#where he was attempting to usurp god's throne for himself

[cherubchoirs]

I think its very interesting how god is a cookie cutter bad/abusive parent (i'm having a course on the psychology of good and bad parenting and holy smokes the amount of red flags the father has) that thought does also bring up the interesting psychology on how parentified Lucifer is. Like instead of raising the archangels himself he tasks his kid who's barely any older than the others to guide and raise 4 kids that arent his own by being a mentor with an emotional distance close enough but not enough to be a father to them. Thats gotta be painful, especially Michael and Lucifer since they seem to be the closest to having a father son bond or Lucifer who wants to love unconditionally but has to restrain cuz yk he's a mentor, not family. Also makes me wonder, did the archangels ever see god as a genuine father? Like not THE father but A father in the family bond sense

(contains a little bit of discussion on the kinds of abuse found in fundamentalist circles - it's pretty vague but i'm not sure how to tag it, so wanted to give a head's up!)

that really is the kind of dynamic i want to portray with them, as i view heaven, in context of gabriel's story, to reflect the pain and suffering perpetuated in fundamentalist households/communities. it's a reading i find very critical to gabriel's character and how the narrative is structured, so i wanted to carry that through with lucifer and the other archangels. and just like you say, lucifer is seen by god as an extension of himself - just slightly older than the archangels, especially by immortal terms, lucifer is given the responsibility of their development and overseeing their growth as god immediately becomes preoccupied with further populating his new universe. lucifer took to the work because he loved them so deeply, he wanted to see them thrive, but truly it wasn't a burden he was equipped for given his own limited experience. naively he had to do all he could to maintain his role model status, he constantly concerned himself with setting the right example, but he also could become overly volatile at times because he really wasn't that much different from them. they actually matured together, with michael becoming particularly close with him because lucifer, doing his job so well, was everything michael wanted to be. he was proud to be lucifer's second, he saw him as the ideal...but like so often happens, the family splintered. lucifer saw evil in it and grew to understand what he had been molded in. and it fell apart.

lucifer rebelled against the father's law and was cast out. michael became the model son, burying himself in the faith, embracing fundamentalism, and denouncing the evil, sinful nature of lucifer despite how he had once loved him. raphael became a peacekeeper, always tending to everyone's emotions and giving little regard to his own - his only priority is maintaining harmony, wanting to never again see anyone go through what they once did with lucifer. uriel became a recluse, withdrawn and given entirely over to his work, his study, he stays out of the way so much that many in the host of heaven forget there even is a fourth archangel, and he just quietly does as god asks of him. then gabriel is the popular public face, faithful but much warmer than michael, projecting an image of absolute radiance to cover up knowing he's different, knowing that lucifer had vaguely approached him before the fall. their illusion has been shattered by lucifer's loss, his absence tears at their family like a ghost, oppressive, unrelenting, always just out of sight but impossible to broach. there is so much evil here, each of them trying to put it off solely onto lucifer and told so many lies about him in his estrangement that they begin to believe them on some level. any pain their family had to endure, any distress they've felt at the dissent, any anxiety they have about their happy lives giving way, is all pinned on lucifer. and so the answer then, is keep the faith, work hard, think always of lucifer and strive to be everything he was not, but above all...be grateful for god's love.

i don't think angels have the same ideas of familial relationships, only thinking of each other as siblings when made in a set and not really having the concept of a true "parent" since they all come from the same source....but, like i mentioned in the previous ask about lucifer's feelings on having a child, he does have a similar paternal energy as god. and while something in god wants to fill this role to all things he creates, he is far too distant, far too terrifying, far too abstract and untouchable. to love him is ritualistic, and the love he returns is all-consuming yet entirely dependent on that ritual, a devouring and yet conditional love. lucifer, in sharp contrast, projected that same overwhelming love but was right there, guiding, teaching, sharing in their excitement, their wonder. he never asked to be worshiped, he did not demand specific prayer or exact behaviors, and instead his love was given freely. and so god was like the sun, beautiful and brilliant but only safe so far away where it could never burn them, while lucifer was the dawn it brought. and while i don't think they ever consciously thought of one another as family, lucifer more or less acted as the guiding force in heaven, with particular attachment to the archangels given how closely they would have worked with him. through him, the love of god was accessible, yet it was uniquely as lucifer decided to give it and shape it. so while they may not have an idea of a father in a human sense, lucifer played the part of their mentor, their protector, and their counselor...which is as close as they could ever get

[jinjinxedsoul]

When The Sun Loved The Moon - Aegon II Targaryen

SUMMARY | After abdicating in favor of his sister Rhaenyra, Aegon Targaryen seeks to distance himself from power and find a purpose beyond the throne. His marriage to his niece, Jaella Velaryon, symbolizes a strategic alliance but also a union built on mutual understanding and a deep bond. As Aegon and Jaella strive to build a life together, the peace they hope for is threatened by Alicent Hightower's ambitions. Unwilling to accept Aegon's decision, Alicent claims the throne for her youngest son, Daeron.

What began as an attempt to secure the kingdom's stability quickly spirals into a struggle for power, marked by betrayals and alliances that challenge even the strongest family ties. As the conflict intensifies, Aegon and Jaella must confront not only external threats but also the doubts and tensions that arise within their marriage. In a world where love and loyalty are constantly tested, they must decide what they are willing to sacrifice to protect what they hold most dear

PAIRING | Aegon II Targaryen x OC Jaella Velaryon (Rhaenyra's daughter, Jacaerys twin sister)

WARNINGS : +18, Targcest, underage drinking, underage sex, smut scenes throughout the chapters, a threesome at some point, aegon (he's a warning) characters death, mentions of abuse. (I'll add more as we advance)

Chapter index.

IT WAS IN THE YEAR 116 AFTER THE CONQUEST THAT PRINCESS RHAENYRA GAVE BIRTH FOR THE FIRST TIME, and as impossible and difficult as it may have seemed, the labor lasted an entire week.

The gods had blessed her and Ser Laenor with two children; however, the second baby had refused to be born alongside their brother. The night of the birth was exhausting for the princess, and the next day was even worse when little Jacaerys was presented to the queen, who quickly pointed out that the prince had not inherited Ser Laenor's features.

Seven days after Jacaerys' arrival, Rhaenyra gave birth a second time; Princess Jaella arrived in good health and brought good fortune for her and her brother, silencing the rumors that were already spreading through the court about the illegitimacy of her birth. Jaella was born with a good handful of silver hair and bright violet eyes.

The king seemed delighted with his two grandchildren, especially Jaella, who bore a strong resemblance to his late wife, Aemma. And although the rumors continued to circulate, their credibility was now more questioned than it had been at the time of Jacaerys' birth.

But if there was anyone more pleased than the king with the arrival of the twins, it was definitely Prince Aegon, who at just five years old was already yearning to feel less alone in the Red Keep; with a mother who constantly reminded him of a position he could not even understand, a father who barely looked his way, and an older sister who didn’t seem very fond of him, the birth of the twins represented for him a solution, perhaps a temporary one, to his loneliness.

Characters ! . .

Jaella Velaryon. 116 A.C "The valyrian pearl "

Aegon II Targaryen 113 A.C "The Prince Who Yielded"

. . . .

Decran Stark 111 A.C "The young wolf" |played by Tom Holland . . .

Daeron Targaryen 117 A.C "The usurper" |played by Lucas Lynggaard Tønnesen

. . .

Harland Arryn 117 A.C “The Protector” |played by Oscar Piastri

. . . .

EMMA D'ARCY as Rhaenyra Targaryen MATT SMITHas Daemon Targaryen OLIVIA COOKEas Alicent Hightower HARRY COLLETTas Jacaerys Velaryon

and

the rest of the cast of HoTD!

. . . . .

SOUNDTRACK!

[bipabrena]

The King of the Ashes (Aegon II-centric Helaegon fic)

Praying to the gods, old and new, to release him from his suffering, Aegon is sent back to the morning of his coronation. He is still weak, he still does not know how to rule. But he has one weapon: information. And with information, comes power. He now knows how to learn.

Being burned and usurped by his brother has left him with no love or patience to spare, for anyone. Everyone he thought he could trust betrayed him, and so he will pay their cruelty twice in turn.

Read here.

1

Every breath was a torment. The burns on his body, although healing, pulsed with fiery pain. His broken leg throbbed incessantly. The centre of his belly where Aemond had pushed him stung. But what hurt worst, what stung hottest, was that all of this was because of his own brother.

Aegon clenched his teeth, trying to suppress a sob.

He was alone. He was always alone.

Everyone had forgotten about him.

His mother mocked him, Cole had made plans behind his back, and Aemond had burned him alive, to usurp his throne. But he lived, he survived, and Aemond taunted him. Aemond knew he was indispensable; Vhagar made him so. No matter what atrocity Aemond did to his own family, his own allies, it stood that he was the only dragonrider they had. Helaena was too timid to fight, no matter how formidable Dreamfyre was. Daeron, sweet Daeron was away in Oldtown. Aemond was all that was left.

But Aegon had been a rider too, he'd had his Sunfyre, his golden love. Aemond knew this, and yet he attempted to murder him anyway. His resentment and ambition ran so deep, he was willing to cripple his own house in the process.

He screamed hoarsely, barely managing to get his cries out. His voice was weak from disuse. It hurt so much.

Sunfyre, his Sunfyre. How could he involve him in the fight? His love, his golden love, he must have thought it was just another ride. And yet Aegon rode him into battle, thinking he would only be burning an army, helping the men who rose up for him. He didn't know an enemy dragon would be there. He didn't, because his own council hid it from him.

He didn't want the throne, but he tried anyway. He tried. He wanted to do something, to prove himself. And yet no one cared for it. He was a puppet, that's all he was. It's all his mother and grandsire wanted.

Aegon wept. He wept. His body shook with the effort. He cried for his Sunfyre, and then he cried more because the more he cried, the more his body shook, and the more his body shook, the more his wounds hurt.

“Why?” he whispered, his voice barely more than a ragged breath. “Why does it have to hurt so much?”

His love, his golden love. How could he be dead? His boy, his precious boy.

He could not endure this any longer. He did not want to. He wanted it to end. He wanted peace, oblivion, anything but this unending torment. He can't stand the pain, it's killing him. He did what he had never done: he prayed.

To the Seven, to the Father, Mother, Maiden, the gods old and new, to anyone who would listen. He begged.

Please, he begged. End this torment. If not now, then let Aemond smother him with a pillow tonight, and then the traitorous cunt, the kinslayer, the kingslayer might be satisfied then. Then he could laugh with the traitor Cole and his wretched mother about how their plan succeeded, how they killed him.

