can already hear a disjointed string note, giving an underlying looming threat, like something is amiss, something bad is about to happen. The song started with a chorus, granted, but it started with instruments. The verses accompanied by heavy strings while Agatha goads the witches so she can leech out their powers is extremely powerful imagery. There is no subtle con here, we are being given the bulk of the story now, no more subtle foreshadowing, this is our rude awakening.

We're presented this song born out of an innocent soul who'd hum to his mother, twisted by grief and the desire to obtain more powers for Agatha's gain. We're given the montage of the countless witches Agatha has slain throughout the centuries, lured by the promises of The Road, unbeknownst to them that it in fact does not exist.

And so how fitting would it be that towards the end of the song, as it showed us Agatha's latest victims, instead of the original solemn prayer we get an orchestra building up a crescendo that explodes with the exposition of HEY, it has indeed been Agatha All Along, because that song is not true and y'all are stupid for falling for it. The bellowing of strings (I'm talking of strings over and over again aren't I? sorry I'm a guitarist by training haha), the booming winds, the loud percussions, the immaculate choir who are presumably Agatha's witch victims, the visuals of Agatha absorbing all the powers she can eat... It almost feels like the music is Agatha eating all the magic around her.

The basement scene then shows up, with a subtle but quite discernible difference in the audio mix. This time only the second "down down down" of Lilia is amplified; Alice's voice is more rounded; Mrs Hart Sharon's confusion is more prominent; Jen's demeanour and voice is calmer; and Agatha, our dear, murderous Agatha, looks and sounds more sure of herself and the whole ritual. Kind of like this time, SHE KNOWS that everything was nothing but a scam, no need to be so over the top about it, The Road isn't real and these witches are wrapped in her fingers like the idiots they are. Let the instruments do the talking, because each and every one of them are merely instruments to her plans wink wink.

Absolute perfection of the marriage between visuals, audio, and storytelling. The way everything was sewn together seamlessly, like a tapestry unfolding right before our very eyes, IN SONG FORM. This TV show is far from perfect, it may have its issues, but one cannot deny that it really did excellently on the things it did well.

To sum up the beauty of this immaculate storytelling, here's a side by side of The Ballad's last verse, as shown in episodes 2 and 9:

Here's to hoping there'd be more of this exquisite storytelling in the MCU. To Jac Schaeffer, and everyone involved in the creation of this piece of art, thank you.

[mumms-the-word]

someone who does storyboarding/comics I am begging you to draw this scene which is in the datamined files of BG3 but not in the game itself (as far as I'm aware)

For context, this is a scene for Origin Karlach if she chooses to die on the docks rather than go to Avernus. Withers seeks her out in a place he calls "beyond the Beyond" to invite her to the epilogue party as a little mote of light.

transcription below the cut

Cinematic: Withers approaches a row of flickering candles. One burns brighter than the others. He takes the flame upon his bony fingertip and speaks to it. It flickers, alive.

Withers: Karlach - canst thou hear me?

Path 1

Karlach: H-hello? Withers - is that you? Withers: Thou has slept so long I feared thou might never wake. Dangerous, in this place beyond the Beyond. But thou hast stirred just in time - thy old companions hath regathered. They will not hear thee, but thou canst bear witness.

Path 2

Karlach: Where am I? Withers: A holding place. Somewhere safe. Thou hast slept a long while - so long I feared thou mightest never wake. But thou hast stirred just in time - thy old companions hath regathered. They will not hear thee, but thou canst bear witness.

Path a Karlach: My companions? Can I see them? How long has it been? Withers: Just long enough. Their stories have marched on, since thy great victory - as inevitable as time itself. Let us observe. [END]

Path b

Karlach: Wait - the City of Judgment? How long will I stay there? And how long have I been asleep? Withers: I have thee now, my child. And we have much to discuss. But first - let us linger a little in the land of the living. Great stories have thee woven - and more have sprung out of the inevitable time since thy great victory. Observe. [END]

Path c

Karlach: They're alive. I'm dead. Let's leave it at that. Withers: Thou presumeth a binary that might not be, Karlach. Come - let us observe which stories have spun from thy great victory. [END]

Path d

Karlach: I can see Wyll? [Or any romanced partner] Withers: Indeed. His/Her story has marched on since thy great victory - as inevitable as time itself. Let us observe. [END]

(Conversation tends to go "Withers's first line -> Path 1 or 2 -> Path a, b, c, or d" but I can see a talented artist mixing and meshing bits here and there)

[magpie-come-east]

Another one for the ask meme, Ranni 🙂

favorite thing about them

Ranni has such a depth of character she is an absolute delight.

I love that she is blunt and honest. Basically the moment you find her in her estate she admits to masterminding the Night of Black Knives. I love that she is very indulgent and permissive of the player in a way that makes it obvious she's just kind of playing with you/Rogier. I love that she's outwardly so cold and conniving. But the more you learn about her the more her naturally warm demeanor slips through. She loves her mother and protected her. She protected Rykard. Blaidd is her brother, and Iji is her childhood friend. She tries to tell the Tarnished off from becoming her Lord, because she knows the path she must take will be lonely and dark. She doesn't want to subject anyone to the ordeal she feels she must undertake. Yet when the Tarnished persists, she declares she is happy to have them for a Lord. She expressly tells the Tarnished to tell Iji and Blaidd she loves them.

Beyond that, I love her design and dialogue. She's so charming to listen to, and her sense of humor is biting and sharp. I rave about the Omen Twins to excess, but Ranni is definitely my favorite character along with them.

Lastly, her ending speaks to me as someone who isn't religious whatsoever. Now, I do not think her story and ending is an endorsement of atheism, nor do I think Ranni is an atheist character. But I find her ending to be the most realistic and true to life. The responsibility of making a better world is in our hands, whether or not we believe in a higher power.

least favorite thing about them

Literally nothing. I support women's wrongs.

favorite line

SOOOO MANYYYY

This is farewell, my dear. Tell Blaidd, and Iji... I love them.

Though he was created a vassal for an Empyrean, He was a colossal failure, on the part of the Two Fingers. Blaidd, and Iji both... Art willing to give too much to me.

Mmm yes. Truly the words of a heartless asshole that doesn't care about anyone or anybody. The AFFECTION with which she calls Blaidd a colossal failure. She knows he loves her genuinely, such that he would follow her to his own doom rather than heed his creator. It destroys me.

