#well I would say he was a slave to his own idea of freedom

[endlesslystarlitskies]

Reblogging because Jesus fuck I'm so tired of seeing ppl defend/excuse Eren for committing a literal genocide.

He literally said himself that the timeline was only set in stone because he himself wanted it to happen the way it did. Not to protect his friends. Like I need ppl to stop defending genocide. Please.

Quotes from the English dub anime:

Armin: And you're saying you did all this for us?

Eren: No. I didn't. I wanted to level everything. I wanted to see this sight.

Armin: Why?

Eren: I don't know why. I just wanted to do it... so very badly. I thought I was doing everything to protect all of you. But Sasha and Hange died because of me, and I wound up putting you in lethal confrontations with Floch. Why...

Eren: Why did it turn out this way? I finally know. It's because I'm an idiot. A garden-variety idiot who got his hands on power. That's why this resolution was the only possible outcome. That's all there is to it, right?

The fact that so many people view what Eren did as something selfless and heroic just blows my mind. He’s become so popular because of this too. Like the amount of people I see that praise him for what he’s done and just misunderstand his character and motivations is crazy even when he outwardly states what he is doing is bad multiple times. So many believe that he just did everything for his friends and in the end he achieved his goal. You have people praising him and then slandering the alliance members for wanting to stop all the death and destruction to save humanity which has been a core theme in all of AOT. It genuinely feels like they’ve watched a whole different anime. Maybe yams wasn’t clear enough for THESE people that what he is doing is wrong?? Isayama did say that he wanted people feel a little sympathetic towards Eren and his actions but like you should have the braincells to still understand he is in the wrong. Idk I just think the misunderstanding of Eren and AOT in general needs to be studied.

It really is bizarre, isn't it?

I don't really know how Isayama could have been any clearer, to be honest. He even made changes to the end of the anime to make it MORE clear that Eren did it for himself, and people still can't see it. Apparently, nothing is ever enough for some people, and it's honestly disturbing how many people just... don't get it, or aren't willing to accept that Eren was just a bad person. It's ironic, because Eren accepts that about himself. He knows he's a bad person. That's where all his self-loathing comes from. Of course we're meant to feel some sympathy for Eren. His very nature destroyed him, and that's a tragedy in and of itself. But we're not meant to feel sympathetic toward his actions, or the reasoning behind his actions, because those actions were entirely selfish in nature. We're meant to understand that a person like Eren should never have wound up with the power he did in the first place. The core message at the heart of the entire story is that when you oppress a group of people, inevitably, someone who shouldn't have power ends up with it. Someone who will use their power for ill. And that's what happened. It's why Reiner says repeatedly that Eren was the last person in the world who should have "ended up with the power of the Coordinate". Reiner recognized that because he saw himself in Eren. He saw that same capacity for evil, for nothing more than selfish gain.

Eren knew what he was doing was wrong, he knew it wasn't justified, and he knew it wouldn't solve anything, and yet you still have people claiming that he did it because he believed it was "the only way" to save his friends. Eren flatly admits, in the end, that that isn't true, when he admits that he knew he would fail to wipe out all of humanity beyond the walls, and yet he still went through with it, and he flatly admits more than once the selfish desire at the core of his actions. He wanted to do it, he wanted to see the sight of a desolate world. His own words are confirmation of it.

The people who slander the alliance for trying to stop a genocide are beyond sick, and I don't even know what to say to people like that. They're seriously delusional. You're right, it probably should be a point of study, lol. To really look at what sort of mental delusion leads to people justifying or excusing genocidal actions.

[pythoria]

astarion is such a great character but one reason that stands out to me is how he turns the vampire stereotype on its head. vampires from their inception have been metaphors for sexuality, back in ye olden times when religious and cultural dogma repressed people's desires and forbade acting on them. they've always represented latent sexuality and people's increasing desperation. they were a fantasy that allowed people to imagine not being bound by societal rules, but by their internal hunger, giving into it and how that might feel, but more than that, how it might feel to be a victim of that. women, especially, were not allowed to express any desires, so the vampire taking whatever they wanted, as well as being desired for something as intrinsic to your being as your blood - that's a powerful fantasy. at its core, vampirism is about loss of control, and people who hold onto control very tightly in their lives will find themselves drawn to vampires as a form of catharsis.

but that's where astarion comes in and flips it around. he's far from the first character to explore the negative sides of vampirism, but as a long-term fan of many fictional vampires, i think he does it best. primarily because his story delves into the sexual aspect and the loss of control much more, while maintaining a lot of realism. his vampirism is very grounded in reality; he has real human feelings about it. the idea that people would find the powerful vampire overpowering them alluring is contrasted by the very obvious (to us, a modern audience) issues with consent involved. if the vampire cannot control their hunger, if they have no control over the desires they act on, that might sound appealing to someone who has never been allowed to act on *any* desire, but the reality of it is horrifying. it's being a victim of assault at your own hands. it's people using you and you being unable to express any discomfort, because what *you* want is always backseating what the vampirism demands. the liberating feeling of being able to act on your desires turns into the claustrophobia of being unable to deny them at all.

vampirism always came with downsides, of course. not being able to walk in the sun (being exiled from the world and polite society), not being able to see your reflection (a loss of self), dying and being reborn, but not coming back quite the same, never being able to return to the person you once were (giving up life itself, but not arriving in a religious heaven, rather staying on earth past your time, defying god, giving up the chance at eternal bliss for the inherently sinful continuation of the flesh), eternal life (losing everyone you love, seeing everything end) akin to eternal damnation in hell. all of these downsides, and yet, with astarion, even the good bits are tainted, or turned into something negative.

on top of that, the choice to damn himself for any supposed benefits of vampirism wasn't even given to him. he was turned against his will, kept against his will, had his freedom - the only thing worth anything to a vampire - taken away. he didn't escape from a life that boxed him in, he was ripped away from a life he dearly misses. but then again, considering his actions as a magistrate, it's also a sort of divine punishment by proxy, one that is entirely disproportionate to his crimes, in a way only something as extreme as vampirism can be.

obviously the proxy for all this is cazador, but he is merely a personification of the dark force vampires are slaves to. cazador exists because it's much easier for an audience to understand how little control a vampire has over his actions when they can point to someone and say "you're at fault, astarion is innocent, you forced him to do all of those awful things". but the truth is, cazador doesn't have to exist. cazador's compulsion could be replaced by an amorphous urge, coming from inside astarion, outside of his control, and his character would make just as much sense, except it would be harder for everyone (including astarion himself) to separate the actions from the person. imagine a dark urge character who wanted to be good, but the urge wasn't something they could resist. imagine an evil dark urge run, killing everyone, but entirely against your will. would you defend that character? would you be able to redeem them if one day the urge ceased? would you even be willing to wait, to give them time to break free? or would you just kill them, as a mercy on the world? there's no surprise that most people would stake astarion on sight. maybe he can be redeemed eventually, but what about the time inbetween?

yes, this all comes from dnd vampire lore, so it applies across the board, not just for astarion. vampire spawn exist as a different entity from a fully-fledged vampire because it allows the spawn to keep a part of their humanity, their soul, and have their morality exist separately from the call of the blood. all of this makes astarion fascinating, and also somewhat easier to analyse.

[optimisticaudience]

Sound of Freedom, Operation Underground Railroad, and Tim Ballard are frauds who hurt the people who fight actual human trafficking.

Talk to anyone who fights real trafficking, they will tell you what is wrong with Ballard. To start with, he used to fight child sexual exploitation as a federal agent but he quit to act as a vigilante. Here is the short version of how OUR works: they go into a foreign country and throw money around until a pimp approaches them. They then tell the pimp they want children, and ask the pimp to bring kids to a secondary location. Then they call the cops, have the police arrest the pimps, streams the arrest on FaceTime for a high tier donor, and then go home. If you don’t get what’s wrong with this let me explain: OUR raises the demand for child sex slaves. A mommy blogger who Ballard brought along wrote an entire article about her experience. He says his team is all sorts of CIA agents and SEALs, but apparently moms from Utah are more reflective. It turns out some of the kids were trafficked for the first time FOR Ballard. He waved money and encouraged that trafficking. Afterwards, he left the country with a handshake promise that the kids would be cared for by the police. He will say the kids got aftercare, but evidence says otherwise.

But maybe that’s not enough for you?

He hired a psychic in Utah to tell him where a child was in the Dominican Republic. He flew a team as well as that child’s father down to the town the psychic indicated and found nothing other than locals scared of the American paramilitary vigilantes who were asking for children.

He and a sister organization said they were evacuating people from Afghanistan. No one has found any evidence to prove that.

He has claimed OUR saved a 12 year old girl from slavery. Then, she was 11. Then it turned out she saved herself a decade ago without his help and they want to get credit for rescuing her.

He claimed to be partnered with American Airlines, who have no idea what he is talking about.

So what actually DOES Ballard do?

He campaigns against drag queens

Promotes Qanon/Wayfair conspiracies

Cast the actor who played Jesus to play himself in his own movie. (The actor actively campaigns on blood libel Q conspiracies)

But beyond all that, just remember the movie isn’t donating to anti trafficking causes. It’s just asking you to buy more tickets to juice the numbers.

Donate to your local shelter. Most trafficking victims are trafficked by loved ones or people close to them. The victims need all the help they can get.

And another thing: People are conflating criticism of this film with apologia for child trafficking. I keep seeing posts say it will “Raise Awareness,” despite it being an incorrect portrayal. If that’s true, then Die Hard is raising awareness about bank robbers.

Here’s an idea: watch or read ANYTHING from real survivors of trafficking.

[andreadesantis3806]

I see many people saying (or mixed opinions) saying Aemond's High Valyrian was weak, the grammers not correct, the pronounciation all wrong and stuff. But how so exactly?The show creators might be complete assholes towards the writing, but one thing they ARE good at, is creating the world of ASOIAF. And in no way they would let a character's actor get in front of the camera without a proper knowledge of what is written in the script, or having been verified by experts. Plus , con lang english romanizations exists. The actors just get a brief idea of how to drag and pronounce certain drag and rolls on the letters, rest are just memorized from what is written in the script.

It is why actors, during games in interviews are not able to answer what is the meaning of basic valyrian words such as ''Zaldrizes'' or ''Perzys'' etc. Cuz they spend much time on perfecting their roles and getting thru to learn an entire diff language. Romanizations are always written in the script, they just need to take the time to memorize and perfect their accents.

Yet people are coming and saying Aemond's HV sounds horrible, or stuff is not correct. But Where? He said what he was supposed to say, with perfectly emotions laced to it. Sometimes it is difficult to get grip on the theme you want to interlace within the language u are speaking; esp languages u r def reading memorized from script. So one needs to focus on the language itself, AS WELL AS the emotions they want to convey. Aemond sounded mocking, sarcastic and definitely intended to get on Aegon's nerves; thus his HV adapts that way as well. You will notice when he speaks HV, he very much sounds like his own self; that is Aemond's own soft, almost evil-siren-smooth tone he goes for as in Common Tongue. So considering it, the HV came out really well, breaking off and chaining back to a gentle flow.

Besides, the construct of the sentences and hard words were DELIBERATE. Aemond was taunting Aegon, knowing his brother cannot for the life of him piece two HV words tgthr. This complex constructions, now smhw seemed like mistakes to yall.

HV's accent does not roam around one singular one. We saw Dany's one being clear and frankly, HONESTLY not rolled and flowy enough. It was like she was pronouncing english words. But it was expected. Targaryens were nearly extinct and Dany learned her Val mixed with Essosi and Lyseni dialects. She even says ''Dracarys'' in a way it LOOKS like it should sound, whereas it actually shud lean heavily on ''Thra-ka-ris'', The way she had said to that Slave Trader holding Drogon.

Then when HOTD came out, it is set in a time where Targaryen dynasty was flourishing and thus the Valyrian culture amongst them was heavy; all having Dragon Keepers and their own fam members to guide them thru. They all have different accents you will notice, Milly as young Rhaenyra has one that flows naturally and multiples words chain into the other which often cannot be understood when matching with the written romanizations. She pronounces her ''J''s like ''h'' or at times a mildly heavy ''g''. Daemon's one is, tbh one of the best and he rolls his accent perfectly, although still leaning on a heavier side. Emma's one is more similar to Matt's too. All actors are given even a small amount of freedom in how they speak HV in their terms; and the accent varies. It gives a look into the character they are playing. Everyone learns the language in the same way, but they adapt it to a form comfortable in their own mouth and goes with it. Bcz that is what Valyrians are supposed to be, they are not fixed to one single form; they are open to everything. It is at the end of the day the language sinking into your character, as a part of who you are.

So Aemond's HV was good. Not only that, but brilliant as he is supposed to be, as a person who trained to immaculacy all his life. He managed to not sound robotic in a language Ewan barely knows and tried to pour the theme aimed for and how Aemond would talk in Common Tongue in the HV. Besides, if u match it with romanizations in the script you will find that not a single one of his words are incorrect. His rolls on the ''Y'' and ''a''s are fascinating and somehow suits just right for character.

So do not come at him yall, he would not speak if it was not approved by the showrunners, or that he does not roll the accent or forms the sentences in ways that you feel it is incorrect. The showrunners are fools, but they are not THAT big of fools to not review the foreign language speaking with respectable experts.

Even if they ARE fools in this regard too and somehow overlooked certain things, do not blame aemond or Ewan. It is the producers own doing. But i doubt the latter will be the case knowing how concentrated Condal tends to be on small details.

[beevean]

A more fleshed out idea of how I would have ended the Lenector story in the most balanced way I can think of.

Lenore is Hector's prisoner, as per canon. He still treats her as nothing happened, like a good friend, but Lenore is sulking and angry and not even bothering to keep up the façade like Hector used to do in her position. It's unfair, after she treated him as her only confidant, and she couldn't care less, that's what the traitor gets. Hector thinks he should be happy, to have reversed the roles on her... but he isn't. Unlike Lenore, power over another person doesn't satisfy him. He can't help but see her as a depressed animal in a cage... much like he used to be.

He wanted to protect her, he really did, but only now he's seeing how much hurt he caused her. Much like she said she meant to do with the ring, although to this day he doesn't know if it was a lie or the truth. There is no joy in inflicting her the same fate she inflicted upon him, even if it comes from a place of well-meaning and not selfishness. He has seen what that kind of "eye for an eye" mentality brings to the world, and he wants none of it.

So, he finally takes a decision for himself, and repays the one debt he has with her. He helps her flee from the castle. He is, for the first time, showing empathy to a person and not an animal.

(I don't even think Isaac needs to be kept in the dark. Lenore on her own is harmless, nothing like Carmilla who became a danger to the world. Hector and Lenore are dangerous tools in the wrong hands, but they lack the ambition that makes them solid threats, as they are mostly concerned with feeling safe. If Isaac truly wants to do good to everyone, he has no reason to keep Lenore as a prisoner, not even to force her to work for him. Same for Hector, since the two might have "forgiven" each other, but they have no relationship whatsoever. Perhaps him heeding Hector's request could show more how compassionate he has truly grown.)

