#to break the very wheel her ancestors crafted

[deaneyrs]

i saw someone post something a while back about dany using targaryen methods to achieve things the targaryen's wouldn't have chosen and i can't stop thinking about it.

[howlingday]

Ruby, up and coming hero blessed with the Silver Eyes, has heard terrible news! A horrible fiend has invaded the lands! A demon, hailing from a long and cursed line, master of sorcery and steel, a silver tongued trickster, a slave master, a depraved incubus, foul crafts hiding under welcoming illusions, a keen mind of gears and schemes and plots within plots, stronger than iron and quicker than quicksilver, all this and more, has taken control of an abandoned fortress! Determined to boldly rid the lands of this foul taint, (and to prove to Yang she’s a big girl!) she sets off to confront the monster alone! (Bad girl! That’s the first rule of adventuring: don’t go it solo!)

Except, no???????? Jaune has never seen or heard of any ‘demon’ around here. He just moved in, trying to strike out on his own, but nothing seems to be cursed from what he can see. He seems nice enough too. He’s fixing up the old ruin, disabling traps, healing folks when they wander into his place, and all that. Strong, smart, endlessly kind. Talks about his family a lot, they look so happy in the photo. That crest looks familiar, but it’s probably nothing. Surely he’s not the monster, but she can sure use his help to slay the monster when she finds him!

You see, the Arcs are only labeled villains because they refused to kowtow to the government way back when. Their views on life, other races, virtues, and such also puts them at odds with the narrative. The Arcs also have higher standards before they allow their kids to go on adventures, so even the weakest is very strong even to other adventurers. Slightly inspired by the Mind Reaver comic strips by Edd Lai.

So, I decided to have a look into Mind Reaver by Edd Lai, and I have to say I love the idea. A Mind Flayer that's actually a good guy and helps people who wander into his house. It's cute, especially when his niece and... servant, I think? Anyway, it's all so cute, and I highly recommend y'all check it out. Anyway, on to the story.

===========================

WANTED: DEAD OR ALIVE

JAUNE "SALEM'S PALADIN" ARC

REWARD ON APREHENSION

===========================

Ruby looked down at the wanted poster in her hand, carefully examining the features in the mugshot. She'd heard many stories about the Arc family, though much of it was told in the darkest of night as a warning to not stray too far from home, or to not stay up too late, or to file your taxes on time. His jawline was coated in thick hair, and his blue eyes gazed death into the soul of those who view them. There were many other tales, too, like how he'd sway any woman into being his slave, take cannon fire with his bare body, and would even subject whole armies with his sorceries.

Ruby looked up from the poster to see the baby-faced man sitting across from her at the table. She'd found him, demanding to engage in honorable combat between warriors! His response was, "Can we get coffee first?" Ruby agreed and watched as he sipped from his mug after waiting for to cool.

"Ooh!" He winced. "Still kinda hot."

"Uh..."

"Oh, sorry!" He then handed her a napkin. "I think I forgot to split our share."

"No, you already did." Ruby shook her head. "Besides, there's more important stuff going on here!"

"More important how?"

"I mean like this!" She slapped the wanted poster onto the table, earning a groan from him.

"Not another one." He shook his head. "Can we finish our coffee first?"

"I... I guess?" Ruby shrugged. "But why aren't you all... Y'know, big and scary and trying to mind-break me?"

"...Because I can't?" He asked more than he said. He then took the poster in his massive, clawed hands. Each finger was about the size of a breakfast sausage. "I really wish they would get a new picture. They make me look like a monster in this."

"Aren't you?" Ruby asked.

"Half." He answered. "Well, kinda sorta. You see, my great-great-great-"

Ruby whirled her fingers in a wheel as he rounded off each great in his ancestor's name. She'd heard a lot of tales about monsters and humans and faunus getting together, except for the Grimm, who were mindless beasts of destruction. What usually came from these unions was either monster or human or faunus, but on rare occasions, half-monsters would be born. These creatures were then cast out of the village upon their discovery, usually ending with their own demise. It was sad and cruel, but terribly not uncommon.

"-great-grandma Salem, the mother of all Grimm."

"Wait, I thought Grimm couldn't reproduce."

"They can't, but she can. Or could, since she hasn't had any kids since The Great Tear." Open in dimensions from a huge magical clash, brought monsters into Remnant, new age of war, magic, and adventure for everyone. Ruby knew it well enough from the stories. "Ooh! Still hot." He chuckled, after wincing from another sip of hot coffee.

"Okay, so then why is everyone after you? Half-monsters don't usually have posters, unless they commit a crime."

"Well, I didn't."

"You didn't?"

"He did." Ruby whirled in her seat to find a young woman standing in the doorway to the coffee shop. She stepped in with guards trailing behind her, all heavily armored, while she herself wore an elegant officer's jacket. "Jaune Arc, I am placing you under arrest in the name of the Schnee Dust Queendom."

"What did I do?" Jaune asked.

"Yeah, what did he do?" Ruby asked.

Snapping her fingers, a heavy, white book was brought to her hands. Opening it, the pages fluttered until they landed on a pair of pages with Jaune's name and mugshot on them. Clearing her throat, she began.

"Corrupting the minds of the youth."

"Hey, Mr. Whitley asked me to tutor him!"

"Silence!" She barked, her face growing a bit red. "Seducing a high ranking officer of the Schnee Dust Queendom."

"Your mother was a nice woman! She kissed me first!"

"I said shut up!" Her face grew even more red. "And public indecency while resisting Queendom duties."

"You fired a cannon at me!"

"And stripped yourself bare in an attempt to intimidate us."

"MY CLOTHES WERE BURNED OFF!"

"AND I SAID SHUT UP!" Face completely red, she tossed the book behind her in a fury. "You will surrender yourself at once, Salem's Paladin!"

"Oh, come- I don't even know Salem!" He defended. "I've never even met my great-great-great-great-"

"Great." Ruby groaned. "You got him started again."

"And who are you?"

"Ruby Rose, bounty hunter." She smiled. "Who are you?"

"Queen-Heiress-Apparent Weiss Schnee," she huffed, "and I'm taking this criminal in."

"Nuh-uh."

"What do you mean, 'nuh-uh'?"

"I mean nuh-uh."

"-great-great-great-grandma Salem!"

"Did you add two greats on there?" Ruby asked.

"Enough!" Weiss snarled. "You are both being brought into custody!"

"Aw, really? But couldn't we have... coffee?" Ruby winked at Jaune.

"No, we can't." Weiss answered.

"Jaune!" Ruby whined. "You were supposed to throw coffee on her!"

"Excuse me?!" Weiss screeched.

"Yeah, excuse you?!" Jaune reeled back. "Why would I do that?!"

"Because it'd be totally cool, like in an action comic!" Ruby reasoned.

"But it would hurt her!"

"THAT'S THE POINT!"

"ENOUGH!"

The cafe rumbled as white circles covered the walls and floors. An angry Schnee huffed in and out of her nose as she pulled out her rapier. Behind her, soldiers readied their guns on the two. Ruby glanced to Jaune, who gulped at the sight. Looks like she was going to do this alone.

"Are you sure you don't want coffee? It's really good~!" Ruby sang.

"Oh, please," Weiss rolled her eyes, "do you really think you can throw coffee on me now that I'm aware that's your- ARGH! BIG NICHOLAS FUCK!" She held her face as very, very, very, very, very warm coffee splashed onto her face.

Ruby took the cue and grabbed Jaune. Together, the two weaved through gunfire as yellow and red petals fluttered to the floor. The two had successfully made their escape, and it seemed the soldiers inside were easily distracted, too, as they began barking orders at one another. One of them actually barked like a dog, too, which was weird.

"AFTER THEM!" The barking died as the Schnee roared over them all.

Weiss used a blanket of napkins to wrap around ice dust and held it to her face. One guard remained behind, holding her book. Through her anger, she gave him an order that would turn the world upside down for Ruby and Jaune.

"I want wanted posters in every kingdom," she seethed, "and I want that Demon Couple locked up YESTERDAY!"

[disfidare]

𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚁𝙴𝙱𝙴𝙻 | 𝙲𝚊𝚛𝚙𝚎 𝙳𝚒𝚎𝚖 𝙻𝚒𝚏𝚎

Name: Han RyuJin Birthdate: April 13th, 1983. Age: 39 years old. Aries / Water Pig

Death comes without a warning, as it always does with the young. Bouquets of flowers next to the smiling photo of someone who shouldn't have left yet, but did anyways. She was gone in sacrifice.

Tears of sorrow and the cry of despair from a mother could shatter glass. Losing a child was against nature, younglings are supposed to leave after their parents, but she did not. She broke her mother's heart for sacrifice.

She was full of life, she whose laugh could light up entire rooms and bring joy to every soul she'd meet. She, who was there for him. She who was the perfect sister was gone after sacrificing herself for him.

It should have been him. Why Death did not take him instead? If sacrifice should have been made then why did he not sacrifice himself for her?

No one spoke up for him. No one said he was younger. No one mentioned how he was not behind the steering wheel or that he did not call his sister to collect him for the holiday break. No one pitied him for being the first to look at her lifeless eyes. No one thought he blamed himself for her death. No one asked him if he was alright. No one knew how he wished it was him instead.

