#wouldn’t have waged war against them otherwise

[farceargon]

I just realized the snake statues in the church of Eiglay have wings and clawed feet.

This feels significant somehow (whoops I hijacked my own tags).

Either way fantastic choice in decoration they look like if you smooshed an eagle and a snake together. Would have one in my room.

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

9 - Pleasure of Conflicted Desire

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader (Slow Burn), Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader

Length: 13.1k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, slow burn discussions of warfare, description of corpses blood and gore, child death, character death, pregnancy, smut, p in v, nondetailed references to forced sex acts, struggles of internalized trauma

Notes: Difficult chapter for everyone but Robbs war campaign just is in a wild state right now in general. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here.

The wheels were all in motion, and it may be the only thing giving the man confidence. It was a plan they could get on board with, that maybe they didn’t have to take Kings Landing themselves to end the Lannister reign on the realm. Stannis does the hard work, and the Starks play distraction to give them the time and numbers to do so. Greatjon himself saying, “Aye, we’re better at guttin’ Lannisters then we’d be sailing and breaking down walls. We’re the only ones actually fighting this war.” 

It certainly felt that way. You wondered if the rebellion against Aerys Targaryean felt as futile in the middle of it. Looking back, everyone can clearly see the sides that were winning and that the side fighting for liberation were indeed the winning one. Yet you could understand that it likely didn’t feel that way. The Lannisters had not one a single battle against Robb Stark, and there hadn’t been any battle waged against any other. The Iron Islanders could hardly be called an army. More akin to raiders then anything, and the only time they fought as one they were crushed easily in a matter of months. 

Yet each day that the war continued on felt as if the North was going nowhere. Brynden had put that into better perspective earlier that morning in a small moment of doubt between the three of you. “Have you considered the fact that we haven’t had any major victories in recently is because the Lannisters aren’t brave enough to come and fight us in the field anymore?” 

You had added with, “Tywin Lannister has been holed up in Harrenhal as his men do his fighting for him for how long now? How many days have you been out there, in the front by the sides of your men as an equal and Tywin hasn’t?” 

“He and his high lords can sit around their table arguing about strategy and feel like they are accomplishing something, but we’re the only ones doing any of the real work. And we wouldn’t be anywhere but dead a long time ago without you.” Even now, this long into war, Robb still voiced his doubts, never got to sure of himself that it couldn’t go wrong. 

Sometimes, on the quietest of nights, you both would speak of what happens when this war is over, what then? So much of your life now, your lives together, had been about war but the truth was it wasn’t fair to ask to much of ‘what then’. The what then of war, was making sure you win because the alternative was death. 

Neither you or Robb had asked for this, but the responsibility fell onto your shoulders and if neither of you did it, who would? You had to trudge through the mud, feeling like each day without a win was a loss, because otherwise you have no other choice but to lose absolutely everything. 

When you begun to arrive back at the camp, something was wrong. Something was quite wrong, the men were in a state and anger was ripe. A group of men approached at haste both looked to the other with a weary gaze. “Your grace,” 

Robb asking what happened as you both climbed down and in an instant you realized that it was going to be something with quite the chain reaction. “The Kingslayer, he escaped in the night.”

The seething silent rage in his eyes was blazing, “How?” They glanced at one another and he raised his voice to repeat himself. They told of the events, of Jaime Lannister bashing the head in of Ser Alton to grab Torrhen Karstark’s attention, and how he strangled Torrhen himself and ran off into the night. That wasn’t what they were speaking of though. Speaking of how he was found, dragged back and yet he still escaped once more. But escaped wasn’t really the right word. He didn’t escape the second time on his own. No, it was far worse then that. 

Robb looked to you and found the same feeling within you as well, this only could have happened because you both were gone. Those on the war council had agreed it was the smartest plan to have both of you to confront Stannis Baratheon, and yet one person had used that absence. Robb’s shoulders were tense as his hands flexed in a restraining temper. 

It had been an intimidating sight to see apparently, the sheer anger in the King and Queen’s eyes as they moved together in furious haste though the camp amongst the growing contempt the events had caused. One that made quite a number of people back away for fear of crossing your paths. Multiple men were guarding outside the tent and opened it for the both of you where more men stood guard inside, as well as a more composed Roose Bolton, and a Rickard Karstark that you knew had full reasons to be as angry as the pair of you were. 

Catelyn sat with a look in her eye, mixing a shame with worry as she looked to her son. Robb’s voice was quiet and even but none were fooled at what lay beneath. “Why?” 

