#twin larvae

[pik-zilla-124]

Happy 60th anniversary Mothra vs Godzilla!

Logo from here

[whatudottu]

Presently going insane rn:

Anyway let me talk about the one question that I have been contemplating ever since I began rotating petrosapiens in my mind. How the fuck do babies?

If you caught the reblog before this post, you might have noticed that a post about fat in aliens brought me to think about petrosapien fat, which contradicts a lot of what I've already established for them being an exoskeletal species, let alone being a hard sell in the sci-fantasy of rock crystal people of canon. Turning to one of my two animal inspirations of petrosapiens - bugs and more specifically in this case insects - I found out that insects can't build up fat, not in the way mammals or reptiles can, BUT they store the most of it in a very significant stage;

Larvae!

Then it fucking hit me, I already made some early headcanons about child development in petrosapiens (though I can't remember if I posted them or had a post ready to send) where they were already in a metamorphosing stage, though the responsibility fell solely to the layer who would use crystallokinesis to feed an 'egg'. I didn't fully like the idea though mostly in retrospect, because it felt strange in the 'pulled out of my ass' kinda way, a method of child rearing that felt more obligated to use crystallokinesis as a primary source for feeding to sorta justify at the time the inherent power petrosapiens have towards crystallokinesis.

Instead, between then and now I fully connected the idea that crystallokinesis is less of a power and more of an extension of a petrosapien's nervous system, compression of quartz through the use of a more electrical based nerve network that happens to not distinguish between person crystals and the similar crystalline structures of Petropia. With this in mind and the new idea that petrosapiens have larvae, wouldn't it be so cool if the larvae had the typical Earth-like electrochemical nervous system of humans (or I suppose bugs here) that adapts to an electrical focused nervous system through the process of metamorphosis? Where the larvae creates it's petrosapien crystal skin by building a chrysalis and melting within it to create their new body?

Unlike my old headcanon where the layer had to remain with the egg and constantly feeding them with crystallokinesis, this larvae version can feed itself when provided and so long as the chrysalis is well protected, the moment metamorphosis stage takes place the parent(s) can have momentary reprieve from child rearing and better prepare themselves for the toddler/adolescent stage for their child. The little grub probably doesn't even eat crystals in the early stages of their larvaehood since eating crystals initially marks as the materials for chrysalis building before it becomes a nutritional food source. Instead the little grub might be feed plants and potentially animal products in order for it to inherit and develop the chemicals required to build a crystallovorous stomach and the acids used to break silica down into digestible nutrition.

That does mean that early child rearing is a little bit more functionally deadly towards the very crystalline parents, who have to legitimately watch so that their fingers aren't bitten off, but holding the little grub is easy when it's covered in silicone membrane. The larvae at this stage is a little bit more resistant to any crystallovorous plant secretions due to the polymers of it's membrane, as well as the higher diversity of oxygen, hydrogen, and carbon in it's body it has in comparison to adults or adolescents who've undergone metamorphosis, their innards becoming a more uniform silicone and their skin being the crystalline silicon many crystallovorous stomachs have adapted to eat.

It also means that the shape of a grub is also considered to be cute to a petrosapien. Things from caterpillars to maggots look so much more charming to a petrosapien's eyes that back on Petropia there would be a large proportion of pet owners having what would considered on Earth to have bugs for pets. In fact, a rather common form of pet Petrosapiens might have would be a large millipede/centipede like animal that would be the size approximate of a feather boa and often held that way too, because while they do not undergo metamorphosis, they look like a larval grub well into adulthood and are considered to be very cute for it. Pet owners with these pets who are also parents love to see their little larvae and their 'dog' getting along and would love telling their adolescent all the cute stories of the little grubs curled up against each other. Petrosapiens in the age of the Surface Craze might have had the opportunity to get a few baby pictures like that, and it would be considered very cute unless you were a human afraid of bugs or not personally a fan.

Petrosapiens on Earth might see the miniature bugs and explode with cuteness overload, others might fuck around and find out that they can make human-petrosapien hybrids Makarat you chupacabra you're lucky petrosapien kids aren't born with crystals pay child support to your human wife who birthed a grub-!

And that's the post send tweet-

[wanderingokali]

Okalivember day 11, parasitoid!

The alarikti, or "comet wasps", are a diverse family of colorful parasitoid wasps.

The twin-tailed alarikti preys on a species of moth, and more specifically its caterpillar. It digs little holes in sandy soil where it drags its prey into after paralyzing it.

The sunset alarikti lays its eggs in the larvae of beetles inside dead, rotting wood. It spends a lot of time inspecting any dead tree it finds until it finds a suitable host.

The darling-faced alarikti is named after its large, cute golden eyes, with pseudopupils that seem to follow you around. It preys on aquatic fly larvae.

The fallen-star alarikti dwells in leaf litter, rarely flying and preferring to hunt on the ground for its larva's meal; a ground beetle.

[addicted2wasps]

I was recently made aware of this phenomenon, and my mind is blown. So cool. More art inspiration! Thank you for bringing this to my attention @revretch !

[iguanodont]

Illustrations and notes on two small invertebrate animals found along the Twowi coastline.

The first is a soft bodied creature from a diverse family of benthic invertebrates characterized by lack of eyes, echinoderm-like tube feet, and an ability to generate copious amounts of mucus from the dermis. Affectionately referred to as “little shrouded sister” in the local language, this creature is a rare but handsome find in the bottom of deep pools during Twin Moon tides, when the water recedes the furthest. It defends itself from predators with acrid tasting toxins in the mucus coating its “shroud”, which are released within seconds of being attacked. According to local legend, they are born of unfed larvae thrown into the sea, which survived by latching onto the backs of fish.