Fingers pointed at him. His father blamed him, and his mother said nothing. Home was no longer a welcoming place, yet they expected him to fulfil his sister's empty space while all he heard was that Death should have claimed his soul that night.

Her picture haunted him, and Ryujin could no longer take it. He would be everything his sister was not.

𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚃𝙷 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙵𝙰𝙼𝙸𝙻𝚈. . Ryujin was born and raised in Gorey, Serong. His ancestors were among the first refugees after fleeing from Joseon. . He comes from a well-known family within the Serong militia. Everyone, including his mother and older sister hold/held high ranks within the institution. . Han HyeJin was his older sister by five years. She was his best friend. She passed away when she was 24 years old. . The responsibility for the death of his sister fell on his shoulders, but Ryujin was only 19 years old at the time of the accident. . Because of the accident, he never learned how to drive and avoids sitting on the copilot seat when riding a car. . He was pursuing a military career like everyone else in his family, but he quit. . His relationship with his family completely collapsed after the passing of his sister. He is not in touch with any of them. . People referred to him as the black sheep of the Han family even before he left, and he proudly embraced the role, being exactly everything his family loathed.

𝙽𝙾𝚆 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝙽. . He owns a small woodworking studio and shop in Gorey. . His home is on the second floor of his shop. . He has lived in different regions of the country, especially when he was young and was looking for his own identity. . When he lived close to the beach, Ryujin met an older man who taught him how to work with wood and fell in love with the craft. . He is not good at learning languages and only speaks Serog. . Can cook very well. (Self-taught)

𝙿𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙾𝙽𝙰𝙻𝙸𝚃𝚈. . He is stubborn and driven by his personal ideals but will hear you out only to disagree with you. . The loss of his sister became a turning point in his persona, Ryujin before and after the accident are completely different, despite their age difference. . More will be added as he develops!

[angrycommiedyke]

It’s a beautiful day. A particularly shiny one for this period. It’s not even spring yet but the air is warm, and the sun shines bright in the cloudless sky. We’re sitting at the lake with my father, doing a break after hunting for hours in the woods. He said we deserved it because we managed to kill three rabbits, two squirrels and a fox, and days like this are rare.

My father is making new arrows while I watch him, trying to figure out how he does this, in order to finally do the same. He showed me several times, but I never managed to do it right. Yet it seems so easy when he does it. After a moment, he asks me if I want to try again. I take the arrows and try to imitate him. I fail again so I give them back to him with my brow furrowed. It makes him laugh and he tells me that with time, I’ll be as good as him. But right now, I give up. Instead, I stare at the lake. It’s a long walk from our home, but it’s worth it. The lake is big, and the landscape around it is beautiful. I wonder how he found it.

“Dad, how do you know about this place?”, I ask him. He stops what he is doing and looks at me.

“My mother used to take me there when I was young. She taught me everything I know. And now, it’s my turn to teach you.”, he answers me with a smile.

“I wish I knew her”. My grandmother on my father’s side died while giving birth to her third child, she was only in her thirties. The child died a few weeks later from some disease if I remember what my father once told me. And my grandfather, he died from black lung six years later. After that, my father and his big sister were left alone. They were seventeen and fifteen. I never asked him if they were forced to go the Community Home. All I know is that my aunt died when I was a baby and my father feels guilty about it. He doesn’t talk about her, I think it hurts him way too much. I understand, I mean I would feel terrible hurt myself if it happened to me and l lost my sister.

“You would have loved her, and she would have loved you, little bird.”

“Tell me about her.”

He takes a deep breath and seems lost in his memories. Finally, he speaks.

“She sung ‘Deep in the meadow’ to us, like I do to you and Prim. She said that was a song that used to allay her fears when she was a child.”

When I was younger, and I was having nightmares and couldn’t sleep, my father always sung it to me. It helped me. Now, I sometimes sing it to my little sister too, when she’s afraid of monsters under the bed.

“How did she look like?” I ask him after a moment.

“She had long black hair and green eyes. She always wore a flower shawl in crochet, and a headscarf in her hair.”. He smiles at the memory of her.

“Green eyes?” I’m surprised. I thought she would look like us, like my dad and I, like people from the Seam. My father seems to guess the reasons of my confusion.

“Yes. She wasn’t from here. She was born in 12 but her own parents were from somewhere else.”

I’m surprised to hear that. We don’t have the right to leave the district. If you are born in 12, you’ll die in 12, or in the Capitol fighting in an arena...

“How is it possible? Travelling is forbidden.”

“It wasn’t at that time. She was a Nomad, do you know what it is?”

“No.”, I admit.

“It’s people who don’t settle, they are travelers. My mother, your grandmother, was a Covey. It was a group of Nomads, travelling around Panem. They earned money by playing music for the inhabitants. After the war, they got stuck here”, he explained with what seems to me a tone of sadness and desolation in his voice. I wonder if it’s the fact that they were forbidden to move or because they were stuck in the poorest district that saddens him. Probably both.

“They played here, at the Hob. But one day the President forbade it, they didn’t have the right to play anymore. So they separated, and tried to find another job. Your grandmother worked in the mines for a while, that’s how she met my father, but then she crafted wicker objects like baskets and chairs. She was good at it, but she missed singing. And everyone in the district missed the Covey. They took us the right to sing and to listen, like they took us the right to hunt.” His tone is grave. The smile from his face is gone.

“Is she the one who taught you how to use a bow?”

“No. My father taught me.”

“Can you tell me about him too?”

“You’re very curious today, aren’t you?”, a smile reappears on his face and he laughs. “Well, he was a miner, as you know, but he came from a family of hunters.”

“Was it legal too before, like travelling?”

“Yes, it was. In fact, our ancestors fought to keep the right to hunt and fish. He taught my mother how to use a bow and she showed him this place. They both sung, my mother singing old gypsies’ songs and my father singing Appalachian music, sometimes choosing Irish and Scottish ballads and other times African-American blues.”

“Can you sing me something?”

“Sure, my little bird.”

After a brief moment, he starts singing. And all the birds stop to listen to him, like they always do.

United we stand, divided we fall

For every dime they give us a battle must be fought

So working people use your power the key to liberty

Don't support the rich man's style of luxury

There ain't no way they can ever keep us down

There ain't no way they can ever keep us down

We won't be bought, we won't be sold

To be treated right, well that's our goal

There ain't no way they can ever keep us down

We've been shot, we've been jailed, lord its a sin

Women and children stood right by the men

We've got a union contract that keeps the worker free

They'll never shoot that union out of me

They'll never shoot that union out of me, oh no

They'll never shoot that union out of me

Got a contract in our hand signed by the blood of honest

men

They'll never shoot that union out of me

The power wheel is rolling, rolling right along

The government is keep it going going strong

so working people get your help from your own kind

Your welfare on the rich man's mind

Your welfare on the rich man's mind

Your welfare on the rich man's mind

They want the power in their hands just to keep out of the workers hands

Your welfare on the rich man's mind

They'll never, never, never keep us down

They'll never, never, never keep us down

The cheat, rob and kill but we'll stop that big wheel

They'll never, never, never keep us down

When he stops singing, he looks at me and gives me a smile. He must read the shock on my face.

-----------------------

You can click on the link if you wanna read the rest. :)

[padawan-historian]

The Female Game: An Analysis of the Stormborn Dragon

SPOILER warning for Season 8, Episode 1-3 and more of a SPOILER WATCH for Season 8, Episode 4 (no plot related details, but . . . a teaspoon of character and tone vibes from the episode).

Now I know we are still wrapping our heads around what we witnessed last night on Game of Thrones. But there was one discussion that caught my attention – Daenerys character development (or lack thereof) and how women are represented on the show:  

i hate that ambition in women is always used as a bad trait.

All her hard work and talk of breaking the wheel for nothing. All this talk of her being different and just and “see you for who you are” for absolutely nothing.

They should rename season 8 to “the tale of how we trashed a character’s development, made her an army of haters, just so we could make Jon Snow a hero: A study on Daenerys Targaryen.”

they really are setting up “Mad Queen” Dany and I’ll be honest, I don’t blame her at this point.

If a man acted that way it would be perfectly fine.

every single woman on game of thrones deserves better.

Ever since Game of Thrones graced the stage seven years ago, a number of fans, critics and activists have voiced concerns about the way the show portrays violence (especially sexual violence) towards female characters. However, those concerns have slowly evolved into larger conversations about the way these heroines are portrayed in comparison to power. Westeros – and most of the known world in the show – are under a patriarchal system. Men have inheritance rights, new wives join their husbands’ families and male children are given precedent over their older sisters and female relations in the line of succession (they call this primogeniture). Attempts at female rule are rare and even more rarely achieved without a healthy dose of fire and blood (search The Princess and the Queen on YouTube for more context and a juicy history lesson!).