It was likely there was a bit of work on her end to keep any tears back at what she knew was coming, “For the girls.” 

“You betrayed me.” She tried pleading to him, only getting as far as is name until he raise his voice to her. “No. You knew I would not allow it, and you did it anyways.” 

Looking up you glanced to Karstark, a quiet understanding of the pained gaze in your eye behind an almost shaking fury to keep yourself tempered. You and Robb had seen Harrion Karstark die on the battlefield and now he’s lost another son and watched Catelyn send his murderer away. Trying to explain herself you found it hard to rationalize it when you knew too well what this meant. 

“Bran and Rickon are captives in Winterfell, Sansa and Arya are captives in King’s Landing. I have five children and only one of them is free.” And somehow that gave her the right, you thought exasperated. 

Karstark for what you knew a night ago would have been unbridled rage, spoke with a quiet agony as Catelyn felt the guilt compound onto her. “I lost one son fighting by your son’s side, I lost another to the Kingslayer. Strangled by a chain. You commit treason because your children are prisoners? I would carve out my heart and offer it to the father it he would let my sons wake from their graves and step into a prison cell.” 

Catelyn tried to keep her composure, rationalize it, “I grieve for your sons, my Lord-” 

You were the one who cut her off. “These men don’t need your grief, they needed justice. And they can’t do that now can they?” What was the point of how hard Robb worked to keep his men running in order, if everyone did what they considered to be fair. It couldn’t be fair, war wasn’t. 

“Returning Jaime Lannister might be the only way to buy life for my daughters.” Your eyes narrowed, that didn’t sound like her voice coming out of her and it dawned on you exactly who did. A chill running through you, just what had he been offered this time? How on earth could she even consider his words as any truth? 

Your voice in a breathless disbelief that she would ever trust him. You had looked him in the eye with the only trust you and Ned Stark had left, and that trust led you both to knives at your throats and a sword through her own husbands neck. “Petyr Baelish has played you for a fool.” 

Robb stared his mother down, his own voice quiet and he played the lecturer and her the one in need of scold. “You realize what it is you’ve done? You’ve weakened our position, you’ve brought discord into our camp. And you did it all behind my back.”

Looking to the men, he gave a final order, ignoring her plea of his name to listen. He had enough of that for one day. “Make sure she’s guarded day and night.” Turning with you he looked to Roose Bolton, “How many men did we send in pursuit of the Kingslayer?” 

“Fourty, your grace.” 

“Send another fourty. With our fastest horses.” Without another word to his mother, Robb led you outside, making your way through the camp. “He betrayed you, he betrayed my father and now she let him do it again.” 

Your voice hissing in an urgency. “If they don’t find Jaime by nightfall, we have to be gone. The Lannisters would have planned this, we can’t risk any chance of them getting word of where we are.” 

Robb nodded, “Start getting them ready, we leave as soon as it gets dark. Push onto them and we’ll get behind by the time Edmure draws them out.” 

You paused before walking away, looking at him like he was being weighed down by every force and from each side someone or something threw his work right back in his face. An intensity like he couldn’t stop finding new sides to be betrayed from. “Robb,” 

His brows narrowed as he looked to you, only the short few steps you took did his eyes wash over him a softer need. Cupping both sides of his face as he drew you in by the waist. His kiss was harsh, but you could feel it in the way he touched you how swirling his head was. Keeping your lips to his for a beat longer then intended, he pulled away pressing a final one to your forehead. Soft only for his ears did you run your hand over his cheek, “I love you.” 

Running his thumb over your waist as Robb resisted the urge to pull you right back into him. “And I love you.” Giving you a playful nudge backwards, “Now off with you.” 

He watched you walk away, his family tearing itself apart as it all kept resting on his shoulders but the only thing that was keeping his feet planted firmly on the ground anymore was you. Robb couldn’t even be sure if he’d see his siblings again, but then he could look at you and his heart felt full at how much he needed you to breathe. 

You believed in him, supported his decisions and had never even argued. Early on he would wonder if you were keeping it to yourself for his sake, but the more he got into your mind the more he just found someone who matched him. Saw the war and his people as he did, and refused to let anyone think you were not right beside him. 

Ending the war wasn’t going to be easy, but the more time he spent with you, these past few months especially, the more Robb yearned to bring you home to Winterfell. Watch you spent the first snows of winter swollen with his child and know you can raise them safe and free there. Your nights deserved to be spent in his real bed, being treated like a real Queen not the one you had to be with a sword in your hand. 