Gods, the pain. It hurts so much.

He slept for hours, and then he roused again. Three suns and moons waned and waxed. Grand Maester Orwyle came, always helpful, always kind. He did his job, as did the maesters. Larys visited him, kept him up to date. Every time he roused from his sleep, he wept, wondering why Aemond hadn't murdered him in his sleep yet, why he couldn't grant him that mercy. Every now and then, the double doors to his chambers would open, and Aemond would just stare at him. With that smirk, that arrogance in his eye.

Please, he begged. Make it stop.

Another night came after a day of sleep, and healing, and pain. Only his White Cloaks stood guard outside, but what good were they? Aemond could kill him if he willed it, and no one could stop him.

He shut his eyes tight, willing himself to sleep.

A soft creak of the door drew his attention. He opened his eye. He craned his neck slightly, wincing at the effort. The White Cloaks stood aside, and a small figure hesitated between them.

Aegon's eye widened. His daughter, Jaehaera, stood there, her pale hair fashioned in the same style little Jaehaerys had. She looked so much like him, he could hardly stand to look at her.

"Jaehaera?" he barely mustered.

She stepped into the room, twiddling with her thumbs. "... Father?"

Aegon struggled to get his words out. The pain was unbearable. "What... are you doing here?"

Jaehaera reluctantly moved closer, stopping by his bedside. She was so small, he could hardly see her. "Mother said you were hurt," she said. "I wanted to see you, but she said I shouldn't."

Of course, Aegon thought. He had neglected Jaehaera, only paying attention to Jaehaerys so that he could prepare him as king, the way his rotten father never did for him. For Helaena to command that she didn't visit her wretched father, it was natural. He was no father at all. No husband.

Aegon closed his eyes. "Thank... you, for coming."

He wished to say more, but he couldn't. Speaking was painful.

Jaehaera's tiny hand reached out to touch him.

"Jaehaera?" Aegon heard. The door had remained open, so anyone could've sneaked up on him. Aemond could come to taunt him at any second. He weakly opened his eye, to find Helaena. "What are you doing here?" she asked, as soft as ever. She stopped by Jaehaera's side, leaning to carry her. "I'm sorry, Aegon."

Aegon frowned. "She... wants to see me?"

Helaena hesitated before nodding. "I told her to not disturb you. I'm sorry, we'll go now," she turned to leave.

"Helaena," he croaked, straining to raise his voice. Helaena turned to see him. "Have you... wanted to see me?"

Helaena's brows rose. "I have seen you... when you're asleep. I didn't want to bother you whilst you were awake, so that the maesters could tend to you. I also thought you might not wish to see me."

Aegon's heart ached at her words. Had she truly wanted to see him? Had she truly come to him? Even after he'd neglected her? Even after losing their son, and he hadn't mustered to say a word? "Please," he begged. "Stay. I need someone."

Helaena froze. She seemed stunned. Her mouth opened, and then it closed. "I... I will be back," she said, leaving with Jaehaera.

"No," he begged weakly, "stay!"

Helaena left. But soon enough, she returned, just as she said. She'd put Jaehaera to bed. Helaena sat by his bedside. Awkwardly, unsurely, unable to look at him. But she was there.

"Sorry," Aegon wheezed. "Sorry."

His body shook as he wept. And then he wept with pain.

He felt weak, and pathetic. Weeping before someone, it was unbecoming. He truly was no king. He was no one.

That's why his brother usurped him, why Cole and his mother betrayed him. Because he was no one.

He felt sudden warmth on his hand, the hand that lay on his belly, as it had when Aemond had pushed it against him. Pushing, straining his burnt flesh. But this warmth was different. There was no anger, no hatred, no derision.

Aegon opened his eyes to find Helaena, looking away. But holding his hand.

Please, he begged. Even now, as he understands someone cares, he still cannot help but beg.

Please, he begged. End this torment. Someone, anyone. Please, end this torment. He can't take the pain any longer.

He turned his hand around and weakly squeezed Helaena's hand. When he felt her thumb stroke his wrist, he begged again.

Please, he begged. End the pain.

He drifted into sleep, his hand clasped in Helaena's.

Read the rest of the fic and subscribe for updates here.

[best-nun-tournament]

Round 2, Match 11

Percy Jackson and Polyphemus (Percy Jackson) vs Mercer and Gage (The Silt Verses) vs Cleopatra VII and Ptolemy XIII (Egyptian history)

(Mercer and Gage art by @thedoublepp)

Propaganda under break. Spoilers for the Alexandrian War (47BC).

Percy Jackson and Polyphemus

Points to the part in Sea of Monsters where Polyphemus threatens to snitch to Poseidon like he did with Odysseus and Percy’s like good luck buddy I’m dad’s favorite

Mercer and Gage

Mercer and Gage are two fairly young people who have been failed by the systems in place. They’re a pair of orphans who have been working to birth a god and are attempting that through their hunting. They get hired by a politician to kill a few other gods, which results in them spending several months traveling up and down the countryside, razing entire towns and killing worshipers of whatever god they are hunting at the time, going so far that the politician who hired them asks them to chill out a bit because now they’re just killing voters. Over time, Gage grows to hate the hunt and longs to do something more with their life, while Mercer grows angry that their sibling is drawing away from her. She tries to push Gage to keep going, and reluctantly they do. When the politician instructs them to stop hunting the god they’re currently after, Gage tries to tell Mercer to stop, but Mercer refuses because she believes that after they finish hunting this god, their goal will be accomplished. Seeing that Mercer will never stop and Gage will never be free of her, Gage decides to kill her.

Poll Runner's Note: I also really liked this drawing by @caimitos. The detail of Gage having the dog's jaw at the bottom of their hood is really cool!

Cleopatra VII and Ptolemy XIII

You know

Poll Runner's Note: I sure do, and now I'm going to tell everyone about it! Ptolemy XII, their father, had five children: Berenice, Cleopatra, Arsinoë, Ptolemy XIII, and Ptolemy XIV. Berenice had usurped Ptolemy XII's rule and was executed when he regained power, making Cleopatra his eldest living child. In his will, he declared that when he died Cleopatra and Ptolemy XIII should get married and reign as co-rulers of Egypt.

Ptolemy XII died when Cleopatra was about 18 and Ptolemy XIII was 11, and right from the start she was not interested in this co-ruler business. She started leaving his name off documents, leaving his face off the coins, and generally acting like she's the only ruler in Egypt. Unfortunately for her, Ptolemy's guardians weren't keen on being demoted from "power behind the throne" to "glorified babysitter", and they deposed Cleopatra and forced her to flee to Syria, where she raised an army and started a war against her brother. It didn't go well for her, and things were looking bad for her until Julius Caesar showed up with his army.

Caesar was 1) Already mad at Ptolemy's advisors for killing Pompey who he'd wanted to spare and 2) famously a huge slut so Cleopatra was pretty easily able to convince him to restore her to power.

It's at this point Arsinoë shows up with her army. She joins forces with Ptolemy XIII, declares herself Queen Arsinoë IV, and beseiges Cleopatra and Caesar in the palace complex. For five brutal months, they battled through the city. The fires are said to be how the Library of Alexandria was lost, which is probably a legend but it was still devastating. Ceasar himself almost drowned while fleeing Arsinoë's forces at the Battle of Pharos Island.

Finally Caesar's allies show up with their armies, and Ptolemy drowned trying to flee across the Nile while Arsinoë was taken prisoner. She was brought back to Rome as part of Caesar's triumph, but her life was spared and she lived out the rest of her days at the Temple of Artemis in Ephesus. This was about five years because Cleopatra later persuaded Mark Antony to have her murdered right there in the temple.

Cleopatra married her youngest brother Ptolemy XIV, before finally poisoning him so she could make her son Caesarion the new Pharaoh.

Cleopatra was at least partially responsible for the deaths of all her siblings except the one her father killed, and the struggles between them were devastating for Egypt and caused a lot of suffering. These are some legitimately awful siblings.

[idrisofficial]

Which characters/character do you feel most personally/emotionally involved with and why?

oh this is a very difficult question and i appreciate it very much. as any creator would, i’m inclined to say all of them in different ways…but that’s kind of a cop-out.

i think i’ll say brinne and lennox. they’re not the characters i relate to the most, but i do think i feel the most emotional connection towards them. a lot of what draws me to them is their silent suffering—both of them live in glass prisons of their own making. a lot of this is mental illness related, but their natural dispositions are also of great influence (although lennox’s natural disposition is extremely debatable when you consider nature vs nurture).

brinne was the first of any of my idris characters to exist, and the depth of her development definitely follows suit. her transition from a manic but deeply idealistic teenager to a reticent and self-interested monarch through the buildup of her childhood trauma and the final straw of her near death experience is so deliciously heartbreaking. her loneliness, her codependency with adrian, her sexual and alcoholic coping mechanisms, her deep uncertainty in the religion that gives meaning to her entire life…poor girl can’t catch a break. brinne has always been the focus of idris, and i’ve had fun and i’ve had pain hurting her like i do. most of the actual writing that i’ve accomplished revolves around her, and for good reason. she is at the core of the conflicts plaguing idris’s centuries-old culture and still just a twenty two year old girl who never really got to grow up. sometimes i act as though her teenage self and her adult self are two separate people, but the truth is that they are painfully intertwined. brinne’s suppression of her idealism and desire for change in service to her desperate attempts at self-preservation is what drives her motivations throughout every iteration of this story. she cannot escape who she is, try as she might. and i think there’s something so, so compelling about that for someone in a position of such horrible power like she is.

lennox is layer upon layer upon layer. the fact that he was originally inspired by byakuya togami? we’re not gonna talk about that. lennox has also come a long way as a character, the third to exist after brinne and adrian. he’s an og. lennox was a nice kid up until about age six, where the kindness was quite literally shattered in him to make room for solid perfection. a machine with style. he grew into the role almost too perfectly. the pinnacle of competence, a voice of absolute reason and logic amidst his generally wild and dysfunctional generation of nobles. here is why i feel such connection to lennox. he is ice on the outside, ice on the inside, speaks only when necessary but controls the conversation, and casually usurps the throne from time to time. he has studied these same people for sixteen years, understands most of them sickeningly well, and appears virtually flawless aside from his mansplainer bullshit. but my god is he grumpy, bitchy, flamboyant, perfectionistic to the point of petulance, and baselessly sadistic. he’s the second most powerful person in the country and he has constant migraines from dealing with others’ bullshit. he loves his siblings. he’s one of only two characters to understand his sexuality and he’s deeply afraid of it. he gets no bitches. he’s still mourning the death of the cousin whose death he was responsible for and who he was boyishly in love with. he’s sensible as all hell, but my god, he is fucking losing it. nobody gets that. even the people who hate him don’t get that. they hate him for his pretentious swag but don’t understand how much of a loser he actually is. anyways. i’m on a tangent now. he’s flawless. he’s horrible. there is no changing who he is, but would he ever have turned out like this naturally? lennox is a product of both what others have made him into and what he has forced himself to embody. there is no lennox that isn’t a diamond formed under absolute pressure.