Suspicion and hesitancy towards female rule is common in our real world (i.e. 2016 election) and is, unfortunately, not a new phenomenon. Prominent theologian, wrote in his 1558 piece, The First Blast of the Trumpet Against the Monstruous Regiment of Women, that, “To promote a woman to beare rule, superioritie, dominion or empire aboue any realme, nation, or citie, is repugnant to nature, contumelie to God, a thing most contrarious to his reueled will and approued ordinance, and finallie it is the subuersion of good order, of all equitie and iustice”(Knox).  Across Hinduism, Buddhism, Confucianism, Islam, Christianity, and Judaism there exist exclusionary mindsets in regards to women in power dating back to antiquity. However, there are also examples of women overcoming the restrictions and barriers of their societies, such as the prominence and elevation of women within certain patriarchal systems (including Egypt, the Tang Dynasty of China, the Mongolian Empire and beyond) . Even today, within many Native American and West African communities, femaleness is connected to spiritualism – unseen forces are often defined as female, such as goddesses and masked spirits, and are often interpreted by priestesses, prophetesses, healers, fortune tellers, and female shamans. However, the dominant culture that defines our 21st century world is, largely, patriarchal and continues to prosper through the oppression of women – and, to an extent, men. 

Power is power – and there is power in subjugation.

(Sidney Note: The glass ceiling metaphor should be viewed with some context – as should my statement above ^^ While times have changed and we now have female executives, college presidents, directors, governors, ambassadors and presidential candidates there are still inequities that exist. The metaphor implies that women and men have equal access to entry- and mid-level positions (Eagly and Carli). They do not. Rather than a ceiling to break through, women often have to struggle through a labyrinth, a maze filled with dead ends, false leads and towering walls. The labyrinth is even more suffocating for minority and marginalized women.

But back to the Game of Thrones universe . . . While most of the main characters have divided the fan base at some point in time (remember how we used to hate Cersei and then we felt bad and now . . . we kind of hate her again?) the discourse around Daenerys has been relatively consistent. While some see the Dragon Queen as an entitled, power-hungry tyrant slowly turning into the Mad Queen, others view her in a more sympathetic light. Daenerys – like many women – exist within a labyrinth. At the end is the Iron Throne. But the roads, for much of her life, were determined for her. Her (thankfully) deceased brother Viserys sold her in exchange for military support. Even after his golden death, Dany was still trapped in the maze, struggling to navigate the seemingly endless corridors. She has been raped, abandoned, deceived and . . . perhaps, most damning of all, she has been wrong.

Dany has made some questionable choices throughout her reign and while this is nothing new when it comes to GOT characters, what is new is that she is in a position of considerable power. Besides Cersei and, at one time, Grandma Olenna, Daenerys is one of the most powerful women in the series. Her dragons carry the weight of nuclear weapons and, after taking several fiery walks, hatching (or incubating) three ancient creatures an liberating a city from the chains of slavery . . . well, you can see why she thinks her destiny is to sit upon the Iron Throne.

Recently, the discourse about the portrayal of women in cinema has lit a fuse within the feminist movement. While I will say that some people tend to over analyze the actions of every character - relating them back to contemporary issues, it’s no state secret that female characters are often held to a very unhealthy set of standards:

Be strong, but not emasculating.

Be desirable, but not whorish.

Be charming, but not condescending.

Be ambitious, but not too ambitious.

The criticism about her representation in the show I think comes from a place of genuine concern. These fans want her to succeed because, seven hells, this woman has been through A LOT. And while there is a dose of sexism in the discourse, I do think that some of the backlash towards the show and creative team is unwarranted.

Daenerys Stormborn is NOT the protagonist in the traditional sense. She is a principle character who is heavily featured in both the books and Martin’s 5 novels. If you look at the charts below, people (who are more tech savvy than me) created comparison charts to help determine principle characters:

You may not like that Jon is painted as the hero or that Tyrion is featured prominently, but EVERY character has faced failures and loss in this series.

The freedom to lead is not freedom from failure.

No character is entirely good or entirely bad – Dany included. From white savior to female icon, Daenerys has been a polarizing character since season 1. She has made choices that, even when justifiable, were not . . . the most diplomatic solutions. She has a temper. She can be impulsive. But she is also affectionate with her friends. She is nurturing towards her dragons (in the books, her ancestors used whips to direct their dragons). She is also a queen . . . living in a patriarchal system that Aegon Targaryen established almost 300 years prior. She is single handedly trying to undo 300 years of patriarchal feudalism. That’s a pretty ambitious goal!

While Westerosi politics are similar to our own, they do not have cemented democratic institutions. The Night’s Watch is probably the closest example we have of a meritocracy (rule by merit or ability). The majority of the kingdom falls under the rule of one monarch who distributes semiautonomous authority through bonds of vassalage.

Change requires sacrifice . . . and compromise.

When was the last time you saw a high fantasy where, at one point, there were 5 women in positions of power? The closest moment in European history where that was a thing was when Catherine the Great of Russia, Madame de Pompadour, the Mistress of the King of France, and Empress Maria Theresa of the Holy Roman Empire combined their forces to fight against Fredrick II of Prussia during the 7 Years War (Fred was kinda a misogynist and coined the phrase The League of the Three Petticoats to describe the three women). Even in early English history, women who fought for power, like Isabella of France and Margaret of Anjou, were dubbed as she-wolves or reckless, power-hungry queens. Hmmm . . . sound familiar?

Now Dany does have a temper. But so did Robert Baratheon. She can be impulsive. She has a sense of entitlement, as do most monarchs and presidents. She is compassionate, loyal to her friends and nurturing towards her dragons (in the books, her ancestors used whips to direct their dragons). She likes to be in control, but she is also willing to listen to others. But she does get angry and she does have insecurities. She is also a human and – like most humans – she is a bundle of idiosyncrasies, conflicting ideas, blinding anxieties and soaring dreams.

Are there problems with the series? Yes.

Have female (and male) characters been portrayed in ways that are questionable? Yeah.

Would a more socially conscious director craft a different narrative or create a more dynamic story? Maybe.

Are you still gonna watch the next episode this Sunday? Most likely.

If you look for flaws, you will find flaws – because, this story was not created by you. So write your own story, whip up a fanfic or make a headcannon!

And besides, there are plenty of real world issues surrounding women that you can (and should) put your energy towards.

[xaz-fr]

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Set in a fantasy world of the semi socialist society Fey Alliance with magic, dick head dragon riders, benevolent necromancers, and even bigger dick head gods of mischief. The Zealous Servant is the story about a guy named Spayar who, has to keep his crown prince of a bff from being murdered by his entire family by murdering them first. Though Spayar just wants to take a nap and find a cute boy to kiss and not have to worry about his corpse potentially being dragged through the street after a war. Better win that shit then.

I will only ping this particular list once and if you want to be pinged for future posts a like or reblog will get you on the next pinglist. Reblogs (especially with a dumb comment but not required) are way more appreciated as it allows other people to see the work

@deadpool-scar-bro @starry-ampelope @golden-lionsnake @aw-some-musics @fullbearauthorclam @ragirl243 @redlion-fr @purple-forget-me-nots @unburdened-billy @trashcano08 @typefulls @slighteyewing @incel-tears @dgmana @genonehell @frxemriss

My favorite thing about Spayar is that no matter how cool he is or becomes this chapter still happens and shows he’a fucking idiot lols.

On the few clear days in the Meltong Basin during the wet season Assarus came to life like an ant hive. Most people tried to stay indoors as often as possible in the autumn because it rained nearly every day, so when the sky was clear and the weather warlockd predicted no rain everyone made sure to make the most of it. Spayar was on his mare in traffic, Duren sitting in front of him, sitting straight up and looking all around. Thankfully Spayar still had several inches on him or it would be a problem. 

His mare barely noticed the extra weight. She had a deep brown coat, thick legs, and great big hooves with great feathering. She was a horse who's ancestors had once worked the fields and now were the mounts of royalty and their favored. Von had gifted her to Spayar three years ago when Spayar complained about always having different horses wherever they went. Now she was his, he couldn't even begin to think of how expensive a horse like Spayar's was, trained for battle and didn't even flinch when her rider used magic. Not to mention the size, she was massive, and everyone got out of her way.

"Where are we going?"  Duren asked, turning around to look at Spayar, holding onto the pommel to keep from falling off.

"You'll see," though of course Duren knew why. He'd begged and begged Spayar over breakfast to show him how to ride and Spayar had given in if only to just make him shut up. By now they were leaving Bellringer and into South Garden which looked like it was trying very hard to mimic the style of Nedrag and the Garden with it's clean, boxy, buildings and covered in fauna. The city of Assarus or Surassa themselves had no one culture. They were a melting pot of all the provinces, and thus all the kingdoms the Alliance had conquered in its two thousand year being. Parts of South Garden looked like Nedalia or Dalican, there were motifs from the Yellow Hills in South Garden and he saw symbols from the city Peonia painted on the sides of buildings. People from the west of the Alliance had settled South Garden, much like the east had settled in Bellringer with it's gray stone buildings and clocks and its focus on craft rather than aesthetic.

"Shouldn't we be going outside the city?" Duren asked since South Garden was further in and really Spayar just wanted to get to Tradesmens as quickly as possible since unlike Peonia it sometimes mimicked itself after South Garden was one of the most twisting and confusing districts in the capital other than perhaps Cat's Cradle, even the Mire and Downriver were more organized than this.

"You'll see," Spayar just said again pushing his mare through a busy intersection full of people. When they saw his big war horse they jumped out of the way. Spayar was trying to be nice but he was getting annoyed with how busy this damn city was and he had a big horse. Big horses won over busy pedestrians.