Lenore is confused as to why, and Hector more or less explains that he couldn't bear watching her drinking herself into a stupor. Lenore snaps, and yells at him that he has no right to feeling sorry for her after what he has done, after going behind her back, after ruining her life... and is promptly shot down by Hector flashing his mutilated hand. Every ounce of ire Lenore directs at Hector is actually directed at herself, and they both know it. She is deeply regretting everything she did for the sake of people that didn't even respect her, she is just too proud to apologize. And her pride, her insecurity, her need to be the one in control, was what prevented her from truly being the good person she wanted to be. The very reason Hector wasn't happy with her despite her best efforts, and destroyed her life.

She really thought something so paltry as a slave ring would tame the human spirit. She really thought humans, like vampires, would care more about safety than freedom. For a diplomat who set herself to bridge humankind and vampirekind, she let her basic instincts get the better of her.

"Why didn't you just kill me back then?" she yells, attacks, it feels so good to blame Hector rather than herself. "At least I wouldn't have known how little I matter to you!"

"I'm no longer that child," Hector responds. "I'm no longer the boy who believes to have the right to punish others. Besides, shouldn't you know the desire to spare someone's life no matter what?"

They had never breached that subject again, not after Lenore dismissed it in a fit of denial. It still weighs on her. He can no longer care.

"All this time," Hector says at last, "I expected an apology, but I think I don't need it anymore. As much as I don't need you anymore. I'm grateful for your efforts to protect me from your sisters' ire, so now I'll use them to live for myself. I'm sorry it had to be this way."

He holds no grudges anymore, and he has genuinely come to appreciate the real Lenore behind her masks and the way she took care of him during the previous six weeks, when the world would have chewed him and spit him out; but at the same time, he can't bear staying with her. She makes him too sad. It reminds him of how low he allowed himself to be brought for the sake of some scraps of love. She reminds him too much of a version of him he doesn't want to be. There are too many conflicting feelings in him. He can't help but think that, in another life, the two could have been genuine friends, if not more... but not this one. Too much baggage, too much shared misery. He is done with it. No more will he seek safety and love in other people, as if he wasn't strong enough. He deserves better.

Lenore doesn't know what to think anymore. She wants to die so badly, she is almost tempted to not hide herself from the sun: she can't concieve her existence as nothing more than a black hole, unworthy of living. She is nothing more than a disgusting monster doomed to spread misery to the world, she thinks, and she should die like one. She has nothing left, no allies, no home, and the one person she fell in love with is pulling away from her, and she can't bear being abandoned, and she completely understands why he's doing so. At the same time, however... Hector too has nothing left, and yet he wants to live. After everything he went through, after himself desiring death at Isaac's hand, he wants to experience real life, not survival like he has done since he was born. Lenore pretended to praise his strength when she was manipulating him, but now she has come to genuinely admire that trait. Can she, a vampire used to nothing but comfort, be as strong as a human being?

She wants to ask Hector if he thinks she's a good person. A glance at his mutilated hand answers her more than any word could. Lenore, all this time, had no idea what being "good" meant, she was only good at putting up a façade of gentleness, and she thought it was enough. All this time, she behaved like a vampire pretending to be human... so now, she will learn from the best human she has ever met. The best person. The only one who saw her as a person as well, behind her masks, behind her usefulness.

Even if Hector is now walking towards the dawn, with nothing but his resolution. For the first time, he will live for him, for himself.

They will never meet again, but in a twisted way, they gave each other what they needed to grow.

[wibzenadarksiderwithasoftheart]

Hey, what do you think about the mental health of Obi-Wan, Anakin and the others? Are they okay? Are they struggling with something? What's your opinion about it? Only if you feel okay to talk about this of course!

Dear Ano

Thank you for the question, although I am not sure that I am qualified to give a suitable answer. However, I would like to try anyway.

I have read countless fic that deal/work with their mental state to a greater or lesser degree, and I have to say that the general trend is that, no, they are not okay, far from it. Canon is very cruel and unfair to our favorite characters, unless you are a certain Sith master. The tragedy of SW is that there rarely, if ever, is a real happy ending for anyone, despite it being a space fairytale.

So to return to their mental health and start with the obvious character, Anakin.

Anakin grew up as a slave, always subservient to others and with no hope of ever becoming the master of his own destiny, yet that is exactly what he dreams of, freedom and power.

A friend and fellow fic writer recently described his basic character in a few words in one of her fics.

"With an upbringing that left him no control over the injustice he'd often witness, Anakin aspired to be the hero. He aspired to be the savior. He wanted to save others from hardship, because he understood firsthand what it was like to face them." @barmadumet in chapter 14 of A Strange Kind of Love

And then he is given the opportunity to gain power but with the price of once again being subject to the authority of others.

Anakin is a complex character we can take in many different directions from this point of the story. His character is affected (as is true in RL) by what he is exposed to, the choices he and others make and the development of the story. We know what happens to Anakin, and it's tragic to see how his otherwise promising opportunity to become the hero instead ends with him falling and condemning himself to a painful existence in slavery under one of the cruelest characters created.

Anakin is not okay and is always struggling with something. This is what makes him a great character, there is always plenty to work with whenever we enter his story to save/fix or to harm/destroy.

This brings us to Obi-Wan. Dear Obi-Wan, who loves strongly and more deeply than anyone else, but isn't willing to show it (even though he often does) and is bound by duty. He's not okay, but he does his best and refuses to give up. The stubborn man keeps going no matter what, not even death and worse can stop him. He's not okay, mostly because his fate is tied to the Skywalkers. I love his character, I want to save him, and that often means saving everyone else too, because he would never be so selfish to save only himself… sacrificing himself, now that is an entirely different story.

(This is also what makes it so fascinating to write him as a Sith, to twist his character out of shape, creating some truly evil from genuine good)

All the others, the many wonderful characters who all have their own destinies intertwined with these two, well they are not okay, they all have their own faults, flaws, good traits and challenges. I love them all and saving them (or making everything worse) is a time consuming but rewarding and entertaining occupation.

I have no idea if this was the answer you were looking for dear Ano, but hope you enjoy it. Thank you so much for asking.

[sasukesun]

The thing that bothers me the most about Naruto as a whole is that for a manga that goes out of its way to portray oppression and rejection of certain kinds of people as deeply political and systemic, it doesn’t offer any political or systemic solution to solve this problem.

Naruto’s philosophy as a character is that connecting with people, working along side with them, and putting love above hatred is the best way to make sure that the world stays in peace. And the story shows him he’s partly right, since the big countries manage to work together during the war. That’s what’s bugging me… why show problems linked to the way the system is made, and then treat this problem only trough the lenses of moral?

Especially since most of the actual problems brought up by character like Neji or Nagato are never shown to be solved. By the end of the story we’re supposed to assume that they were solved magically by the goodwill of everyone in the village cause they choose to just… be nice? Like I don’t think it works like that. I’m not an expert, but I’m pretty sure that you don’t end slavery simply by saying to slave owners to put themselves into their slaves’ shoes.

Of course empathy and forgiveness are important and allow people to make peace, but in real life they’re either just the first step, or the ultimate goal. The manga make it seem like they are direct solutions to systemic problems, and it doesn’t sit well with me…

inside of me there are two wolves. one that agrees with you and wishes the naruto ending showed at least that those systemic problems were solved, and other wolf that really wonders which and how many big shonens with child soldiers and systemic oppression have ever done that? i do think kishimoto bit more than he could chew sometimes, but i’ve also talked many times about how he also worked for a magazine that didn’t allow him full creative freedom, having admitted that his ideas were unshonen sometimes, that his routine as a mangaka didn’t allow him to put much thought into every single thing in his writing and that he often chose easy plot conclusions over satisfying arcs, that he was worn out after so long and probably lost a lot of the passion he had for his own story, and if we’re being real, no one in the naruto world actually has a good solution to their world problems. kishimoto really wrote a lot of things out of spite, especially because the editors pushed for boruto, so it’s not even like he could write that everything was magically solved, which would be at least more satisfying than the actual ending, that man was bitter.

on a side note, it’s funny how this popped on my dashboard.

[cassynite]

For the fluff ask: how about confessing love when they're tired so they don't remember? For Sparrow and Dae :D

Thank you so much!!! Unfortunately I have once again ignored the spirit of these prompts so there is very little fluff if any--have some hurt/comfort instead :)

--

Daeran finds Sparrow curled up against the stone wall at the far end of the mining shaft, staring out at the abandoned crystal harvesting operation. The stones' otherworldly luminescence cast her face in a pale, sickly light, and her expression is blank and grave as she gazes out at nothing.

It is, unfortunately, an improvement. At least her posture is relaxed, limp instead of wound so tight her bones looked ready to snap. At least she doesn't flinch away when he drops to sit down next to her, though her near complete lack of reaction is troubling in its own way. She's like a puppet with her strings cut, and there is a very worrying second where Daeran wonders if something in her had broken completely when that smiling beast of a demon had snapped that collar around her neck.

But then she tilts her head in his direction, and her attention finally focuses on him. "I'm sorry you had to see that."

"I have no idea to what you are referring," he says. At her flat look, he shrugs. "I think your reaction to being manhandled into battle slavery was perfectly reasonable. Perhaps you could have smashed that demon's head a little more thoroughly when you stomped on his body--I think I caught some identifiable pieces of skull in the viscera you left behind. But other than that I had no complaints."

Sparrow doesn't laugh. "You know what I'm referring to. My behavior was inexcusable."

Daeran sends a quick mental curse Regill's way. It was the paralictor of all people who had found Sparrow when she'd retreated from the group, after she had screamed at them all not to touch her, after they saw the Cheliaxian brand on her back. He has no idea what was spoken of, but Sparrow had returned to the frantic group calmer, if brittle in her behavior, and had explained in short, blunt terms what Daeran had already pieced together with a dawning sense of horror: that she had never been Evaethi Arvanxi, lady of Cheliax, but Sparrow the slave, chained for years before the luck of Kenabres' destruction freed her.

 Such a complete loss of control, for so long--and then to have that new freedom ripped away from her again, and by demons? Quite frankly, Sparrow's reaction was rather tame in Daeran's opinion. No one but Irmangaleth died, after all.

Derenge certainly would have done nothing to alleviate the shame that hung on Sparrow's face, and Daeran wonders how much of her self-flagellating thoughts are spoken in his words. He curls his lip. "It happened," he says. "There's hardly any point crying over it. And, to be blunt, this is the Abyss. I feel that each of us are owed one good breakdown. You have officially gotten yours out of the way."

Sparrow finally lets out a small huff of breath, not quite laughter but close enough for Daeran's purposes. "Each of us? Let's hope the Hand doesn't do that. I don't know where we'd be without his purification ritual."

"You misunderstand. I spoke only of mortals. An angel should be well equipped to handle being trapped in a different plane."

She slumps against the wall--it's not just the sickly pallor of the Abyssian air that's left her looking so haggard. Exhaustion carves itself under her puffy eyes and in the corners of her mouth, as if she has not slept in the twenty-seven hours it has been since she was first abducted. Slowly, she lists to the side, until her head lands on Daeran's shoulder--the weight isn't as heavy as it should be, still tentative. Daeran stays still and feels the pressure increase as she finally relaxes against him.

"I would have told you eventually," she says after a moment. "About me. And my past."

"It was hardly required of you," Daeran says. "We are all entitled to our secrets."

"Still. I wanted you to know. I was..." A yawn. "Frightened, I suppose. It seems silly now."

He does not acknowledge the small shift inside of him that occurs at her words. Certainly, he'd had a sense of smugness for most of his time in the Crusade, the joy of being in on a joke few others were aware of--he knew before anyone else that Sparrow had not been her name before Kenabres, that she'd dropped her life as a Chelish noble like a hot coal to take on this new identity. Even after others found out, it was only Daeran who had met her when she wore the stiff black dresses of the Cheliaxian court and hid in the corner of Mendevian banquets.

But it was the noble specter that had been a lie, and Sparrow the truth all along. That realization, and all that came with it--the reveal of her tracking brand, her agonized explanation of her past--disputed many things Daeran thought he knew about her. And, to his horror, he had felt a sense of betrayal. She'd looked at him, at all of them, like she expected a blow now that it was out in the open. That she anticipated them to--what? Leave her to go fend for themselves in the Abyss?

Daeran is a selfish horrible person who tramples on others' feelings when it's convenient for him. But he had thought she thought him better than that. Which is absurd, of course. As is the relief that spreads through him as Sparrow lets herself be vulnerable in her exhaustion and her sorrow, and tells him that she would have let him know her most painful secret on her own terms, with enough time.

"Get some rest," he recommends. It's hardly a needed suggestion, considering how heavy Sparrow is against him. If she isn't already asleep, it's not for her body's lack of trying. "I imagine we will have many more delightful tasks ahead of us tomorrow to gain the attention of Our Lady in Shadow." He really should drag her back to the sleeping pallets, but that would require putting her in front of the fretful attentions of their other companions.

He knows what it's like to need to lick wounds in private. And if his shoulder is a comfortable enough pillow, he can endure for at least a little while.

"Hmmm," she says. "'Kay."

He snorts. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," she replies. Her voice is half-faded, already slipping into the realm of dreams. "Love you."

Daeran stops breathing for a moment, able to keep himself from jerking away through sheer will and the knowledge that it would be the worst possible reaction to her...declaration? But when he looks at her, she is finally peaceful in unconsciousness.

A slip of the tongue, then. But Sparrow has never been easy with affections, has spoken nothing even close to that intimacy in all their time together. If anything, she is too careful with her words, guarded to the point of affecting disinterest to those who aren't paying attention. He beats down the wild impulse to shake her awake, ask her if she meant it, as if he's some callow youth finally given attentions by some fine lady from across the dance hall.

Love you. Love you. The words circle in his mind, rattling around the sickening hollow in his chest. It's been there for over a day now, ever since Irmangaleth first put that collar on Sparrow and whisked her away. He doesn't want to think about those dark hours after, when everyone scrambled to come up with some strategy to save her and failing--he's successfully avoided thinking about any of it except what has happened right in front of him until this moment. But Sparrow's weight at his side hasn't lessened the chokehold of terror that throttles him, and her half-murmured sleep talking seems to only make him think on that period when he thought she was gone.

If it weren't for the ambitious tiefling giving them a way to take down the Battlebliss's master, Sparrow would have been gone. There is no way into the battle slaves' quarters without the key; none of them were strong enough to fight for possession of one. Iomadae's righteous Hand had disappeared with Sparrow--keeping her company and protecting her in what little ways he'd deemed appropriate, they'd learn later, but at the time seemingly abandoning them all with the goddess's champion captured. There had been a harrowing discussion of worst case scenarios, a tentative plan to escape the Abyss without Sparrow should her death be confirmed, even if it was roundly rejected on principle. No one wanted to admit that possibility that Sparrow was beyond reach.

Beyond reach. Gone, dead, worse. Trapped by demons, in a demon city, with no resources and none of her companions and her supposedly goddess-given powers useless. Trapped in, what he knows now, to be a nightmare powerful enough to nearly break her spirit. All he'd known was that he had no clear way to get her back--that he'd lost her.