The second is a shelled animal whose name means “jointed worm”, though another common moniker is the “mud-rattle”. It gets this name from its peculiar shell, which links to each previous molt to form a long, articulated tail reminiscent of a rattlesnake’s. However, this armored tail carries no warning; it is simply an eye-catching distraction. As long as the vital organs in the first segment remain unharmed, this worm can live to grow another tail. They inhabit muddy sea floors across a wide swath of the world’s oceans, and range in size from just 2 cm to more than a meter. Ease of collection and tender flesh make this creature a popular seafood; boiled, steamed, or fried; it is arguably the “shrimp” of birg cuisine. The handsome shells are also commonly re-articulated for a second life as rattles and jewelry.

________

Also available as a print!

Patreon | Kofi

[evolutionsvoid]

In a land of plentiful fluids, there is a great variety of life that thrive within them! Be it water, bile or blood, these fluid bodies are always a host to an incredible array of aquatic creatures!

1. Silt Snorter - A large bottom feeding fish with two mouths and iconic whiskers. They spend their lives down near the silt and muck, using their twin mouths to suck it up and filter food through their hairy gills. Their long whiskers help them keep their bearings when the silt is disturbed and the fluid is clouded. Growing to giant sizes, they are prized trophy fish, but not so great for eating. Their flesh is tainted by their mucky diet, but with the sheer quantity you can get from a single catch, no one wants to waste it, thus folk have developed recipes to help mask the flavor. Also a good source of sea snot.

2. Nailbiter - A keratin clad fish with a dexterous maw. They specialize in pulling prey from nooks and crevices, using their oral fingers to reach in and drag them out. With no actual biting or shearing teeth, they can only eat what can be swallowed whole. Their armored scales are tough but light, allowing them protection while not weighing them down. They are caught for their "fish fingers," a dish made from their oral digits. Legends like to say this fish came to be from a greedy fisherman who reached into the water for one too many fish and had the offending hand taken to replace what he stole.

3. Sperm Eel - An odd boneless fish known for its strange reproductive habits and milky nature. They live in riverside burrows, feeding on small invertebrates and floating bits. The species lives only long enough to reproduce once, as the viable adults congregate up river. When the time comes, these breeding fish straight up disintegrate into reproductive fluids, with the males becoming a cloud of sperm and the females a cloud of tiny eggs. Entire floats of white frothy egg masses form from this breeding session, creating thousands of larvae. This season can clog rivers with these rafts, but it is a bountiful moment for other species that come to feed. When it comes to fishing them, they must be caught and kept alive, as their bodies melt upon death. Though there is no meat to gain, they are used as a soup thickener and add a delightfully milky and salty flavor to a dish.

4. Syringefish - A parasitic fish of the rivers that targets larger piscines or wading beasts. Their single tooth is hollow and built for sucking Blood from prey. Typically look for sluggish fish to feed on, or disturbances from animals swimming. Will ram themselves into whatever flesh they can find and drink as much as they are able. Their stomachs can swell up to fit their meal, growing until they are practically sphere shaped. A pest to any who have to deal with them when wading through the river or trying to catch fish that don't have puncture wounds all over. At least good for a nice bloody snack for those who catch engorged ones.

5. Scabfish - Crimson in color and crusty in texture, they typically appear in bloody waters or in scarred regions. They rest upon the floor of the fluid body, waiting for prey to pass close for an ambush. Their rough scabby skin makes them unappealing to some predators, and make them quite abrasive to handle. Some seafolk may use their dried skin for sanding wood and ivory. Can also be used to make scab crackling.

6. Urolith Fish - A jagged fish that prefers to rest on the bottom rather than swim, using its wide fins to crawl in a way. Typically hides in tight spaces and uses ambush tactics to swallow prey. They are infamous for their spiny bodies. with nasty spikes that break off agonizing shards into those who touch them. Once inside the flesh, they are difficult to remove and are prone to breaking into smaller pieces. These fish serve as a reminder to watch your step when wading through the shallows. To be avoided and not eaten, as their meat reeks of urea. Some shady folk have found their spines good as debilitating knives, stabbed into victims to paralyze them with pain.

7. Mantinia - A colorful creature of chitin that slices through the water with its razor body. Its frontal appendage is designed for lashing out with blinding speed and snaring slippery prey in its barbed grasp. It lacks a true mouth, and instead uses its hollow spines on this "arm" to suck fluids from its prey. Its vivid coloration is believed to be used to win over mates. Despised by fisherman for stealing catches, cutting lines and shredding nets. Legends say that this fish came to life when a warrior surrendered his colorful chitin blade and gave it to the water.

8. Skullcracker - A powerful bulky fish known for its bony forehead and cracking teeth. They feed primarily on ivory corals and other hard-bodied prey, using a mouthful of broad teeth to shatter shells and armor. Their bulging forehead is solid and makes for a good weapon against predators and rivals. They make for dangerous catches, as they may ram the boat with their head or jump from the waters at inopportune times to concuss the unwary fisherman. They have gained this name for a reason.

9. Snot Shroud - A tiny fish that is capable of producing an incredible amount of Phlegm, they use it to surround their body in a false mass. This mucus sheath acts as a fake body and shield, allowing them to ward away parasites and survive predation. This sticky mass also collects food particles and tiny prey for the fish to feed upon. A potent producer of sea snot, and typically kept alive by seafolk on ships to churn out this marine Phlegm for medical purposes.