Oh? A dogged fellow, aren't we? Or is it merely thy habit, to talk to dolls? Fine...fine. I hadn't expected any soul to recognize me in this guise. But now the cat is out the bag, I cannot allow thee thy freedoms.

Affording thyself opportunity to grope about for the cursemark's location, no doubt? Very well... There's nothing wrong with a well-laid scheme.

No sense in arguing, I see. Thou'rt a wild one, indeed. Torrent hath quite the ruffian chosen...

Man, she's just so endearing. Scathing and clever and deadpan.

brOTP

Ranni and Rykard - my beloved scheming sibling duo.

Ranni and Blaidd - These two don't interact much. But they're both so charming individually it's impossible not to imagine the sibling bickering they do.

Ranni and Tarnished/Champion - I know I'm biased because of my own Age of Stars ER OC, but I've always generally viewed Ranni's relationship with her Elden Lord to be more platonic than romantic.

OTP

Ranni x Tarnished/Champion - Okay, just because I personally see Ranni and her Champion as platonic doesn't mean there aren't also romantic hints in there. One of my favorite moments of the game is when you find her body after she's slain her Two Fingers. You give her the ring and when she awakens she expresses that she is pleased to have you for a Lord:

So, it was thee, who would become my Lord. Perhaps I needn't have warned thee. I am pleased, however. Thou'rt a fitting choice.

nOTP

I don't have a serious Ranni nOTP.

random headcanon

Ranni targeted Godwyn (and presumably his line) in the Night of Black Knives because he was Marika's favorite child and the most prestigious of the Golden Lineage. She didn't know about Morgott and Mohg at the time. But even if she had, she would have gone for Godwyn despite the Omen Twins probably being better targets.

Her doll body is practically immobile, or it takes a great deal of concentration and skill to move it. She has to 'sleep' frequently because if can feel like her soul is just trapped in a stationary coffin of a vessel.

unpopular opinion

I believe the Age of Stars is objectively the most ideal ending to the game.

I genuinely struggle to understand why people don't like her. Like I can get people not favoring the Age of Stars, but to actually dislike Ranni? I don't understand it. I feel like if we were honest with ourselves and analyzed her 'crimes' in comparison to the other royal/Demigod characters in the game, she'd be one of the more innocent/righteous ones. But even if she wasn't, she's a fantastic and engaging character and nearly every complaint i see about her is shallow and not worth consideration.

song i associate with them

Barefoot by KD Lang

She's Got a Gun by KUURO

My Tears Are Becoming a Sea by M83

Dark All Day by Gunship

[driftward]

Title: FFXIV Write 2024 - 17. Sally Characters: Solita Grey, Urianger Augurelt Rating: Teen Summary: If the naturalist goes forward blindly where the seer might see, whose fault might her untimely death be? Notes: Weird Wild West AU - A Desertwalkers story. This is definitely a rough draft I intend to expand later

Solita made her way in the back rooms of the Cat's Eye cabaret, quietly finding her way to a door that had no markings to inform what may lay beyond, besides a 'no entry' sign nailed to its front. A seemingly casual glance around showed nobody else was present, and with that, she slipped past it, and into the space beyond.

Here lay her particular coven. Acolytes to a once great man, gone now, but determined to continue his mission of peace in these lands nonetheless. Here is where her and her comrades often spent their time, sharing gossip and information with one another, commiserating in camaradarie, and plotting their own course of influence in these lands.

Urianger appeared to be the only person currently in, sitting at a table, adjusting some kind of orrery. He looked up at her briefly and nodded to her, which she returned in kind before finding a chair to throw herself into tiredly.

"Greetings, my Grey Lady. Another vexatious day?"

She waved a hand in the air. "I enjoy my contribution to our work and how I choose to pursue it, I truly do. But some days sorely test my patience, Urianger."

"Indeed. My ear is ever thine, shouldst thou wish it."

Solita, with perhaps somewhat exaggerated drama, draped an arm over her eyes as she tilted her head back over the chair's edge. Urianger chuckled.

"'Tis of no import. A final meeting with Miss Vauban. I find her curiosity nigh inexhaustible, but perhaps this latest survey of hers shall keep her out of my hair for some time."

"Indeed. And I suppose our Adventure Naturalist has gone forth on yet another sally of discovery?"

She lifted her arm just a bit to give him a wry look.

"Why, Urianger, you sound like an levinwave aetheric serial."

"Perhaps," he said with a grin. "Mayhaps I have been enchanted by thy stories of her ventures thus far, second hand though they may be. Her travels to the grasslands with nary an incident, and yet she had much to tell. And her drawings of the southern buttes were remarkable to mine eye."

"I suppose that if there is any value to my time with her, it is in that which she brings back from her travels. I shall keep my wariness and my weariness, however. 'Tis only a question of time until she proves to be a source of more trouble than value, I am certain."

"But sooth, her excursions have been without mishap thus far, I believe. And a wealth of information besides, to hear thee tell the tale. As well as new maps which hath proven boon to our own efforts. And she heeds thine advice. Is that not what thou have oft wished, in speaking of your clientele past?""

"She is a naturalist, Urianger. We've yet to have one come to town who was not the source of some manner of trouble that needed to be handled by one of us."

"One 'twas a fool, on his own merits. Another a braggart, and I believe you rid yourself of him before his grand misadventure. The last was a naturalist only in name, as I recall, and saw to her own end."

"And I am hoping this one will see to her own end. I only wish to forestall any further damage she might do, other than to herself."

"And what of the good she hath undertaken? You yourself have had cause to admit, she is boon to our work. Having naught our obligations, but her own thirst for knowledge causing her to seek out that which we ever do ourselves wish to know. Her traversal to the petrified forest provided us a wealth of information, not only of the practical, but of the esoteric and even the occult."

"Well, yes. Boundless curiosity. A sense of questioning everything. And I will grant that she is thorough with her work. Intrepid," said Solita, reluctantly.

"Such venom with which thou deliver thy praise. I wonder, what insult hath she given unto thee? And if it is sufficient to this vitriol, why not set her free? Thou has no need to keep her on as client, and yet thou continue to serve her in thine capacity as consultant. If she truly is so burdensome, thou might relieve thyself of her company."

"And risk another incident?"

"Risk of what, my lady? She follows thine advice, and is conscientious in her work. If ought were to befall her and doom her fate, I full believe it wilt be the fates themselves conspiring against her, or the folly of man in opposing her, rather than any fault of her own due diligence."