Not lost. He keeps his breathing even. She made it through, as she always does, emerging victorious from the Battlebliss even if she was worse for wear. A good sleep, and she'll put on that mantle of Commander and trudge on with her head high, because he can't imagine her doing anything else. Protecting everyone around her with that quiet intensity of hers, leading them with her own inner light. Looking at him, over and over again, seeing past all of his acts and his banter to what he really wants to say, and responding to it.

Love you, she had said. The words circle in his mind as he leans back against the awful rough rock and closes his eyes. His hand drifts to her hair, not quite touching, but close enough that he can almost feel it, the weight of her presence. I love you.

He's no longer sure if the voice in his head is hers or his own.

[guzsdaily]

Having Dreams You Can Control

Daily Blogs 362 - Nov 1st, 12.024

And since I can't control time, this post is being written after midnight.

Philosophy

In the past, around 3 years ago, I was really interested in philosophy concepts. Thing such as quantum immortality, nihilism, the concept of god. In conjunction with some therapy concepts such as Cognitive Behavioral Therapy.

Unfortunately, I never dig too much deep into many of these, mostly knowing and searching about these topics on videos and some Wikipedia pages, and things as such.

But there is one philosophy that always stuck with me and I would say mostly helped me as a person: Stoicism.

Stoicism

Stoicism is a philosophy branch that is the most useful to day-to-day life, I would say. Being one that does not question things such as "what is God?", "what's the meaning of life?", "matter is made of what?", etc. etc... but things such as "how can I be happy in difficult times?".

I won't go on a full history lesson since it is somewhat of an old philosophy that has a lot of history, however, there are some key facts about its story I think is important to tell.

One of the first/main Stoics you'll see throughout time, is Marcus Aurelius Antoninus, considered one of the last great Roman emperors of all time. He wrote his thoughts all was a sort of diary to itself, making it very interesting to think about the idea that he constantly questioned himself, his being, his reality, and ended in conclusion that some times can hurt.

Waste no more time arguing what a good man should be. Be one. - Meditations Book X, 16 - Marcus Aurelius Antoninus

And on the other hand, one of the most influential and best Stoics, in my opinion, is Epictetus. He someone born and lived in slavery in Rome, with his real name being unknown to this day, Epictetus (epíktētos) in Greek is simply a word that means "gained" or "acquired". Funnily enough, the main Stoic teaching of him was that anything beyond our human control are external events that we should not "care"; we should accept whatever happens to us calmly and dispassionately.

It is not what happens to you, but how you react to it that matters - Epictetus (probably, I couldn't find the source)

But What is Stoicism?

Well, it is somewhat simple: If you can't control it, it doesn't matter; The only thing you can control is your perception of reality.

And of course, there are a lot of examples and interpretations, but today I will just talk about my own interpretation and how it applies to my life.

Sometimes I joke to my friends about how Stoicism is the philosophy of "I don't give a fuck", but that is oversimplifying a lot. This is mostly about remembering that you are a human, with human limitation; Not only that, but you are a brain, a conscience, that can't even fully control your entire body. The world changes and works with or without our input in it, and we have two options to deal with it:

Try to convince yourself that you can change it and that the world is specifically designed for you;

Or ignore it and remember that you can change just your mind and being.

Both are ignorant in some way or another.

Stoicism is about not taking things personally, and remembering that shit happens, liking we or not. A lot of times I get angry, scared, sad, for things such as my government banning a whole social media platform... but what can I reasonably do?

We all get anxious or worried about wanting to make someone else think the way we want them to, but can you? Yes, we can debate and change ideas, but we have control over someone else's mind?

It is Not Supposed to Be Ignorance

Even tho it can sound like, for me, Stoicism is not about not caring about anything else besides yourself. Marcus Aurelius was a Stoic Roman emperor, even tho he knew he couldn't control his population directly; Epictetus obviously still wanted freedom and didn't simply accept being a slave for life.

The main idea, for me, is putting a limit on the amount of care.

Fuck, I want to create a whole ass company, and I don't even need to list the amount of outside variables that will affect and could destroy this whole dream. However, I know that things can happen outside my control, and yes, I will feel emotions about them, but I won't feel them forever.

The idea is not to be passionate about it; "Passion" being used as a term for holding on, for feeling big emotions, for affecting your life and being because of something.

Stoicism, for me, is about not letting things that are outside your control determine who you are, what you will be, and how happy you will be about it. Because the only one that can determine it, is yourself.

You take action and responsibility for your own actions, and nothing else.

If it is not right, do not do it, if it is not true, do not say it. For let thy efforts be — Meditations Book XII, 17 - Marcus Aurelius Autoninus

---

There are a lot of things I would still like to talk about Stoicism, but I'm still learning about it and I didn't want to go a lot off scope in this post. This is a philosophy that really helped me through some rough times. And you don't really need to be fully Stoic to be happy, it is impossible to fully be one, but learning and trying to apply it on life can really help.

Show me someone who is ill and yet happy, in danger and yet happy, dying and yet happy, exiled and yet happy. Show me such a person; by the gods, how greatly I long to see a Stoic! - Discourses Book II, ch. 19-24 - Epictetus

---

Today's artists & creative things Music: VHS - by ZeRO

© 2024 Gustavo "Guz" L. de Mello. Licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0

[persephones-journey]

My last prompt for @emilyhufflepufftlk Em's 500 Follower Challenge. This was was the All You Had To Do Was Stay prompt and I basically used an idea I originally had for my Aisling/Finan fic 'Through the Dark' because it did fit the prompt.

So, be prepared for tears. And it is LONG.

Read here on Ao3.

Tagging: @medievalfangirl @solinarimoon @blah-blah-blah-bla @lauwrite1225 @morosemagick @still-with-you @93xdiagonxalley

Finan had lost enough in his life.

He lost his first wife and sons, his first real love, his crown, and his freedom.

When Ragnar had saved Uhtred from the slave ship, and by extension Finan, Finan had thought that his time losing things he loved and wanted was over.

He had found Aisling and married her. He loved her with everything he had left in his broken, patched up heart. He loved the family he was building with her and their two daughters.

It was why, on that chilly winter day, when she stood beside Ragnar and said she was staying, something in Finan's mind and his heart could not comprehend it.

“What?” he asked as Uhtred stood beside him.

“I am staying here in Dunholm,” Aisling said. “You can go and save Aethelflaed. I am staying here.”

Finan's mouth went dry. He walked over to Aisling, and did not care that most of the Danes were in the courtyard. He grabbed her arm and pulled her away from Ragnar. Ragnar took a step forward but Uhtred shook his head and Ragnar backed off.

Finan pulled his wife away from everything and stood across from her. “Ya are my wife,” he stated.

“We have been over this, Finan, I know you are my husband, I was there when we wed,” she muttered.

Finan rolled his eyes. “That is not what I meant and ya know it,” he grabbed her shoulders, “I am staying if ya are.”

“No, you can't.”

“The hell I can't,” he half shouted. “Ya are my wife, Aisling, the mother of my daughters. I am not going to let ya stay here alone!”

Aisling shoved him away. He stepped back surprised. “I may be your wife and the mother of your children, Finan, but I am still my own person. I make my own decisions whether you allow them or not.”

Finan's anger spiked. “Don't ya turn this around,” he stated and he stepped back closer to her. “Ya know damn well that I know ya are your own person who is capable of making her own decisions.”

“Really? Then why are you doing this?”

Finan shook his head as she shoved him again. His hands shook in anger and he eyed her. “Why are ya doing this?!” he yelled back. “Why are ya picking a fight with me over me wanting to stay here with ya?” he demanded his voice softening. “We left our daughters behind in Winchester, Aisling, can ya not see that I do not wish to leave ya behind here?”

“And I don't care what your wishes are. They do not matter right now,” Aisling added. Rather cruelly.

Finan's heart, which had been shattered and mended over and over, took the blow and broke again. He felt he could not breathe for a moment. Aisling walked away from him, as if he was not her husband, not the man she loved; as if he was no one to her.

“Finan,” Uhtred said as he walked over and pressed a hand to Finan's chest. “We need to leave if we are-.”

Finan nodded. “Aye,” was all he said.

He walked away, keeping his back towards where Aisling had walked to. He could not look at her.

He would not look at her.

He climbed on his horse and rode out with Osferth beside him. He did not look back at Dunholm or his wife.

He could not look back; his heart was shattered enough.

Stay...

Aisling pulled her knees to her chest and sobbed into them. She cried and cried. She tried not to think of Finan and how he must hate her.

She had done the only thing she could to keep him safe.

And now, he was off with Uhtred saving Aethelflaed, while she was riding with Ragnar and this Great Dane army towards battle with Alfred.

“You could have went with him,” she heard Ragnar say as he walked over to where she sat at the base of a tree.

She snorted and wiped away her tears. “What happened to giving a person privacy when they say they need to go shit?” she asked as she looked at him.

Ragnar smirked and sat beside her. “I am your brother, I know you,” he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her against him. “You did not have to stay with me.”

Aisling cuddled close to him. “No, I did,” she whispered. “I need to be there and save you,” she added.

She felt Ragnar stroke her hair. She closed her eyes as he leaned in and kissed the crown of her head. “I could save myself.”

She smiled. “I know,” she turned and looked at him, “but I need to be there just to make sure.”

He smiled and stroked her cheek brushing her tears away. “One day, he will see that you did not mean to hurt him. And he will forgive you.”

More tears came to her eyes. She looked away. “I don't know,” she whispered. “I just know that right now, there is a part of me that aches and is missing now,” she turned and looked at Ragnar, “I can't feel him, Ragnar. Usually, when we are apart, I could sense him, or his love. But now,” she pressed her hand to her chest, “I don't feel anything.”

Ragnar reached out and took her hand that was on her chest. “He still loves you. That man would have burned down Winchester and Beamfleot for you when the brothers had you,” Ragnar said. “That kind of love, it does not simply go away because things get hard.”

Aisling looked away from Ragnar. “No, but it can be chipped away at and broken until there is nothing left.”

Ragnar cursed in Danish. He leaned in and kissed her temple. “And here I thought Uhtred was the only one who got moody and broody.”

Aisling pulled away from him. She wiped her tears and stood. Ragnar got up and stood beside her as well. She hugged him around the middle when he hugged her tight.

“Come, let's get back on our horses and get moving,” he said as he pulled away. “Cnut has already been complaining.”

Aisling snorted. “Cnut is a cunt.”

Ragnar laughed. “So, you have said over and over,” he added.

Aisling walked beside him. She looked up at the sky. She took a slow breath.

Please let Finan understand. Please. I cannot lose his love or him. He is the best thing that has ever happened to me.

Then why'd you have to go and lock me out when I let you in?...

Finan walked into the chapel at the convent. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it. He took a slow breath and closed his eyes.

Haesten had not come yet so Finan was going to take a few moments and pray. He needed to pray and offer up his worries, his hurt, his pain to a higher power.

He opened his eyes and walked over to the altar. He looked at it. He bowed his head and made the sign of the cross.

“God, I,” his voice cracked. He cleared his throat. “I love her,” he whispered. “I love her still and I know I always will. But I cannot,” he sighed and swallowed again as the pain made his throat close up, “all she had to do was let me stay,” he said. “All she had to do was stay with me. But she could not even do that.”

He fell to his knees in front of the altar. His sobs echoed in the chapel. Moments of his life with Aisling came flooding back. The way she looked at him, her smile, her laugh; her. From the moment he had found her in the river outside of Coccham, he had wanted her. He had felt pulled to her connected to her in a way he had never felt before.

He had thought she would be his happy ending.

Not the final blow to his shattered heart.

“Please,” he begged to any God that was listening, “please bring her home,” he added. “I cannot survive not knowing where she is and if she is safe. Bring her home, just please bring her home.”

He slumped down and wiped his tears away. He looked down at his left hand; the claddagh ring there on his ring finger. This ring symbolizes my promise of everlasting love and loyalty, he heard Aisling voice echo in his head. He closed his eyes and their wedding day came rushing back. His hand shook.

He opened his eyes and shook his head. He reached over to pull the ring off. His fingers shook and he could not make himself pull it off. He dropped his hands and shook his head.

“Not yet,” he whispered. “I can't.”

He sat on the chapel floor praying. He prayed his daughters were safe. He prayed Aisling was safe. But he spent most of his time praying that she came back.

He was so angry at her and hurt, but he needed to see her again. He needed to know she was all right and alive before he decided if he was going to let her go and stop loving her.

He snorted. As if he could stop loving her. Aisling would always be his everything, his second chance, his dream made real.

The day he stopped loving her was the day he stopped breathing.

I wonder if she can say the same, he thought as he prayed.

He was scared of the answer.

This was what you wanted...

Aisling watched Aethelwold with her hand on her sword. The blue stone at the pommel was cold against her wrist but she didn't care. Most of the Danes around her were drunk or had turned in for the night. Brida had turned in finally; in a separate tent then Ragnar. Aisling reminded herself to punch her brother for that later.

If he survived the night.

Aethelwold moved making a big show of pretending to be drunk. He did not see her. Of course not, he had decided without Finan, Uhtred, or Ragnar standing by her side, she was not a threat.

She was going to prove him wrong.

Her ocean blue eyes, they remind me of the ocean off the coast of Irland, my heart, followed Aethelwold. She saw him walk towards Ragnar's tent. She moved long, quietly and hidden under her hood and furs. She had made a show of going to bed and snuck out the back of her tent hours later. Cnut was too busy trying to get Brida into his bed to notice. And Aethelwold was too busy trying to keep an eye on Ragnar and not let anyone else catch on.

It was moments like that she was thankful she had Uhtred's blood flowing through her. The blood of a stubborn bastard, Finan had said more than once.

Finan.

Aisling pushed thoughts of Finan aside as she watched Aethelwold pull the flap back and step into Ragnar's tent. She hurried up, moving around the other two tents until she was at Ragnar's. She pulled her sword out and used it to move the flap aside and she peeked inside.

She saw Aethelwold walk towards the bed. He grabbed Ragnar's sword. That was all Aisling needed. She slipped inside the tent. She saw the servant girl Ragnar had slept with wake up. She pressed her finger to her lips and the servant girl did not scream. Aethelwold turned and saw she was awake and sitting up in bed.

“I'm sorry but you need to die too,” he whispered.

“There is only one person dying tonight,” Aisling said as she stepped behind Aethelwold and pressed the tip of her sword blade against the back of Aethelwold's neck. “And it is not her or Ragnar,” she added.

She saw the servant girl shake Ragnar awake. He sat up and saw Aethelwold and her. He frowned. “What is going on here?” he demanded.

“Tell him, Aethelwold,” Aisling pushed as she pressed the tip deeper into his skin. “Tell him what you planned with Cnut.”

“I-I,” Aethelwold cursed. “Cnut convinced me I should kill you before you kill me,” he said finally to Ragnar.

Aisling looked up and met Ragnar's eyes. Ragnar swung his legs from the bed and stood naked. Aisling groaned and stared up at the top of the tent.

“Really?” she muttered.

“You thought you could kill me?” Ragnar demanded.

“Please, don't harm me! I can be of use! I can-.”