[queenofcats17]

28 for narilamb (if you want; otherwise just choose a ship of your liking)

Ooh! I've never done Narilamb before! I'll do my best!

28. …as a lie.

.

The One Who Waits was a being to be feared. He was the God of Death, the downfall of the Old Faith. He inspired awe and dread in all who looked upon him. He bowed to no one and followed no one's orders but his own.

And yet... Here he was following the orders of that blasted lamb.

He had tried to fight back against the Lamb, of course. He wasn't one to take this indignity lying down. He was the One Who Waits! The terrifying God of Death! He refused to be the follower of anyone! Least of all some upstart lamb. He had been the one to give the Lamb power in the first place! How dare that insolent creature use that stolen power to subjugate him? He would see his power returned, he vowed, and the Lamb crushed beneath his heel.

Unfortunately, though, none of his attempts at reclaiming his power had succeeded thus far. Every murder scheme, every attempt at sowing dissent, every sabotage, they all fell flat, foiled either by the Lamb or one of their followers. A lesser being might have been discouraged by this constant failure, but for Narinder, each failure only served to stoke the fires of his rage even more. He would suffer this humiliation for the time being, but he would reclaim his throne. He swore that.

Which led to where he was now, sitting on a log in front of the bonfire while the other followers danced around him in nothing but little leaves. He too was bereft of clothing, much to his chagrin. The Lamb was performing some sort of Lust ritual, for reasons Narinder neither understood nor cared about. He had been fully intending to stay in his tent while this went on, until his siblings had dragged him out, claiming that if they had to do this then so did he. So, here he was, sullenly sipping some wine while watching the other followers with barely disguised disdain. Quite a few of the other followers were drunk and sloppily flirting with each other. Narinder was about to turn his attention elsewhere, disgusted with their blatant displays of affection.

But then he noticed a few of the followers flirting with the Lamb.

And that gave him an idea.

He'd tried being aggressive. He'd tried being direct.

Maybe it was time he tried a... subtler approach.

He quickly finished his glass of wine before pouring himself another, full enough to swirl and slosh as he stumbled toward the Lamb, adopting a swaying and off-balance gait to simulate drunkenness.

"Lamb~" He called in a sing-song voice.

The Lamb turned away from where they were politely declining the advances of a different drunken follower. They gasped upon seeing Narinder seemingly stumbling drunkenly toward them.

"Nari! Are you drunk?" They asked, unable to hide the enormous grin that spread across their face.

"What can I say?" Narinder slung an arm around the Lamb's shoulder, deliberately slurring some of his words. "What you lack in godhood you seem to make up for in potent liquors."

The Lamb's expression flattened a bit and they rolled their eyes, patting Narinder's head. "Yeah, okay."

"Oh, don't make that face." Narinder leaned in closer, resting his cheek against the Lamb's. "You're doing well. For a usurper." He had to add that last part. Even when feigning weakness, he couldn't let the Lamb forget what they'd taken.

"Aw, I think that's the nicest thing you've said to me," the Lamb replied, patting Narinder's hand. "You're definitely gonna regret that tomorrow." They paused, then laughed. "You're probably gonna regret all of this tomorrow."

Narinder's expression suddenly grew solemn. "Then let's not think about tomorrow," he whispered, leaning closer.

"Huh?" The Lamb let out a squeak at the sudden closeness.

Their faces were close enough that their noses were almost touching, and Narinder was sure the Lamb could smell the alcohol on his breath, further strengthening the impression that this was all due to intoxication.

"I don't want to think about tomorrow," Narinder hissed, eyes narrowed slightly. "I'm tired of worrying all the time. Let me have this moment, Lamb."

The Lamb blinked, clearly flustered, but quickly regained their composure and smiled. "Well, alright. If you say so."

Narinder stared intently at them with half-lidded eyes. They weren't unattractive, he would admit that much. But they meant nothing to him, he reminded himself. They were nothing.

...Why was his heart beating faster now?

No, he had to focus on his plan.

"...Can I kiss you?" He asked.

The Lamb's eyes went wide. "...What?"

"Can I kiss you?" Narinder repeated.

"Okay, so I did hear you right. Uh..." The Lamb giggled nervously. "Do you... actually want that?"

"I wouldn't be asking if I didn't." Narinder gave a lazy smile.

The Lamb paused, considering this. "Just one," they said after a moment of thought. "And only a quick one. I don't want to take advantage of you."

Internally, Narinder couldn't help but laugh. Oh, so they thought they were taking advantage of him in this situation. Oh, how adorable. If only they knew how wrong they were.

"How kind of you," Narinder purred. Then, he leaned in and pressed his lips to theirs.

It was just a ploy, he reminded himself as the Lamb closed their eyes and leaned in. This meant nothing. The Lamb meant nothing. They were a pawn who had outlived their usefulness and needed to be brought to heel. This kiss was nothing but a lie. A sweet one, but a lie nonetheless.

Who was he really lying to, though?

[nashiriel]

If luke hadn’t claimed the cannibal and taken Corlyss offer instead to fight with his fleet would he be having more visions from the drowned god?

Being in close physical proximity to the sea, the increased likelihood of interaction with the Ironborn and their beliefs, plus the absolute certainty of Luke’s PTSD getting triggered by so many reminders of what happened to Arrax without the Cannibal serving as a grounding rod for Luke’s own rage…yep, Luke’s definitely not going to be able to suppress that connection like he is now.

However, it must be said that Luke is 100% lying to himself when he appears to be contemplating choosing between the Cannibal and the sea. It doesn’t matter that it would be a noble and politically advantageous way to aid the war effort. He would literally rather potentially walk to a fiery death at the jaws of a dragon who killed every one of his previous would-be riders than even try to confront his thalassophobia at this point.

Likely the only situation that would get Luke willingly seeking out that connection would be if Aemond had found him alive, dragged him to King’s Landing, and Luke found himself as a hostage who needed every possible advantage, no matter how far-fetched. But that scenario would get ugly for many, many reasons…

In a Carrionverse where Luke doesn’t claim the Cannibal, the below is far more likely to occur:

Luke: You see, I’m just mad as hell because my uncles usurped the throne, committed actual dragon and attempted nephewcide, and frankly, are just a massive bunch of dicks-

Vermithor: Oh? Tell me more, sweet child.

[kizzykiszka]

|| GOD FORSAKE THE QUEEN ||

Warnings: violence, cursing, descriptions of war, and bloodshed. this is an adventure story in the middle of a war. this story will get violent and there will be injury. it's a little bit of an AU, so some personality traits may be exaggerated. sam is kind of a dick in this. sorry sammy girls. there will be some romance but its not the forefront of this. if you don't want to read about the guys getting injured -- please do not read this.

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summary:

"Up-and-coming rock band Greta van Fleet heads home, drained from their 2019 tour, yearning for a much-needed break. However, their world takes a dramatic turn when a celestial being, Mother, transports them to the war-torn realm of Eldoria. Here, a prophecy awaits them—to rescue the land from the clutches of the ruthless dictator, Seraphina, who usurped the throne with dark magic, stripping the land of its mystical essence and enslaving all who oppose her. In this perilous journey, the band members—Josh, Jake, Sam, and Danny—discover a realm in chaos. The true king and his daughter have fallen victim to the dictator's cruelty, while the queen narrowly escaped, leading a small but resilient rebellion of survivors. Their valiant attempts to reclaim the kingdom have been met with dwindling numbers. Guided by the power of Mother and equipped with newfound abilities, the boys must plunge themselves into the heart of battle, their singular goal: to vanquish the tyrannical queen and at any cost, restore order and magic to Eldoria.

Chapter 1

____________________________________________

Summer. 

Out in the middle of the California desert, there was a large sleeper bus traveling down the road in the bright afternoon light that blanketed the surrounding scenery. Traffic was average, given the time of day it was but the sleeper bus really stuck out like a sore thumb among the regular cars. It wasn’t atypical to see these types of buses on the road. Generally celebrities were inside, as it was the most common way for them to travel in private. Inside this particular bus was a group of celebrities, however they didn’t really see themselves as “famous”. They were Greta van Fleet. And they were heading home to Michigan from their last concert of the year. 

Normally, the inside of the bus was filled with chatter while the boys drank and discussed their next venue they’d been performing at. Instead, the cabin was silent. Josh, lead singer, was laid down in the back of the bus in one of the beds -- passed out cold under a pile of blankets. His twin, Jake the guitarist, was perched up in the bed below him looking out the window at the passing cars while simultaneously bandaging up his calloused fingers. Sam, youngest brother and bassist, was in the common area at the table with a drink while he leafed through a book while their drummer Danny was sifting through his social media in a slumped over position in the couch opposite to the table that Sam was sitting at. They were all completely exhausted. Ever since the start of their tour, they hadn’t had a moment of time to just sit and relax. Now that they were heading home, where each of them knew they were definitely going to be exploiting this down time to the fullest extent. 

Jake played hard this last show and his fingers were really sore now. It wasn’t uncommon for people who played string instruments to get callouses on their fingertips. Sam got them more often since he played bass with very thick strings that absolutely destroyed his fingers. Jake had unfortunately gone a little too crazy on this last show and this had broken open several of the already hardened blisters on the tips of his fingers. Reaching down to grab another BandAid, Jake frowns as he finds the box is totally empty. “Damn,” he thinks to himself, “I still have a whole other hand to do. There’s gotta be another box here...” Jake tucks his phone back into his pocket and turns around to pull back the privacy curtain that was around the bed and he steps out into the cramped hallway that led to the common area of the bus. From there, he heads over to the bathroom where he starts rummaging through the cabinet above the sink. No bandaids. Odd, but not uncommon. They did seem to go through a lot of those lately. He exits the bathroom and heads back down the hall towards the common area where his bandmates were seated. 