10. Searfish - A parasitic fish that possesses Yellow Bile and a nasty suction cup on its head. This structure is made to latch onto the sides of larger fish, where it then pumps the burning humor to melt through scale and flesh. The porous surface of this sucker allows it to absorb nutrients from its host, feeding on fluids and digested flesh. Typically target leviathans as their vast size allows them to shrug off these wounds. Circular scorch marks are the scars they leave behind, and some fisherman have found them on the bottom of their boats. If not deterred, they can scorch straight through the floor of a small canoe or boat, thus fisherman take steps to keep the burning buggers away.

11. False Floater - A seemingly rotting fish that plays a deceptive game. Their belly-up posture and patchy skin makes them look quite dead, but this fish is alive and well. A gas filled bladder suspends them in the water, while perfect stillness lures in scavengers. A multi-part jaw filled with needle teeth snares prey that comes to feed on this supposed corpse. Though they are not actually rotting, their meat is very pungent and slimy, thus is avoided when it comes to eating. Their dead appearance does lead to them being associated with the Mother of Snow.

12. Spiretail - A creature instantly recognizable due to their preference of hanging vertically and upside down in the water. They often hover just above the bottom, feeding on the small bits and critters that pass by. Sharp shards of Black Bile jut from their bodies, warding off predators. Often hang out in groups, gaining more protection through numbers. A bane to swimmers who accidentally swim through these schools, as such encounters guarantee several lacerations.

13. Cysthorse - A diseased looking fish that is actually filled with a burning toxin. Attempts to eat or touch them will result in these noxious boils to rupture and seep out this vile poison. Flesh that comes in contact with this fluid often winds up looking like the fish's unsightly skin. Avoided when it comes to fishing as one snared in a net may ruin both the net and the catch with its boiling fluids. Plus, they are associated with sickness, thus their appearance is an omen for future afflictions upon the catcher.

14. Sawtooth - A vicious fish with a killer overbite, they use their protruding blade of teeth to wound and shred prey. Appear to be solitary and not fans of their own kind, judging from the scars their hide often bears. They are a prized catch of any fisherman, though bringing them in without losing the line or a limb is difficult. Their upper jaws are often saved as trophies and turned into tools or weapons.

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

Recently got and completed the fishing game Dredge and was inspired by it. So the obvious choice was to fill the fluid bodies of FOI with some fishies!

[astoundingbeyondbelief]

Hope I'm not bothering you, but I saw these images and got confused since apparently Kong was supposed to be the winner in KKVG, is the actual outcome a draw or a win for Kong?

This is an impressive number of official sources calling the fight a draw - but these books often parrot each other on matters the films don't spell out and it all strikes me as a lot of cope. The movie ends with Kong swimming home, pretty much unscathed, while the characters are not even sure if Godzilla is still alive. Of course, we know from that later movies that he did survive, but in Shinichi Sekizawa's unproduced treatment Continuation: King Kong vs. Godzilla, the characters believe that Godzilla is dead when they first discover him (understandable, as he's not breathing), with one even saying that he "sank and died in the waters off Atami." Sekizawa also wrote King Kong vs. Godzilla, so going off that, I seriously doubt that he intended the fight to be a draw. At most, he saved face for Godzilla by not showing the knockout blow.

Now, in wrestling terms, the fight could be considered a ring out - both combatants left the "arena" (the Japanese mainland) and didn't return in a timely manner. But there's not exactly an accepted method of scoring monster fights, especially those that happen in the context of a narrative. This is underscored by the incredible claim in one of the linked sources that Godzilla (presumably the second Showa incarnation) has only two draws (to King Kong and Rodan) and one loss (to the twin Mothra larvae). Does that make the final fight in Invasion of Astro-Monster a victory, even though it ends in the same way as the King Kong vs. Godzilla finale? Are his fights with Mothra in Ebirah, Horror of the Deep and Hedorah's flying form just ignored? It seems exceedingly generous all around.

[child--ish]

yk, having an aquatic phase and being in the TWST fandom is very useful because ✨️Octavinelle✨️

Like did you know moray eels have a phase when they're just hatched when they are transparent?

It's called the larva stage!

and they look like this↓

Fascinating, right?

I mean imagine the twins like this!

[saliinthia]

Desert folk are nomadic, though during the mating and birthing season most clans come together to settle in riverside towns. These times are always full of creativity and partying, as well as a time of relaxation for most. The desert folk celebrate their collective religion, worshipping the twin suns. They share stories and writing, feast, make clothing, dance, and engage in artistic and hedonistic activities for the duration of mating season. After the season ends, most clans leave the towns to resume their livestock’s feeding rotation, but some clans stay behind in the riverside towns to tend to the buildings and grow crops in the fertile soil.

After the season, work begins once again. The desert folk travel in a rotation unique to each family clan, feeding their livestock on various desert plants. The cow-like animals produce crop milk, hair, hide, and meat. To protect their herds, mature members of a clan carry a rifle. These guns are basic and equivalent to our own blackpowder rifles of the past. They are powerful but relatively inaccurate and slow to reload, so they are used as a last resort or to scare off skittish predators.

These livestock are the most widely produced due to their hardiness and the variety of materials they produce. Both cows and bulls produce a milky substance using a digestive organ similar to that of Earth’s birds. Bulls produce less of this liquid, but it is more nutrient dense and bacteria dense to help the bull’s cows or calves gain strength or work through a sickness. Bull crop milk is known for having healing properties and the small amounts of it and importance for the herd’s health makes it expensive.