Aisling looked down as Aethelwold began to choke. She watched as he slumped over. She saw Ragnar, holding the sword he had pulled from Aethelwold hands.

“I must speak with Cnut,” he said then.

Aisling nodded. “Pants first,” she said as she looked back up at the top of the tent. “That would be for the best.”

Ragnar chuckled. Aisling turned and left his tent. She put her sword back in its scabbard. She looked up and smirked as she saw Cnut walk out of his tent. She nodded her head at him and saw him frown.

She was going to enjoy watching him squirm later.

All I know is you drove us off the road...

Finan held the shield up and stood beside Uhtred. He watched as Haesten rode towards them with his whole army of men. Finan cursed.

Fear tingled up his spine. He closed his eyes for a moment, and prayed.

He needed to live past this. He needed to survive.

He had a wife to confront again.

Soon, all thoughts of Aisling left his mind though, as the battle started. He fought for his life and that of the men around him. He dodged axes and swords and killed Danes. The battle screamed around him and Finan barely had time to think and focus on anything other than staying alive.

The shield wall, or circle that they had began to crumble. It became a free for all between them and the Danes. Finan barely had time to think about where the men Edward had promised were; he was too busy trying to stay alive.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, he heard them. He let out a breath as he swung his sword and killed another Dane. The battle turned then; in their favour. However, he saw Haesten with Skade and a part of him knew that they had still lost what they had really come for.

After, when he had killed all the Danes around him, and the others were running away, he was able to take a longer moment and relax. He sighed and breathed. He looked down at his left hand holding his seax. He saw the blood on it, on his wedding band.

And he felt relief.

For the fact that his wife, the woman who owned his heart and body, his very soul, was not there. Aisling had not been put in danger. She was with Ragnar and the Dane army.

She was safe.

For now.

“Finan, it's Osferth,” Sihtric said suddenly jolting Finan out of his thoughts.

Finan turned and placed his sword and seax in their scabbards. “Where is Uhtred?” he asked.

“I do not know. Around here somewhere,” Sihtric said.

“Find him and tell him.”

Finan jogged over to where Sihtric pointed. He found Osferth sitting there holding his chest. Finan shoved him down and grabbed a cloth and shoved it under Osferth's chest plate.

“Ya will be fine,” he told Osferth as he kneeled on the cold ground beside him. “My girls need their Uncle Osferth around.”

He saw Osferth smile. “You mean, Uncle Baby Monk,” he muttered.

Finan smiled. “Ya love it when they call ya that.”

“I really don't.”

Finan sighed. He smiled but felt tears come to his eyes. “Ya are not allowed to die,” he told Osferth. “I cannot lost anyone else.”

He felt Osferth take his hand. “Aisling is not lost to you, Finan. She is going to come back.”

Finan snorted. “Ya don't know that.”

“I do,” he answered firmly. “She loves you, Finan. She loves you more that I have ever seen another person love someone,” Finan saw Osferth's eyes filled with tears. “She will come back to you, come back to us,” he said softly.

Finan nodded. He looked down as tears rolled down his cheeks. “Ya have so much faith in her,” he whispered.

“So do you, Finan,” Osferth whispered. “I know you do. You're just hurt right now.”

Before Finan could say anything else, Uhtred came over with Sihtric. He swallowed whatever he had been planning on saying.

Uhtred and he had a very shaky truce at the moment. Uhtred was his friend, but he was also Aisling's brother. Finan was under no illusion that Uhtred's loyalty was with Aisling and not him. So, Finan decided not to tell Uhtred how angry he was or hurt by Aisling's actions.

It made for a very awkward journey to Beamfleot and Finan knew it would make for an even more awkward journey back.

The more I think about it, the less I know...

“Are you sure?” Ragnar asked Aisling.

Aisling stood and looked down at the fire. She had her arms crossed on her chest. Aethelwold was dead, his body along with a messenger was being sent to Aethelflaed's estate in Mercia as they spoke. Ragnar, his men, and others who did not like Cnut using a Saxon to try and kill Ragnar in his sleep, had left headed back to Dunholm.

About two hundred men.

Aisling wanted a handful to go back and follow Cnut, Bloodhair, and Haesten. She wanted to follow them to battle.

And rejoin Uhtred and her husband.

“I am,” she answered softly. “I can watch Cnut and the rest from a far and make sure that Uhtred and my husband are safe.”

“You would be helping the Saxons,” Brida spat out.

“I would be keeping my brother and husband alive,” Aisling countered. She looked at Ragnar. “Our brother.”

“Ragnar do not-,” Brida started.

“No,” Ragnar said softly. “Aisling has the right of it. The Great Dane Army was a mess from the start, Uhtred was right about that. The only thing we can do now, is make sure that the Saxon King and his son know that we were not a part of it any longer. Aisling can deliver that message for us.”

“They will believe she is a traitor as well,” Brida said.

Ragnar snorted. “I doubt very much that Uhtred will allow that to happen. Finan either. They will both make sure that everyone knows that Aisling is not a traitor or the enemy.”

Aisling saw Brida roll her eyes but she said nothing. She turned and walked away. Ragnar stepped closer to Aisling and stood in front of her. Aisling looked at him. He reached out and pressed a hand to her cheek.

“I will only choose those men I can truly trust with your safety,” he told her. “I will not just choose anyone.”

Aisling smirked. “Are you saying that I am special to you?” she asked.

Ragnar rolled his eyes. “You know you are,” he yanked her close and hugged her. She felt him kiss her head. “You will be careful, won't you? And you will not wander too close to the Dane army?” he asked softly.

Aisling nodded as she nestled her head on his chest. “I will stay safe,” she answered. “I have no desire to be killed or die before I can see my husband and daughters again.”

“But not Uhtred?” Ragnar teased.

Aisling pulled away. She looked into Ragnar's blue eyes. “I want to see him as well,” she cupped his face in her hands. “He is my brother as much as he is yours,” she said.

Ragnar nodded. “He is,” he leaned in and kissed her forehead, “and he better take care of you. Tell him if he doesn't, I am going to come and beat him.”

Aisling laughed. She nodded. “I will, brother,” she added.

Ragnar held her close. “Come on, let us go and eat and I will choose those men.”

She leaned against his side and nodded. She held him close and tried not to think about Finan. She worried about him and hoped he was well and all right.

She ached for him.

Hey, all you had to do was stay...

Finan stared at the body wrapped in the blankets. He barely heard the messenger, a Dane he thought the man said, go on about how Aethelwold had been killed by Ragnar. After Ragnar had taken his men, and others, including Aisling, and left.

They were headed back towards Dunholm.

“Finan,” Uhtred said. “Aisling is safe,” he said softly.

Finan turned and looked at him. “Is she?” he asked.

He turned and walked away. He headed towards the manor house where he knew Osferth was resting in a side room. He needed to get away from Uhtred before he punched the man.

He walked into the side door and let it slam behind him. He leaned against the wall and cursed. He closed his eyes and slammed his fists beside him against the wall hard.

Aisling was riding back to Dunholm with Ragnar. She would rather do that than ride towards him.

What are ya thinking, Aisling? Do ya even care that I can barely sleep without ya? Don't ya need to be with me? Don't ya ache to have me beside ya again like I ache for ya?

It was too much for Finan. He couldn't understand it; couldn't understand Aisling. He thought he knew her; had been sure he knew her heart and her mind. Would have told anyone who asked that his wife's mind was an open book to him.

But he didn't.

He feared her had never known her at all.

Tears rolled down his cheeks. He wiped them away and took a few more minutes. He did not want Osferth to see how hurt he was. Osferth needed to focus on healing and nothing else.

Finan spent several moments taking slow breaths and wiping his tears away until they stopped. He continued down the hall then and knocked on the door Osferth was in before he pushed it opened. Osferth was sitting up in bed and turned to look at him.

“Has there been news on Skade or Sihtric?” Osferth asked.

Finan shook his head. He still could not believe that Sihtric had taken the prisoners and left Aethelflaed's estate in the dead of the night.

It was a betrayal.

And Finan's heart could not handle another one of those.

“No,” he said softly as he walked over to the bed. He sat down and looked at Osferth. “It was a messenger with news about Aisling,” he added carefully.

He saw Osferth sit up more and look at him. “What news?” he asked carefully.

Finan looked away. “She is with Ragnar heading back to Dunholm. He took his men and separated from the Dane army,” he said.

Silence greeted him. He turned and looked at Osferth. The young man sat there a look of surprise on his face. He nodded then and looked at Finan.

“But she is fine?” Osferth asked.

Finan looked at him. “As far as the messenger knows, aye, she is fine. But she is not coming back to me.”

“Yet,” Osferth said.

Finan raised an eyebrow and gave him a hard look. “Baby monk,” he started.

“No,” Osferth said firmly. Finan heard a strength in his voice he had not heard before. “I do not know her reasons for staying beside Ragnar, I do not know why she has chosen to stay with Ragnar instead of coming back,” Osferth swallowed and Finan could see how much it hurt him as well that Aisling had not come back. “But, I do know that she still loves you, Finan. She will come back to us. You are her home. She will always come back to you.”

Finan heard the conviction in his voice again. He was not sure why or how Osferth could believe so much that Aisling would come back.

Finan, no matter how much he loved her and ached for her, did not believe it that much that she would be back.

“Finan?” Osferth asked softly.

He looked up and met Osferth's eyes. “I wish I could have as much faith in my wife as ya do,” he whispered.

Osferth reached out and grabbed Finan's hand. “Deep down, under all the pain and hurt, I know you believe she will come back to you. I know that.”

Finan felt tears come to his eyes again. He let them roll down his cheeks. He reached out and wiped his tears away. He could not meet Osferth's eyes.

“I have been hurt so much, Os,” he whispered. “I lost the woman I thought I loved, that I thought I could have forever with. She was ripped away from me in the cruelest way by my brother. And then I spent years robbed of my freedom on a slave ship,” he pulled his hand away from Osferth and rubbed his eyes. He stood and began to pace. “Just when I thought I was done, that I did not wish to love again, did not need to have some one to share my life and my heart with, Aisling appeared in that river,” he closed his eyes.

The day floated back to him. He remembered everything about seeing her for the first time. The way her rust hair had floated around her. The white of her dress and the heaviness of it as he had lifted her from the water and pulled her from the bank. The coolness of her skin as he had touched her and held her tight to warm her.

Every moment spent with Aisling was seared into Finan's mind and soul. He could not remember a time before she was in his life, in his arms any longer. It was becoming harder and harder to remember even his time on the slave ship, the worst time in his life, because happy memories of Aisling would flood him.

She was his home, his safe place; his heartbeat.

“Finan,” Osferth said softly bringing Finan back to the present. Finan opened his eyes and looked at his friend, the young man Aisling had urged him to befriend and watch over. “Aisling was meant to be there by your side. You were always meant to find her.”

“Aye,” Finan said. “But we were not always meant to have a happy ending, were we?” he asked.

Osferth looked at him. He gave Finan a soft smile. “I believe you will have a happy ending this time,” he leaned back and winced as he held his side. “I have learned never to count Aisling out. She is stronger than anyone, man or woman, I have ever known.”

Finan smiled and wiped his tears away. “Ya know, baby monk, when did ya get so wise?” he asked needing to lighten the mood. He did not wish for Osferth to worry too much about all this. He needed to focus on his healing and nothing else.

Osferth smirked. “When you weren't looking,” he said.

Finan laughed a bit. “Come on, do ya wish to move around a bit? The healer said ya cannot lay around all day like a king.”

Osferth sighed. “You're right. Help me up. I wish to go check on Uhtred.”

Finan eyed him. “Ya know that mothering Uhtred is my job not yours, right?”

He walked over to the bed and helped Osferth stand. Osferth stood up beside him and wrapped an arm around Finan's waist. Finan saw Osferth give him a soft smile.

“I think right now, both you and Uhtred need a bit of mothering. And since I am the only one here other than Orm,” Osferth took a step, “I guess it's up to me to mother the two of you.”

Finan snorted. “I'm not sure Orm could find his ass with both hands.”

Osferth laughed and snorted. “That is something Aisling would say.”

Finan was quiet. It was something Aisling would say, had said before. Mostly about Aethelwold and even Uhtred if he was annoying her.

He pushed all thoughts of Aisling aside though. He needed to focus on Osferth and Uhtred. And what they were going to do about Sihtric leaving them.

I have enough problems right now. I cannot let the pain of Aisling not coming back swallow me whole.

Well, it could've been easy...

Aisling frowned as she watched the men ride into the Dane camp. She grabbed the looking glass from Ivar, a short round Dane with red hair brighter than hers, and used it. She cursed as she saw he was riding in front of the men.

Dagfinn and Sihtric.

“Shit,” she muttered.

“It would seem that one of the Dane-Slayer's men has abandoned him,” Ivar said.

“Ivar,” Aisling said carefully.

“Yes?”

She turned and looked into his bright green eyes. “Call my brother the Dane-Slayer one more time and I will take your balls slowly and painfully.”

“You'd have to find them first,” the other man on the other side of her, with curly brown hair braided and a bright smile, Harald said. He turned and Aisling found his kind brown eyes looking at her. He winked.

She blushed and turned away. She was fully aware that Harald not only respected her, but he also wanted to bed her. He had been flirting with her even since they rode off from Ragnar and Brida. Ivar also wanted to bed her, but she was very aware that it was because, unlike Harald, he wanted to have the power that he thought would come with bedding and wedding the sister of Ragnar the Fearless and Uhtred, the Dane-Slayer.

Harald it seemed wanted to bed her because he wanted her. Period.

I suddenly miss Orm and his quiet, detached longing from a far, Aisling thought.

“I have a large set of balls!” Ivar exclaimed.

Aisling shoved him. “Will you be quiet before Haesten, Bloodhair, or Cunt himself hears you?” she said. “Head back to camp and make sure it is all set up.”

“But-.”

“Ivar, go,” she said shoving him again.

He rolled his eyes but listened. Aisling turned back to the Dane camp and cursed as she watched what she assumed was the prisoners Uhtred had taken from Beamfleot, for she knew about that from sending Harald into a village the Dane army had left, and the arrival of Haesten shortly after.

“Would Sihtric turn on Uhtred?” Harald asked from her side. She noticed how he moved closer to her.

Aisling sighed and shrugged. “I don't know,” she whispered. She turned and looked at him. He was taller than her, perhaps even taller than Finan. “I would have said no, never but with Skade involved,” she shrugged. “Who knows?”

Harald nodded. “What do you want to do?” he asked as he crossed his arms on his chest. Aisling looked away as he had not done up most of the ties on his tunic and she could see his muscular chest underneath.

Aisling sighed. “We stay back and continue to watch and follow them,” she said softly. “And stay out of sight from their scouts,” she added.

Harald snorted. “Their scouts have been scouting a head like idiots and not behind,” he said.

She smiled at him. “Good for us then.”

She turned and started to walk back towards the camp. Harald fell into step beside her. She glanced at him and saw he walked close to her; like Finan did. She felt his arm bump hers. She turned and looked at him. He gave her a smile.

“I am married,” she answered.