Robb wished they didn’t, but the red woman’s words had haunted him. So freely speaking of you with his children, the dream you told him that made him take you as many times as you could stand it. His own mother had betrayed him, but at least Robb had you, and a dream of a future where he could be a proper father to those children you dreamed of. 

The atmosphere of the camp was miserable to be in, everyone held their own opinion about what happened and none of them wanted to voice it as you passed by in risk of angering their leaders more then they already had been. 

What were you to focus on, what were you to prioritize at this point? One of your dearest friends betrayed you, your husbands mother betrayed you, and your own father readied to set sail to King’s Landing in a matter only of days now. You could see his plan perfectly, as well as the one Robb has put into play. Only so much of them you could even control, but as you slammed down a bag over your shoulder with a huff and a nod to the squire passed onto you came to one thought. 

If you left in a few hours, there might not be a chance to do so for who knows how long. You had to take the chance now and yet you had no idea what made the thought consume you. Your eyes scouring the camp and found no trace of anyone who would take much notice. 

Your feet walked for you, before you mind had a chance and by the time you caught up to the idea you were already pulling back the entrance to the tent in question. “Your grace. Do you require my attention for something?” 

As you stared at the man, you swallowed heavily. Eyes ready to sting like it was a mistake to do this, but you nodded. Grey Wind sitting outside the tent dutifully as you made your way inside. 

The sky had fallen into a golden colour as you stepped outside finally. The beauty of the light made your eyes sting, and biting your tongue to keep your face steady. However your lungs found it hard to breathe, and your heart pounded harder trying to compensate. A dread you didn’t fully understand overtaking you as you felt the people around you slow down. 

Your breathing the only thing you could hear and little in front of you that could be seen, not knowing if the world spun or if it was you. You supposed it was bound to be your turn, everyone seemed to find something to throw onto Robb lately and yet you didn’t think you had anything to add to it until now. 

Unsure if you had been standing there a while until you were nudged over by Grey Wind. A whining sound leaving him as he nudged your torso before looking up at you. Tall enough even on two feet that you barley had to raise your arms to run your fingers through his fur. He seemed insistent about something as he nudged you again before you shook out head out of its spin. Narrowing your eyes at the direwolf, “What’s gotten into you, huh?” Whined again as you ran a hand over his ears. “Come, considering I’ve heard to screams to for a Lannister head I assume we’re heading out soon.” 

Coming up on the bare bones of the war council’s tent, Robb was sat with Roose Bolton. His blue eyes looking up at you narrowed. You clearly didn’t realize your eyes still tinged with red and a crestfallen expression before you stepped inside. You could guess what this was about. “Still no word?” 

Robb watched you still, but you only stepped closer to him on both feet and keeping your attention on the other man. “We’ve sent a dozen ravens. None have returned.” 

Arms crossing over your chest you tilted your head with a heavy breath. “There’s no way he thinks we don’t already know, which means he’s trying to hide something.” 

Robb finally peeled his eyes from you back to the issue at hand, as Roose nodded in agreement. “There’s an easy way to find that out. My bastard is only a few days from Winterfell, once he captures the castle-” 

“Theon has my brothers. If we storm the castle-” 

You’re glad Roose seemed to have some confidence, beacuse there was little to be found in either of you. “He wouldn’t dare hurt the boys. They’re his only hope of escaping the North with his head.” 

Robb looked up to you, a far away look in your own eye trying to figure out what ever did he think he was going to accomplish with this? What could Balon Greyjoy possibly have said to him that was more important then the over half his life spent with Eddard Stark? Robb’s voice was low as he spoke. “Send word to your son. Any Ironborn who surrender will be allowed to return safely to their homes.” 

Raising your eyebrows, you caught on easily to the path behind this thoughts. Bolton looked unconvinced, “A touch of mercy is a virtue, your grace. Too much...” 

“Every ironborn with the exception of Theon Greyjoy. He betrayed our cause, he betrayed me and we will hunt him down no matter where he runs.” You didn’t know if your hand was shaking as it rose to run over Robb’s shoulder blade, but it took a lot of focus to pretend like it wasn’t regardless. 

Roose nodded as you added, “Ironborn won’t stay locked to the land for long before they need any excuse to leave. They took Winterfell because it was open and Theon wanted it, not because they have any use in staying there. They get an easy offer of life, and they’ll turn on him the minute they hear it.” 