Crop milk is obtained by massaging the crop of a cow or bull until it regurgitates it. It takes practice to feel the crop and figure out if the texture is ready to be consumed. This substance is cottage cheese consistency, and is separated into the curds and liquids. Curds are used to make cheese, while the liquid is used for drinking and cooking.

These animals are protgynous hermaphrodites, meaning that the most dominant cow in the herd’s body will start changing and producing testosterone until she becomes a bull that can take over when the old bull is sick, weak, dead, or otherwise absent. Bulls will protect their cows with ferocity, and mate with each one during mating season.

When a cow gives birth, it is to 5-6 live grub-like pupae that cling to her back and consume crop milk. During this time, many larvae will die until 1-2 are left. When the grubs are ready to pupate, the mother consumes them and stores them in her crop until they are finished pupating, and during this time the cow does not eat. After the babies are finished pupating, the mother regurgitates them, and they can finish growing to their adult forms. She will continue feeding them crop milk until they can eat solid matter on their own.

[adm-starblitzsteel-4305]

Young Battra, mothra, and goji.

Battra doesnt like that mothra is spending more time with godzilla than with him

SHORT STORY OF HOW IT HAPPENED:

Battra felt content about protecting his twin sister from any harm. If they would, then Battra will pay them such insolence and fight. He is closed to her since the day they both hatched out from their respective eggs, which they always thought about where were their parents. Survival is a must, the two strived in the forests until the humans came to worship them as Guardians.

As young larvae, they spend themselves meditating and talking, to Mothra's positivity.

Until the young prince Godzilla arrived.

Battra is aware about his kind being ravaged onslaught by the MUTOs. No doubt that Godzilla is the last of his kind.

The Prince of the Monsters claimed to have been adopted by Methuselah after he ran away from his dying father from the MUTOs several weeks ago.

Battra only sees Godzilla as a stranger which he never quite like him.

Except Mothra.

His twin sister always hanging out with him, sharing and enjoying each other's company. This made Battra felt jealous and a surge of overprotectiveness instinctly warned him about this.

A frenemy rival between Godzilla and Battra is stupidly childish, with Mothra trying to make peace between them.

As they reach their adult stages, Battra finally gave up rivalling the Prince of the Monsters, now as the new King. With Battra and Mothra as adults and are now in position as the Guardians of the Earth, Battra makes a final vow to remind his sister how much he loved her as a family.

The gesture made Mothra reassured her twin brother that they will be close to their heart.

This eventually eased his jealousy and protectiveness after Godzilla and Mothra are tied to knot as King and Queen of the Monsters before the birth of Mothra Astra.

[onenicebugperday]

Here is a Bug(related) present

Mothra is one of my favorite Godzilla kaiju so here’s twin Mothra larvae

I love you baby Mothras

[yellosnacc]

bigger Central religion post

Journey of the lost souls by an unknown pilgrim

A scene from the story of the "crystal Head".

With the help of a "harpy", the great sinner crosses the bridge to the new land as their sea-born crystal body cracks under the weight of a thousand souls.

If they were to fail, the sky may become richer, but the Uniima will end.

This is a bigger central Foru uniima religion post. All the information here is about the central religion's beliefs, not the world's biology or physics.

Now let's get the context for the painting.

To leave the Physical, one must die at a ripe age so that their wisdom can be put to the test. The glowing triangles are the souls of uniima. They resemble a larva/white and are parasite-like in behavior. After a soul is released out of a body by premature death (or created) it holds onto someone (soul-binds) until it's passed into a new body. Soul bonded can be anything with a soul but uniima souls are picky in what they cling onto and usually pick a parental figure, a friend, or pupil. When the soul senses an empty unii-body, it moves in. Twins/triplets are considered 'one-soul' with special powers.

The one depicted to carry this soul mass is the uniiman spiritual leader/s (their historical body and events), sometimes called the Heads, but there's definitely a better name in the native language (slomen and O.s use this name). The Head/s existed for most of the religion's history and is the one to name the 'uniima' (translates "own-one-mind". It's the name of the central people. Because of historical events, it caught on between aliens as the species name). Head/s is immortal because of a "curse" set on them for breaching into the spiritual world thousands of years ago. Since this event, they have been changing bodies and fixing their sins until today. Nowadays, they are considered the wisest, mentally strongest, and morally cleanest soul - an inspiration for everyone (which keeps them in power over Central Foru among other things).

More about the current Heads.

This art comes from an early chapter, only a few hundred years after the creation of people. After the Head dooms the uniima by peaking into the Spiritual, society starts falling faster than it did ever before, finally resulting in the 'death of creature people'. This society was one of constant sin and destruction since no holy parts were remaining (too complicated, let's leave that for another time), so this scene is something of a strange bitter-sweet moment. With both the land and the people gone (yes, land too), the Head is once more reincarnated - being put into a body of melted sand and rock. They collect all the wandering souls unable to ascend and travel to a new land with the help of a half-uniima-half-animal who feels sorry for the people it shares a soul with. This journey is the first major lesson and soul-cleaning of the Head. Now, what is the thing in their jaws?