He smirked. “I don't see your husband around,” he answered.

She rolled her eyes. “I am not going to sleep with you, Harald.”

“Who said anything about sleeping?”

She groaned and stopped walking. She turned and looked at him. “I love my husband.”

“You love him so much you left him behind,” Harald said.

Aisling shook her head. “I needed to be with Ragnar,” she looked into his brown eyes; they reminded her of Finan. Harald's had a spark to them though and she could see flirting look in them. “Finan will understand that,” she said.

“Will he?” Harald reached out and stroked her cheek. “If you were my wife, I would follow you to the ends of the Earth and into Nifheim,” he whispered as he stepped closer. “Nothing would part me from your side.”

He stepped closer and leaned down. Aisling pulled her dagger from its home in the scabbard on her thigh. She pressed it against Harald's cock. Harald stopped his lips almost touching hers. She could feel his breath on her lips.

“I will part your cock from the rest of you if you do not step back,” she whispered her voice soft but clear. “The only man who will ever kiss me is my husband,” she added. Memories of another Dane, with kind brown eyes danced around her mind and she shoved them back in their neat little box and slammed the lid closed.

Harald smiled. “You are fire, Aisling,” he whispered. She felt him stroke her cheek. “I hope your husband knows how lucky he is to have such a loyal wife like you.”

She pressed the dagger more against his cock. The word fire echoing in her mind allowing the lid of that little box to slid open a tad again. Harald chuckled but stepped back. She flipped her dagger around, a move she learned from Uhtred, and placed it back on her thigh. “Let's go,” she muttered.

“That's it?” he asked as he followed her. “No, telling me your husband will hear about this? No threatens of him harming me?”

Aisling turned and looked at Harald. “If you ever try that again, there will be nothing left of you for him to harm. I can take care of myself, Harald. I do not need a man to fight my battles for me,” she said.

He looked at her. He nodded. “Beamfleot has left its mark, I see.”

Her hands closed into fists. She clenched them so hard she felt her nails dig into her palms. “You know nothing of what went on in Beamfleot. You do not know anything of what I went through of those I lost there. You have only heard stories and you are not important enough for me to tell you what really happened.”

Harald eyed her. “It was said Sigefrid loved you. He protected you and refused to give you to his men because of this love. It was why he let Ragnar take you. He knew if you stayed, you would be harmed and he did not wish to risk that.”

And with those words, the lid of the box Aisling kept all her memories of Sigefrid and Erik came falling off as if a bomb had exploded in her mind and the memories flooded her.

“Min lille ild,” Sigefrid whispered to her as he stroked her hair. “You would be more comfortable on a bed,” he added as he wrapped his arms around her.

Aisling blinked her eyes and looked around. She remembered where she was then. Beamfleot. She had been there three days. She pulled away from Sigefrid and rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

“I will head back to Aethelflaed now,” she said as she stood.

Sigefrid stood beside her. “I will walk you back.”

“You do not-.”

“No, I do,” he looked into her eyes. His brown eyes smiled at her. “I cannot have harm come to you.”

Aisling let tears come to her eyes. My little fire. It was what he had called her. She shook her head as she looked at Harald.

“You know nothing,” she whispered.

He held up his hands. “Apparently neither does your husband.”

Aisling shook her head and turned away. She walked back towards the camp, tears falling as she went. She hugged herself, barely noticing that her palms were bleeding, she had dug her nails in them so deep.

I need to finish this and get back to Finan. I miss him too much. That's all this is.

People like you always want back the love they gave away...

Finan caught his daughters in his arms and held them tight. He closed his eyes and let the tears fall.

The last two weeks had been hard. Uhtred, Osferth, and him had rode off from Aethelflaed's estate to get Skade back and had succeed. Finan and Osferth had also found out that Sihtric leaving had been a plan by Uhtred all along. Sihtric's news though, confirming that Aisling was not with the Danes, hurt though.

Many times, Finan swore he had felt her close, like he could turn as they rode, and he would see her beside him. It had haunted him and gave him sleepless nights.

“Daddy, where's Momma?” Aoife asked as she pulled away from Finan.

Finan placed his hand on her cheek. He did the same with Caoimhe. He rubbed his thumbs on their cheeks and smiled softly.

“Your momma is with Uncle Ragnar,” he said softly.

That was the only explanation he had. He would not tell them that Aisling had abandoned them; abandoned him. No, let them think that she was off helping their uncle.

“Will she be back soon?” Caoimhe asked.

Finan looked at her rust hair, the same shade as Aisling's. More tears came to his eyes. “I hope so,” he whispered. He leaned in and kissed them each on the forehead. “But until then, tell me what you have been up to,” he whispered.

“Aunt Hild helped us read,” Aoife said.

“She is not as fun as Uncle Os though,” Caoimhe answered.

Finan laughed. He pulled them close again. He looked up and saw Osferth walk into the room. He pulled away and kissed them each on the head again.

“Your Uncle Baby Monk is here,” he said.

Osferth made a face but it did not last long as Aoife and Caoimhe turned and ran towards Osferth. They laughed and launched themselves at him. Finan stood and smiled. He watched as Osferth crouched down and hugged the girls. Finan wiped the tears from his face. His hand shook.

He could not believe after all the promises that he had made to Aisling that they would get their daughters back, he was here with them and she wasn't. He looked at his wedding ring and looked away. He put a fake smile on his face and walked over to his daughters.

He would hold them and love them. And he would try so hard not to think about Aisling out there somewhere without him.

All you had to do was stay...

Aisling moaned as Finan's hands stroked her skin. His lips on her breasts sent pleasure washing over her. She raked her fingers through his hair. She blinked her eyes and looked down at him. He looked up and met her eyes.

“I love ya,” he whispered.

“I love you too,” she answered.

He kissed her breast. “Then why did ya leave me?” he whispered.

She frowned. “What?”

“He asked why you left him?” she heard Sigefrid asked.

She jumped up and turned. He leaned in the doorway to the room, Finan and Aisling's bedroom in Coccham, his arms were crossed on his chest and he was smiling.

“Did you miss me?” he asked.

Aisling bolted awake. She sat on her bedroll, shaking as sweat rolled down her back. She cursed and rubbed the sleep from her face. She crossed her legs under her furs and sighed.

“So much for a nice sex dream about my husband,” she muttered as she raked her hand through her hair. She had taken it out of the braids knowing it needed to be brushed again and maybe even washed.

She laid back down on the bedroll and looked at the top of her tent. She could see the first rays of sunlight coming in the sky. She heard the camp around her waking up. She closed her eyes and tried to get a couple more hours of sleep.

It was not to be though.

“Aisling,” she heard Harald say as he pushed open the flap to her tent and walked inside.

“What?” she muttered as she stayed in her bedroll with her eyes closed.

“They are on the move again,” he said. She heard him walk into her tent and let the flap fall closed. “We are packing up to leave.”

She opened her eyes and looked at him. She saw the desire in his eyes. And there was a part of her, that reckless part that had gotten her into this whole mess, that whispered to pull him into her bed and the hell with everything.

Her wedding band on her finger and Finan's face in her mind stopped her.

She loved him. She ached for him, not some other man. She wanted Finan. Finan. No one else would ever come close to him in her heart.

Ever.

She nodded. “All right, let us follow them,” she answered as she shoved the furs aside and stood. She wore her leather trousers and her shift. She felt Harald's eyes on her but did not look to meet them. “Has there been any word on Sihtric and if he is still with them?” she asked.

“No, he left. It would seem when we saw Cnut ride off, it was Uhtred's plan. The scouts heard talk in the village that he managed to recapture Skade and get away,” Harald answered.

Aisling nodded. She turned and looked at him. “Good,” she said. She grabbed her tunic and pulled it on. “That is one last thing to worry about.”

“I will go and tell the men,” Harald said. He turned to leave the tent but stopped. He turned back and looked at her. “If you do not wish to have my cock inside of you-.”

Aisling groaned. “And here I thought we could go one day without you trying to get into my pants,” she muttered as she pulled her hair out of her tunic and ran her fingers through it before quickly braiding it. Washing it and brushing it would have to wait.

Harald chuckled. “I am trying to get you out of your pants,” he said. She met his eyes. He smiled and she could feel part of her defences begin to crumble. “I just wished to remind you that I also have fingers and a mouth that can be of use to you, if you wish.”

Aisling hated how turned on she got by that. She nodded. “I will remember that,” she muttered. “Now, go and make sure everything is packed up.”

Harald nodded. “Of course,” he said as he turned and left her tent.

She finished braiding her hair and tied it. She grabbed her leather vest and pulled it on. She closed her eyes when her hands began to shake.

First you let your husband, the man who worships the ground you walk on, walk away letting him think you did not care what his opinion or thoughts were. Then it was the dreams and memories of Sigefrid haunting you. Now, you are letting Harald get way too close. What the fuck are you thinking, Aisling?

She asked herself. She shook her head and realized she had no idea what she was thinking or doing. She had been surviving on autopilot since she had saved Ragnar. She had done what she wanted and now, she had no clue what she wanted.

She knew it should be to get back to Finan. But....

She was scared. She was scared he would not want her any longer. She had hurt him. She had chosen Ragnar over him. Pushed him away.

It was probably the last straw for him.

She pushed those thoughts aside and sat on the bedroll and pulled on her boots. She had a Dane army to follow and hide from.

She did not have time to worry about her mistakes.

Or what new ones she would be making.

I've been picking up the pieces of the mess you made...

“She is a traitor,” Aethelhelm said.

Finan looked up and met his eyes. “What did ya say about my wife?” he asked his voice dangerously low.

Finan was tired and drained. Alfred had died, Uhtred had been pardoned but then imprisoned. Osferth and Sihtric had barely been able to save Thyra from a bastard who tried to kill her, Aoife and Caoimhe asked every day when Aisling was coming home, and to top it all off, Finan was not sleeping at night.

Hearing Aethelhelm say, in front of Edward and Aethelred and a some aldermen, that Aisling was a traitor was the last straw for Finan. The tenuous grasp of his sanity and temper that he had threatened to finally let go.

“Lady Aisling is a traitor. She is still with the Danes. She could at this very moment be giving them important information about our army and the very walls of Winchester,” Aethelhelm pushed.

“She could be doing the same about Mercia,” Aethelred added. “She has visited my wife a few times and I fear for my wife's safety.”

“Aisling would never harm Lady Aethelflaed,” Finan said standing straight. He went to walk over to Aethelred to pound his face in but Uhtred stood there and pressed a hand to his chest. Uhtred shook his head. Finan cursed but stepped back.

“Lord king,” he said looking at Edward, “you know Aisling. She has trained with you here in this very palace with Steapa,” he said softly. “Her daughters are here within these walls. You know that she would never send a Dane army here and risk their safety.”

Edward nodded. “I do,” he said carefully. He cleared his throat and looked at Aethelhelm. “Do you have proof that Aisling with the Dane army?” he asked.

Finan crossed his arms on his chest and stared at Aethelhelm. The man looked away from him and looked at Edward.

“The fact that she is not here with her husband should be proof enough, shouldn't it?” he asked.

Uhtred pushed Finan gently when Finan's anger spiked and he wanted to lunge at the old man and beat him senseless. Finan saw Edward look away from the man as well.

“It is not proof of anything,” Edward said carefully. “Lady Aisling is with Ragnar, a man that both Uhtred and Finan trust with her safety. I believe Uhtred when he says that Lady Aisling would not come here with an army. She would never put her daughters and those she loves in danger. She is not a traitor.”

“Then why is she not here with us?” Aethelred said. “She has never missed an opportunity in the past to be part of battles or their planning. Why would she miss out on this?”

Finan turned and looked at Aethelred. “She is with her brother, Ragnar. She believed she could change his mind and it seems she has. Which is helping us in this battle.”

“Yes,” Uhtred added. “Aisling was thinking much ahead than any of you were when it came to this battle.”

“I am not surprised,” Edward said as he stood. “Lady Aisling always had a way of making us all look like fools,” he added with a smile.

Finan felt some of his worry and anger ease but not by much. He stepped back from Uhtred and watched as most of the men left the room. He turned and saw Beocca sitting on the chair watching him. Beocca stood and walked over to him. Finan heard Uhtred speaking to Edward.

“Aisling will be there are the battle,” Beocca said.

Finan snorted. “I doubt it. She is with Ragnar at Dunholm by now, no doubt planning on how she can our daughters back without seeing me.”

Beocca frowned. “Is that doubt I am hearing in your voice?” he asked.

Finan rubbed his face. He cursed and turned away. “It's acceptance,” he said softly. “Maybe this time, this is how it is meant to end for her and I. Maybe no matter how much we love each other, it does not matter because in the end, we will never be able to be happy.”

“Finan-,” Beocca started.

“Finan, we need your council,” Uhtred said.

Finan nodded. He walked away from Beocca and towards Uhtred. He was glad for the distraction of planning a battle. It meant he did not have to think about Aisling.

Thinking about her hurt too much. It hurt much more than he had hurt before.

Now that it's just too late...

Aisling wrapped her hair in the towel and dried it. She turned as the flap to her tent opened. She saw Harald standing there. She raised an eyebrow and turned away from him.

“Any news?” he asked softly.

“The Dane army has slowed a bit,” he answered.

Aisling nodded. She tossed the towel aside and grabbed her brush. “Good. We will stay here at camp and send scouts out to keep an eye on them,” she answered.

She began pulling the brush through her hair. She thought Harald would leave the tent. He didn't. He walked over to her and took the brush from her. She let him and did not turn to face him as he pulled the brush through her hair. She closed her eyes and wished it was Finan.

“You look so beautiful,” he whispered.

She sighed. “So you have said,” she muttered.

She felt his fingers brush her neck as he gathered her hair together and pulled it back as he brushed it. She felt herself lean back against him. She opened her eyes and felt him part her hair.

“I will braid it for you,” he whispered.

“I can braid it myself,” she answered.

“Please,” he almost begged.

Tears came to Aisling's eyes. She nodded. She closed her eyes again and let Harald braid her hair. She could feel that he was just doing a simple braid, nothing fancy. His fingers would brush her neck and back. She grabbed the leather tie from the bedroll in front of her and handed it to him. She felt him take it, their fingers brushing. She became aware as she looked down at her shift that it was almost see through because it had gotten wet.

“Done,” he said as he placed his hands on her shoulders. “Is there anything else you need?” he whispered in her ear.

Aisling turned her head and felt his nose nuzzle her cheek. She reached up and took one of his hands and pulled it down her body. She placed it on her stomach.

“Touch me,” she whispered.

She hated herself for it.

“Close your eyes,” Harald whispered to her as his hand ran further down. “Close your eyes and pretend that I am your husband.”

Aisling whimpered. “That is not fair to you.”

He kissed her neck as his other hand ran around and reached up. She sighed as he pressed it to her breast. “I am getting to touch you,” he whispered as his fingers ran down and began pulling at the ties to her trousers. “That is what I want.”

Aisling reached up and raked her fingers through his hair. She closed her eyes and thought about Finan. She ached for him. She moaned as she felt his fingers pull open her trousers and cup her cunt. His lips kissed and sucked on her neck as his other hand kneaded her breast and played with her nipple. She leaned against him more as she felt his fingers slide up and down her cunt playing with her wetness.