"I can see Swan Island from here," Duren pointed once they finally got through South Garden and into Tradesmens. Spayar looked and indeed they could see the holy island from here over the low buildings and warehouses of Tradesmens, meaning Spayar was way off course. "Are we going to Swan Island?" Duren asked, confused.

"No," even as he made his mare head for the river. They came up to the walled bank of the Meltong and could see Swan Island easily. A small lake had formed here in the Meltong river in a low part of the land before it continued its journey south to the Break and the Fea’staal Sea. behind. Swan Island sat in the middle of the lake and it was a large, beautiful park, filled with temples. From here they could see people going in and out of them and people on horses or people enjoying the sunlight on the grass or under the trees. 

"Can we go to Swan Island?" Duren asked.

"I thought you wanted to learn to ride," Spayar said.

"Yeah I know, but we rarely go to Swan Island."

"Another time. I'll take you and the girls on Asumsest if you want," and he turned his horse to start down the road, running parallel to the river, towards the Winter Palace at the top of the hill in the distance. Tradesmens was full of canals that went into warehouses from the river and looked more like something from the country of Tipin or even Joti than anything else. Bridges spanned every canal for horses and pedestrians, though they were too steep and high to allow bigger boats through, so carriages had to take other routes. Few people were on the River Road but there were a lot of boats in the river. The Meltong was always full of boats and today was especially bad since it was full of trade ships and barges as well as personal boats with brightly colored sails or sides. At the very least both the river and the river road were orderly. 

The River Road wound north and east, through parts of South Garden, where Spayar didn’t let anyone get in his way lest they get trampled by war horse hooves, and then through the entire length of Uptown. The Hillsman children all went to school in Uptown. Mostly because their father could afford the cabby ride there and back every day and Anora’s private secondary schooling there. It was a wealthy neighborhood and it seemed like the was a bank on every street from every major city in the Alliance. At the last everyone moved with purpose here, no dawdling or frolicking about like in South Garden. Here people were all business and people stayed on the side walks and out of the traffic of horses, carriages, and some strange two wheeled contraption Spayar had never seen but flew down the street as quick as any horse. It looked like a buggy but wasn't pulled by a horse. He have to look into that.

When the River Road finally dumped them into Fey's Shadow Duren turned to Spayar accusingly. Spayar just rose his brows at his brother. Duren frowned the Hillsman frown at Spayar and turned back around. In Fey's Shadow the roads were wide and well kept, the manses behind their tall, thick, walls, were every style in the Alliance. The wealthiest people lived in Fey's Shadow and most nobles had houses here as well, and built their mansions in the style of their home province. You could see the entire gambit of architectural styles in Fey's Shadow from the low, spider web-like dwellings of the Wren-Kel, to the tall, low eaved, state house of the Peony. Spayar kept his horse on still and Duren's head kept moving, looking all around, trying to see everything. A lot of the houses were out of sight behind the walls but he tried, to caught glimpses of them through the gates.

At some point they came to the Twin Switches bridges, where the Meltong looped back around to itself and were only a few hundred feet apart. Two identical bridges built in a northern style spanned both parts of the Meltong and as they crossed the first bridge you could sort of see over the thick, protective, wall of the North estate. Duren raised himself up in the saddle a bit as though to see better before sitting back down. The North estate was the most heavily fortified estate they’d seen thus far, and the largest. Spayar knew there were bigger ones than the North’s, but it was up there.

“Who lives there?” Duren asked Spayar.

“The Norths,” Spayar said.

“Wow,” he said, “Do you know them?”

“By reputation, now sit down I can’t see,” and Duren turned right way round and sat properly as they started to cross the second Switch. Very shortly after they’d passed the North estate the road started to slant upwards to the Palace which gleamed like a snow capped mountain from the peak. 

There were no walls around the grounds of the Winter Palace, just like the rest of Assarus. There hadn't been an attack on the capital in two thousand years when neighboring nations had thought the young Alliance weak. Even the Federation wasn't stupid enough to attack their northern capital. You touched Assarus and a wrath that couldn't be imagined was unleashed. Not since Sinou's death had anyone tried to take Assarus or rather, Surassa, with any serious intent. The first Asuras had made sure the fear of what the Le'Acard could do would be felt through the ages until the end of time.

No one stopped Spayar as he rode up to the palace and Duren started to shift in front of him in wonder. It was above Duren to ever think of coming to the Winter Palace. His brother had been born and raised in Bellringer and he wasn't a knight, or a courtier or anyone of importance really.

Spayar didn't get too close to the Palace, instead he went around to the side where the stables were, where his own horse had been bred. A stable hand came out to see him when he got closer. "Sir," he bowed when he saw Spayar. Spayar recognized him.

"Oh stand up Jill," Spayar said, unimpressed. The stable hand, Jill, looked up, a rueful smile on his face like what Spayar did to Von Jill bowed to Spayar to annoy him.

The oldest son of a talented seamstress Jill was a spry young man Spayar's age with a gap in his front teeth, large ears, big green eyes, and hair the color of a carrot that stuck out wildly from any hat he tried to wear. They'd been sort of friends before Spayar had met Von, more friends because their mothers were friends. After Jill had finished his mandatory schooling in Bellringer he’d begged Spayar to get him a job in the Palace. So Spayar had and now he worked in the stables, right where Jill wanted to be with his love of animals. "You ain't impression' no one,” casually taking on the low born drawl of those in Middleton where he knew Jill lived, across the river from Bellringer.

Jill laughed and stood up straight, walking over to take the mare's bridle as Spayar dismounted with a grunt. Damn horse sometimes felt too big for him, even with his long legs. "Wha'cha here for?" Jill asked.

"Riding lessons, c'mon Duren," he held his arms up for his little brother. Duren dragged one leg over the saddle so he was sitting with both on the same side and then slid down into Spayar's arms. He wasn't strong enough to catch Duren anymore, his brother too big for that, but he could make sure he got to the ground safely.

"For who? You? You’re one of the best riders I know," and Jill sucked on his gap.

"No no, for my brother," Duren stood behind Spayar. He didn't know Jill, Spayar wasn't surprised, the damn guy slept with the horses now and rarely went home to Middleton despite talking like he'd lived there his entire life. Spayar also didn’t see or mention Jill like he did his actual friends. They’d been boys together but had nothing in common anymore and didn’t really interact except for times like these. "I need an easy horse, lower to the ground than her," he patted his mare's neck fondly.

"Wan’a pony?" he asked, "We have a few of ‘em marshy geldings.”

"Yeah, that sounds fine."

"You got it," and then he turned back towards the stables, leading Spayar's horse away. As he did Jill yelled, "Mavok, get one of the ponies saddled up!"

"Who was that?" Duren asked him.

"A friend," Spayar said, Duren just looked confused. "What?" he asked.

"You have other friends other than the prince?" Duren asked.

"Of course I do," Spayar said irritably. Spayar had a lot of friends, though few good ones, and countless acquaintances he knew more about than he had any right to. "Vondugard isn't my only friend."

"Seems like," Duren said, making a face, "dooim says so a least."

"Dad doesn't know half the things I do," thank the gods for that. “Don’t listen to everything dad says, he’s not always right.”

Duren frowned, not liking Spayar talking about their dad in any negative light. “Why do I have to ride a pony? I want to ride a horse," Duren decided to complain about that instead.

"A pony is fine to start with and probably as much as a horse as you'll ever ride," he patted Duren's shoulder. Duren looked at him sourly. "You're a smith brother, not a knight, you got no need for a horse."

"What about you then? Are you a knight?"

"No," Spayar agreed. Gods no he wasn't a knight.

"Then why do you have a horse?"

Spayar laughed, "More than just knights own horses, Duren. You see people not knights on horses don't you?" Duren nodded slowly. "A horse is just expensive. Expensive to buy, expensive to care for, expensive to house. I'm really lucky to have a horse like mine. But you," he tapped his brother's nose, "will be fine with a pony for today. Once you get better we'll move you to a horse."

"Okay," Duren said, Spayar could see the wheels of Duren's mind turning. But before he could figure it all out Jill was back leading a pony, fully saddled. It was a fairly tall pony, rather thin, with long, narrow, legs, but still many hands shorter than Spayar’s mare.

"Here w’are, one of them marshy ponies of LoHanJo'in," meaning it was a Adoshade horse. They'd bred them from the water ponies who lived in and around the Boggart swamps that took up most of LoHanJo'in province. They were just tall enough to stand above the water line most places and short enough to stay out of the way of the lower branches of the trees in the swamps and small enough to squeeze between trees to escape predators.

"Thanks," Spayar said and Jill handed him the lead.

"His name's Ollie, ‘e's a good boy," and Jill patted the pony's rump, Ollie swished his tail.

"We'll have him back before lunch probably," Spayar said.

"No rush. Hillsman can take him out as long as he wants, Stablemaster said that."

“Really?’ Spayar asked, raising his brows at Jill.

“Aaaah, not in so many words,” Jill said, grinning a gap toothed grin.

“Great,” Spayar said, half laughing, “Take care of my horse while I'm out."

Jill laughed, "She'll be a princess while she's here," he promised.