"Well," said Solita, reluctantly, "perhaps her exploration of the northern ceruleum field will prove one of us right."

"If thou hast advised her thoroughly, then I foresee little risk of ill," he said. But after a moment of consideration, he frowned. "...is that not where the Baroness Aurelia met her end?"

"Aye. If she had listened to me more carefully regarding the warding stones, she may still yet live, and without creating such aetheric agitation in the area. I suspect she did not consider whether her little experiment of setting fire to the ceruleum sinkholes in an effort to prove their purity would shatter said stones. And perhaps she felt herself immune to the consequences of foolhardy action."

Urianger drummed his fingers on the table, slowly.

"And of the rheums which now as a result call that place home? We may find them simple to handle, but one without the gift of suitable sight to peer beyond the curtain of material reality may not so readily be able to handle them until it is rather too late."

"If she has taken appropriate precautions," said Solita cooly, "then she will have no problem."

"Are not thou meant to be such precaution?"

"I have given her all the information she asked for."

"And yet denied her that which she needs."

Solita gave him a withering glare. "Are we now questioning how I comport myself?"

Urianger bowed his head, squeezing his nose between his fingers.

"...aye."

Solita sat up fully, and frowned at him.

"This woman hath done thee no insult, and indeed, has been of great boon. She has given you first refusal of her work, despite your contract asking for no such thing. She has shared fully her findings with thee. She heeds thee, and I believe, even sees you perhaps as mentor in these strange lands. That you have led her astray speaks not to her character, but to thine."

"She may yet prove trouble, Urianger. She minds me, to be certain. As did Aurelia. And all that you have said could be said of others. I will not be charmed by her. As you will surely recall, Aurelia herself was gifted with etiquette and charm."

"And yet as I recall, thou were never fooled by her, facade as it was. You are the seer, she whose vision pierces into the heart of truth, unblinded by any veil. Tell me true, doth Miss Vauban present facade or honesty?"

Solita looked away.

"...she is as honest as she is earnest. That is to say, she is plenty of both." She rallied. "But if it is not duplicitousness that shall lead her to ruin, than surely it is that naïveté she carries. I simply cannot believe anyone such as her could survive in a place such as this."

"And yet, she lives. You are not the only one keeping an eye on her, you know. We all know the risks of those who would turn to these lands for their own profit. And yet, Thancred thinks well enough of her. Jovial though he may seem, thou knows well his cynicism of people. And the deeds master says she has even been asking after that abandoned range outside of town. She has profited, but not at the expense of others. Indeed, she thrives, steered by our own seer and her own wisdom."

Solita just crossed her arms, and sank into her chair, head down, ears back, thinking.

Urianger's voice softened.

"My lady, I have never known you to waver in the strength of your conviction, whether in the pursuit of knowledge, the mission we have undertaken unto the service of this star, or in how thou 'comport thyself'." he said. "But I also have never known thee to prevaricate in the manner of facing thine own errors of judgement."

He smiled at her. "Howsoever rare they might be. But! I charge thee; why dost thou hesitate now?"

"Urianger, we don't even know her actual name!"

"And does she know thine birth name?"

"I make no secret of myself."

"Nor she of herself, I believe. The names we are given are oft no gift, but instead an obligation, unwanted and unwarranted. Thus do I charge thee, which is more true; that name which was given unto us, or that name which we make for ourselves?"

Solita's ears dropped, and she waved a hand to the side.

"You are very invested in this woman who you've not even met, Urianger."

"I do not wish to see thee sully thy reputation in a fit of perhaps excessive defensiveness over what thou seem, instead of who thou art. I know not her, 'tis true. But, I would like to believe I have come to know thee, my Gray Lady."

He leaned forward. When he spoke, his tone was gentle.

"Your talent is to see truth, of this world, of others, of yourself; but thus, thou knows how to hide from thyself. This distance hath kept you thus far. But I believe your turmoil, your unseemly agitation at this woman, beyond that which I hath heard from you regarding your many clients o'er the summers, is because thou now face a change. I shall gainsay you no further; only to say thus: whither you help her or not shall define and make its mark upon thee, more than it shall upon her."

Urianger kept his gaze steady on Solita for a moment longer, before returning to his orrery, carefully arranging its orbits and axis, fingers dancing along lines of would be destiny in his future augery.

Solita watched him. Warred with herself. Clenched and unclenched her hands. And looked towards the door.

"Gods, what have I done?" she muttered. "I must needs rectify this matter."

Solita moved off towards her room with uncommon speed. Urianger ignored her, and when she came back several minutes later, she was in an outfit rather more suited for the brushlands than for the cabaret, an ornate staff in her hand.

"Inform Thancred and the others as to where I am. If I am quick, I can catch up to her before anything untowards happens," she said. She headed for the door, stopping just at its threshold.

"Thank you," she said. "For helping a blind woman see."

"My Gray Lady sees the truth around her, whereas I merely intuit possibilities," he replied. "Thus we are always strengthened by the talents of one another."

Solita frowned, and nodded, and then she was gone.

Urianger reached into his orrery, and made a single change.

[bestworstcase]

ok wait. ok.

some roses will never bloom some dreams will rot on the vine some lives will end much too soon some evil will never ever die […] sometimes it’s worth it all to risk the fall and fight for every life

vs.

’tis the last rose of summer left blooming alone […] i’ll not leave thee, thou lone one to pine on the stem since the lovely are sleeping go, sleep thou with them thus kindly i scatter thy leaves o’er the bed where thy mates of the garden lie scentless and dead.

...hm. anyways.

"the lies come out of you so easily. like-minded souls, indeed."

summer rose telling lies! first time for everything—but the first first first inkling we get of summer's character is "now i'm nothing but a liar and you're thrown into the fray."

the way yang tells the story in 2.6 draws a direct line between summer disappearing and the fact of raven's existence being revealed to her; tai and summer withheld this information.

in 7.4 ruby asks qrow if summer's last mission was "another oz secret" and qrow answers "there were a lot of those back in the day" but that no, "this one was a summer secret."

9.10 we see summer put on a mask for tai and then a different mask for raven. "you're... just going to leave them?" raven asks, and summer deflects like a pro: "you're one to talk!" and "if i get this right, there's nothing to worry about. trust me."

"saw you in a dream/are you who you seem?"