This motive is common in images with the Head, but it's not very realistic for the time period. These "flesh lists" worn on the lower tongue-hand are a modern-ish invention. People wear these on special occasions. They show all the past lives on a uniima and can get very long in high mortality areas (soul moves until a body reaches the desired age to be final-judged). The significance and uses of these in status get very complicated, but I will keep it simple. A short scarf/list makes one seem strong, with potential, being naturally gifted, and wealthy. A long scarf shows weakness, and a tendency to sin, but also patience, and a wise mind (which in many cases is the most important feature of a person).

In religious art, "scarfs" help mark chapters, but in "Journey of the lost souls" it's to depict the scale of the tragedy.

Lastly, the Heads' stomach. It shows them moving a large "hole" out of their body. This is symbolism for shedding a sin. It's said a mind and body should be able to naturally "regurgitate" any "object" out of their stomach, clean of the evil within it.

Bad nature - sins, bad thoughts (even physical stuff such as poison and drugs), is stored in the stomach. The "hungrier" you are the more evil you have to shed and the more you are controlled by this "evil hunger". Being flagged as a "stomach-thinker" is not calling you a food enjoyer but rather an insane/deranged person. However, some regions consider the stomach the default thinking center (what's a brain?), so it's more like a scale of good to bad stomach.

If anything needs more explaining or isn't explained properly, please inform me in the replies or send me an ask for a dedicated post. Thank you for reading this far <3

[dinowolfthezombie]

Made my designs for the twin larvae in my au Brothers of Ash. I'm not super sure about these designs, I was mostly focusing on making the anatomy accurate to caterpillars.

[floragators]

Thinking about how Dr Phosphorus gets to be a father again with my oc Mother of Flies’ twin girls, Francine and Helen, who look like fly larvaes but he doesn’t care because he loves and cares for them either way.

He especially now can see them for the children they really are despite seeming like disgusting fly larva when they’re in fact supposed to be human babies :(

I need to draw him just being a father with them and maybe even pretending to fly (iykyk)

[fanficapologist]

Of Dragons and Maelstroms

Themes and Warnings: slow burn, enemies to lovers, blood, violence, explicit language, sexual violence, period-typical misogyny, sexual themes, smut, tension, marriage, jealousy, pregnancy, childbirth, miscarriage, attempted sexual assault, breastfeeding, major character death, divergent timelines

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood/Game of Thrones characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Chapter Fifty-Five

Fire and Blood- the ancient words of House Targaryen. An interesting choice, yet completely truthful in revealing what the Valyrian’s stood for. Both words were initially seen as destructive, threatening and cruel, but upon closer inspection, this was not always the case.

Fire embodied the wrathful force of dragon fire, a fearsome power wielded by Maera's ancestors. It symbolized the fiery conquest that shaped the Seven Kingdoms under Aegon the Conqueror and his sister-wives. Their dragons, winged creatures of destruction, became instruments of subjugation, turning rebellious lords and resisting kingdoms into ashes. Fire echoed the unyielding strength of House Targaryen, rooted in the flames that forged their dominion over the Realm. It was a reminder of the price paid in burning ambition, of the searing path toward dominion that defined the Targaryen dynasty.

Yet, despite the initial chaos, fire could be healing and purifying. Maera had read that in the year following Aegon’s Conquest, the crops in Westeros had grown three times as big, and that less crops were becoming subject to disease and decay. In her interpretation, fire symbolized renewal and rejuvenation. The flames, once agents of conquest, became catalysts for new life. The purifying aspects of fire, as witnessed in the fertile lands that emerged from the ashes, spoke to Maera of a transformative force, capable of healing wounds and fostering growth. It was a perspective that transcended the destructive history, embracing the idea that from destruction, there could emerge a fertile ground for new beginnings.

The flames could also bring solace as Maera recalled how the hearth in her chambers seemed to always be alight. The fire would flicker with hues of orange, gold, and red, casting a gentle glow that illuminated the room. The crackling sounds formed a comforting symphony, echoing the rhythm of their shared moments.

Recalling times with Aemond, she enjoyed how they would sit for hours by the hearth, the warmth enveloping them in a serene cocoon. Silently reading, they found comfort in the companionable silence, interrupted only by the occasional soft rustling of turning pages. Aemond’s fingers traced delicate patterns on her hand, a simple yet reassuring gesture that spoke volumes in their shared sanctuary by the fire.

Helaena, who was known to always see the best in things, also saw fire as a marvellous creation that could be used in a way that would achieve greater outcomes. When they were younger, Maera recalled her friend educating her on how some species of butterfly benefited from forest fires. This was because the fires created open spaces and new growth, providing favorable conditions for certain plants that served as host plants for butterfly larvae. In fact, one year, when Helaena was pregnant with the twins, Maera somehow managed to procure some of the larvae for her dear friend as a nameday present.

Blood appeared to be a more complex element, yet Maera had come into contact with it more frequently than fire during her time in the world. The blood from the animals she had slain during a hunt held a primal significance. Once the meat was cooked, it became a source of sustenance for her family, ensuring their health and satiating their hunger. In this context, blood was a vital and nourishing force, connecting the family to the cycle of life.

The blood she witnessed on her new siblings, born fresh from her stepmother’s womb, held a profound significance. It symbolized the continuity of life, the bond within her family, and the promise of a future generation. The arrival of new blood into the world brought a sense of renewal, growth, and the perpetuation of House Wylde’s legacy.

Maera's experience with her first Moon's Blood, at the age of sixteen marked a significant transition into womanhood. Despite the pain and mess, it symbolized her ability to bring forth life into the world, connecting her to the timeless cycle of creation. This natural and biological occurrence connected her to the generations of women who had come before her, creating a shared experience that transcended time and bound them together.