“Any of you have any bandaids?” Jakes asked, “There’s none in the bathroom.” Sam lowers his book a bit to look at his older brother with a frown. “What did you do this time?” he asked, the words that left his mouth almost cold. “Nothing particularly bad.” Jake replied, ignoring his little brother’s rather obviously annoyed tone of voice as he held out his busted fingers, “... I think I might have overdone it at the last show. They’re bleeding this time.” Sam puts his book down with a groan and he slides out of the booth, “I think I have some in my bag. If not…” Sam glances out the window, “We might still have time to stop.” Outside, they were now much closer to the desert and the cacti seemed to whiz by in green blurs. Highway 40 was quite a ways away now and there wouldn’t be any way for them to get back. Sam pulls open the privacy blinds now and shakes his head at the passing scenery, “On second thought, I think we’re in the middle of nowhere now. Unless you feel like stopping at a tiny town on this road.”

“I wouldn’t mind stopping.” A voice piped up from behind the brothers, and they turned around to look at Danny who was now mid-stretch across the couch, “I think we’ve been in here for at least 6 hours now. Personally, I’d like to get out and stretch my legs. I’m gonna go bug the driver, see if we can pull off somewhere.” 

Before Danny could push past his bandmates, a loud singular tak noise sounded above their heads. They all paused to look up. Another. Tak… tak…. Tic… Rain? “Aren’t we in the middle of the desert?” Jake questioned. It rarely rained out in the desert and outside the window, the sky seemed bright and clear. “Yeah,” Sam responded, “I’m gonna go see what’s going on. We should still be on the highway now that I think about it.” Sam walks past his bandmates and up towards the front of the vehicle where their driver was. He carefully knocks on the outer wall before pulling back the curtain to see the bus driver perched contently in the driver’s seat. Robert was his name. “Hey!” Robert greets the stoic bassist with a grin, “You guys doing okay back there?” 

“For the most part yeah,” Sam replied, “Is there any reason why we left the highway?” 

“Oh yeah! I’m real sorry about that kiddo. I probably should have mentioned this to ya’ll but I didn’t want to frighten you none. I had a check engine light come on so I’m headed towards Vegas now. Should be somewhere for us to stop and get the bus serviced.” Robert explained. “Check engine?” Sam asked, “Didn’t we just have this thing serviced before we left?”

“I got her gassed up, but no, not any servicing. It’s rare they give us any issues. Engines in these things are tanks,” Robert says, “Shouldn’t be a big issue. We should make it to Vegas here soon.” 

“Alright. I’ll go let them know. Just… can you tell us next time before you just veer off the highway?” Sam said before disappearing back behind the curtain. He heads back into the common area where Danny was inspecting Jake’s fingers carefully with a roll of black electrical tape in hand. “Are we stopping?” Danny asked. Sam plops back down in the seat adjacent to the boys and grabs for the book he’d abandoned just moments ago, “Yeah. Apparently we’re making a pit stop in Vegas. Something’s up with the bus.” A look of alarm washes over the pair’s face, “A problem?” Jake asks, “Not serious is it?” 

The rain was starting to pick up now. Heavy droplets were beating the roof of the bus relentlessly and the once bright afternoon light was now replaced with gloomy dark clouds overhead. Sam shrugs, “Hell if I know. I’m just ready to get home and not do anything for a few months so we better not be stopped for too long.” Jake rolls his eyes as Danny finishes up taping his fingers with a spare roll of electrical tape. It wasn’t much but it worked. “I’m just ready for some good family food,” Jake said, fanning his fingers, “And a break from being in the spotlight. It’s great but, I dunno… you ever find yourself missing the days when we were just a garage band?” 

“Occasionally,” Danny replied, “It’s nice to be recognized though. And hey, we’re stopping in Las Vegas. They’re bound to have some good food we can grab before we leave.” Sam leaned back in his chair wordlessly and cracked open the novel he was reading once again. He was definitely in one of his moods again. Jake ignored his little brother once more and pulled out his phone to open up the maps application to browse their food options. They weren’t going to be able to go too many places. The bus was a behemoth and barely fit in any parking lots so wherever they went, it had to be somewhere within walking distance of the bus stop. 

“I’d love to go to one of these casinos one day,” Jake murmured under his breath, “I think I might get stuck there.” 

“Nah,” Danny snorts, “You’d find your sorry ass in a strip club one way or another.” Jake rolled his eyes with a playful huff, “Yeah, sure.”

The two continued looking over their options, trying to decide on a place that everyone could agree on when suddenly a low groaning noise echoed through the cabin ominously. The three all got very quiet and looked around in confusion. “That sounded like…” Danny started to speak but was interrupted by the sound of a small explosion in the back of the bus that was immediately followed by a loud hissing. They all looked to each other, as if looking for answers. Overhead, the bus lights flickered and the huge sleeper started to rumble deeply as it slowed to a stop on the side of the road. Sam tosses the book down on the table, “Damn him!” he exclaims, stomping up towards the front of the bus. He met Robert in the hallway, who had just come out from behind the partition. He looked very sweaty and anxious, “You said it was going to be fine!” Sam yells, “What the hell is going on?” 

“Sam!” Danny barks, rushing up to the boy whom he pulls away from the driver, “Dude, chill. It’s nothing, okay? We’ll be just fine. Don’t get all up in his face like that.” 

“He literally said 2 minutes ago that we’d be just fine!” Sam exclaims again, “So were we not okay?”

Robert holds his hands up defensively, “Look, I just got a check engine light 30 minutes ago.. I think the radiator’s done blown but I gotta go out and check. Excuse me, please.” The graying chubby man pushes past the two and out into the rain. Sam shakes his head in disbelief and goes to sit back down, folding his arms tightly over his chest. By now, the commotion had woken up the last brother who had tumbled out of the bunk bed he’d been hibernating in since the departure. Josh entered the common area, rubbing his eye with a yawn, “What’s everyone yelling for?” he asked, looking around the cabin with a frown, “Are we stopped?” 

“Something’s wrong with the bus,” Jake replied, “It’s not a big deal though. I’m sure Robert will have it up and running here in a sec and we can limp it to Vegas like he said he would.” The lights flickered again above their heads. Josh takes a seat at the table across from Sam, who was fuming now and showing his displeasure by tapping his foot rapidly. Josh yawns again and nods, “Mmm, okay. Vegas sounds nice. I don’t think we’ve been there yet. Could we go to one of those uh…” he snaps his fingers, “... casino places? Always thought it would be fun to use one of those machines.” Josh was clearly still waking up. Once more, the lights flickered and then completely shut off, leaving the band in complete darkness. The sound of rain continued now, much louder now that the air conditioning was off. “That uh… that can’t be good.” Jake whispered. 

“Alright fine,” Sam says suddenly as he shot up from his seat, “I will go check on the driver.” Sam disappears down the hall towards the front of the bus and down the stairs to the outside world. Josh rests his head on the table in front of him with a sigh, “Well, at least this’ll make for a fun story for when we get home,” he says, “Anyone able to text mom?” 

Jake snorts, “I think every group has had their bus break down in a sketchy area before. Besides, Rob’s certified. Aaron made sure he was before he hired him. We’ll be running in a second.” 

The bus door swings open and a very wet Sammy comes stomping up the stairs, soaking wet and  with a frantic look on his face, “He’s gone.” he utters, sending a wave of panic through the boys. “Gone? What do you mean gone?!” Jake exclaims, turning around to look out the window. “It’s exactly what I said, Jake! He’s just gone.” Sam responds, reaching to grab his phone.

“Like, gone gone?” 

“The back of the bus is open like he started working on it, but he’s not there. He’s not on the other side and he’s not in the desert. He’s just gone.” 

Josh stands up now and folds his hands together, “So, do we… call the police?” Danny asked, “Should we go check and see if he’s gone?” 

“I don’t know!” Sam replies frantically, “What if there’s someone or something out there?” 

Danny holds up his hands, “Hang on, Sam. Let’s just take a deep breath. I’m sure our manager can’t be far from here. We can just call him and he’ll pick us up.” 

“I’m not getting any signal,” Jake says as he drops his phone down, “I don’t understand. We had it just fine a second ago.” One by one, the boys take out their phones and try to dial out -- only to have the calls mysteriously drop. This only sends more panic through them. Sam runs his hands through his long hair and looks back at the door, “Someone’s gotta fix the bus. We’re just sitting ducks if there’s something out there. Danny, you know something about cars, don’t you?” 

“You’re gonna feed me to the wolves?” Danny asked, “No, no absolutely not. If we’re going out there, I need a buddy. Rob just up and fucking disappeared, what if I do too??”

“Let’s all go together.” 

All eyes now turn to Josh who was sitting with his hands clasped in front of his face. “We’re safer in numbers,” Josh continues, “If there is a threat.” The remaining three look around and nod, “Alright. I’ll go and see what I can do. Sam, if I can get this running again, you’re driving.” Josh gets up from his seat and the boys all file out into the rainy desert landscape. The first thing they noticed was the fact there was at least an inch or two of standing water at their feet where the sand normally was. It didn’t rain much in this part of the world, so it wasn’t uncommon for flooding to occur. The group carefully tip toes out in the rain to the other side of the bus where they see the metal grate covering the engine flipped up, smoke pouring out of the engine bay. 

Rob was nowhere in sight. 

A chill ran down Josh’s spine. He didn’t like this. Danny approaches the engine and Sam follows from the side with the flashlight from his phone while Jake and Josh stand watch. “It’s the radiator!” Danny called through the rain, “We need some water or something! A big jug!” 

“We don’t have a big jug of water.” Sam replied, “We have water bottles! And water on the ground!” 

They were genuinely afraid now. Someone had to go back to the bus to get the water bottles from the bus and leave the other two outside. Nobody wanted to move. “Jake, go with Sam to the bus. Get as many water bottles as you can!” Danny calls, “We gotta get this bus going again!” 

“What about Rob?!” Jake called back, “We’re just gonna leave him?” 

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there! We can’t be in this storm!” Danny called once more. The wind was picking up now. Josh’s eyes were focused out to the middle of the desert, trying to see if he could make out human shaped silhouettes out in the distance. There was nothing though. Just blackness. This storm didn’t feel right. It was violent and sudden, almost like it was planned to make them stranded. The desert didn’t have rain like this, did it? Suddenly, something caught his eye. A small sliver of light flashed out in the distance. It looked almost like lightning, but it held its shape in one spot. It started to grow in length, and then it split open with a loud crack that sounded loudly across the arid land. 