"you were born to hypnotize them all."

she lied, ruby says.

summer rose is the reason raven has Trust Issues.

listen.

ozma lied. salem trusted him. he lied to her for years let her support his ambitions in the only way she knew how for years before he told the truth. "this isn't what he asked of me." "ozma told salem everything: the true reason the god of light had brought him back, the relics that lay scattered around the world, and the day of judgement he had been told to prepare for."

"if i get this right, there's nothing to worry about. trust me." "let's get it over with, i guess."

the god of light's mandate, the divine relics, the day of judgment he had been told to prepare for. don't you see? none of that matters anymore.

summer left her kids behind, but the spring maiden, a child whom raven loved enough to have a kindred link, died that night.

raven blames herself for that girl's death. salem blames herself for the deaths of her daughters.

"leave." <- there is a reason these scenes are paralleled. also

"and so we must... press on." / "and now i have to live with that forever." she blames herself.

anyway--the point is--

"if humanity were ever to stand a chance at being united, one thing was clear..." "he had to destroy salem."

"how can i destroy salem?" "you can't! :)"

"we don't have to kill you to stop you; and we will stop you." "your mother said those words to me. she was wrong, too."

listen. listen to me.

what happens if ozma chooses to stay with salem?

what if—after he tells her everything, after he pours out all the things he's kept festering inside of himself for years because the god of light told him salem lives, but the woman you hold dear in your memories is gone and where you seek comfort, you will only find pain—after he tells her about the relics, about the mandate, about the blade hanging over remnant's neck—what if, when she says none of that matters, he answers you're right, and takes her hand?

what happens if salem chooses to stay with him?

what if, when he tells her that the world is doomed and that he alone is meant to save it because the god of light anointed him for the task, she says very well. let's get this over with, i guess. what if it's salem who balks in the end?

summer rose is both of these questions. she is the ozma who convinced salem to embrace the mandate and she is also the ozma who rose out of the smoldering ruin of the world she couldn't save and decided to take the hand salem held out to her.

(tai never leaves his isolated home in the woods. raven retreats into the wilderness to lead her bandits. ruby rose believes that the world is worth fighting for. summer left him—summer stabbed her in the back—summer lied.)

[ashintheairlikesnow]

The Nightingale's Song

Sigh Not So | Secrets Hid Away | Shed Tears Aplenty | Fire Down Below | Rolling Down | Won't You Go My Way? | The Seas No More | The Nightingale's Song |

CW: Dehumanizing language, use of ‘it’ as pronoun for nonhuman whumpee, sadistic whumper, creepy whumper, intimate whumper, fade-to-black noncon implied, magical whump, captivity, minor side character death

-

One year after the events of The Seas No More

Gilly, fingers itching to close around the old biddy’s skinny neck, settled for laying the cool compress over her forehead, taking pains to look like nothing so much as the devoted tenant helping his landlady through some terrible mysterious illness. 

It had been a very, very long eight months or so since he'd started this little act, feigning devotion and care for the old woman, and it was with very real relief that he finally saw the end in sight.

Mrs. Neumann’s throat bobbed as she swallowed, her little yappy dog running circles below her where she was laid out on the chaise in her less-fashionable front room. It stopped, now and then, to lick at her fingers, and then ran in circles again. 

“Water, please, Gilly,” Mrs. Neumann croaked, and he smiled solicitously as he tipped the cup to her lips, allowing her only a few sips before pulling it back away. “Thank you, you sweet young man.” Her cold bony fingers closed around his wrist and Gilly suppressed a shudder only with effort. "You have been so good to me, in these hard days..." Her eyes, when they met his, were strangely foggy, as if covered with a sort of film that stood between her and the world. “You have been such a boon to an old woman with no one to care for her. There is some infection, I should think… We must send for the doctor, mustn’t we?”

“The doctor has already come and gone,” Gilly said, leaning close and half-shouting in the hopes she could hear anything he said. Her mouth worked aimlessly, and he gave her more water, although it didn't seem to help. “Do you not remember?” Her hearing had gotten even worse since her illness had taken hold of her - or since the siren's song had convinced her that she was ill, anyway - and soon enough, he thought, all this shouting could finally cease. 

“Oh, he did?,” Mrs. Neumann quavered, eyes watering. But then she seemed to forget her emotions and looked to the side. “I suppose so… He must have. Oh, but Gilly, who is singing? The voice is so fine…”

In the corner, Gilly’s siren sang, plaintive and mournful, as he’d been ordered to. He hadn’t wanted to turn his song to Gilly's will, but with a year of careful teaching he had taught the creature to obey him without hesitation, and they were finally ready to put Gilly’s plan into motion.

It began here.

His future would start here at Mrs. Neumann’s sickbed, where beneath the notes of the lovely song were the commands being worked into the elderly widow’s malleable little mind while she burned with unchecked fever. 

The doctor came and said there is nothing to be done now but rest. Gilly Wentworth cares for you now. Leave him everything you have. He deserves all you have and more. 

He deserves everything. 

“He's a friend,” Gilly replied to her question, shouting right against her ear and getting almost no sign she was aware of him at all. Her eyes shifted, moving as if following the notes of Areyto’s beautiful song. The clouds over her irises were thickening. “He sings well indeed! It was a miracle I found him!"

“As the hart on the mountain so was my love brave,” The siren sang, powerful tenor rising and falling. Its eyes were distant, its body relaxed in a way it never was otherwise. But even Gilly could see that the siren loved the act of using its voice, not only for luring wayward sailors but simply to sing at all. “So handsome, manly and clever. So kind and sincere and he loved me so dear - oh, Edwin, thy equal was never..."

“How beautiful,” Mrs. Neumann whispered, lips barely moving. He watched the fog on her eyes overtake them entirely as the spell in the siren’s voice took hold of her. “Oh, Gilly, you have done more than anyone could ever be asked to do for me… it's a pity, what happened with your father… you should have kept your riches…"

“Yes,” Gilly whispered, leaning closer. “Yes, I should have…"

"A pity," The old woman repeated, reaching blindly for him, unable now to see anything but what the siren commanded. "Such a pity… you deserve everything…"

Gilly shivered with anticipation, breathing harder. "Yes, yes, I do…"

Even the little yappy dog had gone silent, now, head cocked with its ears up as it listened, seated on the ground. Gilly wondered idly if the dog would try to give him all its stupid little bones or something, if the siren’s magic could speak to the hearts of animals, too. 