On her wedding night, the blood on the sheets following the consummation of her marriage with Aemond was a societal marker of purity and untouched innocence in the eyes of the Gods, a notion that Maera found to be somewhat absurd. Despite her reservations about these traditional expectations, she acknowledged the weight that such rituals carried in the eyes of those around her, and how the blood mixed with her husband’s seed on the sheets marked the formal beginning of her marital journey and the merging of her life with Aemond’s.

Her encounter with blood changed in the two moons following her marriage to the One-Eyed Prince. Maera had experienced her womb bleeding since the wedding, about a fortnight after the consummation. However, instead of her usual five to seven days of using rags to collect and dispose her Moons Blood, the bleeding only lasted for a day, with the occasional cramping in the weeks that followed.

Maera’s reluctance to consult the Maester stemmed from a blend of stubbornness and a desire not to appear foolish or uninformed about the changes her body underwent after marriage. Assuming these alterations were a normal part of a woman’s experience, possibly linked to regular intimacy with her husband, Maera chose to keep her observations to herself.

Yet, the presence of blood was not always seen as a positive. In her training sessions with the sword, the cuts on her flesh symbolized mistakes and were accompanied by the sharp sting of acknowledgment. Each drop of blood mirrored a momentary lapse in her skill, urging her to better herself. Blood also brought forth scars – reminders etched into her skin. Not all scars were viewed fondly; some carried the weight of missteps and lessons learned.

A few months previously, when Maera had forced herself into Helaena’s room after Aegon had barricaded her in there, the blood on the sheets indicated that the Queen had been raped by the King; her own husband, her brother, simply because he could. From that blood came trauma, pain and confusion for Helaena, as well as a new life beginning to grow within the Queen. And all Maera could do was comfort her friend , and help her pick up the pieces afterwards to ensure Helaena could continue on.

However there were times that Maera could not always do that. Sometimes the pain was just too much to bear, and a friend’s embrace or comforting words would not erase the horror that had been inflicted. Such a night was when the word ‘blood’ came to have another meaning; the name of a man who would take something precious from the Greens, alongside his accomplice, Cheese.

The evening had began much like any other. As twilight draped its gentle hues over the Red Keep, a serene ambience enveloped the ancient fortress. The towering spires and stone walls, adorned with the remnants of the day's sunlight, cast long shadows across the courtyards. The air whispered with the subtle transition from the vibrant hues of the day to the muted tones of night.

Within Maera and Aemond's chambers, the soft glow of candles and the flickering light of a hearth created a warm and intimate atmosphere. The furnishings, draped in rich fabrics, seemed to absorb the twilight's colors, casting a cozy and inviting spell upon the chamber. Past the grand windows, the sky painted a canvas of purples and golds, mirroring the quiet transition within the walls of the castle.

Prince Aemond, the Master of Coin, sat at his imposing writing desk, a commanding figure engrossed in the meticulous task of crafting reports and ledgers. His long silver-white hair cascaded over his shoulders, framing a face marked by sharp contours, his eye patch concealing his sapphire, and a firm jaw set in concentration. His long, slender fingers, deftly holding a quill, danced across the parchment, weaving lines of ink into intricate financial reports. The ledgers sprawled open beside him, bearing the weight of the realm's economic intricacies.

Aemond’s violet eye occasionally shifted from his work to glance at his wife, who stood gracefully by the window in a simple black cotton dress adorned with golden threading. Her long, dark, curly hair cascaded freely down her back, with a distinctive silver streak woven into the locks.

As the ambient light highlighted the rich hues of the room, Maera stood before her easel, engrossed in putting the finishing touches on her dragon egg painting. Her green eyes, filled with artistic determination, were fixed intently on the canvas, capturing the essence of the dragon egg with each precise stroke, adding the extra details of depth and dimension to the portrait before she gifted it to Helaena and the children.

The sudden commotion in the corridors sent a ripple of tension through the air, causing both Aemond and Maera to instinctively shift their focus towards the door. The distant echoes of men yelling created an eerie symphony, interwoven with the hurried footsteps that echoed in the passageways. The unmistakable sound of clattering armor intensified the atmosphere within their chamber, casting a shadow of uncertainty.As the noise grew closer, the room seemed to hold its breath, the anticipation palpable. Aemond, with his sharp violet eye, glanced at Maera, while her green eyes reflected a mix of concern and caution.

The Prince rose from his writing desk with a cautious demeanor, his posture reflecting a subtle tension as a look of concern etched across his features.

“Stay here,” he ordered Maera, along with a measured gesture of his hand. Silently, he walked to the wall, fingers deftly securing his sword and sheathing it into his belt. His purposeful strides carried him out of the room, leaving Maera with a sense of suspense and a room filled with unanswered questions.

Maera carefully placed her paintbrushes and sponges into a silver bowl filled with water, the shades of purple and grey swirling together in the liquid. As anxiety crept into her stomach, she wiped her hands on a damp cloth, her senses heightened by the unsettling atmosphere.

The cacophony outside intensified, and above the tumult, a heavy wooden door creaked open along the corridor. Queen Alicent’s voice, tinged with urgency, sliced through the air, and the frantic quality heightened the tension in the room. Just as the uneasiness settled in, a heart-wrenching scream, unmistakably Helaena’s, shattered the air—a mournful, piercing cry that left Maera with an unsettling sense of foreboding.