“Are you guys seeing this shit?!” Josh hollered as a bright white light blanketed the surrounding cacti and road. Stunned, the boys watched in awe as a woman slowly slipped out of this crack in the sky. She was enormous and almost opaque in color. Her body was twice the size of any high rise building and she emitted this ethereal white light that was blindingly beautiful. Upon her body was a simple robe that was draped across her loosely, and atop her head was an ornate crown of golden leaves while her hair was neatly braided. Her eyes were without pupils, but just blinding white light. 

The rain stopped. The droplets were suspended in the air now while it continued to pour outside of the orb they were trapped in. 

“Welcome, saviors.” The woman boomed, “We have been waiting for you.” 

Again, they exchanged looks. “Waiting for us?” Josh questioned, “Who are you?” The ethereal woman smiles warmly, “I am Mother. I have been watching you four since the day of your birth. You are destined to save the world. Our world.” She outstretches a hand from underneath the robes and points forward with two fingers. A glowing light emits from her fingertips. She draws a circle out of the glowing light while her other hand reaches down toward the boys. A soft warm yellow glow envelopes each boy in an aura and one by one, they begin to levitate upwards. “Save the world?!” Sam hollers now, “We’re just a band! Just normal people!! What are you doing?? Put us down!” But Mother ignored his pleas. Jake was far too stunned to say anything and Danny was pale with fear and shock.

Josh runs his hands through his hair furiously, “This has got to be some kind of crazy fever dream. I only see this in my dreams! What are you going to do with us? What do you mean saviors?”

The woman had drawn a circle in the air, and filled it with symbols that Josh didn’t understand. “I’m afraid I can’t answer any questions, puer meus.” Mother says, “All will be answered with time. But we must hurry. There isn’t much time now.”  Mother opens her palm, pushing the circle and it’s odd symbols forward. It turns yellow and begins to glow rather brightly.  “Duc nos domum.” Mother uttered these words, and a bright blinding light filled the sky in response. 

Then, there was nothing. 

[uramii]

Ganondorf's Background

Placing under a cut--

Although the dessert is a harsh and unforgiving landscape, therein lies a race of thieves who make it their domain. A group called the Gerudo. The race is comprised of women but it is told that one male is born every century who then moves on to become the king. That male was Ganondorf. Ganondorf was born in a time of uncertainty for his people as the Hyrulean Civil War had just ended and their land had become part of the Kingdom proper. He was raised by surrogate mothers Koume and Kotake. The twins were wicked witches who groomed him to be the cunning and conniving man he is today. They didn't want him to just be Gerudo King but a Demon King. When he became of age to take the throne he did so with impunity and immediately sought to personally swear fealty to the king of Hyrule. This was merely a ruse however as Ganondorf sought to enter the Sacred Realm and claim his prize: the Triforce.

The Triforce is a golden relic left behind by the trio of goddesses who formed the very lands of Hyrule:Din, Farore, and Nayru who represent power, courage, and wisdom respectively. In another life Ganondorf was successful by simply waiting. But, a kid clad in green arrived shortly after him and warned the king of Ganondorf's plan. This led to Ganondorf being captured and put on trial by the sages themselves.

What no-one accounted for however is that the kid in green, Link, bore the crest of courage, as he had to travel backwards in time after venturing into the sacred realm and the triforce being split. This meant that no one needed to enter it in this timeline to enact such a thing and the three fated to possess the pieces, being Link, Zelda, and Ganondorf, already were blessed with it's influence.

Ganondorf was taken to the mirror chamber on Arbiter's ground to be executed. The set of sages used a weapon called the Dusk Claymore to do so and when it pierced his body, the triforce of power awoke within him allowing him not only to survive the attempt on his life but break free from their restraints and kill one of the sages(water specifically) in one fell-swoop. Along with the murder of a sage, Ganondorf relished in the idea that he deserved the Triforce of Power, as he hadn't even needed to enter the Sacred Realm to obtain it. He saw this as the gods ensuring his survival since his path was correct. Fearing the upheaval, the sages quickly banished Ganondorf to the Twilight Realm where he shrouded himself as a spirit to feed on the strife of the Twili. He watched & waited patiently as one particular male was denied the throne called Zant. When he broke under the realization he may not get the power he so desired, Ganondorf took this opportunity and appeared before the downtrodden Twili, offering him a share of his in exchange for loyalty.

The raw power granted to Zant allowed him to easily usurp the throne and morph the Twili into twisted versions of themselves, acting as his personal army. He broke the barrier between the Twilight Realm and Light world, allowing Ganondorf to pass through while Zant continued to unite the two worlds in his bid for control. This time however, Ganondorf sought to guarantee his victory. When he noticed provinces of Hyrule being freed of Zant's influence he sought out the source immediately. Only two areas of the kingdom had been freed by then, meaning they were systemically tearing the Twilight from the world by reawakening the spirits of light that guard over them. The disturbance had been identified: Link and the traitorous Midna. Fortunately for the Dark Lord Link had yet to retrieve the Master Sword. He was easily able to vanquish the boy in green and saw fit to end Midna's life as well, since she was too risky to let live again. Zant had stripped her of her form & power but she was able to aide in clearing Twilight. Ganondorf was hasty to claim this victory however and did not extract the Triforce of Courage from his enemy. A mistake he'd repeat again...

Ganondorf entered Hyrule Castle and saw fit to rid the world of the last remaining royal family member: Zelda. Another loose end but Zant couldn't entirely be blamed... Just like Link's, Zelda's end was swiftly and unforgiving. He once again hadn't extracted the Triforce from his counterpart. It was only after the trio of murders did he realize. But, then came another realization: he had won. He'd survived execution, waited for an opportunity, and now he had an entire kingdom in his grasp. The very same land that had forsaken him and his people. Ganondorf saw fit to burn it all to the ground but what a waste that would be of resources already seized by the Hylians. Instead, he decided to iterate upon it and take his seat at the throne. Zant had usurped the Twilight Realm and thus gave him the perfect opportunity to do the same with Hyrule, which, with it's heir gone meant he was successful.

Ganondorf got to work immediately. He ordered Zant remove his hold over the kingdom as it was now his. The Twilight was gone and so Ganondorf rode from settlement to settlement announcing himself as the new king. How fitting given Zelda's coronation was halted by the invasion. Instead of a queen Hyrule now had a king at the helm. He carried Zelda's tiara as proof of her passing...

Those who refused the king were able to put two and two together: he must have had something to do with the monsters that roamed the kingdom and stole the throne in all the chaos. Zelda was just about to become Queen and yet here he is claiming the authority she would have had.

Naturally some accepted the Dark Lord out of fear. Whether it be his imposing stature & aura or having heard the legends of the demon king by the name “Ganon” they felt as though resistance was futile with their hero nowhere in sight. There were those who accepted his authority as they sincerely thought he would be better for Hyrule. And then the ones who rebelled... a silent rebellion was stirring against Ganondorf. Of course should they rise against him he may very well be able to crush it, but Ganondorf was at an unfamiliar juncture after lusting for revenge for nearly a century: what now? He spent many moons within Hyrule Castle pondering this very question. What should he do now that Hyrule was his? With the other two pieces of the Triforce gone Ganondorf actually saw fit to ponder instead of burn. In fact, he scoured the castle's library looking for information on subjects relevant to him: what become of the Gerudo after his disappearance, the designs and history of the Royal Family, and even the legends they passed down having to do with a boy in green defeating a great evil.

The triforce was involved along the way in those legends. Ganondorf now had to grip with the fact that this seemed to be a cycle he was participating in... The hero slays him and somehow he comes back to do it all over again. Somehow he had either broken or halted that cycle. And this only filled him with more questions.

It seems as though now he had nothing but time to consider his next move. Continue with the destruction of Hyrule or rebuild it in his image? He was King of the Gerudo for a short time before he threw it all away to usurp the Hylian Royal Family. Now he once again held the title...

[sadcatjae]

The Perfect Tyrant - Part 1 - Suffocation

Cw: explicit language, asthma attack, minor self harm

.

The tyrant is perfect. He is the closest to a god a mortal could ever hope to be. The tyrant knows no other way of being, for if he did, he would be dead.

His court is full of ravenous sharks, restlessly waiting for him to shed a single drop of blood. The tiniest sign of weakness is all it will take for his inner circle to wrench him off his throne. He knows this well, because he himself committed such a deed a decade prior, usurping his brother emperor in one merciless swoop.

But Kharis won't make the same mistake. Unlike his brother, he has no family. No lover. Not a single relationship that can be twisted and exploited. His intelligence is unrivalled. His martial prowess is deadly keen. And his power is oppressive, stable, and enduring. Every move he makes is carefully calculated. Every inch of visage painstakingly cultivated. Everything he presents to the world is precisely what he wants to present. Such a feat can only be achieved by one who abandons his humanity. His corporeality, his mortality, must be obscured, lest the sharks are reminded that he is in fact prey, not predator.

But as he stands here, addressing his court during a banquet celebrating his thirtieth year, the tyrant Emperor of Eshara silently struggles.

No-one sees the beads of cold sweat, glistening upon his brow. Nor do they see the subtle pallor of his cheeks, or the minute tremble in his hand. They don't see the way his fine brows pinch together, ever so slightly. And the way that he has to pause between words, not from gravitas but just so he can quietly catch his breath.

The tyrant is perfect, as is his address, and a chorus of deference applauds his words. The banquet swings into revelry, sweeping music accompanying the indulgent ambience of intoxicated hedonism.

Kharis dismisses his inner circle as they attempt to crowd him, citing a desire to take a private constitution in the imperial gardens. His personal guards take more convincing, but the threat of limb dismemberment is all it takes for them to give him space. And just like that. Quickly, quietly, he slips into the night.

No eyes catch him as his steps slow and falter in the safety of the dark. His breath, so steady before, now ragged and heavy. The tyrant blearily stumbles across the grounds, towards his sanctuary, the one place he knows will be deserted at this time.

He near crashes into the isolated building in the old palace grounds. It used be the forbidden library, but after the new palace was built a century ago, the library was thusly rehoused, leaving this circular building long abandoned and used instead for storage.

Whenever his illness flares, Kharis escapes to this sanctuary and endures in his self-imposed isolation. He can't trust the healers to not reveal his condition to his enemies, those that he keeps the closest to his throne. No. It's better to endure. And better yet to endure in a place where he can be less than perfect.

Kharis locks the library doors behind him. The building is pitch black and cold. The silence heavier than sound. And his relief heavier so.

The Emperor slumps against the doors, panting harshly, wheezing, trying to pull in as much air as he can. His legs give way and he collapses to the ground, head banging painfully into the wood behind. He scrabbles at his robes, yanking it open, exposing the deep ridges of his clavicle. His body burns. His lungs itch something fierce. There's not enough air.