It didn't work on animals, everyone knew that. But then it wasn't supposed to work on women, either, and here was Mrs. Neumann wholly ensorcelled by it.

He would have to go see Atabei, and tell her, after this was over.

“You have been such a good and kind gentleman…” She murmured, and he held her hand in both of his, soft papery wrinkled skin cradled between his palms. “I will leave you everything, everything you deserve…”

“Yes," Gilly repeated, more insistently this time, leaning even closer. He could smell her now, the rosewater she dabbed at her neck and wrists each day like clockwork when she rose, the sour note of her sweat beneath. It wouldn’t be long now.

As soon as she signed.

“But now he is dead and gone to death’s bed,” The siren continued, “He’s cut down like a rose in full bloom. He’s fallen asleep and left me here to weep by the sweet silver light of the moon…”

Mrs. Neumann’s mouth had fallen open, a look of serenity overtaking her features entirely but for the clouds over her eyes. Gilly left her for the moment and went over to a table near to the door, grabbing the sheaf of papers there, an inkwell and pen. He returned, settled himself back next to her, and began to speak to her in a soft voice.

She heard, somewhere, deep beneath the deafness that had come on her with age and the siren’s song. The siren commanded her to hear him, so she did.

He explained how important it was that she leave her wealth to someone who would use it wisely, that her friends and the church could not be trusted with it - only Gilly Wentworth, who cared for her so faithfully, deserved her fortune.

She nodded, and wept a little at the selfless nature of such a man, and then she took the pen.

The old woman signed every paper he gave her, her signature unmistakably her own and unwavering, even though she never looked directly at any of the words. He’d had these drawn up himself by a solicitor who had remarked, also, on the fine quality of his friend’s singing, before his own eyes had clouded.

When they had left the solicitor's office, the man had remembered no such song, only Gilly himself, and how kind he was to care so for an old woman alone in the world.

He would file the papers, once Mrs. Neumann finally kicked over the bucket and went on to the endless pile of her previous beloved yappy dogs in the sky, waiting for their mistress to greet them. Really, it wasn’t like she was doing anything with her wealth anyway. 

Gilly intended to do quite a lot with her wealth.

“Roll on, silver moon, guide the traveler’s way when the nightingale’s song is in tune,” The siren’s voice shifted, went so painfully sad that tears welled in Mrs. Neumann’s eyes, moved by the mourning the siren could mimic but, Gilly thought, not actually fully feel. “Never more with my lover shall I stray by the sweet silver light of the moon…”

She signed.

And she signed.

And she signed.

When he had all he needed, he put the sheaf of papers back, poured a glass of a scarlet liquid into a crystal cordial glass, and then set it into Mrs. Neumann’s hands, closing her fingers around it. She didn’t seem to notice, frozen in place by the strength and power of the siren’s song. 

Smiling, Gilly walked slowly towards the corner where his captive magic creature stood, lit by the strong yellow sun coming in the windows. Despite the immensity of emotion in its song, there was an emptiness in its dark eyes that sent a thrill down Gilly’s spine and pooled a greedy heat within him begging to be released. The sun touched the edges of its black curls and turned them to gold, shone warm on smooth brown skin.

Naked, it was a vision, an ancient statue brought to life by the favor - or curse - of ancient gods. Gilly came to a stop beside it, looking over its finely-formed face, the imprints of his fingers still, eternally, written clearly in purples and reds around the slim column of its neck. His eyes moved down, following the complicated swell of magical symbols that held it firmly in check, bound it without question to his will. The siren looked down and away from him, the song… shifting just a little. 

The note of wistful loss that the words called for became something stronger but far more painful to hear, a wailing plea to the heavens for help trapped within its perfect pitch. And yet no help could come.

Not for such a monster, not with the magic keeping it still for Gilly’s every touch, for as long as he commanded it to be. 

“His grave I will seek until morning appears and weep for my lover so brave…”

Gilly laid his hand against the siren’s face, palm to its cheek, and its voice wavered a little as its dark eyes closed.

“I’ll embrace cold turf and wash with my tears the flowers that bloom o’er his grave…”

With avid delight and no small amount of desire he followed the trail of a tear that ran down its other cheek and settled at the corner of its mouth. He touched his thumb to the spot and then licked the salt off it. To see the creature at its wicked work was… truly beautiful to behold. To know that it wept because it could do nothing but obey him - him, Gilly Wentworth, just a man in a world full of men and yet now one of the most powerful men alive - was… incredible.

Awe-inspiring.

And they had only just begun.

“Never again shall my bosom know joy,” The siren’s voice dipped to low, a hushed and mournful lament. “With my Edwin I hope to be soon. Lovers shall weep o’er where we both sleep by thy sweet silver light, bonny moon.”

Gilly checked back on Mrs. Neumann, and smiled. She stared off into space, her chest moving fitfully with emotion. The money, the house, the horses even… all of it would be Gilly’s very, very soon.

Really, it was like she was investing in him.

Just like everyone else was going to do.

Pity she wouldn’t see the returns.

“Have her drink what’s in the cup,” He whispered. The siren took a breath and obeyed, changing its power minutely.

“Roll on, silver moon, guide the traveler’s way when the nightingale’s song is in tune…”

Gilly watched as Mrs. Neumann, seemingly in a trance, lifted the cup to her lips and drank it all, swallow after swallow, some of the liquid running from the corners of her mouth to wet her hair and the chaise beneath her. 

He smiled.

“And never, never more with my lover I’ll stray by thy silver light, bonny moon…”

The final note hung in the air, as Mrs. Neumann’s eyes slowly closed. She relaxed back into the chaise, her hand dropping, the cup clinking onto the floor and rolling away, the last drops of poison spilling like water to evaporate and leave no trace of themselves behind.

Gilly exhaled, then walked with purpose back to the siren. 

It raised its eyes, briefly, to meet his just as he grabbed it by the arms and shoved its back against the wall. A gilded mirror hanging next to it crashed to the ground, cracking into pieces, and the little dog took to yapping again. 

It stared at him with naked, unhidden fear. 

“Good,” Gilly murmured, an inch from its false man’s face. Uneven breath on its lips, those eyes like pools of deep water locked on his. There were still red welts on its back, new ones thanks to Gilly discovering that even its pain sounded pretty, and he enjoyed the soft sound the siren made as its back was ground against the wallpaper.