Spayar grinned and motioned to his brother to follow him as he led him and the pony away from the stables. "Spayar," Duren asked as they went to a field. Unlike most of the land around the capital the hill the palace sat on was hard ground. It was why Spayar had picked up here and not just anywhere, Duren wouldn't have to worry about potholes or wetland.

"Yeah?" Spayar asked.

"Does your horse have a name?"

Spayar looked up from where he was checking the pony's bridal, "Uh... no," he realized. He'd never named his horse. Three years and his horse didn't have a name. It had honestly never occurred to him.

Duren hadn’t been expecting Spayar to actually agree with him that his horse didn’t have a name. "It doesn't?"

"I guess not," Spayar admitted and looked back on his life choices where he hadn’t named his own horse.

"You should name her," Duren insisted.

"I wouldn't even know what to call her," Spayar said, "I always just call her girl."

"That's a terrible name." Spayar frowned, now he felt weird about it. How had he not noticed he'd never named his own horse? He’d had her for three years. How hadn't anyone noticed? Or what if they had but had felt like it wasn’t their place to point it out? Maybe everyone knew Spayar’s horse didn’t have a name and wondered what was wrong with him. It made Spayar feel self conscious about the entire thing. He couldn’t just go around asking people if they knew his horse’s name either because then if they didn’t know then they would. "You should think of a name for her," Duren said.

"I guess," Spayar said, though honestly giving his horse a name now would be more weird since he was so used to her not having one. "I'll think about it, now lets get you up.” Mainly he just wanted to get off the subject of his horse not having a name. Hopefully Duren would forget that they’d ever had this conversation.

He showed Duren how to mount a horse. Duren climbed onto Ollie's back with only a bit of trouble. Spayar handed Duren the reigns and saw that Jill had also given him a long lead line as well. Thanks Jill. "Marshy ponies are really well trained," Spayar told his brother to continue to stay off the subject of his own horse. “So you just need to give it a little nudge to get him going. With your heel... yeah like that," and Duren got the pony to start to walk. "Not so tight on the reins," he said as he let the lead rope out.

"How do I turn?" Duren asked.

"Pull them the direction you want them to go. Not too hard," and Duren did so. The pony started to moved in an arc with Spayar as it's center point. Spayar turned as the pony walked and Duren was so focused on the pony it was like he’d forgotten his brother was an absolute idiot.

"Spayar," Duren said after he'd walked the pony around Spayar in a circle a few times "what's a gelding?"

"It's a boy horse that can't have children."

Duren was paying attention to the pony when he asked, "Like you?"

"What! No. I'm not a gelding," thank the gods he wasn't. He rather enjoyed all his equipment, and all their functions.

"But you can't have children," Duren looked at Spayar.

"I am fully capable," Spayar said, trying not to be irritated. Duren was only eight, he was allowed to be stupid. It was surprisingly difficult to not be angry though. "I just won't."

"Cause boys can't have babies?"

"Exactly," Spayar said, "And a gelding is a horse who's been castrated. It's different."

"Well what's castrated mean?"

"It means they cut the balls off." Spayar laughed at Duren's horrified face. His brother looked down at his lap like to assure himself he was still in one piece. "They only do it to horses,” he assured Duren. That didn't mean Spayar couldn't think of at least a dozen reasons or crimes that would get a man castrated, and not just the balls either.

"Why do they do that?"

"To make them calmer."

"But what about making more horses?"

"They don't geld all the stallions Duren," Spayar sighed, "and the Adoshade only gift out or sell gelded marshy ponies, so other places can't breed them."

"Why?"

"Politics, don't worry about it," yeah only Spayar had to worry about that sort of stuff. "Try and make your pony go faster," Spayar encouraged to get them off the talk of horse balls. First making Spayar come to the realization his horse didn’t have a name and now horse balls. Something was wrong with his little brother. Duren tapped the pony again and Ollie started to go faster.

They were out there for a while until Duren said his legs hurt. "Owww," he complained as he got off Ollie. "Why does that hurt so much?"

"You aren't used to it," Spayar said, patting Ollie who looked ready for a rest and to not go in circles anymore. Duren was rubbing the inside of his thighs, looking pained. "Lets head back to the stable, I'm sure Ollie wants his lunch," and he started to walk, Duren rubbed for a few more seconds before following.

"You rode all the way to Peonia and back in like two weeks,” Duren said, looking at Spayar with something like awe.

"I did," he agreed.

"Didn't it hurt?"

Spayar shrugged, "It's just uncomfortable. You get used to it honestly, from being in the saddle so much."

"Doesn't your dick hurt though?"

Spayar snorted, "Usually the whole area just goes numb before it starts to hurt."

"You've ridden a horse with a numb butt?" Duren cried, eyes wide.

"Yeap," Spayar said. "But I ride all the time. The more you do the less it hurts."

"Oh," Duren looked contemplative a moment. "You're not a knight, right Spayar?"

"Nope."

"Then what are you? You can fight and do magic like a knight and a  warlock, but you aren't are you?"

"I'm not a knight," Spayar said, "all magic users are warlocks, you know that."

"Then what are you?" Spayar thought about that a moment. What was he? "Spayar?"

"I'm thinkin'," Spayar said as they approached the stables. Jill didn't meet them this time and they entered the building. "Hello," he called. The royal stables were huge and each stall had a name plaque beside the door. Despite that it was easy to get lost and it wasn’t best to wander without a stablehand to guide you. "Hello," he called again. It'd take them forever to find Ollie's stall on their own. He sighed and started down the stall lined corridor, at the very least he could find Ollie's stall. Though he also needed to find his horse. This was probably a horrible idea. Where was everyone?

They walked through the stables to the other side where there was a covered area that led to one of the two large courtyards that stood guard next to the large looping drive at the front of the palace. There they found seemingly all the stable hands, standing back and out of the way. In front of them was a gilt carriage pulled by a team of four, black, horses of the same sick as his own made and standing beside it was a fair haired woman who was yelling at the holsters. Spayar recognized her by voice alone, it was Von's second oldest sister; Obi. 

"What's going on?" Spayar asked one of the stable hands quietly, thankfully Duren had enough sense to be silent.

"Her highness keeps changing her mind about what she wants," they said, frowning. "First she wanted white horses, than brown horses, now black horses, and only females. Something' wrong with the carriage, this or that uhg.” 

"Well... I have a pony that needs to be put away," Spayar said.

"At least it's something to do, what's his name?"

"Ollie."

"Right, I'll take him. You got a horse, sir?” they said and took Ollie’s lead. Meanwhile Obi was still yelling, irritated something wasn't happening fast enough. Spayar hated Obi. Spayar genuinely hated few people, but Obi was one of them. She was a handful.

“Yes, she’s a royal breed, dark brown coat, white hairs, Jill put her away for me.”

“Ah, I know that one. I’ll bring her here, sir,” and they left with Ollie.

Spayar turned around when he heard Obi crack one stable hand across the face. "Do not talk back to me," she yelled at the man who was now on the ground, hand over one side of their face.

"Apologizes your highness, I was merely-

She stepped on him, stomped was more a correct term honestly. The stable hand cried out, his sound of pain startling the horses. "I said do not talk back to me!" 

"I'm sorry," the stable hand stammered. Spayar knew he shouldn’t intervene. He didn’t really have much to do with the other royals unless they put themselves in front of him. It was less messy and he wouldn’t get to know them and feel bad when he plotted their murder. He was about to turn away and take Duren with him when he recognized the stablehand. He cursed to himself. Of course it had to be Jill. Of course it had to be because Can’dhe liked to torment him. Liked to put things in his way and test his character.

He looked down at his brother and saw his brother recognized Jill as well. What would it look like if Spayar just turned a blind eye? How could he explain to his baby brother that it was better if he didn’t get involved? He couldn’t. Not after Spayar had called Jill his friend. What sort of person left their ‘friend’ to be beat over nothing. He sighed a little. He was about to do something stupid and reckless and he wasn’t looking forward to it.

"Learn to listen when your betters speak," Obi spat made to stomp on Jill again. This time Spayar flicked his hand to cast a spell and caught her heeled foot in mid air with a messy weave that clung to the air on spider silk connections. It did hold her though. She whirled on the stable hands accusingly, fire in her cerulean blue eyes. "Who's doing that?" she demanded.

Nothing for it. He’d started this, he had to finish it. Spayar stepped forward, leaving Duren with another stable hand who didn't need to be told to hold his brother back. "Hello your highness," he bowed to her neatly, extending his arms a bit and wishing he was wearing a bit nicer clothes. Anyone watching saw it as mocking but Obi, unobservant as always, saw it as respectful. What she did see was that he didn’t bow nearly as low as he would to Von or even the king. The king. Her nostrils flared angrily.

Obi was the prettiest of Von’s siblings and loved the gut, emulating all the most popular styles from there. Obi had long, delicate, golden locks she wore in immaculate ringlets of the Dalicites. Her nails were always freshly manicured and painted like a Nedalian. Today they were apple red with yellow tips. Her bright blue eyes were ringed in Aldashi style liner, the wings conservative like she’d done them herself and was intimidated by them. They weren’t nearly as long or elegant as Tassa’s. Even her clothes were western Alliance with a high hem on her skirt over a pair of lace tights and a bodice that showed off her flat, golden, stomach and pushed her breasts together while keeping her shoulders bare. For the aesthetics she was lovely. Under that gilded facade she was a miasma of stupidity and temper made of methane that just needed the slightest spark to erupt in either spouting off something so ignorant it actually gave you pause, or she’d turn you inside out with a temper tantrum.