Body wracking coughs seize the tyrant as he tries to clear his lungs. But as usual, there's nothing to cough out. Frustration builds like toxic sludge. He coughs and hacks far past his limits, forcing each expulsion with every bit of strength he possesses, until he feels a sharp pain explode in his side, and he knows that he's hurt himself, but he just needs to breathe.

Kharis sucks in a wheezing breath and his lungs constrict, protest. A hoarse sob bursts from his pale lips as he drops prone on the floor, drenched in sweat and shaking from exertion.

His vision swims. The fog in his head becomes an impenetrable brume. The strident sound of his laboured breath is twice as loud in this dead place.

Dimly, he's convinced that this place will be his tomb. That one day, he will come here and never leave.

Desperation grips him like giant iron maws. He scrabbles and clutches at his chest, digging his nails into his flesh just to feel a different kind of pain. A pain that he can control. Drops of sweat quiver on his black lashes, stark against his sickly pale skin.

Kharis wants to cry. He's so tired. So exhausted. His illness had chased him from childhood, but it had never been this bad. The last three months has seen him perpetually on the precipice of collapse. Even sleep eludes him, as he suffers the most during the night.

"I want to sleep," he whimpers, the sound pathetic and broken in his throat. "I'm so tired."

"Then sleep."

Exhaustion pins him to the ground. He doesn't even have the energy to be alarmed.

Out of the gloom steps a familiar figure, dashing even in his muted, hooded wear. Piercing blue eyes, strike Kharis like a pair of arrows. The man's strong, athletic frame, carrying about it a powerful aura.

Eiran Locke. The face of the rebellion. Blade of the People. His mortal enemy.

. Part 2

Masterlist

[lunarimpact]

The brothers love is devastating. It can come in so many forms, in so many ways that might leave nothing but a shattered and broken shell behind. It may come in the form of consumption, of consuming and devouring. In acts of violence, in acts of cannibalism. Nothing is really soft about them, how they give and take, how they stake their claim. They’d gladly leave festering wounds in the wake of their selfish love, than leave the tender promise of a kiss. Of devotion.

And it is not just them, after all, Diavolo and Barbatos are very capable of that same kind of love. Or, perhaps, their love is even more dangerous than the Seven. After all, Diavolo commands the whole of Devildom, he is the current regent, the King to Be. A title is all that stands between him and absolute control, but is anyone going to attempt to usurp the throne now? And Barbatos... with command over time immemorial, he can simply make you love him. And who shall stop him from collapsing timelines and resetting the clock if they do not realize it is what he’s done?

But their love, their love is grotesque. It is all consuming and devouring, and so far from human understanding. It’s maddening. It shows itself in how they reach for and take hold of MC, in how they surround her/him/them with things that carry some reminder of themselves, taking them in, making them a part of something which belongs to them. Stripping away what marks MC as being an individual, and replacing those missing parts with themselves. A mark which burns and forever mars the skin. A memory that corrodes something precious. A blurring of the senses.

Belphegor, for instance, would sooner consume the MC’s consciousness, than be without them for eternity. Let their physical body waste away, because in the end, their beautiful, brilliant soul belongs to him. Is trapped, with their very consciousness, within his dreaming world. He leaves marks on the MC in the form of body aches, dark shadows beneath the eyes. They will drift through life, half-asleep, until, eventually, they will wake no more. He will consume them slowly, thoroughly.

Leviathan is an all devouring being. He is the world eater, after all, the primordial sea serpent, a symbol of God’s strength, and now Diavolo’s. He consumes everything he loves, no matter the medium. Television, games, magazines, movies, etc, he devours. He consumes in mass quantities. He obsesses. And he obsesses over MC. He has candid shots of them saved to a private folder on his PC where no one can reach. Photos, videos, voice clips. He’s created a shrine to them, one that he worships at ad nauseam when they aren’t around. It’s only a matter of time before that digital MC isn’t enough, and he pulls them into his coils and eats them whole.

Not unlike Beelzebub, but we all know how Beel’s love has manifest. Food, after all, is the most absolute love language the world has to offer. And the deadliest, considering.

Asmodeus, however... is want to be devoured, and less to do the devouring, though he is so very capable of such. He wants to fit into every groove and crevice within MC. And if that means he’s going to have to carve them open and fit himself inside, well... I’m sure he’s not going to shy away from such a violence.

Satan? Mammon? Lucifer? When have they not consumed MC? When have they not stolen away their time, their senses. Consuming all the little details about their likes and dislikes, their wants and desires. Isn’t it funny how they seems to be a little too perfect for MC’s tastes? They do, after all, embody traits of the other brothers that MC may find very attractive or appealing...

Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

[on-stained-glass-wings]

Headcanon/Blog Lore: Why Malenia Marched to Caelid

While there is some flexibility in terms of the direct cause of the Battle of Aeonia for the purpose of more streamlined RP interactions, here are the concrete facts of my interpretations of vague canon events.

NOTE: I know a lot of people are likely going to disagree with the following view of Malenia and her motivations. That is okay. I am simply interpreting the loose lore presented by the game via my frame of reference. All I ask for is respect for my interpretation. If you do not respect my interpretation of Malenia’s character and the events of the Shattering, then please do not interact with me.

With that, lots of words below the read more.

The main motivation for Malenia’s march to Caelid will remain the same no matter what loose version I go with: there was a direct or interpreted threat to the Haligtree and/or Miquella, and Malenia chose to act in a surprise attack in order to protect her brother and/or their people.

Now, what exactly was this threat, you may ask? That’s where I’m willing to get a little lax and loose with the lore. While I have a preferred picture of events in my mind, there’s still a lot of play. The following are some of the treads I like to go down.

1) General umbrella narrative: This is the general, universal, big ‘why’ for the Caelid Conflict. Basically, Radahn posed either a real (or manufactured threat to the Haligtree and Miquella. These fears were likely exacerbated a great deal by Radahn attacking Leyndell despite not being an Empyrean. It’s very clear that Radahn wished to be Elden Lord and wasn’t afraid of throwing around his might to achieve that goal. He would also know that Malenia and Miquella--the only two Empyreans following the death of his sister--are direct threats to his rule. It’s likely that, no matter what, he would have marched on the Haligtree eventually.

Now, whether or not he was going to kill Malenia and Miquella is up to debate. Perhaps yes, perhaps he would have forced them to step aside from their designs to the throne, or perhaps he wished to become a platonic consort with one of them to replace Marika in the pantheon. Either way, the threat was there, and it wasn’t insignificant. Malenia was in the position to potentially stop his threat, but if they allowed Radahn to march to the Haligtree, it would likely lead to the deaths of their people along with all soldiers involved.

Something then convinced Malenia and Miquella that Radahn was going to act now. Maybe he sent them an official ultimatum. Maybe she received reliable intelligence from spies in Caelid. Perhaps Miquella even learned of Radahn’s intent through his role as St. Trina. Or, perhaps (and this is the manufactured bit), Mohg--wanting to get Malenia and a majority of the army out of the Haligtree so he could swoop in and take Miquella--planted false information or led a false flag attempt on the Haligtree and pinned the blame on Radahn.

Either way, after discussing the matter with her commanders and Miquella, Malenia decided that their greatest chance at victory without collateral damage was to take the fight to Radahn. While Miquella cocooned himself to immediately begin the transformation into a full god and adult (figuring, that he’d be more of an asset once he’d ascended, that the Shattering wouldn’t end unless he grew strong enough to force out the Outer Gods and end it himself, and that he’s likely safer tucked away in the very heart of the Haligtree than wandering around outside without his sister’s protection), Malenia took almost all of her Cleanrot Knights and marched directly for Caelid.

2) The Empryean Alliance (standard blog canon): I will default to this version for most blog posts unless it’s not feasible or per request of the mun. However, in general, everything above holds true with the notable addition that Malenia, Miquella, and Ranni have been working together since just before the Shattering to usurp the Golden Order and expel the Outer Gods. In fact, Malenia and Miquella knew of Ranni’s plan to slay her Empyrean flesh; they just didn’t know how she was getting the death rune (Marika) and what else would happen (the Two Fingers using the other fragment Marika obtained to kill Godwyn in retaliation for her theft).

The general plan has always been this: Miquella enters a cocoon and grows into a full god. Once that’s done, Ranni--with Malenia acting as her ‘Elden Lord’--usurps the throne and claims the Elden Ring for herself. She leaves with her order, and in the absence of the Greater Will, a newly adult Miquella steps in with enough power to expel the influence of Outer Gods in general. The Lands Between then enters a new age free of religious persecution and dogma, led by Miquella and his champion, Malenia. (Ranni visits a lot, of course.)

However, the Shattering (and Radahn’s sealing of the stars) completely undoes all of their calculus. Because of these changes, Malenia’s objectives in Caelid are now two-fold. Not only is she protecting Miquella and the Haligtree from the warmonger Radahn has become, but to defeat Radahn and remove his hold on the stars. With Ranni’s fate back in motion, all Ranni and Malenia have to do is acquire the Fingerslayer Blade and wait for Miquella to emerge from his cocoon, after which they march upon Leyndell, aided by Malenia’s new power as the bearer of two Great Runes.

Obviously, this...didn’t go according to plan.

(PS: Ranni knowing that her powers have been kneecapped doesn’t mean she knew about being unable to reach Nokron because of it.)

Now that I’ve told you all the reasons she went to Caelid, lemme tell you the reasons she did not, per blog canon:

-No, she didn’t go because she wanted to enter a pissing contest with Radahn. I’m not saying she didn’t have pride in her skills as a warrior, and maybe she and Radahn had a rivalry going on behind the scenes. However, from what I see in canon, Malenia is a relatively passive, reactive character, and I don’t see her literally risking the lives of her soldiers and everyone in Caelid just to prove she’s better than Radahn. Challenging him to a duel and going with a select few soldiers as escort to Caelid for the purpose is one thing; literally plunging a land into war and ensuring the deaths of your own men just because you want to spite your older brother is another, and Malenia just does not seem like the type.

-No, Malenia did not go to Caelid to find Miquella. There’s no evidence in game that Malenia ever knew who had taken Miquella and where, and while I have no doubt she searched for him after his kidnapping, it would have been nearly impossible for her to find the portal that Mohg used on the edge of a barren, blizzard-ravaged land. Also, I find it next to impossible to believe that Mohg would have had a chance to abduct Miqeulla if Malenia and the entire contingent of Cleanrot Knights had been present. Mohg is a simpering little coward, and I can see him biding his time (or even engineering an excuse for her to leave and take the army with her) before waiting to strike.