He put one hand around its neck, thumb pressing just over its pulse, and felt it flutter and jump under his touch as the siren bared its neck to him, as he had taught it always to do. To defy even this touch would result in a misery the stupid sea creature could not bear. Even the dumbest animals could be trained, after all. Even the stupidest, most stubbornly beautiful man-shaped things could learn. 

Its voice was thin and airy. “M-Master-... please-"

“You did wonderfully,” He breathed. “A perfect tool for my will. Now we must find someone to take the dog - it’s irritating but I won’t leave it to starve here, will I? I’m not so heartless as all that - and then we’ll sell the house and the horses and all this nonsense and frippery she keeps… and then we’ll be on our way, won’t we?” He leaned forward, speaking against the siren’s ear just to feel the way its body shivered against his. “You and I. Now. Kneel for me.”

“Yes, master.” Its voice went dull. Its mimicry lost its shine, and everything fell flat from its mouth like heavy stone. It always spoke like that, when he commanded it to its knees. 

Gilly didn’t mind. 

Behind him, as the poison took hold, he heard Mrs. Neumann's breath go suddenly rapid and rasping, heard her fall from the chaise to the floor, arms and legs rigid, muscles spasming.

It would only last a few moments.

Then she would slip into unconsciousness and finally to her death, and Gilly would be one step closer to everything he'd ever wanted.

He let go and stepped back, watching the siren gracefully sink down onto Mrs. Neumann’s expensive woven rug.

Gilly put a hand in its hair, gripped tight enough to make it whimper with the pain when he pulled its head back. “I need to write a letter to Atabei." His other hand worked at his breeches, and his eyes took in the way the thing shuddered at the sight with greedy, rising lust. "Have to tell her it worked on a woman. I should see if it works on other women... Need to tell Beibei I finally have the coins to come see her for a visit. Be dressed in real finery, for once."

"Yes, master."

"Sssshhh. Open your mouth for me."

He closed his eyes, buried both hands in the siren’s thick hair, and gave himself over to his triumph and the perfect pleasure of the siren’s tears. 

-

Taglist: @burtlederp  @finder-of-rings  @theelvishcowgirl  @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump  @bloodinkandashes  @squishablesunbeam  @mj-or-say10 @apokolyps @wildfaewhump @shrimpwritings

Covers @whumptober prompts 13, 14, 15

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Glorious Liberty

by Charles Spurgeon

Our Father, we bless Thy name that we can say from the bottom of our hearts, “Abba, Father.” It is the chief joy of our lives that we have become the children of God by faith which is in Christ Jesus and we can in the deep calm of our spirit say, “Our Father, which art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name, Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done in earth as in heaven.”

Lord, we thank Thee for the liberty which comes to our emancipated spirit through the adoption which Thou hast made us to enjoy. When we were in servitude the chains were heavy, for we could not keep Thy law. There was an inward spirit of rebellion. When the commandment came, it irritated our corrupt nature and sin revived and we died.

Even when we had some strivings after better things, yet the power that was in us lusted into evil, and the spirit of the Hagarene was upon us. We wanted to fly from the Father’s house. We were wild men, men of the wilderness, and we loved not living in the Father’s house.

O God, we thank Thee that we have not been cast out. Indeed, if Thou hadst then cast out the child of the bondwoman Thou hadst cast us out, but now through sovereign grace all is altered with us. Blessed by Thy name. It is a work of divine power and love over human nature, for now we are the children of the promise, certainly not born according to the strength of the human will, or of blood, or of birth, but born by the Holy Ghost through the power of the Word, begotten again unto a lively hope by the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, children of the Great Father who is in heaven, having His life within us. Now, like Isaac, we are heirs according to promise and heirs of the promise, and we dwell at home in the Father’s house and our soul is satisfied as with marrow and fatness, and our mouth shall praise Thee as with joyful lips.

O God, we would not change places with angels, much less with kings of the earth. To be indeed Thy sons and daughters—the thought of it doth bring to our soul a present heaven and the fruition of it shall be our heaven, to dwell forever in the house of the Lord and go no more out, but to be His sons and His heirs forever and ever.

Our first prayer is for others who as yet are in bondage. We thank Thee, Lord, that Thou hast given them the spirit of bondage and made them to fear. We are glad that they should be brought to feel the evil of sin, to feel the perfection of Thy law, to know something of the fiery nature of Thy justice, and so to be shut up unto salvation by grace through faith. But, Lord, let them not tarry long under the pedagogue, but may the schoolmaster with his rod bring them to Christ.

Lord, cure any of Thy chosen of self-righteousness. Deliver them from any hope in their own abilities, but keep them low. Bring them out of any hope of salvation by their own prayers or their own repentance. Bring them to cast themselves upon Thy grace to be saved by trusting in Christ. Emancipate them from all observance of days, weeks, months, years, and things of human institution, and bring them into the glorious liberty of the children of God that Thy law may become their delight, Thyself become their strength, their all, Thy Son become their joy and their crown. We do pray this with all our hearts.

Lord, deliver any of Thy children from quarrelling with Thee. Help us to be always at one with our God. “It is the Lord; let Him do what seemeth Him good,” and blessed be His name forever and ever.

God, bless our country, and the sister country across the flood, and all lands where Thy name is known and reverenced, and heathen lands where it is unknown. God, bless the outposts, the first heralds of mercy, and everywhere may the Lord’s kingdom come and His name be glorified. Glory be unto the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost; as it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. Amen.

[rainintheevening]

Part I – Part II ... Part XI – Part XII

The stars are bright when he finds Edmund at last, high up on the seaward battlements.

They sit for some time in silence, swinging bare feet in the soft summer breeze, high above it all, sniffing at the salt sea and pines under the great vault of the heavens.

Peter shifts closer at last, presses his shoulder into his brother's, and a sigh gusts out of the other man's lungs.

“You are sure, dear brother?” Peter doesn't need an explanation, he has heard enough in fragments of conversation over the last several days, but he needs to hear Edmund say it, to listen for conviction. “It is not too late to speak; they do not leave till the morrow.”

“No.” Edmund's voice is soft and sad. “I am sure.” He spares Peter a quick glance. “There is no spirit of meanness in her, and… you know I have come to love her dearly. She will always be precious to me.”

In the ensuing hush, Peter closes his eyes, tilts his head to catch the distant strain of a merfolk’s song.