“So wet,” he whispered lowly in her ear. “So needy.”

She whimpered and grabbed his wrist with her hand. “Please,” she whispered.

She moaned as he slid one finger inside of her. She rested her head on his shoulder and squeezed his wrist. She clenched around his finger as she felt him begin to rub her clit with his thumb. He moved his hand on her breast to her other one and began kneading it and playing with her nipple. He slipped another finger inside of her and she felt him nip at her neck.

“Let go,” he whispered.

Aisling felt the pleasure pooling in her stomach. She kept her eyes closed and thought about Finan.

“So warm and inviting,” he whispered in her ear as he stroked her with his fingers. “And all mine.”

Aisling moaned and tugged on his hair. She felt his thumb press against her clit as he rubbed it. She could feel how hard his cock was against her ass and she rubbed her ass against it earning her a growl.

“Someone isn't playing fair,” he grunted as he crooked his fingers inside of her and pressed into that spot that caused fire to spread from her belly to everywhere in her body.

“I learned from you,” she huffed as she felt the coil tighten in her stomach.

She clenched around his fingers and moaned as he rubbed her clit faster and harder. She felt him thrusting his cock against her ass over and over. She wished they were wearing less clothing but this was all they had time for.

“Come for me,” Finan whispered in her ear, his accent getting deeper with want and need.

Aisling moaned and clenched around his fingers over and over wishing it was his cock. She felt the pressure break.

“Finan,” she moaned his name as she came.

Aisling blinked her eyes and cursed as she felt Harald's hand gently squeeze her breast. He thrusted against her ass again and moaned her name. She felt tears roll down her cheeks as she realized what she had done.

“Do not feel shame,” Harald whispered as he slipped his fingers from her. He pressed his hand to her lower stomach. “You needed that.”

Aisling blinked and shook her head. “My husband will never understand.”

“He does not need to know,” Harald whispered. Aisling felt him kiss her jaw. “You were still loyal to him. All you thought about was him.”

Aisling pulled away and began to redo the ties on her trousers. She felt Harald pull his hands away from her and she hated that she missed his touch. She did up her ties and turned around to face him. He cupped her face with his hands and brushed her tears away. She looked into his brown eyes. He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

“Your husband is such a lucky man,” he whispered before dropping his hands from her face.

Aisling shook her head. “He would disagree. I have brought him nothing but pain,” she answered.

Harald leaned in and kissed her on the forehead. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I am sure that he will agree with me. No matter how much pain you have put him through,” he told her.

Aisling didn't answer. She opened her eyes and watched as Harald turned and left her tent. She sat on her bed roll, her legs weak. She pulled her knees up to her chest and sobbed into them. She looked at her hand and saw her wedding ring on her finger.

I love ya, Aisling. Ya are my dream made real. Ya are the one thing I never expected or thought I needed until ya were right in front of me. I will always love ya. Ya have my heart. Always.

Aisling grabbed a pillow and screamed into it. She sobbed and cried.

Her decision to save Ragnar seemed like the worse decision she had ever made.

People like you always want back the love they pushed aside...

Finan stood beside Sihtric. He took a deep breath and looked into the forest.

The day for battle had arrived.

His mind though, was not on the battle that was about to happen. It was back in Winchester with his daughters.

“Daddy, will you be bringing Momma home?” Aoife asked.

“I,” he swallowed his pain. “I don't know, my sweet.”

“Please, bring Momma home,” Caomihe answered as she hugged Finan tight. “I miss Momma.”

Finan hugged her. He reached out and pulled Aoife in his arms. He was holding most of what he loved close.

Only Aisling was missing.

And the hole she left in his life, echoed.

“Finan,” Sihtric said softly.

“Aye?” Finan asked snapping back to the reality in front of him.

“You need to focus on the battle,” he said.

Finan nodded. He took the Celtic cross in his hand and brought it to his lips. He kissed it. He let it fall when he heard Uhtred give the signal.

“Now,” he called out to the men.

He ran with them towards the road where the Dane army was moving. Uhtred had wanted to them to attack the middle making the army fall into chaos. Finan agreed it was a good plan.

As long as the Danes stay surprised enough to allow the Saxons to kill a lot of them.

Finan slashed and yelled as he killed men. He got separated from Sihtric and Osferth as the lines began to break down and the Danes began to gather themselves more for battle.

They recovered a tad too quickly for Finan's liking.

He killed Dane after Dane. Time seemed to still and stop. He kept swinging his sword and stabbing over and over ignoring how his arms and shoulders ached. He heard Aethelflaed and the Mercians arrive but he was focused on staying a live too much to celebrate.

After some time, he felt a tingle up his back. He killed the Dane in front of him. He swung around and swung his sword.

It clashed with Aisling's Dream-Weaver sword. Finan felt his hands shake and he wasn't sure if it was from the shock of seeing Aisling or the vibration of their swords clashing.

“Well, husband,” she said her ocean blue eyes taking him in, “is this your way of asking for a divorce?”

Finan's pants got tighter as he looked at his wife. He lowered his sword and grabbed her leather armour. He yanked her closer and kissed her deeply. He did not care about the battle around them. He kissed her over and over.

“Finan,” she said as she pulled away.

“No,” he stated. “Later,” he breathed her in.

She shoved him aside and he turned and watched as she killed a Dane. She turned and looked at him. “First, let's kill Danes,” she said.

“Aisling!” he heard a man call. He looked over and saw a tall man with dark brown hair braided and a tunic that was half opened. “You all right?” he called.

“I'm fine, Harald!” she yelled.

Finan saw the way the man, Harald's eyes stayed on Aisling. He was too far away to look deep in them, but Finan was close to enough to notice the man's eyes lingered and stayed on Aisling long after Aisling had turned away from them. Finan watched as Harald nodded at him and turned away. He felt unsettled by it.

And he was reminded of Sigefrid. And how that Dane's eyes had lingered on Aisling. How Sigefrid had looked at her before he dragged her to Beamfleot. Anger began to build and boil.

He turned and began killing the Danes again.

He had felt relief at seeing Aisling. But now, he felt all that anger and rage come flowing back to him. He let it loose on the Danes.

He did not wish for the battle to end. He feared what words he would say to Aisling.

He feared he would say something he could not take back.

But people like me are gone forever when you say goodbye...

Aisling grabbed the axe from the dead Dane and swung it killing the Dane that had been charging towards Finan. She looked around and saw that most of the Danes were running away. She jumped when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned and saw Harald standing there.

“You all right?” he asked. She looked at him and saw that he was covered in blood. As was she.

“I am fine,” she said as she patted his chest. “Go check on the rest of your men before you head back to Dunholm.”

“What? No reward from the king?” Harald teased.

“Ya will be lucky to keep ya head,” Finan said as he walked over. Aisling saw the way he looked at Harald. “Finan, Aisling's husband.”

She saw Harald smirked. “I know, I have heard a lot about you,” Harald said. “I am Harald. And I will leave you two alone.”

“Safe travels,” Aisling told him.

He smirked at her. “I do hope we meet again.”

She watched as he walked away. She turned and saw Finan eyeing her. She wiped the blood off her sword and put it in the scabbard. She stepped closer to him only for him to step back. She sighed.

“Finan,” she whispered.

He looked away from her. “I had to tell our daughters that ya were with Ragnar and I didn't know when ya would be home,” he answered. She watched him as he put his sword and seax back in their scabbard. He looked at her and the pain she saw in his eyes, it tore her apart. “They were asking for ya even when I left for battle.”

Tears came to her eyes. “I did what I had to and-.”

“All ya had to do was stay with me, Aisling,” he told her firmly. “Or let me stay by your side. Ya did neither.”

She watched as he walked away in the forest. Her own anger spiked. She stalked after him and shoved him. She saw Osferth walking towards them but Sihtric grabbed him and pulled him away. Finan turned and looked at her. She shoved him again and he grabbed her arms.

“You could never understand why I made the decision I did!” she yelled at him.

“Ya never gave me a chance to understand!” Finan yelled back at her. “Ya shut me out!”

She shoved him. “You let me shut you out!”

She felt Finan yank her close, her body was pressed up against his. He looked down at her, rage and anger in his eyes. “Do not lay this at my feet, Aisling,” he said. Her name was filled with such hurt, Aisling's knees buckled. “I tried to stay with ya, I tried to get ya to talk to me but instead ya pulled ya head in like a turtle and would not let me in. Ya hid like ya always do and I am tired of trying to pull ya out into the open.”

Aisling pulled herself away from him. She shoved him and looked at him tears in her eyes. “So, much for being there and loving me, huh?” she asked.

“No,” Finan said his own tears in his eyes. “Ya do not get to do that. Ya do not get to turn this on me. Ya were all I wanted, still want. I would burn down villages for ya, I would burn this whole land to the ground to keep ya and our daughters safe. Ya had me, Aisling, I was yours and all ya had to do was let me stand beside ya. But ya could not do that. Ya do not get to be hurt and angry here. I do.”

Aisling shook her head. “Fuck you, Finan,” she said as she turned and stalked away towards where Uhtred stood with the others, a far distance away.

“Real mature, Aisling,” Finan called after her.

She stuck up her middle finger at him and kept walking. She felt the tears rolling down her cheeks. And as much as she wanted to be angry and pissed at him...

She knew he was right.

He had every right to be angry. Not her.

It just hurt so much standing across from him and not being able to hold him or touch him.

This time, in order to work it out, she would actually have to talk about her feelings and she wasn't sure she could handle that.

Here you are now, calling me up, but I don't know what to say...

Finan sat on the cot in the tent and felt his whole body ache. He pulled off his boots and winced. The battle was over, they had won and most of the Danes were gone. The last time he had seen Aisling, she was speaking with Edward and Aethelflaed with that Dane Harald. That had been a couple of hours ago and Finan had made sure to avoid her since. He did not wish to be around her just yet.

That's a lie, a voice in his head echoed, the moment you saw her again, all you wanted to do was pull her into your arms and hold her tight and close. It is killing you being apart from her.

He began to pull off his armour slowly. He tossed the chainmail on a chair. He turned when he heard the flap of the tent open. He saw Aisling standing there, her red hair standing out so much in the dark of the night behind her.

“Uhtred said there are no tents to spare and suddenly Osferth and Sihtric snore,” she muttered as she walked into the tent. “I'll sleep on the floor,” she muttered.

“No, I will sleep on the floor,” he said standing.

She held up her hand. “I feel guilty enough about everything, I don't want to add throwing you out of your bed to the list,” she said softly.

Finan looked at her. He saw the bags under her eyes then and the slowness in which she moved. He frowned. He knew all the signs to tell she had not been sleeping well. He saw them now. He watched as she slowly began to pull off her armour and toss it aside. He walked over to her, now in his tunic and socks on his feet. He gently placed his hands on her shoulders. She stopped moving. He gently brushed her hair aside and began to help her pull off the thick leather tunic she wore.

“Let me help ya,” he whispered.

She nodded but did not say anything else. He helped her push off the tunic and he tossed it aside. He wrapped his arms around her waist then, and pulled her closer to him. She sighed and he felt her place her hands on his. He leaned down and nuzzled his face in her neck.

“I missed ya, Aisling,” he whispered, all the fight leaving him. He just wanted to hold her and never let her go again.

“I missed you too,” she admitted.

He held her closer. He closed his eyes and took in her scent. “The girls missed ya as well,” he answered softly. “Aoife is getting very good with her wooden sword,” he added. “Caoimhe as well.”

Aisling was quiet in his arms. He kissed her hair and opened his eyes. He let her pull away from him. She turned and faced him. He saw the tears rolling down her cheeks then. She hugged herself and met his eyes.

“I am sorry for pushing you away,” she whispered. He hated the hurt he saw in her eyes. “I really thought it was the only way to save Ragnar. I thought I was doing what was right and I should have,” she hugged herself more. “I should never have let you ride away from Dunholm without knowing that I love you, Finan. I love you so much,” she sobbed.

Finan pulled Aisling in his arms. He held her tight and let her sob into his chest. He stroked her back and played with her hair. He felt his own tears begin to fill his eyes. He held Aisling closer and felt her hands grab his tunic tight.

“I know ya do, Aisling,” he whispered. “I love ya as well,” he swallowed, “it was just so hard without ya beside me. I needed ya and ya weren't there and,” he cursed and kissed her head, “it does not matter.”

“It does,” Aisling said as she pulled away and looked up at him. “I don't want you to hide away your hurt from me, Finan. I know what I did. I can handle the fallout from it.”

“Can ya?” he asked softly. He cupped her face with his hands and brushed her tears away. “Cause I am still so hurt and so damn angry. And there is a part of me that is questioning whether we should even stay together,” he added.

He hated the hurt that flashed in his wife's eyes then. She nodded though, as if she had been expecting to hear that. She slowly pulled herself away from him again. He watched as she looked down at her wedding band. She looked up and met his eyes.

“Maybe we shouldn't,” she whispered so softly, Finan thought he misheard her. “Maybe we should go our separate ways.”

“Is that what you want?” he demanded.

“Is it what you want?” she spat back.

He looked at her, his brown eyes taking her in. He shook his head. “I just want ya, Aisling. Always have, always will,” he said softly. “But all I know right now, is that ya are the one that drove this wedge between us. I cannot fix this, ya have to.”

He saw Aisling nod. She looked away from him. “I made a mistake,” she whispered.

“I know but ya are here now and-.”

“No,” she said softly. “I made another mistake other than letting you leave Dunholm and staying behind with Ragnar,” she added. She met his eyes. “I let another man touch me,” she whispered.

Finan's world, which had been holding on to a very thin thread, crashed right there in front of him. His legs felt weak and he sat on the cot. He placed his face in his hands and stared at the bottom of the tent. He looked at Aisling when she kneeled in front of him.

“Finan?” she asked softly.

He looked at her. “It was Harald, wasn't it?” he asked softly.

She nodded. “It was just his fingers, nothing else but,” she looked away and he could see the shame on her face, “I thought of you the whole time. I ached for you, and I know it wasn't right but,” she cursed and shook her head, “there is no but. It wasn't right, I never should have done it. It's just one more thing where I put my needs in front of yours,” she whispered.

Finan looked at her. His wife, his love, his heart. He closed his eyes and shook his head. He did not know what to feel, what to say. He felt Aisling place her hands on his knees. He opened his eyes and looked at her.

He knew he should feel anger and rage at the thought of another man touching her but instead... All he felt was sadness. Sadness that they had gotten to this place, that they had ended up there. He just wanted it all back. 

He wanted her back. 

“I don't,” he cursed as tears fell, “I don't know what ya want me to say or do with this, Aisling,” he admitted. “Why did ya tell me?”

“Because I could not lie to you about that. You deserved the truth,” she reached up and brushed his tears away. “You are my husband, Finan, the one I made vows to,” she added. “I need to be honest with you. It's what you deserve.”

He nodded. He pressed her hand to his cheek. He closed his eyes. “Do ya care for Harald?” he asked.