"Spayar," she said his name like he was a piece of shit on her shoe, "what do you think you're doing?"

"Keeping you from hurting an innocent man," Spayar said calmly, standing up again. He didn't avert his eyes when he spoke to Obi either, he didn't know how to anymore. Von demanded that Spayar looked at him on level when they spoke and he did it out of habit to all people of standing.

Obi looked down and sneered at Jill who swallowed. "If I want to it's my prerogative," she said and snapped Spayar's weave holding her leg like he knew she would. This time when Obi made to stomp on Jill Spayar uttered one word and Obi lost her footing and fell ass up on her back. There was a stunned silence in the courtyard. Here Spayar had to play carefully or he’d have a fire on his hands. He wasn’t a pyromacer either and Von want here.

"That man is under your mother's employ and thus under the protection of the Le'Acard," Spayar said, hands behind his back so no one could see how hard they were trembling. He wasn't angry. He was afraid. He wasn't afraid of much but pissing off someone who could kill him effortlessly was one of them. Von wasn't around to protect him from his sister like sometimes. It was one thing to kill your brother’s best friend when he was alone, it was quite another to do it in front of him. Especially a d’aelar. Normally that would make him immune from most attacks by the Le’Acard. Not from Obi. Obi didn’t care. When she was angry or insulted and not handled carefully she’d take on anyone.

Obi stared at him like she couldn't believe he'd really just done that. He'd just humiliated her in front of a bunch of stable hands. "What are you looking at?" she snarled at Jill who was also staring, slightly slack jawed.

"Nothing, your highness," he looked away quickly

She got to her feet and marched over to Spayar. Obi was shorter than him, but it didn't matter, she was like fire. Literally she was fire and was a pyromacer like her brother Von. For a second Spayar thought the tips of her coiled hair sparked and became flame. Not unheard of for a powerful pyromacer. "You would do such a thing?" she hissed.

Spayar kept very calm. Obi won when you talked back, when you got angry. He'd seen enough of her fighting with Teldin, Tallalsala and Dellin to know how she was, what she did, and how temperamental she was. When Obi started to smolder if you struck back in anger like she did she’d just ignite and you’d lose. It was something that happened often enough and only staying perfectly calm in the face of her wrath would see her be handled out of that spark of rage. “I would," he said. 

"I am a Le'Acard, you would lay a hand on me?" she demanded, fire in her eyes, her breath as hot as a forge on his face.

"I did no such thing-

"You still-

"I simply stopped you from making a mistake," he just talked right over her. The only way for Obi to hear you was to just talk over her.

"Me? A mistake?" she laughed.

"So you would rather me tell the stable master you beat one of his best stable boys and then he would tell your mother?" Spayar asked her curiously.

Obi froze. She hadn't thought of that. Of course she hadn't. Obi was an idiot of the first degree. Of Von's siblings she was the least he was worried about because Obi didn't have the patience or brain power to plan a coup, let alone the temperament to see it through to completion. She might know Tallalsala was meeting with the Clan and Teldin had the White Foot and Wren-Kal in his pocket, but that meant nothing to Obi. It was like telling her there was a particular bad thunderstorm outside. It would pass, as it always did. "My mother?" she asked and it was like Spayar had dropped a block of ice on white hot iron.

"Yes," Spayar said, "Asuras Virilia takes great pride in the horses her stable breeds, and thus those who work there. You wouldn't want her to know you were abusing them would you?" Spayar was talking out of his ass of course. Obi was too dumb to know differently. She believed everything people told her. A temper with gullibility did not make a good match and was how you threw sand over the tinder of her temper. He looked at the carriage, "Didn't you have somewhere to be, my lady?" he asked her rather innocently, switching topics and confusing her by now being worried for her well being and her time table.

"I do," she said slowly, unsure what he was doing or how to react appropriately since just a moment ago she’d been ready to burn him alive.

"I would hate for you to be late," there was a driver already sitting in the seat up front, staring at Spayar like he was crazy. "Since I'm sure it's terribly important if you need to go."

"It is," she said and pursed her lips at him. She hadn't even realized what he was doing. How did Von have a sibling like Obi?

"I'm sure they're waiting for you," he moved his fingers and the carriage door opened, beckoning Obi.

"This idiot-

"Had the best intentions your highness. You really shouldn't worry about such trvilalries," and already Obi had gone from being mad at him for humiliating her to complacent and ready to do what he said. If you didn’t set her off Obi was actually very easy to deal with. It was just she was easily set off. You just had to use a certain tone with her and she cooled down and did what you said once you showed her that yes; you were the boss here, not her. Honestly she was a bit like a horse. If the rumors were true she was ridden about as much as the common use horses in the stables too. "Driver," he called, "where are you going?"

"We're going to Mirin, my lord," the driver said. The capital of Kou. That made Spayar slightly uneasy. A million possibilities ran through his head about why Obi would be going to the capital of Kou. She had to have a handler, behind the scenes, trying to put her on the throne. If only so she’d be a figurehead.

"That's a long way," Spayar said, “Who are you going to see?”

“The Lady Lenni,” she said. Spayar wracked his brain. Who was the Lady Lenni?

“Well if you don’t leave soon it’ll be too late in the day to make any way down the Westernlance. You wouldn’t want to put off seeing her another day would you?”

“No,” Obi said adamantly.

“Then we should get you on your way,” he said, barely even in the moment with Obi. He was thinking of who the Lady Lenni was. He helped her into the carriage and Spayar closed the door with a pleasant smile. He waved to the driver once he stepped back and the driver, who finally had to look away from his stupefied amazement at Spayar, flicked the reins to put the horses into a trot. Obi would be out of the city before she realized Spayar had manipulated her and she’d told him where she was going and who she was seeing.

"That was amazing," Jill said from the ground. "How'd you do that?"

"I have a lot of practice dealing with Le'Acard," Spayar offered Jill his hand. Jill took it and Spayar hauled him to his feet. Jill wasn't  really wounded, but he was a bit battered. "Go to the palace healer, get healed up, if they throw a fuss say I sent you."

"You're right amazing Spayar," Jill said.

Spayar just shrugged, "Go on, me and Duren are for home."

"Right right," Jill said, and dusted himself off a bit. "Thanks," he said again, grinning his gap toothed grin at Spayar. Spayar went back to find his brother, "What you lot standing around for?" Jill cried at the other stable hands, "You gots stuff to do, so go do it!" and they scattered.

Duren was standing with his mare and another man that made Spayar stop dead, the warm feeling of victory over Obi leeching away instantly. 

Teldin was holding onto Spayar's horse’s reins and standing next to Duren like it was the most natural thing he could do. "Your highness," he bowed to Teldin much lower than he had for Obi. Unlike her Teldin actually garnered real respect. 

As with the rest of the past few generations of Le’Acard Teldin was fair and blonde, his hair in last decade’s style of long and slicked back. Unlike some of his siblings his skin was the color of flour and his eyes were such a brown they were practically black. He had mean eyes like an owl's and a long, proud looking face. He was well built and filled his autumn coat well. This was the man who threatened Von's life, and thus Spayar's own life; the oldest son of the Asuras.

"What can I do for you, your highness?" Spayar asked, straightening. As he did he noticed that twined around Teldin’s neck was a long, leaf green, snake with eyes too smart to be an animal. A shapeshifter. Spayar knew who it was instantly and it put him on more edge than he already was with Teldin’s appearance. Sade was a powerful warlock and shifter and practically Teldin’s second in command. She was practically another Spayar. Why would she be here with Teldin now?

"That was very impressive," Teldin said, he had the voice of a singer, the type you could listen to forever. "Not many people can so expertly manipulate Obi out of a rage," he said it thoughtfully but also like he didn’t actually care.

"You're too kind, your highness," Spayar said.

"Where's my brother?" he asked.

"Vondugard, your highness?"

"Who else would I ask you about?" though they both knew realistically Spayar probably knew the whereabouts of all the Le'Acard children despite only having been in Assarus a few days since his trip to the gut.

"I don't know. I just came home from serving time a few days ago. He wasn't here when I arrived,” he lied.

Teldin put a mean stare onto Spayar but he didn't flinch, didn't move a single inch. "You're a good d'alaer," Teldin said and cocked his head at Spayar in a very predatory fashion. "But you're wasted on my brother." Teldin knew Spayar was lying. He knew and knew Spayar knew he knew but pushing Spayar to answer would get him no where nor would it actually help him. He was just testing Spayar, like he always did, to see what he could get out of him.

"Your brother takes very good care of me," Spayar swallowed. This wasn't the first time Teldin had approached Spayar about changing his alliances. Teldin and Tallalsala had both done it, since they were the two better players on the field. They knew what it meant that Von had a d'alaer and they didn't. Sinou had had a famous d'alaer who helped him conquer the first realms of the Alliance. It was the opinion of most of the Alliance and especially the Le'Acard that Asuras who had a d'alaer on their sides were more competent rulers, better  in every way. That they could instill such zealous devotion in someone meant they knew what they were doing. Teldin, Tallalsala and Dellin all hated Von in equal measure they were jealous of him because he had Spayar; his d'alaer.