“But,” Ed says at last, “I cannot accept so close a union as marriage with one who does not, or can not, or perhaps will not, understand about Aslan.”

There be the heart of it, Peter thinks, and the heart of my brother most of all.

Edmund's devotion to the Lion is deep, stronger even than his loyalty to Peter, and Peter has always admired his brother's steadfast trust, knowing it is rooted in the knowledge of the Lion's sacrifice for him.

“And the hope of thy heart, in bringing her here, was that her own heart might be changed,” Peter murmurs. “But it was not so.”

Edmund bows his head, shoulders rounded, and though Peter has never yet found his own heart won by any fair lady—has wedded himself to his country first, and loved his siblings dearest—he knows pain, knows the sting of broken dreams and hope cut off. He circles one arm round Edmund's back, pulls his brother close.

“Ah, brother, there is no shame in mourning this loss.”

A sigh of release, before Edmund's head settles on Peter's shoulder, soft hair catching in Peter's beard, and he smiles, anoints his brother with a gentle kiss.

Edmund is one to keep his own griefs quietly, with few tears and long silences, but he has always accepted Peter's comfort, and Peter is always glad to give it. Peter has also learned over the years when to fill silences with a ramble of quiet conversation, and when to let the silence be and be with it. Tonight, he settles into the quiet, only snatches of a song tugging at his throat so he hums a line or two, before the melody deserts him, while far below the waves beat a soothing rhythm, steady and unrelenting as a heart.

The wee sliver of a moon has risen above the eastern horizon, when Peter drops another kiss into his brother's hair, sits straighter to shift his stiffened muscles and chilled bones, hugs Edmund's warmth closer into his side.

“Do you wish to sleep out here on the wall?” he inquires gravely, though he knows Edmund enjoys the comforts of a soft bed too well to rest elsewhere, save by necessity.

Edmund gives a rusty chuckle, but does not lift his head from Peter's shoulder just yet. “Nay, brother, I will not worry our sisters any further. Do not think I have missed their passing forms in the tower doorway.”

“Indeed.” Peter smiles fondly at the thought of what drinks Susan will no doubt be keeping warm, or how Lucy will be waiting, likely sitting on the end of Edmund's bed with a book.

“But you,” Edmund says lower, as if in thought. “No one could love me as you have, as you do. I will never find a heart as true as thine, my brother.”

Peter sits perfectly still, his view of the starlit waters blurred, feeling Ed’s back rise and fall under his arm, his brother's hand suddenly pressed warm to his chest, and he can barely breathe.

“Must I warn thee not to let that go to thy head?” Edmund asks lightly, pulling away to look his brother in the face, but he is smiling, and now he reaches out to draw Peter's head low enough to kiss his brow.

Such displays of affection are rare for Edmund, and Peter tries in vain to hold back tears; he had come up here to comfort Edmund, after all, not the reverse.

I have tried, Peter thinks. I have tried to be the brother you need. And it means more than he can say to know he has been seen, recognized, that Edmund knows.

“No, brother,” he answers hoarsely, drawing a quick sleeve over his cheeks. “No warning is necessary.”

Another smile from Ed, before the dark-haired man leaps nimbly to his feet, stands above Peter, bare feet steady on the stone, and offers a hand, pale in the starlight.

Peter takes it, lets himself be pulled up, joints creaking faintly, all the echoes of wars and battles and the time he’d tried leaping from one tree to another only to fail spectacularly.

He clears his throat a few times, slings an arm around Ed’s shoulders as they turn away from endless rolling ocean. “Hungry, brother?”

They leap from the battlements to the lower walkway in tandem, and move to collect their boots.

“I noted you ate rather less than usual at supper, though that is understandable,” Peter adds.

“Rather,” Edmund says, with some spirit.

There is still sorrow in his brother's eyes, a depth the little moonlight catches on, like water at the bottom of a well, but Peter lets himself smile.

“Then let us venture forth to see what Ariane may have left in the kitchens.”

They make their way down from the walls of Cair Paravel, arm in arm, sea breeze at their backs, Peter singing softly:

So the hounds, they came down

And they cornered him there

The White Stag all flashing

And shining so fair

In the leaves’ dancing shadows

His eyes were like stars

Said the lead hound ‘Now stand,

And let the wishes be ours’

Edmund joins in on the chorus, unable to resist the catchy tune.

‘Let the sunshine be soft

In the spring of the year

Let our noses be strong

And our vision be clear

Let the land that we course through

Be ever a place

Where our singing may echo

And our children are safe’

It is not really a serious song, but it is best sung with vigour, and Peter loves the sound of his and Ed's voices drifting over their castle, their home, lifting to the stars, and he cannot but think his own wishes would be not so very different, should he ever catch the White Stag. Light, health, and safety for the ones he holds dear—what more could a king ask for?

There have been rumors lately, Peter remembers, mostly from the little creatures, the flighty ones, rumors of a flash of white among the oaks. Perhaps something will come of it, perhaps nothing.

He follows Edmund down into their castle, still humming.

The stars are bright, and the crescent moon rides high into the Narnian sky before they sleep.

Next

[searchingforserendipity25]

for @eilinelsghost. dear frankie, you are such a genuinely wonderful, talented, amazingly intelligent and kind presence on this hellsite and the world at last, and deserve all things lovely. have some balan/finrod as a humble offering among with all the rest! <33

--

“Very pretty it is, to be sure,” Bëor said, voice rasping low, painfully low in throat eve as his face creased with mirth. “But I am sure I do not know what I would do with a handful of your hair, Felagund! Strange creatures the Eldar be indeed, to so long for that exchange.” 

Finrod's eyes widened. His mouth was less dire than it had been for days, but there was something somber still about the tilt of his brows. 

Balan would feel rather like a fiend to prickle him for his entreaty, if he were not being half-cheated by its terms.

“It is a perfectly common sharing of tokens among my people.” 

“Among my people the throwing of leaves and pointing of fingers is a perfectly common exchange of tokens when one is being a daft liar, too, and I do not think you so eager for that! You fairies are dreadfully jealous of your braids, one and all.” 

Finrod was not bold enough to deny it. Perhaps he was in earnest - the notion only made Balan ache more fiercely. 

They were very careful about their gifts, the two of them, since their first exchanges had ended in mild poisoning, and Finrod finding how very much his constitution disagreed with the smoking pipes the Edain favoured. 