“I care for him as a person, he was kind and nice to me. But as more than a friend, no, never,” she answered.

He opened his eyes and looked at her. He reached out and pulled her closer. She straddled his lap and he looked deep into her eyes. He saw the love swirling in her ocean blue depths. He reached up and brushed some loose hair that had come out of her braid. He kissed her nose and rested his forehead against hers.

“Finan?” she whispered as she wrapped her arms around him.

He ran his hands down her back and pressed her hips closer to him. He looked into her eyes. “Do ya love me?” he whispered.

Tears rolled down Aisling's cheeks. “Yes,” she whispered.

“So, ya want me, and,” he swallowed the emotion becoming too much for him, “ya don't want to leave me?”

“Finan,” she said softly. She cupped his face in her hands, “I don't want to leave you. Ever,” she said as tears rolled down her cheeks.

He closed his eyes. “But ya did,” he whispered. “Ya let me leave ya and ya,” he held her closer, “ya acted like I meant nothing to ya. Like I was no one.”

He felt Aisling press a soft kiss to his lips. “You are my everything,” she whispered, her breath hitting his lips. “You mean everything to me, Finan. You have given me the strength and the love I needed to be who I am,” she whispered softly. “Me letting you leave was me being a stupid idiot and putting my own needs and wants first,” her fingers stroked and scratched his beard. “I was being selfish and I am so sorry for it.”

He opened his eyes and looked at her. “And Harald?” he whispered.

“Another selfish mistake,” he saw her tears falling. “I don't want him,” she moved closer to him. “I want you, Finan. Only you.”

Finan pulled her closer and his lips crashed against his. He kissed her fiercely. She kissed him back the same. He ran his hands up her tunic needing to feel her skin against his.

Needing to have her again.

He yanked off her tunic and tossed it aside. He felt her do the same to his. He grabbed her and pulled her closer his hands running down her back. He moaned as her breasts pressed against his chest. He kissed along her jaw and held her tight to him. He felt her fingers rake through his hair and he nuzzled his face in her neck.

“I ached for ya, Aisling,” he whispered as he ran his hand around her side to her trousers. He began pulling on the ties. “When I finally slept, I would dream of being balls deep in ya and ya screaming my name,” he added.

She whimpered. “I dreamt of you too,” she whispered. “I needed you so much.”

He pulled away and looked at her. “So much, ya let another man touch ya.”

“Finan-.”

He cut her off by kissing her again. He didn't want to hear about how sorry she was. No, he wanted to show her that no other man would be able to make her feel like he could.

He needed to show her how completely and utterly his, she really was.

He dumped her on the cot beside him. He stood and pulled off her trousers, tossing them aside. He quickly undid his own trousers and tossed them aside. He ran his hand down and cupped Aisling's cunt in his hand. She was wet. He slid two fingers inside of her and she moaned, arching her back for him. He watched as she opened her legs for him. He stroked her thigh with his other hand.

“Did he touch ya like this?” he demanded. “Did he know how fast or slow to go for ya?”

Aisling moaned as he moved his fingers and crooked them, stroking that spot that would guarantee her the most pleasure. She looked at him with her ocean blue eyes half closed and shook her head. “No, he didn't,” she admitted.

Finan rubbed his thumb against her clit and felt how wet she was for him. He watched as she grabbed her breasts and began to play with her nipples. His cock twitched and ached to be inside of her. He had missed her warmth wrapped around him. She moaned again and Finan knew he could not wait any longer.

He pulled his fingers from her and grabbed her thighs. He pulled her closer to the edge of the cot and took his cock in hand. He placed the tip at her entrance and thrusted into her, filling her completely with one hard thrust.

“Finan,” she moaned as she grabbed his shoulders.

He stilled. He looked down at her, met her eyes with his own. He saw love in her eyes. Love, regret, hurt, and need. He leaned down and pressed his forehead against hers. His nose rubbed against hers. He breathed her in.

“Stay,” he whispered to her. “Promise me, ya will stay from now on, here with me,” he said as she looked into her eyes.

He saw her eyes fill with tears. “I promise to stay, Finan,” she whispered. “I swear I will be by your side. I will not leave you and push you away.”

He kissed her. He slowly pulled his cock from her and slid it back in. Slowly, so very slowly. He felt her nails dig into his shoulders and her legs wrapping around his waist. He held her hips tight and close. He ran his hands up her body and wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his arms. He sat on the cot and she straddled his lap again.

He looked into her eyes and she looked into his. He held her close.

“I cannot do this without ya,” he whispered as his tears rolled down his cheeks. “I felt so empty without ya beside me. I cannot do that again. I have lost too much, Aisling. Ya were, and are, my last chance at love, my last hope and,” he paused and pressed his hands on her back, “my dream made real. Ya have me, ya always will have all of me, but I cannot have ya lock me out of your feelings and heart again,” he closed his eyes feeling the sobbing start, “I need all of ya, Aisling. I need every single part of ya heart in this with me. I need,” he stopped and started sobbing.

“Finan,” she whispered her hands cupping his face. He saw that she was crying as well. He felt her clench around his cock. “You have me. You have every single part of me. My heart, my body, my very soul is yours,” she whispered. “You made me believe in love, believe in marriage and a happily ever after with the person I loved. I am with you in this,” she pressed a kiss to his lips. “I have always been with you.”

He kissed her deeply and thrusted into her. She moved her hips against his and he kissed her over and over moaning into her mouth as she moaned into his. His hands pressed her body against his and he felt her arms wrapped around his neck and held him tight. He felt himself coming close. He thrusted up into her harder and faster and she met his thrusts as she raked her fingers through his hair.

“I fucking love ya,” he told her his feelings evident in his voice. It was deep and full of need and want. For her.

Only for her.

She was his dream made real. It killed him that another man had touched what was his, but she was there, in his lap, on his cock.

In the end, she had chosen him, showing that she was his as much as he was hers. And he knew, he was completely and utterly hers.

His heart beat for her and only her.

“Finan,” she moaned as she reached between them and began to rub her clit. He kissed along her jaw to her neck. He bit her pulse point and she moaned. “Fuck,” she moaned as she fell over the edge into pleasure.

He felt her clench hard around his cock. He thrusted into her again and again and again. He came and held her tight and closer to him. He stayed buried deep inside of her. He felt her place soft kisses on his cheeks, kissing away his tears. He ran his hands up her back and tangled them in her hair.

“Don't leave me,” he whispered softly.

“Shh,” she soothed him. “Never, Finan, I am never leaving you.”

He nuzzled his face in her neck and held her close as he cried. He ached to believe her.

He wasn't sure he did.

You were all I wanted

But not like this

Not like this

Not like this

Oh, all you had to do was-

Hey, all you had to do was stay

[the-crow-binary]

Tbh I feel like everything could have been fine if there was a little bit more care into it I'm not French and I don't much about the revolution so i can't say anything about the it but I'm black so I can empathize with Annette a little more I think the Idea behind her is interesting.

Oh boyyyyyyyy okay I finished watching the show so now I can rant.

We pretty much agree. The idea behind Annette is not the problem I have with her (well, except for the fact that they felt the need to give her powers when it would've been much more meaningful and impactful to me if she hadn't had any). The problem is the show uses her to emphasize how much SLAVERY IS BAD AND EVIL (as if we don't already know that) but to the point of straight-up insulting everyone else.

First off, there's this dialogue from Annette, talking to Richter and Maria: "You're not cowards. You're just children with no experience of the world. No experience of the hard choices adults have to make." Basically, Annette is saying she knows more than them because SHE SUFFERED MORE. Maria and Richter don't know pain! They were never slaves! And everyone knows only black people and slaves knows what the world is REALLY LIKE and what TRUE PAIN IS. It infuriated me so much, and it was only the beginning.

When Richter ran away from Olrox (because that's the vampire who killed his mother in front of him and traumatised him as a CHILD, Tera told her that, his panic attack was understandable), Annette had a whole monologue about how being a slave is terrifying, about how they know the cost of freedom, about how she wouldn't run away (even though she literally ran away from her ex-owner). Later on, she will say about Richter that he was "useless as fuck". I get it, she's mad, but the fact she had to make it about her and her problems like Richter did not have as much as her is still a bitch move.

In another scene, she uses magic to talk to her teacher, and at first, it was fine. When Annette complained that Richter ran away, the woman gave her a piece of her own medicine by telling her "Everyone starts by running away, Annette.", hintingat her running away from her slave owner, and Annette goes "It's completely different, how can you even compare that!" even though SHE is the one who compared her story to Richter's to begin with to invalidate his feelings and make him look like a jerk. But then, the teacher says:

"Even these french with their high ideas, what do they know about we've suffered? And what do they care? They're building new world, but it won't be freedom, or equality or brotherhood for US"

I will talk about this more in details in another post, because the problem I have with it don't concern Annette directly. I just wanna say that there is big problems with this and that Annette did not contradict her, she did not try to say she was wrong, she took it as the truth. And that bothers me. In a earlier scene, in episode 3, the teacher also shat on the french revolution and "the whites" because it would not help THEM, so I should've expected it, really. Also Annette, just like everyone else at that moment, applauded this woman.

In the end it's a matter of the show drilling into our heads that Annette is so oppressed and SLAVERY BAD left and right that made me dislike her (that and the bitchy attitude she sometimes has for no reason). The writers does not know how to handle such a heavy topic and it shows (especially a heavy topic from another country :)). You know you fucked up when you can't talk about X people suffering without shitting on the suffering of others.

I don't know about her religion so I can't tell wich problems there is, if any, but I wouldn't be surprised if the writers messed that up too.

Good for you and everyone else who likes her, for any reason. You do you. I personnally can't stand her. She's not all bad (she was fine during the first episodes), but the show ruined her for me, I'm afraid. :/ I just can't look at her without thinking that the writers used her as a tool to defend that black people suffered more than anyone else (and it infuriates me even more when I remember that she used to be a white woman who's only crime was that she couldn't fight. i really wish everyone would stop turn the "weak" women into girlbosses who fights and make them actually strong in ways other than physical. and the fact they made her black just so they could tackle racism and slavery leaves a sour taste in my mouth). And shit a bit on the french revolution while they were at it. So yeah, just like you said. Could have been fine with a little bit more care put into it.

[lemonhemlock]

I love how Emma D'Arcy keeps calling out the toxicity and grooming aspect of Daemon and Rhaenyra's relationship, “I think he is a deeply problematic character,” says D’Arcy. “Getting to see Rhaenyra being groomed as a child by her uncle confirms it, and refuses to allow an audience to wholly ignore the problematic nature of their relationship.” As much as Daemyra shippers claim that they know that the relationship isn't some pure wholesome Disney romance, they sure as hell act like it is whenever people point it out. Emma has said it multiple times, as well as the writers, that Daemon groomed Rhaenyra and it's a fact! This is an indisputable fact that can not and should not be ignored because it plays a HUGE factor as to why their relationship is the way it is, as well as why Rhaenyra is the way she is. She has severe abandonment issues as well as validation issues, and Daemon has done nothing but made her feel like she needs him and that he's the only person she can rely on. He's also done nothing but encourage her negative traits which has hurt her more than it has helped her. And no matter what people say I firmly believe that he's always been manipulating her so he can get within some proximity to the throne. He may not want to be King necessarily, but he does want his blood on the throne. Either through his own son or his daughter who'll be Queen consort. Daemon was truly the worst thing that happened to Rhaenyra.

Hello & forgive me for taking ages to reply to this well thought-out message! Unfortunately, I've been a little besieged these past couple of days.

I have to say that I've been very pleasantly surprised with how much nuance Emma speaks of Rhaenyra. They approach her from a perspective I would have never chosen on my own. Completely agree with their take on Daemyra - and I say this as a fan! I really enjoy their pairing on screen, but I won't fool myself into thinking it's a fluffy love story.

He's also done nothing but encourage her negative traits which has hurt her more than it has helped her.

I think this comes through SO much in the episode where he leaves her at the brothel by herself, but it flew past the audience's heads. His whole shtick about dragons taking what they want and indulging in their own pleasure really did a number on her. She goes straight to Criston & ropes him into having sex with her, disregarding his position and the threat on his life if he were to break his vows and continues to be very flippant about this towards him later on. She will later indulge her impulses in a more dangerous manner by intentionally bringing three bastard children into the world.

And no matter what people say I firmly believe that he's always been manipulating her so he can get within some proximity to the throne. He may not want to be King necessarily, but he does want his blood on the throne. Either through his own son or his daughter who'll be Queen consort. Daemon was truly the worst thing that happened to Rhaenyra.

I also think that Daemon likes the idea of kinghood. Not the responsibilities, not the boring petitions or squabblings between vassals or the actual administration work. He likes the complete freedom he thinks it would give him as well. Daemon is someone who loves acting with impunity and never facing any consequences, no matter what he does. He would make a terrible King or King Consort, a slave to his own impulses, plagued by boredom and I suspect he would basically present Rhaenyra with faits accomplis and expect her to deal with it & accept them without any real fallout.

Thank you for dropping by!

[shmowder]

Ooh, OCs! I'm in a patho oc group that I've unfortunately been too busy to participate in lately but I love my little (big) guy, so I'll share him here.

His name is Yonho, he's a former butcher turned botanist/agriculturalist, and he's 15 - because odonghs aren't born, they're spat out from the earth as fully formed adolescents. Yep, he's a worm NPC!

After learning how to exist for a few years he was put to work as a butcher for the Bull Project, but after doing that for a few years and realizing his labor mostly just made their greedy exploitative Böös richer, he quit and went to be a cattle herder in the steppe. He was free, but lonely, and couldn't enjoy his freedom knowing so many of the Kin were still slaving away at the meat factory. So he thought, hey, we're working there so we have money to buy food, right? So why don't we just grow our own food and we can stop working for him?

Great idea! Lots of other people thought of that before, though, and... the soil just sucks. It's terrible. Anything except twyre is barely worth growing. If they were going to stay in one area they had to depend on imports. But instead of giving up or saying they should return to being nomads he wondered if there was a reason twyre grew so well, and if they could give other plants that property. He planted the herb patches in Shekhen and started studying them, and one day when he was explaining his idea to a butcher who stopped by, they said they saw a book about something similar at a shop in town. He looked into it and found several books about plants, but they were all in Russian. So he went to some of the Kin in town and had them translate, and started trying to learn to read Russian himself so he could understand them better.

Now, a worm being interested in western science and trying to learn to read Russian is very unusual. And guess who caught wind? Vlad Jr. He immediately sought out Yonho and offered to help, saying he would give him the books he used as a child to learn to read, and would have books on agriculture imported for him. Yonho was obviously skeptical but Vlad Jr seemed better than his father and he couldn't think of a way this would hurt him so he cautiously agreed. And it worked, Vlad Jr did get him books on reading and agriculture. With his help Yonho quickly picked it up, and with a better grasp on Russian he started to speak more clearly, more like a townsperson. That was when Vlad Jr started talking about how wouldn't it be great if they could educate all the Kin and make them civilized like this? And Yonho realized he had never actually been interested in helping him, he just wanted to show they could be assimilated. He was understandably furious and while he didn't cut ties with Vlad Jr completely since having those connections is handy, he went back to Shekhen to focus completely on his twyre experiments. That's where he is during the game, and he's thrilled when Artemy frees the survivors from the Termitary and brings them there. He's even more determined to succeed now so it can be a long-term solution.