Spayar was the d'aelar of this generation, the first one since since the early eighteen hundreds. His kind weren’t common and there was only ever one at a time. If there were more they’d constantly be compared until one was proclaimed the true d'aelar in the style of the d'aelar of old. The only way to get the benefit of a d'aelar now was to either kill Spayar and get your own or convince him that it was in his best interest to side with them. He’d been on the end of enough threats to himself and his family and promises of the world, stars and everything in between to know that it was serious for the Le’Acard. They knew the importance of his title, what it meant for them and the nobles, commoners and soldiers of the Alliance in the coming Conflict. The greatest Asuri had d’aelar. They wanted one too. Unfortunately there was only one Spayar.

"I would do better," Teldin said, "whatever he does for you I can do better.” Not the first promise Teldin had ever given him. “Or whatever he doesn’t do for you,” and Spayar did his best not to just grab his brother and bolt. It sounded like he was being courted and not asked to betray his best friend. Knowing Teldin there was all sorts of meaning behind those words and promises he’d follow up on to get the advantage over his siblings. Spayar did his best to not think about Von like that, let alone his viper of a brother.

"I'm not interested," Spayar said instead, once again putting his hands behind his back so Teldin wouldn’t see how they trembled. He just wanted Teldin to leave him alone. "I am Vondugard's d’aelar. His d'aelar I shall stay. As I’ve said before, I want nothing from you, Teldin,” he said. Sade’s body extended out towards Spayar a bit and the human eyes in a snake’s head were reproachful.

Teldin frowned, “You’re sure? Now’s the time to pick sides, d’aelar. Do you really want to be one of those who visits a temple of Lemp?” All the hair stood up on Spayar’s body. Most of the time just the presence of a d'aelar by a Le’Acard’s side was enough to rally most of the nation to them and they’d come through and sit on the throne. But sometimes, it wasn’t. The crown heir in question was killed. D’aelar knew they wouldn’t be spared after a Conflict’s close like their donalim. The only way out was to leave the Alliance and never return, leaving behind everything and one you’d ever known, or kill yourself. Since suicide was against their religion and the will of Lemp necromancers would assist people in their suicides. The d'aelar who went to temples of Lemp were a select few, and they all did so out of shame and grief when their best friends, or - in one case - their lover, had lost the Conflict.

“Careful,” Spayar said slowly, to not betray the hard beating of his heart. “Your dread is showing, your highness,” he said and bowed a little. Sade flicked her tongue at Spayar hatefully and he wondered what the hell had just gotten into him to say that to Teldin’s face. The prince wasn’t the least bit amused.

Teldin dropped his mare's lead and walked away without goodbye. Spayar's heart was all the way up in his throat as he walked away. He lurched forward, grabbed his horse’s lead and his brother’s hand and dragged them away.

"Spayar-

"Later," and Spayar said and stopped long enough to help Duren onto his horse. He scrambled up after his brother.

"But who was that-

"Duren," Spayar said sharply and kicked his mare into a canter to get away from the stables. “Not. Now.” He looked over his shoulder but didn’t see Teldin. Thankfully Duren didn’t ask any more questions and Spayar could focus on putting as much distance between them and the Palace as humanely possible. It was of course this time, when Spayar felt the stress of Teldin and the Conflict on his shoulders, that he remembered that Lady Lenni was the name of a the High Priestess of Belladha, goddess of wisdom. What a stupid thing he’d think of now and what a pointless person Obi was going to see. Spayar didn’t know if he was more annoyed with himself for knowing who Lenni even was, or for thinking about that instead of the fact that Teldin had just promised him if he didn’t join him that he’d make sure Spayar visited a temple of Lemp.

He really hated the royals.

[bonestoashes]

Lughnasadh/ Lamas

Original post here (Facebook post). So, we have the wheel of the year, and the wheel is based upon the sun, the moon, and the seasons. We have two equinoxes: Spring and Autumn; Also, two solstices for the Winter and Summer. In-between these we have 8 subsections: the sabbats. It is important to note that while all cultures have had significant ties to the seasons and the changes they bring, the concept of having all exact 8 holidays together as presented in the wheel of the year is a more modern (and Wiccan centric) idea. This means not all pagans celebrate these specific holidays but may still celebrate festivals that are closely related in meaning. Now to the history of Lughnasadh.

Lugh is the Irish Sun God. This is a very simple title and, as with many deities, he has epithets that show his domain rules over more than just the sun. He was known as a young warrior figure and was also called by the epithet Samildanach, which means ‘the many- skilled’. He is a part of the group called Tuatha De Danann, which is recognized as the last generation of Gods to rule over Ireland before the invasion of Milesius or the ancestor of the present-day Irish. In Irish mythology Lugh is a very well respected and celebrated God. There was a prophecy foretold that Balor would be killed by his grandson, which would be Lugh. To try and avoid his end, Balor planned the death of Lugh. Magic and fate intervened and Lugh survived, and was secretly raised by Tailtu. Many years pass as well as many endeavors and Lugh in turn is now grown and has many legends and stories to his name. It is after some time that his foster mother Tailtu took it upon herself to clear land for a plain so that food may be grown. She labored by herself, and after the work was done exhaustion overcame Tailtu and she died. In her honor Lugh commemorated a funeral festival. It has been known as Oenach Tailten and can be compared to the modern-day Olympics. This was a time for pacts and peace. There were sporting competitions, crafting competitions, trading, and general merriment. Grain and bread were possibly present as symbols of Tailtu for her gift of the plains. This festival, while in honor of Tailtu, also celebrated Lugh particularly for his element of having many skills. This festival became known as Lughnasadh.So where does Lammas come into play? Lammas was actually a Christian holiday. Lammas is a time for blessing the loaves of bread made from the newly harvested grain. There is also suggestion that this day was also tied to the feast of Saint Peter in Chains. I couldn’t find much information on how this holiday was celebrated though it seems it was more of a holiday that was about taking pagan roots and giving it a Christianized facelift for the sake of making conversion more appealing and easier. In medieval times it was also tied with an Anglo-Saxon ritual of taking your blessed loaf of bread and breaking into pieces to put in different corners of where your grains. So that is the historical notes on Lughnasadh and Lammas. Today many wiccans and neopagans celebrate them as the same holiday with both names being interchangeable. Now that we know the history time to move on to modern day celebrations. If you are on the path of Wicca or celebrate the Gods and Goddesses specifically tied to Lughnasadh then it should be fairly easy to figure out how the celebrations can fit into your worship and beliefs. What if you don’t fall into any of those categories? Well then you have to make some decision, mainly if this holiday and its ideas are one you want to implement into your worship. If you worship deities from other pantheons then you can see if there are any ‘replacement holidays’ if you will. Since we have already discussed the traditional ties of Lughnasadh and Lugh and Tailtu lets instead look into the motifs that make up this celebration so that those who are secular or worshipping other deities can figure out how to make this holiday work. Step back from the visual aspects of this holiday for a moment. The basis of this holiday, if you are celebrating it close to its Celtic core, is that it is about giving thanks to Tailtu for her sacrifice. Grieving her death and celebrating the new fields for harvesting. Thanks is also given to Lugh for his power in the sun, as the sun is important to the growth of plants. With the competitions and crafting that went on in these festivals the aspect of Lugh being many-skilled is also celebrated. Away from the ties to the Goddess and God, it is about celebrating the first harvest, which would have been the difference between thriving in life or suffering with famine in the days before grocery stores. This is also a day about reaping what you sow, which can be taken figuratively or literally. Now what about the physical aspects that you can add into your worship and festivities? Well bread and grains is a huge thing!  Corn dolls are popular. In reflection of the wheat, gold and yellow is a big color to use. Any tools that are used in agriculture can be used in ritual, such as a scythe or a sickle. Of course, these are only a small sample, you can include anything that feels right to you! We encourage you to share what you would personally associate with this holiday in the comments! So what if you worship a completely different pantheon? I would suggest looking into deities with similar connections as Lugh and Tailtu. Gods or Goddess that is connected to agriculture fertility, the sun, crafting and skills would be where you want to look. Speaking from a Hellenistic perspective this would be a good day to worship Hephaestus, Athena, Demeter, and Kore, and possibly Hestia. Kronia is actually very similar to Lughnasadh in that it is a festival celebrating Kronos as holding domain over harvest. For witches in hiding who need to integrate their celebrations in with mainstream American celebrations then Thanksgiving can be a good time to implement these ideas.

Sources and further reading: Lughnassadh/Lammas https://www.etymonline.com/word/Lammas http://www.paganlibrary.com/introductory/wiccan_sabbats.php https://www.thoughtco.com/celebrating-lammas-or... https://www.thoughtco.com/history-of-the-lammas-harvest... http://www.3pagansandacat.com/016 http://www.3pagansandacat.com/.../notes-for-wheel-of-the... https://www.yourirish.com/traditions/festival-of-lughnasadh http://www.holidayscalendar.com/event/lammas/ https://www.worldreligionnews.com/.../today-christians... http://www.patheos.com/.../07/lammas-where-did-it-come-from/ https://www.catholicculture.org/.../activities/view.cfm... https://wicca.com/celtic/akasha/lammas.htm Lugh: https://www.thoughtco.com/lugh-master-of-skills-2561970 http://www.celticnetwork.com/culture/mythology/lugh.html http://bardmythologies.com/lugh/ http://www.ancientpages.com/.../tailteann-games-ancient.../ “Lugh.” The Ultimate Encyclopedia of Mythology, by Arthur Cotterell and Rachel Storm, Lifetime Distributions, 1999, p. 145. "Baile in Scail or The Apparition on the Shadow.” Encyclopaedia of Celtic Wisdom: the Celtic Shaman's Sourcebook, by Caitlin Matthews and John Matthews, Element, 1994, pp. 254–256.