Finrod had been almost diffident in his offer, as he had not been for years. He looked down now at Balan now, palms pressed together in the way Balan had learned he did when he was uncertain of which question to request. 

 “It does happen rarely, and I do not say It is not a tremendous honour. I ask much from one who is dear to me; too much for a whim; and I am sorry for it.” 

Balan sighed. His bones felt too tight. His mouth was parched, but he did not wish to ask for a glass of water, and he was not certain he would be able to cross the room easily; and he was not certain Finrod would be able to withstand it easily. 

Finrod seemed not less brittle to his eyes. Singing too long left the line of his cheeks sharper, his eyes dangerous as wisps of light over bog waters. His dear lord, who had not slept in many nights to keep him from the edge of mortal harm. 

He clasped Finrod’s hand warmly. The fine, long bones stilled for a moment, and then wound between his with accustomed gentleness.

 “It is that must apologize,” Balan said. “Ask what thou wilt as a gift, and never doubt it be thine. Art not not my lord, and my dear friend? It would be a honour to have such a token, for even a meager hair would be a treasure given from thy hands. But I suspect it is not thy people’s way to be light about such thing; and I think fear moves thee in this more than a mere whim. If it is so, I would not have it not be kept silent, and take insidious root.” 

Finrod’s fingers tightened around his. He strove for lightness of tone, and failed as he rarely did when he attempted it. “Thou canst not wonder that I fear! Warm as coal was thy brow, and heard not what I said when I spoke.” 

Balan tilting his head to meet Finrod’s eyes, smiling almost despite himself at the light of love on the king’s face. He bent, and kissed the fine knuckles; and at last Finrod smiled as well. 

Only then when he knew he was heard entirely did he say, “Felagund, dear lord. I am not dying; nay, not yet, and not soon either I judge. This is but a spring cold, from the changing of the wind and the cold air. Dangerous if uncared for; but thou hast cared for me better than ever my people were loved. It shall pass. Indeed, after the songs and pastes and infusions, it is nearly gone already. I would say if it grew worse, be not afraid of that.” 

Balan was struck once again - as he often was - by how real Finrod was, for all his strangeness. This cheekbone was very like his own; the eyes that shone and saw the world in different shades, the quick mind that guessed at the unknowable and predicted past and future. They had made a friendship out of generous wonder in each other and for each other. The last thing he wished was to make Finrod doubt it. 

He found the strands of his head strange tokens to exchange, but it seemed discourteous to refuse the trade outright, when Felagund was so plainly well-meaning.

And so peculiarly covetous, too. Balan was not blind to the way Finrod stood raptly with held breath, whenever he saw him brushing back his hair after swimming, or oiling the strands and redoing the braids by the fire in the evenings. 

He could not say he disliked the attention, that he had not met Finrod’s glances a hundred times.

He could not say the offer was not to him what he knew to be to Finrod - he had seen too many elvish warriors with the braids of their betrotheds carried in medallions about their necks, or kinsmen wound in goldwire and silver, set with amber and pearls around their wrists.

 Solemnly, Finrod brought out one of his many knives. A swift stroke, and one of his impossibly bright braids fell into Balan’s palm; and his own closed around Balan’s own gift. 

Finrod studied it with such care, Bëor's spindly, bristling braid, the gray threaded with the fading fairness of his hair. 

Balan looked at his hand, a little disbelieving. More beautiful than gold was that slender braid, enthralling as the stars, thin and fine as spidersilk - Balan had stared at it as often as Finrod looked at him in admiration.

 It was not less lovely for being in his hand, and seemed all the more startling in its beauty; but Balan’s eyes were still, always, for the curling strands that framed Finrod’s temples, the fine lashes that kissed his cheeks.  

How strange it was, that all the brightness in him should be turned to him, bent like a candlewick under the weight of its own flame. All the time he had known Finrod he had seen him lonesome among his people, lordly and unwed, brushing his own hair alone; and it had wounded him from the first.

For all the differences between them, that particular loneliness was something Balan recognized so well.

His hand fit so well in Balan's, all the same. He had held him for days and day, without letting go: whenever Balan was strong enough to open his eyes, he had seen him - his golden braids fraying, unattended, as he willed Balan to live. 

In the delirium of his fever Balan had dreamed foul dreams. It had felt to him as if a great darkness had descended upon Finrod, as if great walls of stone parted them; crushed, limbs heavy, he had cried out. Reached for him, as if were being chased by a prowling thing, and growing ever more distant; and now he saw, clear as grass, a mirrored anguish in the way Finrod held Balan's cut braid as if it were half an heirloom already. 

"Thank thee," Finrod said, grave as if it were a rite.

“I am very generous,” Balan agreed, teasing as well as he could. His heart pressing painfully against his ribs. He felt feverish still, with fear and boldness now; but he had to speak, say this much at least. “But I fear I am about to be more outrageous still; for there is beauty greater still I would have, still. Among my people, embraces are also exchanged as tokens, between friends who hold each other dear.”

Finrod's breathing hitched and ceased again.

He did not say he had heard the words unspoken. He did not speak of death; or love. The gift his people gave and traded as promises unspooled itself in Balan’s hand, and nothing like an oath came with it; but Balan needed nothing of the like tonight.

If it was greedy to ask for more, it would be cruel to give less, when even his ageless face was dimned with the weariness of the vigil he had kept by Balan's side, his shoulders tight with fear. 

“So it is, among my people as well,” said Finrod, and stopped, until Balan thought he would turn his face away, and rise, and hide the dark rope of Balan’s hair away forever to be wept over in days and years to come.

But the grip between Balan’s fingers eased, then grew stronger again. Finrod bent down over the bedside; until Balan touched the living strands of his hair, entwined his fingers about it.

That was too much. The dark braid was set aside carefully; and then, swiftly, with a surge of urgency, Finrod held him. Laid his hands over his back, feeling the movement of his heart and lungs; and Balan stroked his head with its wisps of shorn hair, eased his fear as well as he could.

Tomorrow, the cedarwod casket that held Balan's pins and rings, Belen's childhood gifts of bone-whistles and Baran's prettiest pebbles would receive a new, no less beloved treasure. Tomorrow, Finrod would hide the stands of Beren's hair away in truth, somewhere secret and well-kept where tokens of love could be held without marring for many centuries.

For tonight they could give each other this gift - grasp tight, and not let go until the sun rose over the mountain.