“I’ll send word right away.” 

Once alone with him, you knew you should tell him, you knew it was important to say it but for once you found yourself unable to deliver the final blow. As he raised his hand to grasp yours, he pulled you down onto his lap. Your hands finding his neck to rest around and him your waist as he leaned in for a kiss. “I want you to keep an eye on the Karstarks.” Meeting his eyes as you pulled back he squeezed your waist tightly, keeping himself rooted in clarity through you. “They’re grieving and angry, and if they take this too personally I can’t have that kind of dissension in my ranks. You have the best eye for that, and I need someone I can trust who won’t mince words.” 

Nodding, you could see the struggle in his eyes like the only one he thought he could keep every faith in was you. He had so much on his shoulders from what felt like every corner of the realm and the second something goes wrong out of his control, it all falls to his blame. Stannis didn’t need to take Kings Landing just to turn the tides on this war, he needed to take the Iron Throne if just to give Robb a second to breathe for once. 

You opened your mouth to speak, but yet only a sigh came out as you ran your fingers through his hair for a moment. “Most of the first troops are ready to head out, if I leave with them now I can have the scouts up by tomorrow night and we should be hitting them just as Edmure has the Mountains garrison crossed over.” 

Robb shook his head, standing you both up, “I’m not sending you alone. Have Olyvar ready my horse, I’ll meet you there before the hour’s up.” 

Riding through the night was easy, it was quiet and the only sounds hitting you being the chattering of night above and the trotting of hooves below. Not often anymore did it give you the chance to retreat so much into your mind, but you and Robb both needed that quiet together. 

You couldn’t imagine him as such, Theon. Dressed in garb like the Ironborn and spouting their words like he’d always lived by them. You’d grown alongside him watching the surly teenager grow into a man and you couldn’t figure out where that man had went, or if he was never there in the first place. Had he hated the Starks the whole time? 

It was the conversation you both had right as you had set out for war, not even crossing past the borders of the North when he brought it up. That Catelyn shouldn’t be treating you like you were not her family, only to bring up your real one. What reasons though, did you have to suspect that he meant it in the manner for himself? 

You both had a unique perspective to the other, spent much time in the North without being one in your blood, and both of you had strained, or in Theon’s case non existent, relationships with difficult fathers who never treated you like one. Both had followed Ned Stark and understood the world from his perspective and worked by his side often on the same things. 

He knew that you had chosen to go to Robb instead of your father and he tried to broach why you’d do it, maybe shutting down that conversation was a mistake. You knew what being Stannis’s daughter meant, and had you gone to him in the first place you knew what they would make you. Maybe to Theon, it seemed ludicrous to refuse the offer of being a Princess. 

If he was Balons last living son, that would in their independence, make him a Prince. Was he really asking you why you would choose against a similar choice because he was already thinking that far beyond? Why swear himself so openly to another King, to someone like a brother to him if he was already considering this new path? The only answers you could come up with, were simply more questions. 

What would he understand of such conflict? He wasn’t stuck between two choices from the start, there was nothing from Balon until Theon went to him. He brought the conflict on himself where you had no say in the position. The moment you were thrown in that cell, there was a choice you had to make and between life and death, and when life was chosen you had decide what the family that needed you the most was. 

Theon made the wrong choice, and he chose the people that hadn’t known anything about him for so long he returned essentially a stranger. If he were smart, he would surrender with the safety of the boys and accept the justice of his sins. If he were smart. 

“You’re going to scare it off.” 

The sounds of the flowing water streaming down the river was as loud in your head as it was the memory which followed. It was your last visit to Winterfell before Jon Arryn’s death, over two years ago now but it felt far longer. A life that seemed now to never exist. 

You and Theon were crouched down, leaning slightly over a thick tree log that had sat untouched by the riverside. Both with bows in your hand, you had been out there for a number of hours and there was no sign of stopping until he relented. 

Close enough that he could whisper in your ear Theon leaned over, “You’re going to scare if off.” Not quite raising your bow, you moved it into position as you eyed the deer. “It’s way too far, you’re not going to nail it and then it’ll take what? Another two hours for you to get a better shot?” 

Glaring to the side at his confident face you resisted the urge to shove him over. “I’m not going to miss.” 

Raising his eyebrows in a playful jest, he shrugged. Watching you move your arms into position before reaching over to nudge your wrist up slightly. You whipped around to face him, dropping it entirely as you glared at him with a whisper, “I don’t need your help.” 