[fatecaster]

Wheel of the year – 2018 according to Wiccans - Reblog

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Wiccans, the new year is nearly upon us, which means it’s time to start planning our festivities for the Wheel of the Year! But as every Wiccan worth their salt knows, it can be hard to figure out what events matter during the year. Even more confusing is figuring out how to properly celebrate them! So many traditions have their own rituals, and with eight Sabbats to keep track of, it can be difficult to know what works. I follow the Wheel too, but I’m not here to scold you about tradition. Instead, I’m going to walk you through each Sabbat and its significance. We’ll chat about some common traditions and maybe even show you what solitary Wiccans like myself do during these events.

A Note About Sabbats

Before we begin, I want to explain the Wheel of the Year. A lot of confusion begins just by looking at the Wheel, which you can see below in these two example:

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It’s a little daunting, isn’t it? Well, it doesn’t have to be, so let’s break it down very quickly.

The Wheel

The wheel shows the events on the outer rim; you can tell because the Sabbats are listed below. They start in the winter, moving through the seasons as the Gregorian Calendar does. The inner rim indicates the astrological signs, or months, that are present before, during, and after the sabbat. Not all wheels will showcase the year like this, but it’s probably the one you’re most used to. The only thing that truly matters is the sabbats, so let’s take a look at them.

Greater and Lesser Sabbats

You may have come across this article on Witchipedia that discusses greater and lesser sabbats, but it doesn’t tell you the true difference. It just tells you that greater sabbats are holidays and lesser sabbats occur during the equinoxes and solstices. The true difference is that greater sabbats are the events that Wiccans never miss during the year. These are the powerful days during the calendar year, which BodyMindSpiritOnline shows to be days of high energy. That means it’s perfect for doing ritual magic. The lesser sabbats usher in the seasons. You’ll find that the actual sabbat may vary depending on where you’re located in the world, and we’ll get to that in a second. Just know that these sabbats are special, but don’t necessarily need a lot of pomp and circumstance.

1. Yule

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SpiritOfOld tells us that Yule lands on the Winter Solstice. It is generally celebrated between the 20th to the 23rd in December, but most people celebrate it on December 21st. It is the shortest day of the year and is celebrated as a lesser sabbat. The White Goddess has a great article going in-depth about Yule. She speaks mostly about Anglo-Saxon and Norse magick, however, so if this isn’t your tradition, just stick the aspects of her words that matter to you.

 After all, not all of us want to honor Thor and Odin during Yule!

Fire festivals are a common way to honor this sabbat. From raging bonfires to Circle Sanctuary’s suggestion of lighting candles on your altar, this is a time to honor both the night and be grateful for the sun.

ThoughtCo also reminds us that Yule is a time to focus on rebirth and renewal. This comes from having done shadow work throughout the autumn and fall, and we are now ready to step into the new year. Focus your magick on new beginnings and transformation!

2. Imbolc

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Imbolc, also known as Candlemas or St. Brigid’s Day, depending on your tradition, takes place on either February 1st or 2nd. It is a greater sabbat that Wicca.com tells us indicates the beginning of spring. It is considered one of the high holidays for all Wiccans. As Witchology puts it, Imbolc represents the shedding of the Crone aspect of the goddess and transforms her into a maiden yet again. It is during this time that predictions are made for the year based on the Wheel as well. 2018 predictions will show up around this time to coincide with the festival. There are a great many rituals that you can do during Imbolc; ThoughtCo has a pretty extensive list. You’ll find that most of these rituals focus on either fostering long-term spells, giving thanks for the turn in the season, and honoring St. Brigid, a goddess revered by those in the Celtic tradition.

3. Ostara

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Ostara, known as the Spring Equinox, is a lesser sabbat that is celebrated on March 21st. Named after the Germanic Goddess of Spring and Dawn, as Northern Paganism writes, this Sabbat celebrates the height of the season with an eye towards summer. Patheos notes that Ostara is an often misunderstood and overlooked holiday in the Wheel. This might have to do with the fact that its namesake has just one mention in ancient historical records and seems to be a 19th-century addition to the Sabbats. However, Ostara is still an important holiday, especially for Druidic Wiccans. It is a day when both night and day are equally long; in some traditions, it also celebrates the conception of the maiden goddess and a time for fertility. In that vein, Witchvox suggests that Wiccans celebrate Ostara by partaking in the earth. This can mean everything from creating a sacred offering filled with wild-harvested plants to planting a new garden. Some people also choose to do a fast during this time, breaking for food after the equinox to stimulate their health.

​​​​​4. Beltane

Beltane, known as May Eve and Valpurgis, is a greater sabbat that takes place on May 1st. The White Goddess tells us that the sabbat celebrates the union of the God and Goddess; it is a very popular time for Handfastings, as you can imagine! Just like Ostara, Beltane is based on fertility and maternity. It is a time to foster love between couples, both new and maturing. ThoughtCo has a brilliant article outlining this very subject. It’s also important to remember fertility also includes the land; many festivals and rituals are performed outdoors, after moonrise on the eve of the sabbat. CircleSanctuary goes to great lengths about events you can do on your own or with your coven.

5. Litha

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Litha is a lesser sabbat that takes place on the Summer Solstice, or on June 21st. It is one of the largest celebrations of the Wheel, especially in the United Kingdom and Ireland; this is the sabbat where droves of people go to Stonehenge for the annual festival. One look at this Huffington Post article can show you that! Litha is known to begin the season of summer, of expansion. With Litha comes long, languid days and the promise of agricultural wealth. Whispering Words tells us as well that this is the height of the union between the God and Goddess, indicating a maturing of life, both in Wiccans and in the earth. Inter indicates that Litha was the time that farmers would ask their deities to bless their crops and farm animals. It’s traditional, then, to light large bonfires, cook sacred meals, and invoke your patron and matron deities to come forward and continue to bless you as you move through the year. ​​​​​

​6. Lammas

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Lammas is also known Lughnasadh and is a greater sabbat that takes place on or around July 31st every year. Most Wiccans know this sabbat as the “harvest sabbat,” because ThoughtCo reminds us that the event falls during the harvest in ancient times. To be more specific, Goddess and Green Man remind Wiccans that Lammas is the first harvest, also known as the Grain Harvest. The next two sabbats are also harvests, but this marks the beginning of reaping the rewards of hard work throughout the end of summer and into autumn. So how do we celebrate Lammas? You could do something simple like bake bread, as School of The Seasons suggests, always remembering to honor the grain from which the bread is born. You could also create a corn dolly, bake a feast, or honor your deities for the rewards they have blessed you with.

7. Mabon

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Mabon, which is most often just known as the Autumnal Equinox, is a lesser sabbat that Patheos reports didn’t exist until the 1970s. The word itself doesn’t seem to have any meaning and in fact, ancient Wiccans didn’t celebrate Autumnal Equinox, so this is one of the newest sabbats to the Wheel. This sabbat takes place on or around September 21st and, like Ostara, indicates the only other day in the year when day and night are the same length. Wicca.com also says that this is known as the Second Harvest of the year and focuses on fruits and wine. ThoughtCo states that this mid-harvest festival is a time to make crafts, wine, and begin cleansing yourself and your home. This is a good time for reflection upon the year and getting ready to honor your ancestors; shadow work also begins around Mabon, if not before, and continues through until Yule.

8. Samhain

Samhain, which is known as Halloween by non-Wiccans, was first celebrated as the festival that ushered in autumn and fall. New Grange explains this perfectly and also makes note that this greater sabbat, which is the most celebrated event of the Wheel, is the time where Wiccans honor their ancestors. Articles on this subject, such as this one from Druidry, also mentions what the sabbat is best known for: the time where the veil is thinnest between this world and the next. In ancient times, the winter season was thought to be the time of ghosts, and Samhain acted as the gateway for the spirits to pass through. While dressing up is part of the ritual for some Wiccans, especially on Samhain, you needn’t go that far. ThoughtCo has prepared a list of rituals and celebrations for you to partake in. It is a time during the year that spirit communication tends to be the strongest, so you might want to give that a try next year! I love celebrating the Wheel of the Year. As a Wiccan, each Sabbat is the highlight of my year. And while 2017 was a year governed by the Wheel, 2018 predictions have yet to be made. I just can’t wait for the new year to see what my favorite Wiccans have to say about the Wheel and the year! I hope you found this article helpful, but as always, I have to ask: did I miss something? Was there something you wanted to read about that I didn’t cover? Whatever your comments are, leave them down below and I’ll get back to you. If you liked the article, please, share it with your friends so you can all be ready when the Wheel turns again.

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