Maera's instincts kicked in before her mind could fully process the unfolding situation. In a swift motion, her hand snatched her dagger from the wall, and her body propelled her forward with urgency. The corridor blurred as she ran, the rhythmic pounding of her footsteps echoing the anxiety that churned within her.

Her thoughts were a whirlwind of concern for Helaena, coupled with worry for Aemond, who had ventured toward the disturbance ahead of her. Every step she took heightened her own unease, her breath quickening and heart pounding in sync with her hastening pace. The unknown lay ahead, and Maera, driven by a mixture of fear and determination, pressed on toward the source of the commotion.

As Maera pressed forward, the torchlight flickered ominously against the cold stone walls, casting an eerie shadow against a lifeless pile near the stone wall. Her green eyes wandered to the mass, focusing on it until the chilling sight became clear- two guardsmen, their lifeless bodies sprawled on the stone floor, throats brutally slit. A gasp escaped her lips, but her determination propelled her forward, guided by the anguished cries of Helaena echoing through the corridors.

Finally reaching the entrance to Alicent’s chambers, Maera’s path was blocked by a tumultuous sea of armored guards, their expressions grave and their weapons drawn. Undeterred, Maera wove through the throng, demanding passage with a command that bespoke her status as a Targaryen princess. Yet, before she could breach the doorway, a force halted her, a firm grip seizing her arm.

Ser Arryk's presence materialized, his bloodshot hazel eyes revealing the distress that gripped him. Disheveled, his typically neat hair hinted at the turmoil of the situation. His grip was a plea, and his words were both desperate and earnest as they tumbled from his mouth. “Please, Princess, do not go in there.”

In her protector’s eyes, Maera found a reflection of her own rising fear, a disconcerting deviation from his usual resolute demeanor. The desperation for answers fueled her determination to press forward. Despite Ser Arryk's plea, Maera, driven by an unyielding force to be with her sister-in-law and husband, wrenched her arm free. As she crossed the threshold into the chamber, her senses were assaulted by a scene that would haunt her. Time seemed to pause, and the world crumbled around her as the harsh reality of the situation unfolded before her eyes.

The air hung heavy with the scent of tragedy, a stifling reminder that the familiar tranquility of the Keep had been brutally shattered. Blood adorned the stone walls and floor like a gruesome tapestry, stark against the pale background. The chamber's furniture lay in disarray, a silent testament to the violence that had unfolded.

Queen Alicent, once regal and composed, now sat at a table, trembling and disheveled. Her auburn hair cascaded wildly around her, framing eyes filled with tears. Lord Commander Criston Cole, the embodiment of concern, hovered beside her, providing a semblance of comfort in the midst of the chaos.

A toppled wardrobe revealed an entrance to hidden tunnels, guarded by vigilant men with swords drawn. Maera's emerald eyes swept the room, capturing the tumultuous scene. Aemond, a force of fury, stood a few feet away from his mother. His violet eye ablaze with a righteous anger as silver strands of hair fell rebelliously around his face, matching the tumultuous storm within. The one-eyed Prince was unleashing a verbal torrent upon one of the Kingsguard, the deep bellow of his voice demanding answers, his words akin to a dragon's roar.

Amidst the chaos, the sound of a cry reached Maera's ears, drawing her attention to little Maelor. The two-year-old, innocent and frightened, was being cradled by a nursemaid. The woman's tear-streaked face reflected the horror that had unfolded. She tried to soothe Maelor, wiping away the blood stains on his face while her own hands trembled with fear. Maera's heart clenched at the sight, relieved that there seemed to be no visible injury on the child.

Little Jaehaera, her silver curls matted with crimson stains, stood eerily silent, her gaze fixed on a point unknown. The four-year-old's vacant stare stood in stark contrast to her brother's cries. Physically unharmed, yet emotionally distant, Jaehaera seemed lost in the commotion. Maera heard in the conversations going on around her that the King had been found unharmed in his own chambers, and was to remain heavily under guard. The chatter also revealed that Lord Otto, Lord Larys, Ser Tyland, Maester Orwyle and Maera’s own father, Lord Jasper were discovered alive and well. But there was a name missing from that list. A small presence with a a gleeful voice, full of energy and enthusiasm. Jaehaerys. Where was Jaehaerys?

Following Jaehaera's gaze, Maera's eyes landed on Helaena. Kneeling on the floor in front of the hearth, Helaena's screams and sobs echoed through the room, a tormenting lament that cut through all other voices in the chambers. Cradling something in her arms, the source of her devastation, remained obscured by her figure and shadows of the fire, leaving a haunting mystery in the air.

As Maera approached her best friend, the hushed gravity of the room intensified, an unspoken understanding that this moment held a profound weight. Maera furrowed her brows in concern as she cautiously reached out, placing a hand on Helaena's shoulder. The room seemed to collectively hold its breath. Helaena, gripped by an unfathomable distress, tensed at the touch. Her neck whipped around to face Maera, revealing an olive green dress now stained with an overwhelming amount of blood and remnants of flesh.

The room seemed to darken around Maera as she cast her eyes downward and fixated on the grotesque and unholy abomination before her, wanting to look away, but finding it impossible to. Blood-soaked and lifeless, the small body of Jaehaerys lay cradled in Helaena's trembling arms, mutilated and broken, missing his head.

The ghastly reality of what had occurred that night came crashing down on Maera, her breathing catching in her throat before letting out a horrified sob. The sight etched itself into her memory, a haunting image that would forever change the course of their lives. In that harrowing moment, a suffocating wave of shock overcame Maera. Her body, once a vessel of warmth and life, was now gripped by a rapid heartbeat, cold beads of dread forming a chilling sweat on her skin. The horror before her drained the color from her face, leaving it pallid, a canvas of disbelief painted in shades of despair.