Despite being a devout Boddho boy, he really doesn't have any issues with the Town itself. Plenty of the Kin seem to like living there. It would be fine if not for the meat slave factory. And the racism. But a lot of people, especially those from the lower districts, are completely okay with living alongside them. Bar a mass departure, Yonho's staying near Shekhen and the Town forever. The Kin are his family. He's not leaving them.

Of course he believes all the steppe legends, being one himself, and he also believes the Mistresses. They've had Earth Mistresses and Mother Superiors for ages. However, he doesn't like the Dark and Light Mistresses. They're powers not native to the area, and like invasive species, they cause more destruction than good. He obviously hates the Olgimskys and thinks the Polyhedron is an abomination, so he hates the Kains too. He doesn't know much about the Saburovs but Katerina is a townborn Earth Mistress and they're not responsible for any huge destructive superstructures so he likes them best by default.

Obviously he would aid Artemy in his attempts to bring the Kin to Shekhen, but he wouldn't be hostile toward Clara or even Daniil if they were polite to him. I doubt he'd sabotage it, but he'd try to rescue the Kin from Utopian end by bringing them to a safe place in the steppe rather than inside the Polyhedron. As for quests... I'm not sure! He might ask you to get him a book or some supplies for Shekhen, or to talk to Vlad Jr for him. He would definitely be one of the worms you can trade herbs with though.

This was... already much longer than I intended it to be oops but here's the full document I made for him! And here's a drawing of him, done by the awesome @hayheadd!

A WORM OC!! IS IT MY BIRTHDAY? I LOVE HIM PLEASE MY CHILD <33 I would move the mountians and boil the seas if even one thread on his clothes gets touched by someone with malic.

Reading his backstory felt like reading a fable tale, one of those beautifully drawn bedtime stories you's obsess over as a kid. The narrative build and gradually steps he takes in order to solve this conundrum instead of just surrendering to the harsh reality.

He isn't satisfied with the current treatment of the kin. He wants his people to be turly dependent rather than subjected to borderline slavery by greedy cooperations.

It's very admirable how he doesn't give up even when his attempts fail, when the plants he attempts to grow withers, he asks why and tries to find an alternative way, searching for knowledge and information rather than simply giving up and thinking it was a foolish thing for a worm to even amount to anything.

I also like the complex relationship with Vlar Jr. Because he genuinely would help a worm if he ever caught wind of someone of someone like Yonho attempting to learn russian and actually read books. Sure, he'll do it with the intention in mind to spin this whole thing into benfiting his agenada to "uplift" and "enlighten" the kin, rather than actually understand why Yonho is doing the things he is.

But he still helps, I love that rat boyfailure man who. It is clever of Yonho to not cut off all connections since Vlad Jr. naivety or underestimation of the worms and kin can benfit him into getting even more batony books and outerworld resources with the Olgimskay's connections alone.

Ha, ironic. Taking advantage of the Olgimskay ignorance to help his own people who were wronged by them, to provide the kin even more knowledge whilst still respecting his own traditions and culture.

Because he knows the earth is a living thing, that he is a living proof of the magic in this universe and you shouldn't forgo one for the other.

Yk who else believes in steppe legends? Yulia, at least in P1. Taya also seems like she'd hold great favouritism towards the worm attempting to plant her strawberries and all kinds of fruits she's always read about but never tried.

Mother superior would definitely have his back if one of the Kin has a problem with his ways or claims it's an insult to the earth to attempt to not be satisfied with just the twyrine and swerve.

The art is so beautiful, I adore the little flowers and how accurate his clothes are to the Kin fashion ingame.

[whatdoeschronicevenmean]

Blacks and the Master/Slave Relation

From Afropessimism: An Introduction

Violence against the slave sustains a kind of psychic stability for all others who are not slaves.

What Orlando Patterson does is shows that what slavery really is, is social death. In other words, social death defines the relation between the slave and all others. Forced labor is an example of the experience that slaves might have, but not all slaves were forced to work. So if you then move by saying that slavery is social death, by definition, then what is social death? Social death has three constituent elements: One is gratuitous violence, which means that the body of the slave is open to the violence of all others. Whether he or she receives that violence or not, he or she exists in a state of structural or open vulnerability. This vulnerability is not contingent upon his or her transgressing some type of law, as in going on strike with the worker. The other point is that the slave is natally alienated, which is to say that the temporality of one’s life that is manifest in filial and afilial relations—the capacity to have families and the capacity to have associative relations—may exist very well in your head. You might say, “I have a father, I have a mother,” but, in point of fact, the world does not recognize or incorporate your filial relations into its understanding of family. And the reason that the world can do this goes back to point number one: because you exist in a regime of violence which is gratuitous, open, and you are openly vulnerable to everyone else, not a regime of violence that is contingent upon you being a transgressed worker or transgressing woman or someone like that. And the third point is general dishonor, which is to say, you are dishonored in your very being— and I think that this is the nature of Blackness with everyone else. You’re dishonored prior to your performance of dishonored actions. So it takes a long time to build this but in a nutshell that’s it. And so that’s one of the moves of Afro-pessimism. If you take that move and you take out property relations—someone who’s owned by someone else—you take that out of the definition of slavery and you take out forced labor, and if you replace that with social death and those three constituent elements, what you have is a continuum of slavery-subjugation that Black people exist in and 1865 is a blip on the screen.

One of the points that Patterson makes at a higher level of abstraction is that the concept of community, and the concept of freedom, and the concept of communal and interpersonal presence, actually needs a conceptual antithesis. In other words, you can’t think community without being able to register non-community. ..This is the function that slavery presents or provides to coherence .... In other words, there is a global consensus that Africa is the location of sentient beings who are outside of global community, who are socially dead. That global consensus begins with the Arabs in 625 and it’s passed on to the Europeans in 1452. Prior to that global consensus you can’t think Black.

...And Gramsci began to theorize: between working class suffering and state violence and state institutionality there’s this thing called civil society which captivates the workers—in other words, induces a kind of spontaneous consent to the values of capital. Guild associations, schools—today it would be talk shows, but not this talk show of course [laughter]—and he began to theorize that what Lenin meant by hegemony, which is the domination of imperialist countries over countries that are trying to evolve into a kind of revolutionary dispensation, is different than what he needed to develop his theory of hegemony and so he came up with three constituent elements: influence, leadership, and consent. By influence, leadership, and consent he means the influence of the ruling class—not the influence of one person or another, but the influence of a class—the leadership of its ideas—which is to say the idea of meritocracy, which was a very bad idea for a Marxist—and the consent of the working class to that influence and those ideas. What he sought to do was to find ways to break the spontaneous consent to those ideas. Once he could break the spontaneous consent to those ideas, then the working class of a Western, so-called devout country like Italy would be able to see what Marxists think of as the antagonism between them and the ruling class. Then it would move from a passive revolution to a real revolution, which would be a violent overthrow of the state

Well, one of the things that Orlando Patterson points out is that any stratified society—by that he means for example a capitalist society—only comes into being through a kind of pre-history of violence—the violence that it takes to move from feudalism to capitalism. But once the state of capitalism is set up the violence goes into remission. But then he goes on to say that what’s interesting about the slave estate—the slave estate is actually a phrase from the Black feminist Hortense Spillers—or the slave relation is that the violent pre-history of the slave relation carries over and becomes the concurrent dynamic of the current history of slavery. And that is really, really profound. It is so profound, that it’s traumatic and painful even for Black politicos and Black writers and you see the pain of that coming through in slave narratives.

In Fanon’s Black Skin, White Masks, he’s negotiating between two dynamics: one is negrophilia—“I just love Black people, I love Black music, I want to sleep with them, I want to be around them…”—and one is negrophobia—“Yeah you can come over to my crib but don’t bring your friends.” And so, what he’s saying is that the psychic arrangement of the collective unconscious is manifest with the push/pull in the collective unconscious between negrophilia and negrophobia. It’s not important how that gets worked out. 

[paragonrobits]

the current vibe I’m using with my particular take on the Infernal Exalted and how they actually operate is, much like the entire fandom for the Infernals, completely ignores the first chapter of Infernals (which is good because its awful) and instead operates on a similar scheme to how the Exalted in general work, barring the Abyssals to a certain degree.

the Exalted are, in general, autonomous. The Unconquered Sun doesn’t sit over the shoulders of Solars picking out which Ties have an inappropriate context, and Luna doesn’t slam the Lunars for not being sufficiently devoted to Luna’s interests. The Celestials can’t micromanage their Exalted in this way (with a question mark around the Sidereals, but that seems more to do with them requiring infrastricture for the most part, so while they can go rogue its usually not worth it, and they still have a lot of freedom within those confines). Autochthon actually veers closest towards my take on the Infernals, appropriately enough, in that while most of the restrictions on the Alchemicals are purely social, there is a lot built into their powers and Exaltations that require them to act in certain ways that fit his intentions. They are built to protect and guide communities; thus they are either created into an existing system, as with 2e and earlier Alchemicals, or they are driven to find and protect a community, enforcing his intent and acting in the ways he would prefer.

So my take on the Yozis follows a similar vibe. They don’t micromanage their Infernals as they might their Akuma; they might WANT to, but at the same time its hard to tell. I lean towards the idea that the Yozis are grand and cosmic entities that are at most distantly seen from afar. One cannot know their thoughts or goals or plans, but glean aspects of them from the Third Circles (who are, after all, mainly there FOR the Yozis to interact with people in some sense; you might make a deal with Ligier for a super-awesome artifact only he can craft, but you wouldn’t speak to Malfeas because he may not even be able to communicate on that small a scale).

The Yozis, in my personal take on Infernals, do still provide an Urge, but the name is literal; its less of a specific goal and more of a drive to act in certain ways that fits both the Infernal’s motivations and the Yozi’s, with just enough of potentially undesirable consequences to keep things interesting for a character without making it frustrating. (For instance a Malfean Slayer who rose up leading an army of liberated slaves might have the Urge of ‘Destroy the false tyrants of Creation, laying them low and destroying the chains they make’ that serve both Malfeas’ hatred of the world that turned against him but also appeal to the Infernal’s own desires to... well, beat the shit out of enslaving tyrants.) It’s actually a difficult balancing act, though, especially if you intend for mixed Circles, since its easy to have an Urge that is counter productive to their mutual goals; thus I think of the Urge as a general compulsion or broad motivation in keeping with their Yozi patron.

The lack of micromanagagement also applies to how the Third Circles interact with the Infernals. I see them less as specifically assigning them tasks, and more just letting them do what they want, with the intent that Primordial power and the Urge will combine to make them achieve the Yozis goals (in this case, of furthering their interests in Creation or just doing things pleasing to them) and incidentally the Exalted’s own wants; give them a road and they will go down it. So they don’t really give them quests or missions except for, say, Ligier asking them to retrieve something. They’re not compelled to do it, but the understanding is that a boon awaits them for fulfilling this request, and also outright turning them down is probably NOT the best idea, but at the same time the idea exists to fuel story hooks; in this case, the adventure taking off after pursuing this artifact (which may be desired by the true antagonists of the story) and this can work to indebt a Third Circle to an Infernal, which can further manifest in anything from training (it’s hard to beat ‘taught by Ligier’ as a justification for your character being among the greatest legendary smiths in Creation’s history) to cutting some sort of bargain in the future so that should they summon Ligier for a task, he will agree to it with no strings attached (and also not having anyone trying to bend him to their will because that is a TERRIBLE idea).

[slavetomistresscalia]

A Fulfilled Life

A dear friend of mine and fellow slave of Mistress Calia has written a story that i am sure will resonate with many people who serve online. It's so good that i asked for permission to reprint it here. i hope you enjoy.

A fulfilled life Jim was happy. He whistled everywhere he went and those who didn’t know him thought he was just a cheerful chappie. Still, his friends and family were worried. Very worried. Jim had never been known to be this happy for this long before. Something was up, yet they couldn’t figure out what.

Really, to an outsider it could be wondered why they thought anything was up. His productivity at work had gone through the roof, he was in line for a decent promotion, suddenly he was eating healthily, not drinking as much, not smoking, going to the gym and exercising … a complete turnaround in lifestyle. And - he was happy. He was not only happy about it, he was pursuing it as though his life depended on this new lifestyle. “Maybe he’s been diagnosed with a serious medical condition” one relative said to another. “No, that’s not it” retorted another “he passed a physical at work the other day, all his indicators are the best they’ve ever been and there is no sign of anything wrong…” Jim was largely unaware of the concern of friends and family. If he had been, he would have shrugged it off as none of their business. If asked directly, he would just say that he’d had a revelation from something he’d read and it had changed his life forever.

Yet … yes, Jim did have a secret. It was not a secret girlfriend as some of his friends surmised. It was much more than that and it kept him fulfilled, happy, disciplined and focused. It had turned his life around and given it purpose and meaning, a reason to be healthy and stay that way. But he was pretty sure that not one member of his family nor any one of his friends would understand his secret, or why it had changed him so dramatically from what they “knew” of him.

You see, Jim had finally found a way to be fully himself. To be all that he was in an environment of acceptance and positive identification. He was finally able to be all that he was, and he revelled in this freedom. He embraced his new lifestyle with pride. He was also aware enough to know that others and society in general would not understand and that it might become dangerous to him if it ever came out as general knowledge. So he embraced it fully, yet kept it a secret too. One indicator of this new life was an increased use of social media. He seemed to be making many new friends and sharing ideas and content with them. He suddenly had a social circle of friends who all knew the real him and allowed him to be that person with no judgement.

Oh, sorry, you want to know what his secret is? What was it that turned his life around? OK, well for that we have to go back 6 months to when Jim was bored and looking through YouTube for something to do. His attention was caught by an image of a woman with long brown hair and what looked like a spiral that was almost transparent. The text said “Mistress Calia” at the top left and “Click Trigger Hypnosis” further down. He was intrigued, what was this? But the woman looked hot so he thought he might as well have a look and see what the video was about so he opened it. It was a video of a girl performing on stage with dry ice and a band. It was very captivating. He didn’t even realise that there was an audio file at first and by the time he did, it was too late. He watched the video several times and then subscribed to Her YouTube channel and pretty soon found himself signing up to Her Patreon page. After that, he listened to every new file and joined twitter to follow Her, and it was there where he met others of a like mind. It was Mistress Calia who encouraged him to change his lifestyle to a healthy one as She said, “any slave of Hers needed to stay in the best possible health for their own sake so that they can give of their best for Her”. He also absorbed the concept of representing Her in all aspects of his life, including his job, which led to the unbelievable turnaround in his work performance. He realised that instead of daydreaming about a life he could never have, he could live it to the full by living his life for Her happiness and success. So his secret is that he is a slave for Mistress Calia, living his life for Her pleasure and obeying Her commands and he has never felt happier, more fulfilled or more accepted in his life. You could always join Her community you know - it’s just one Click Away