“You’re too high, you’ll barley graze it’s head.” 

It had been a number of hours now, the pair of you finding things to shoot at in increasing challenge before he came up with nailing a deer in the eye from such a distance away. Getting on the other’s nerves each time one of you did better then the other, until now as the sun set you both knew he was picking at your stubbornness on purpose. “Going to graze an arrow past your head if you don’t shut up, Greyjoy.” 

He turned slightly, his back more resting against the log as you knelt perched forward still. “Knowing you’re aim, you’d have been aiming for my face and missed.” Ignoring him with narrowed eyes forward, you kept your hold on the bow light as you watched the deer kneel its head down to eat. “You can always just admit defeat, there’s no shame in it. Besides the mocking I’ll do ‘till your end of days.” 

“And if I hit it?” You turned your head to glance at him with an amused smirk. “What do I get?” 

Theon took full advantage of how quiet you were trying to be, knowing any other time you’d shove him right into the lake next to you. “Could think of a few things, pretty girl like you.” Riling you up more he pressed on with a grin you knew was smug as you were too concentrated to argue back, “Find a way to lighten up that attitude of yours real easy. I’ve never seen you with a guy, you’re probably wound up way too tight it’d be easy to get you to relax-”

In an instant, you raised up, drawing your arm back before releasing a shot. Landing it right on target with ease. Theon’s head whipping over to look with a disbelieving, “Shit,” You stood up before him, holding a hand out to yank him up as well as he looked a mix of impressed and shamed for being bested. “I was gonna get you to do all my inventory count.” 

Finally, you let out a loud breath of a laugh as you peeled off your gloves finally with your teeth before shoving them in a pocket. “I thought of what my prize is too.” Nodding to the deer with a smirk, “You get to drag that thing back, yourself.” 

“Since when did your aim get so damn good, Baratheon?” 

You looked back as you walked away, “Maybe you’re just getting worse at it, ever consider that?” 

By the time Theon had gotten back, it was obvious he and the river had a bit of an incident trying to get the deer across it, and failed. You and Jon had been perched just outside the walls watching Bran run around with Rickon. The loud slap as he tossed the furs around his shoulder at you was nothing but disappointing to him as it came nowhere near hitting you as he meant. 

His face falling flat as the pair of you had a good laugh over it, until that was when Jon turned on you, grabbed you by the arms, holding you back against him as Theon proceeded to dump the contents of his skin of water all over from the top of your head. Lord Stark had come out at that point, seemingly unsure if he should laugh or scold you three for being more childish then the actual children you and Jon had been out there to watch. 

Sitting around one of the small fires as you stopped for that night some days later, by morning you’d push onto Harrenhal, and you were far away enough that the men could catch their breathe first. Such days felt so long passed that you could see a different person entirely in them. You laughed, and joked, and still knew how to have fun and now everyday was a crushing pressure that could sent you deep into the earth should you let it. 

Coming into your vision were a pair of feet before a body sat down next to you with a groan. “When’s the last time you got any sleep?” Glancing up to see Brynden Tully, you just shrugged looking back into the flames. “Neither of you are very good at that lately, it seems.” Following his eyeline to Robb who was just as tired yet distracted as you were.

“Hard to sleep when your busy chasing ghosts nowadays.” His twisted face seemed to lighten as he relented. The pair of you in quiet for a moment before you felt a twist in your stomach that spilled into your veins, leaving you more on edge as it flowed through you. “The longer the Lannisters hide from us, the more antsy the men are going to get.” 

“We’re at war, your grace.” He gestured to the lot of them all around with a casual degree, “They’re going to be antsy until their back at home in their beds or dead in their graves.” 

Your forearms rested on your knees as you leaned forward, just how long would either of those be at this point. How much longer could the men hold out on a war that your opponent refuses to fight. “Everything we’ve done, and I know they all look to us, to Robb, like it’s our fault we’re here. They feel like we’re losing, and I don’t know how to change that.” 

Brynden leaned in to match your posture, “You can’t.” Glancing up with a raised eyebrow to him. “Most of these men, they aren’t leaders. Their soldiers. They don’t care if we’re winning the war, they want to feel it.” Pointing to Robb your felt that twist in your stomach sting more. “They’ll all blame the King because the Lannisters aren’t here to take their anger out on, but the smart ones know they’re nothing without him.” 