The weight of the scene, the gruesome reality of a headless child cradled in Helaena's arms, pressed upon her like a leaden shroud. As she stared at the unthinkable, the physical sensations of grief and trauma manifested within her, a whirlwind of emotions too overwhelming to articulate. Helaena's purple eyes pleaded with Maera, a silent desperation that resonated through the anguished wails.

In that instant, it became clear that the pain was not confined to a single soul; it reverberated through the room, through the very core of the Red Keep. The world blurred before Maera's eyes, and, unable to bear the weight of the tragedy, she succumbed to the darkness, the overwhelming despair pulling her into unconsciousness.

In the disorienting haze of awakening, Maera jolted upright in her bed. The inky blackness outside the window hinted at the passage of many hours, shrouding the chambers in a cloak of night. As her eyes adjusted to the dim candlelight flickering in the room, Maera surveyed her surroundings. The darkness seemed to cling to the air, and a wet rag on her forehead slipped off as she moved.

Aemond, silent and watchful, sat at the foot of the bed. His one eye, a lone sentinel in the shadows, was fixed on her. In that fragile moment, with reality settling upon her like a heavy cloak, Maera dared to hope that the horrifying scene she had witnessed was nothing more than a cruel dream. But the air, heavy with unspoken sorrow, seemed to whisper a truth that shattered that fragile hope.

Her husband’s violet eye bore the weight of a myriad of emotions – grief, anger, and an underlying vulnerability. His usually stoic demeanor cracked, revealing the profound impact of the tragedy. The flickering candlelight cast shadows on his sharp features, emphasizing the lines etched by the night's events.

“Jaehaerys…” Maera uttered, as if it were a prayer. Perhaps it was. A plea to the Gods that they would take all of this horror away.

At the sound of his nephew’s name, Aemond furrowed his brow and tensing his jaw, inhaling deeply before rising from the bed, fists clenched at his side. “Two men got in through the tunnels.” He paused, as if trying to process the next words himself. “They made Helaena choose which one of her sons should die.”

A disorienting mix of emotions overwhelmed Maera—fear, sorrow, and an indignant rage that simmered beneath the surface. At the thought of her friend suffering so, panic gripped Maera, and she attempted to rise from the bed, her heart pounding. The room spun, and a dizzy spell overcame her. Aemond swiftly moved to her side, his strong presence steadying her.

“You need to rest,” Aemond urged gently, his gaze filled with concern as he guided her back into the bed. Tears welled in Maera’s eyes as she lay back, the weight of grief and disbelief settling upon her.

The Prince remained at Maera’s side, sitting next to her on the bed and silently offering his support in the face of a tragedy that had shattered the contentment they had found with one another in the short time of marriage they shared.

Aemond's silence finally broke, his voice edged with restrained anger, "This is my whore half-sister’s doing."

Without looking at him, Maera questioned, "How can you be sure?"

Aemond, through gritted teeth, explained, "The Maester was called to give milk of the poppy to soothe Helaena's hysteria. I have never seen anybody scream so much. Before she fell asleep, she managed to tell us the words the men spoke to her."

Pausing for a moment, Aemond's intense gaze prompted Maera to look up at him. He stated solemnly, "A son for a son."

Maera, with a sniff, tried to steady her breath as she attempted to process the information. They had never spoken about it properly, but she knew that Rhaenyra would exact revenge for her beloved son, Lucerys. Aemond had drew first blood by killing the boy who took his eye, thus formally beginning the war between the Blacks and the Greens. What Maera did not expect was that Rhaenyra, a fellow mother, would do something so cruel to Helaena, her own sister, who was innocent in all of this.

In a gesture that spoke volumes, Aemond reached out, his fingers intertwining tightly with hers. It was a silent pact, an unspoken agreement to weather the storm together. The strength in the clasp belied the fragility beneath, as if any other form of affection might unravel his tightly held composure, exposing the raw grief at the loss of his nephew. Determination flared in his eyes as he declared, "They will not get away with this. Before the Gods, I swear, we will get our revenge,” he promised firmly, his thumb tracing soothing circles on the back of her hand.

Maera furrowed her brows, nodding with a clenched jaw. "With Fire and Blood," she affirmed, their shared resolve cutting through the sorrow that hung in the air, a pledge to avenge the loss of their nephew and confront the shadows of House Targaryen’s tangled and complicated history.

Notes: I’m back! Sorry I had a really difficult week in the real world but the writing bug struck and here we are. This is the start of some major events in the story, and there will be more jumps forward in time. My heart breaks for Helaena 💔 and unfortunately it’s going to get worse. I just want to wrap her up in a blanket and put her in my pocket.

Tags: @blue-serendipity @manipulatixe @shesjustanothergeek @watercolorskyy @marvelescvpe

Thank you so much for reading! Comments, feedback, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated 🖤

[blaiddfailcam]

Suddenly reminded of how the Soul of the Twin Princes resembles the wings of the angels, and the fact that Lothric uses angelic magic, and latches to Lorian's back not unlike the angelic larvae to the Pilgrims of Londor... I still like to think it all implies that Lothric, instead of becoming a dragon through his father's attempts to "perfect" their bloodline, was born Lorian's guardian angel incarnate.

And it's neat how Elden Ring further explored this concept of twin souls with each Darian/Devin and Radagon/Marika...