-No, she did not leave the Haligtree on a whim, especially without consulting Miquella. Given how utterly devoted Malenia is to her brother, I can see Miquella having to actively convince her that no, I’ll be fine, I’ll be deep in the roots in the most secure part of Elphael, and there are still some Cleanrot Knights and the entirety of the Haligtree Knights left to protect me. The Haligtree is near inaccessible. I’ll be okay. I’ll just be dreaming away the entire time you’re gone. This is important. We have to have done all this for something. I’ll be fine, Mal, I promise. Just...make sure you survive, okay? Come back safe. It’ll be fine.

(It wasn’t.)

That’s it for this discussion; tune in next post for Why Malenia Bloomed (and it Wasn’t Willingly).

[istumpysk]

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

AGOT: Daenerys IV (Chapter 36)

Beyond the horse gate, plundered gods and stolen heroes loomed to either side of them. The forgotten deities of dead cities brandished their broken thunderbolts at the sky as Dany rode her silver past their feet. Stone kings looked down on her from their thrones, their faces chipped and stained, even their names lost in the mists of time.

Pillaging, plundering, and pilfering statues of Gods.

It makes my heart sing.

+.+

Monsters stood in the grass beside the road; black iron dragons with jewels for eyes, roaring griffins, manticores with their barbed tails poised to strike, and other beasts she could not name.

Okay, let me try.

Black iron dragons with jewels for eyes: Euron? Maybe Jon or Aegon?

Roaring griffins: JonCon & Co.?

Manticores with barbed tails poised to strike: Assassination attempt with the manticore, but also... Tyrion? Head of a human, body of a lion, tail of a scorpion. It was said Tyrion was born with a tail, wink wink.

Other beasts she could not name: Sons of the Harpy?

+.+

"What … what if it were not Viserys?" she asked. "If it were someone else who led them? Someone stronger? Could the Dothraki truly conquer the Seven Kingdoms?"    

Careful with that treason.

+.+

But the men around him, well, their pipers play a different tune. His brother Stannis, Lord Tywin Lannister, Eddard Stark …" He spat.     "You hate this Lord Stark," Dany said.                 

"He took from me all I loved, for the sake of a few lice-ridden poachers and his precious honor," Ser Jorah said bitterly. From his tone, she could tell the loss still pained him.

Please shut the fuck up, pig.

+.+

"yet Vaes Dothrak is large enough to house every man of every khalasar, should all the khals return to the Mother at once. The crones have prophesied that one day that will come to pass, and so Vaes Dothrak must be ready to embrace all its children."    

I wonder where this is going.

+.+

"The Dothraki do not build. A thousand years ago, to make a house, they would dig a hole in the earth and cover it with a woven grass roof. The buildings you see were made by slaves brought here from lands they've plundered, and they built each after the fashion of their own peoples."    

x

"Only the crones of the dosh khaleen dwell permanently in the sacred city, them and their slaves and servants," Ser Jorah replied

x

A small army of slaves had gone ahead to prepare for Khal Drogo's arrival.

There they are again.

+.+

As each rider swung down from his saddle, he unbelted his arakh and handed it to a waiting slave, and any other weapons he carried as well. Even Khal Drogo himself was not exempt. Ser Jorah had explained that it was forbidden to carry a blade in Vaes Dothrak, or to shed a free man's blood. Even warring khalasars put aside their feuds and shared meat and mead together when they were in sight of the Mother of Mountains.

Do not shed blood in the sacred city. Got it.

+.+

If the khal died at the hands of some enemy, they lived only long enough to avenge him, and then followed him joyfully into the grave. In some khalasars, Jhiqui said, the bloodriders shared the khal's wine, his tent, and even his wives, though never his horses. A man's mount was his own.    

Nice. Women have less social standing than horses.

+.+

Haggo, huge and silent, often glowered as if he had forgotten who she was

Ohhh she wouldn’t like that.

+.+

Yet they were bound to Drogo for life and death, so Daenerys had no choice but to accept them. And sometimes she found herself wishing her father had been protected by such men. In the songs, the white knights of the Kingsguard were ever noble, valiant, and true, and yet King Aerys had been murdered by one of them, the handsome boy they now called the Kingslayer, and a second, Ser Barristan the Bold, had gone over to the Usurper. She wondered if all men were as false in the Seven Kingdoms.

Were you not just discussing usurping the throne?

+.+

"Jhiqui, a bath, please," she commanded, to wash the dust of travel from her skin and soak her weary bones.

(...)

The water was scalding hot, as she liked it.

They caution against the use of hot tubs during pregnancy, Daenerys. There could be birth defects.

Oh.

+.+

She brought back a haunch of goat and a basket of fruits and vegetables. Jhiqui roasted the meat with sweetgrass and firepods, basting it with honey as it cooked, and there were melons and pomegranates and plums and some queer eastern fruit Dany did not know.

Daenerys feeding Viserys honeyed meat. I see it.

+.+

His fingers dug into her arm painfully and for an instant Dany felt like a child again, quailing in the face of his rage. She reached out with her other hand and grabbed the first thing she touched, the belt she'd hoped to give him, a heavy chain of ornate bronze medallions. She swung it with all her strength.                 

It caught him full in the face. Viserys let go of her. Blood ran down his cheek where the edge of one of the medallions had sliced it open. "You are the one who forgets himself," Dany said to him. "Didn't you learn anything that day in the grass? Leave me now, before I summon my khas to drag you out. And pray that Khal Drogo does not hear of this, or he will cut open your belly and feed you your own entrails."

(...)

Drops of his blood had spattered the beautiful sandsilk cloak.

Whoopsie daisy, did you just shed blood in the sacred city? Daenerys I believe that is forbidden.

On the surface she’s respecting the culture, but actions are telling a different story. Won’t be the first time we see this.

+.+

"Please, bring me one of the dragon's eggs."                 

Irri fetched the egg with the deep green shell, bronze flecks shining amid its scales as she turned it in her small hands. Dany curled up on her side, pulling the sandsilk cloak across her and cradling the egg in the hollow between her swollen belly and small, tender breasts.

(...)

She was lying there, holding the egg, when she felt the child move within her …

(...)

"You are the dragon," Dany whispered to him, "the true dragon. I know it. I know it."

She’s holding Rhaegal’s egg.

Final thoughts:

A nice little reversal we’re witnessing where Viserys keeps waking the dragon.

-> return to menu <-

[fandomficsnstuff]

Little Dragon - Part 8

Summary: You were a child slave of Meereen, when one day a silver haired woman sets you free. Though your master isn’t too keen on letting you go, and Daenerys took personal action to see you freed and taken care of.

High Valyrian is in cursive

You were listening intently to the conversations going on in the war room, so many faces that you wanted to remember, their names, their houses, their history, but for now you settled on staying silent and listening, “are you really sure we can discuss this around her?” your head snapped towards the accented voice, seeing a beautiful woman with olive skin, black hair and dark brown eyes, and you wanted to look to your mother for help, but decided that you couldn’t use her as a pillar forever “(Y/N) Targaryen, Lady…?” you couldn’t help your tone, you were not a little girl wearing a collar around her neck anymore, jumping at the slightest of sounds. You were still timid and childish with Daenerys and Missandei, because you knew you could afford it, but you didn’t know these people, they were allies of your mother, but you didn’t know them.

“Ellaria” she sounded tense as she responded, she probably hadn't known you were the daughter of Daenerys, but you merely nodded “well, Lady Ellaria, I would prefer that if you are done questioning who your Queen trusts, perhaps we could get back to planning the war we are currently in” you heard a short laugh, your eyes glancing to none other than Olenna Tyrell, the Queen of Thorns, and the only living Tyrell left. “Are you sure you did not birthe her? She has the spirit of a dragon that one” Daenerys did everything to not smirk proudly at Olenna’s comment, and even Ellaria looked a bit surprised at your response “now… I agree that a foreign army would send the wrong signal, but an army from Westeros, it would show that we are not here to raid and pillage, the Dothraki will not do so unless their Khaleesi orders and my mother never will, the Unsullied are obedient and loyal, so they won’t either, but we need Westeros with us, and showing that their own houses are turning on Cercei is a good way to win quickly and without a lot of losses, on either side”, you studied the map as you spoke, unaware of the impressed looks everyone gave you, Tyrion being the first to speak up “well… I agree” you glanced at him and sent him a quick smile, one of the few smiles you had offered him, but you didn’t really know him either, so it was justified that you didn’t treat him, or Varys, as warmly as the rest of your mother’s allies.

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

You stood impatiently besides Daenerys in the throne room, and Daenerys couldn’t help the amused glance she shared with Missandei “alright go, but change before you do!” you barely even heard the rest of her sentence, you were already off, heading towards your room. In record breaking time you changed from your formal dress to a special outfit you had made for you. You had been riding Rhaegal much more frequently, and today were the day of the arrival of Jon Snow, King in the North, and you had promised to stay for his arrival and then ride Rhaegal after, but you couldn’t help fidgeting, and were more than happy that Daenerys excused you. You put on your leather trousers, securing them with a harness that was connected to them, ensuring that they didn’t fall down, not even an inch, you had a tunic under your harness, pulling a shortened cloak over your shoulders and tying it to the harness, making sure the knots were tight, the cloak was warm but light, it reached just below your hips, but kept you warm. Next you threw on a pair of gloves made from cloth on the inside and leather on the outside, and then your boots, they were high, they almost reached your knees, and you pulled the laces tight, so they wouldn’t fall off during the flight.

Your room had an open balcony, just like Daenerys’, and you approached the edge, grinning widely as you waited. You couldn’t help the excited giggle you let out as you heard him roar as he came closer, and in a leap of faith you jumped off of the balcony, you let out a little huff as you landed on scales, and a few moments later you got a good grip, holding onto Rhaegal as you flew away from the castle, going high up and then soaring, admiring the landscape below, seeing a ship you presumed belonged to Jon Snow, you flew towards Drogon and Viseryon who were flying on the other side of the island. You could still just about watch Tyrion greet Jon Snow, and saw them making their way towards the entrance.

A wicked smile grazed your lips as you got an idea, and somehow Drogon, Viserion and Rhaegal knew what your plan was, Rhaegal let out an ear shattering roar as you held on tightly, flying towards Tyrion and the two men he were leading up the long stone staircase. You leaned forward as you flew closer to the ground, Rhaegal barely managing to not hit the small people below, something that made you laugh loudly and you couldn’t help but cheer, Tyrion seeing you on Rhaegal as you waved at him, and you could see him shake his head, but you also knew of the smile he tried to hide, he was probably telling Jon that he himself wasn’t used to the presence of the dragons.