Robb had a good mind for warfare, a great one in fact. But the fact of the matter is that war isn’t just bloodshed and battles, it’s a game of strategy and the side that has no patience is the side that starts to loose. He hadn’t lost his patience, but then you saw those like the Karstarks who didn’t know what to do with themselves if they weren’t taking their grief out on the enemy. 

“And the ones who don’t figure that out?” 

With a darker, partially far away look as you both met eyes, there was a mutual feeling that came to a similar conclusion. You knew it, he knew it, and Robb knew it but what were you trying to do if he sacrificed justice for morale? What were you fighting for if he didn’t lead his men with the values that shape a good man? And which of the discontent ones would be the first to break. 

A hand slapped around your shoulder as another large figure sat beside you pulling you more into her side. Bless Maege for not having any issue with treating you with such a casualness when you were deep inside your own head. “I mean no disrespect, your grace, but you look like shit.” 

Face twisting into a bemused grimace as you nodded, “Don’t know how I could possible take that as insult.” Two skins were in her hands, as she nodded to the other man with a look almost saying to leave if you weren’t mistaken. Brynden took no offence, as he unbeknownst to you, recognized the look on her face as one he’d seen many times before ‘leave the women to talk’. 

Handing you one, Maege nudged “Have a drink,” 

If anything was on your side it was the ease in which you just shook your head without a suspicious sort of pause. “Don’t really think that’s going to help at this point.” 

Shoving it in your hands regardless, Maege bit open the cap of her own. “It’s not supposed to help, it’s supposed to trick you into thinking it’ll make you feel better when all you do is feel worse. Besides, yours is full of water, don’t worry.” 

Opening it slowly, you peered inside and when finding no scent you took a good sip, the water feeling soothing as it ran gently down your throat. The unsaid words along them having burned you up on the inside for almost two days now. “Been a real shit few days, hasn’t it?” 

Maege laughed, giving you a pat on the back as she did so. “Hasn’t been the best, but none of these fuckers have a clue what leading an army is like. They wanna kill something, good for them, that’s not gonna change even if we do get a fight. They’ll be hot for a night or two and then get that same itch, as long as we’re out here.” 

Shrugging one shoulder you glanced to her, “What about you?”

Her expression was light, looking around the camp. “Doesn’t matter how I feel. We chose him to lead us, we chose you to lead us and my opinion ends there. King in the North says we jump into a fight, we fight. He says we stand back and draw them out quiet, then we do that.”

Pointing to the Karstarks she leaned into your side a tad quieter, “Either they smarten up, or they don’t but none of this shit is up to them. What the King does isn’t up for debate.” 

You bit your tongue, taking another sip after to soothe the sharpness in your own mouth now. “No, it’s not. At least with what they’re arguing about. I’m pissed, furious at what she did but it’s not her fault that Torrhen was killed by the Kingslayer and I don’t think he has any clue how this is all making him look.” 

Maege shrugged, “Aye. I can sympathize with what she did, really, and I know you can too. We’re mothers afterall, but that also means you and I know it’s not such an open and shut crime.” 

It took you a moment, nodding absently before you felt a shiver run down your spine. Your hands tensed as they sat in front of you as your eyes flickered just enough to the side to see her leaning towards you. “I’ve had five of my own, your grace. I know what that expression you’ve been walking around with is saying. Or not saying.” Nodding subtlety to Robb she asked, “He doesn’t know?” 

Your head hung down, a wave of strong crushing guilt slamming you in your heart all at once as it biled up towards your throat. You shook your head no, and Maege in a quiet tone, one softer and fair more consoling asked why. 

You shrugged as a fake laugh made it’s way to your face. “Look around you, look what he’s been dealing with? Everyone’s fucked him over one way or another, he’s carrying this war all on his own and now his own mother’s betrayed him. You think he needs me adding that onto his shoulders?” 

Her voice was still quiet but strict, her words slow and separate like enunciating a lecture to that of a child. “You are not a burden to that man. You wanna know what we all see?” 

When you didn’t answer, she took it as a yes anyways. “He’s so in love with you it’s almost disgusting if it weren’t also so fucking endearing.” The taken back look on your face must have been something because she laughed heartily at however you just reacted. “He doesn’t just call you his Queen, he treats you like one. Looking for any excuse to have a hand on you in any way, kiss you just out in the open like he doesn’t care. Probably because he doesn’t.” 

You didn’t have the bravery to look up at him, not just yet but she wasn’t done, “And it’s not just him. You might be the most tense, on edge person in this whole army but the second you look at him, you’re like a puppy.” 

Flickering up to quickly glance, you felt your heart sink at the sight of him standing tall and powerful like he was. “Ah, see? That look there, the one on your face right now.” 

Flattening it out quickly, you at up and took another drink, wiping the droplets off with the back of your hand. “We’re at war, we’re out in the middle of the West fighting the Lannisters and he needs a firm hand at his side not another thing to worry about.” 

Maege looked at you for a good long while. Leaning forward, she took a sip of her own before inhaling deeply. “Do you know why the Mormonts have been so loyal the Starks as long as we have?” 

Raising your eyebrow you dryly responded, “Because the alternative is breaking your oath?” 

Smiling to herself, you looked up as she was almost lost in her own memory. “The King’s protective of you a lot, he lets it sit right on his face and in his actions how protective he is. All them Starks are really, real pack animals that defend their own. We’re not to different to that. We’d do anything to keep our own safe and damned what comes in the way of that we find a way to deal with it.” 

Her eyes glancing to where you both knew Lady Catelyn was, “Even if protecting his own means going against others to do it. He’s not just pissed at what she did, he’s lost too much already and risking our position? Causing this shit in the camp? That just puts you in danger, and you’re the one thing the King has left and he’s desperate to protect it. You’re not a burden, your grace, you’re keeping a man together who think’s hes got nothing left.” 

“Sounds like you know what it’s like.” 

She shrugged, leaning back as the stress in your shoulders lightened a bit. “Sort of, I know what it’s like to have your family betrayed by one of your own.” Your eyes squinted as you thought to those early days in King’s Landing, “You know about my nephew? Jorah?” 

“I know he ran off to Essos, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

Her face twisting for a moment as she clearly recalled it. “It was all before you were born, but basically Jorah found himself a wife none of us liked, then when she got too expensive for him he racked himself up in serious debt. So how does he pay it back?” She huffed a bitter laugh. “Of all the crimes he could have committed he starts to trade slaves. Nothing gets him the money to pay off like the lives of innocent human beings, right?” 

Gesturing lightly to Robb she continued, “It was Ned Stark who ordered it.  Called him a traitor for committing one of the more reprehensible crimes the North ever outlawed, and sentenced him to death. No trial, no question, just called for his execution. You know what we did?” 

She looked to her King once more, “We accepted it. Sure it hurt to hear, but not for a second did any of us stand there and argue with him over it. He disgraced himself and what else was there to do but trust in Ned Stark’s judgment? Didn’t make it easier, but we knew losing out shit would only make it worse.” 

You looked up to the Karstarks before asking, “What did everyone else think, your men?” 

“It wasn’t their business. It’s our family and it wasn’t our place to argue with Stark over it, and so it sure as hell wasn’t anyone elses business how we handled it. Honestly, I think if Jorah just faced his sentence like man maybe it wouldn’t have taken us so long to get our shit together again. Instead he ran off like a coward and now we all have to live with the fact that to everyone else it looked like we just let him get away.” Her eyes squinted as she shook her head to herself. 

Being blamed for a crime you had no control over by a member of your own family, you looked up to Robb and yes, you thought. You do get why she hasn’t changed her opinion of it at all. “How’d you deal with it? At the time I mean, after he fled.” 

Whistling in dismay she took a drink. “My brother always said I was the one with the temper, but let me tell you I’ve never seen that old fucker more angry then the day he found out Jorah fled to Essos. Fuck I had to be the one to give him the news, went all the way up North just to tell him what I knew would make him lose it.” 

Your eyes narrowed in question, “Up North?” Considering where Bear Island was in your memory you came up short as to where this all would’ve taken place. 

“Brother’s up at the wall. He gave up his seat and everything to join them and give his boy his chance as Lord, so you can image how mad the was to learn his son threw away everything he passed to him personally.” Given the temper you’d seen on Maege, you could only dream of what those day’s looked like. “It gets easier, you get used to the bad shit and you move on. You and him will move on from it as well.” Nodding to Robb.

For a minute or so you were quiet, a tiny voice telling you to ask and you found yourself vulnerable enough to let it overtake your logic of silence. “How’s he doing? Your brother?” 

She smiled, a real smile. “That old bear’s Lord Commander now. So safe to say he’s doing well for himself. We kept in touch in the first few months of this shit, told him what’s happening and to pass that all onto the King’s brother.” 

There was nothing to press on there, her brother was Lord Commander and so he passed details of what happened over to Jon. But as you looked up at Robb, part of you thought to yourself that he shouldn’t have to only have you to trust. His best friend, his brother, he should've had the chance to be here too. 