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

You heaved heavily as you ran into the throne room, your hair wild from the wind, your chest rising dramatically as you tried to catch your breath, standing besides Daenerys who did her very best to not smirk at you proudly, instead she tried to look as regal as ever, waiting patiently for this, Jon Snow, to arrive.

Rhaegal had barely managed to throw you off on the open balcony you jumped out of earlier, you almost bumped into a few tables on your way to the throne room, a fact that made you smile amused before trying to hide it. “Well, at least you made it back in time” her words could be mistaken as scolding, but you knew her better, and you couldn’t help the breathless giggle you let out “think I scared an inch or so off of Lord Tyrion” Daenerys let out a short, although quiet, laugh at your comment, shooting you a very poor attempt of a scolding gaze before looking back towards the large doors at the end of the throne room, making you straighten your back, your smile faltering and your hands placed in front of yourself, as you always did when you had attended any court meeting.

You watched the two strangers as Missandei went down the list of titles that your Queen had acquired along the way, something you took great pride in, she was your mother after all.

“And this is (Y/N) Targaryen, daughter of Queen Daenerys Stormborn, princess of the Seven Kingdoms and heir to the throne” Missandei finally ended, and the two men looked at you confused, giving you the impression that they didn’t know that much about your mother, and therefore you, they had probably only heard rumours, lies or other falsehoods, and therefore didn’t know of your existence, which was probably not a bad thing. You had heard of how the usurper King Robert Baratheon had sent assassins to kill Daenerys, even while she was pregnant, so who says they wouldn’t have been sent after you, back then nothing more than a little girl, had the usurper's children heard of your existence, and Daenerys’ love for you. You were snapped out of your day dream as Daenerys got up, approaching Jon Snow and his adviser, and first now you tuned in on their conversation, a small frown resting on your brows, hearing her words, but you couldn’t deny the pride it gave you, despite hearing all that she had suffered, “I was born at Dragonstone. Not that I can remember it. We fled before Robert's assassins could find us. Robert was your father's best friend, no? I wonder if your father knew his best friend sent assassins to murder a baby girl in her crib. Not that it matters now, of course. I spent my life in foreign lands. So many men have tried to kill me, I don't remember all their names. I have been sold like a broodmare. I've been chained and betrayed, raped and defiled. Do you know what kept me standing, through all those years in exile? Faith. Not in any god, not in myths and legends. In myself. In Daenerys Targaryen. The world hadn't seen a dragon in centuries, until my children were born. The Dothraki hadn't crossed the sea, any sea. They did for me. I was born to rule the Seven Kingdoms, and I will, and so will my daughter.” Her gaze turned to you for a brief moment and you smiled proudly, one she proudly returned before turning back to Jon Snow.

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

You frowned as you watched your mother study the map in silence, you wanted to say something, you really did, but what could you say? The Iron Fleet was gone, Yara and Ellaria had been taken prisoner and Jon Snow refused to bend the knee and instead only wants to hack away at some mysterious stone somewhere in a cave on the island, claiming that an army of undead people and giants are the true enemy.

You couldn’t help the sigh that escaped your lips, you being the only one to actually make a sound in the entire map room “maybe…” you dared a glance at your mother, not that you feared her, but more that you knew of the thin ice you were balancing on “maybe you should just let him mine this… ‘dragonglass’... it means nothing to you after all” Daenerys looked to you slowly, and for a second everyone in the room were praying to whoever and whatever that you hadn’t crossed a line, but when you received no response, you continued, “you didn’t know it was there, no one did… there are two options here, either he’s right, in which it doesn’t hurt you or your army or your dragons to comply, or he’s mad, and it won’t hurt you, your army or your dragons either. There’s no outcome here where anything bad is an outcome, you complying will also show that yes, you are to be feared, but you are also complying and reasonable, and allowing one man, one person to mine something of no value is a sign that you are with the people of Westeros” there was another second of silence, but eventually Daenerys smiled at you, walked over to you and placed a gentle hand on your cheek, looking at you with a proud look in her eyes before walking off.

“Where is she going?” Tyrion looked at you baffled and confused, but you simply shrugged “to allow Jon Snow to mine the Dragonglass” you leaned over the map table, studying the different areas, looking at the different highlighted places, such as King’s Landing, Winterfell, all the places you’ve only ever read about, you couldn't wait to see them for real.

[esther-dot]

Interesting that you mention Sansa being at risk of dying if she provides an heir to the Lannisters.

The chapter transitions are also extremely interesting, it doesn’t necessarily confirm that Tyrion will be Bran’s Hand -I really, really don’t want him too- but it definitely means that Tyrion will be involved in the “love triangle” because he is going to insist on his claim to Winterfell and Daenerys will too. In spite of the show’s dismissal of it, this marriage is terribly important politically speaking and it will play a part once Sansa reveals her identity.

I hope Bran will be the mediator and makes Tyrion agree to an annulment somehow, perhaps he can send him to the Wall instead of executing him for killing his own father and supporting Daenerys. Married women whose husbands are sent to the Wall are considered widows. I will much prefer if Bran and Jon were not in opposite sides of Jonsa, and it will be a nice turn of events if Sansa as a Queen in her own right decides she wants to marry and chooses a husband this time, as opposed to all the other times she had someone forced on her. So, hopefully Bran will just look the other way and pretend he doesn’t know what is going on in Winterfell’s pools if you know what I mean 👀

I am now firmly in the Aegon will legitimise Jon and name him heir camp -sadly, this means his marriage to Arianne won’t have issue - because it makes a ton of sense that Jon/Aemon kills Daenerys as an usurper, she should not be acknowledged as Queen as anyone in Westeros, she should go down in history as an usurper and a kingslayer herself. And Jon bending the knee to Aegon is also a thousand times better than to her. A nice parallel to Thorren Stark and Aegon the Conqueror.

Jon kneeling to Bran reminds me of Jaime sitting on the IT but stepping down to Bran’s father and funnily, Jon’s look alike Ned, being told he should have taken it for himself. Jon keeps being offered thrones he doesn’t want like his father/uncle. 😂

As far as Bran’s claim goes, I think there is a chance KL is destroyed beyond salvation and the new capital could be Harrenhal. The God’s Eye is connected to defeating the Others and we know Bran is instrumental in it, so perhaps the seat of power will change geographically as well, as politically. The Lannisters, Baratheons and Tyrells will make way to perhaps Riverrun or the Vale as powerful houses. Bran has the same connections Sansa and Arya have. Riverrun and the Vale could both support Bran’s crown. Bran could then succeed where Robb failed. Who knows, maybe even Sam as a Tarly, after Daenerys inadvertently “helps” him by killing those in the line of succession before him.

It does sound nice that the unwanted kids, the crippled and bastards rise to power in new Westeros.

Thank you for your answer as usual! 🤗

Before s8 I 100% accepted that the endpoints would be Martin’s, and as much as I don’t understand Tyrion as hand either, I still accept it. This famous transition of ACOK, Tyrion I to Bran I does read as evidence for that:

right after s8 I chatted with some people who suggested that the show stopped short of the true ending, that Tyrion will be hand but then sentenced to the Wall or killed, and agentrouka has great spec about Arya killing Tyrion, so fingers crossed!

I had totally forgotten Cat had that line! I resent so much how the fandom acts like Sansa was wrong for being cold to Tyrion when a) it protected the North and b) it may have saved her life. Someday I will work on my ask regarding the Sansa/Tyrion marriage and Dany trying to claim the North. I just take so long to think through certain things. 😩

I am doubtful about Jon bending the knee to Aegon. I don’t know that Aegon will be an imminent threat because I don’t think he will attempt to war there. To me, bending the knee will be about Jon saving his people so either it is done to get help fighting the Others or to save them from slaughter. That’s why I think if Jon bends them knee, it would be to Dany because she would represent such a threat and/or have something Jon believes will help them defeat the Others (dragons). Also, I think Aegon is a good kid, and Martin has talked about the idea of all the good guys teaming up to defeat the bad guys as a silly thing, so I don’t think we will get the Starks siding with Aegon v Dany. It seems to me that Martin likes to compromise his characters and that he would do that here, by making Jon side against his brother out of necessity and then avenge him.

I agree about the destruction of KL though!

[siadai]

He has stylized himself Lightning because of the name imposed upon him at birth, but what many are unaware of is that this name is incomplete: he is Watcharin, the Lightning of Indra. Indra, the king of deities and the heavens; Indra, who destroyed with lightning the great evil that enveloped the world. Lightning has never been particularly diligent with the texts, but even he knows these stories — yet Lightning abhors the roots of this denomination, for he is more than a mere weapon, for he has never allowed himself to be the weapon of anybody but himself. If it were up to him, he would usurp any and all gods and sit upon the throne of corpses that he himself has carved. And yet if he had paid attention to any other part of the texts he would know that he does not have the substance of gods, only the grandiose delusions of those who are always and every time stricken down by the gods they so crave to be. There will come a time when this corrupted weapon of the gods will be himself stricken down, but for now Lightning looms the streets of New York as a great evil himself, and today’s unfortunate target comes by chance, none other than he known as Neo Wood. 

There are very few things the two share in common. Yet today they occupy the same space: a small coffeeshop tucked away like a delightful secret, walls adorned with psychedelic murals, shelves filled with odd books and odder curiosities, the air thrumming with classic rock from a record player long past its lifespan. The air smells thickly of coffee, and it is not particularly noteworthy coffee, though Lightning notes that it is still much better than the ever-burnt coffee of the all-reaching tendrils of that green mermaid for which his lover so curiously slaves away. Speaking of his lover, in the narrative where Lightning is the god of all gods and the greatest good is that which is good for him, one of the evils slayed would be Neo Wood, he who dared to attempt to usurp Lightning’s throne. And if Lightning had gone a little wild in his attempt to drive the poor man away from Farley, well, who could really blame him? (Anyone with any sort of sense.) The past is gone, and the future is yet his to write with the present — which is quite a neat way of saying that Lightning is bored, and so he takes the seat in front of Neo. “Darling, you look like you’ve been completely eaten by whatever intellectual bullshit you’re up to, and I’m here to drag you away from that mind of yours and tell you to take a break.” Lightning says, offering a cup of coffee to replace the already dried cup in front of the other, as well as a slice of cake. “I don’t even know if you like sweets. We can call it a peace offering, if you’d like.”

@wcnderkidz​