It’s not fair Robb only has you now. The other man who was at his side betrayed him and it wasn’t fair because the one person who you know would stand by him better then you ever could was as far way as the brothers could be from the other. 

“He has Jorah’s sword now.” You whipper your head to look at her totally confused as she nodded to Robb. “His brother. That’s why I was up there in the first place, Jorah had the decency to leave behind the family sword. Fancy thing, Valyrian steel. Longclaw we call it, been in the Mormont’s family for five centuries and for over twenty years it just sat at the wall mocking my brother.” 

“But, then this dark haired Snow comes along and for the first time that fucker finally had a real emotion for once. Had the bear head hilt remade and everything. Carved it to look like one of those direwolves and gave it to Ned’s own boy. Funny how all this shit works out.” 

You paused as you looked to the ground, like you could see the hilt in your mind, like somewhere in the mess of dreams that kept you lost at night, you’d seen a sword, the hilt with a white wolf and red eyes and suddenly for the first time in a long time, you almost lost yourself in thinking of how much you missed him. Only broken by Maege before it got too far.

“Anyways, you got me way off track, I came over here to tell you, to do him a favour and be the one scrap of good news that he hasn’t had in weeks.” 

Not giving you a second to think, she stood up and nudged you away from her direction as you paused to turn around with a bewildered but amused look, “I’m sorry Mormont, did you just shove your Queen?” 

“Please, the King’s about to do a hell of a lot more then just that in a few minutes.” 

You’d feel flustered, but the closer you got and the louder the voices became from Robb and Roose, you lost any single sense of that courage. It all ran right out the window, “We should set the siege lines a thousand yards from Harrenhal.” 

What were you supposed to do, come to him and distract from a tactical move he’d been planning in depth and so close to it? You weren’t beside him to distract him, you needed to be his support because none else would. Stepping to them you were noticeably distant, something almost high strung about you that set the air around you on edge. 

“They won’t be able to hold a siege, not in a ruin like that. If the Mountain’s still garrisoned there, he doesn’t have enough fortification to withstand a siege.” Robb eyed you, something far away in his own gaze that you tried very hard to ignore. 

His own voice was rough, like the stress was eating away at him on the inside. “The Lannisters have been running from us since Oxcross, the only way we get them to fight is to push them into one and they can’t do that in a castle that’s barley standing.” 

Roose glancing to the pair of you, almost as if he hesitated to voice his thought before giving up and speaking anyways. “The men need a fight.” 

Your eyes were sharp as they cut to him, “And they’ll get one when the Lannisters finally decide to give us one.” 

What a fight it wouldn’t be. The sun shining over the forever smouldering castle ruins, there was nothing of Lannisters left in there, nothing behind but your own dead. The lot of you arriving in, something felt noticeably wrong. Dead Northmen and yet no single sign of the enemy and not even an inkling that they had drawn forward where Edmure was to lure them in. No, it was like they had just packed up and left.

Turning in place, the sights were ghastly. Blood of the dead, and the burning and rot of those there much longer, ones that weren’t soldiers or any kind but people. Your heart raced and your stomach twisted as you walked towards a pile of men slaughtered like sheep. Had this truly been the first time you’d faced this in months? Had it always looked this morose or were you just naive enough to think a bloodbath would be kinder then this when it wasn’t done by you.

Your gloves sticky as you peeled back the sigil sewn into the men, the flies buzzing around them spoke of a fight that took place too long ago to add up, how long had they been gone? An eagle spread over what looked like a dark field on their persons had you narrow your eyes. 

Standing up, you could hear Lord Karstark in the background. “They rot in the ground while their killer runs free?” 

You eyed the bodies burned and hanged so black they were like charcoal, the clothes of commoners still hanging off their remains so far burned there was nothing like flesh and meat for the insects to bite into. “The Kingslayer won’t remain free for long. My best hunters are after him.” 

Catelyn from where she stood identified what you had as well, “My fathers bannermen.” 

Your eyes shifted to Brynden, a tilt of your head in a dark curiosity that had him eyeing the dead with his own judgments in silence. You had been chasing ghosts, but this was not the nothing that was normally left behind for you. This was the remains of a battle you’d missed that had no place in Robb’s strategy. 

Turning to his men, Robb indicated towards his mother. “Find her a chamber that will serve as a cell.” 

Your eyes drifted before he could catch yours, making your way to a number Umbers clearing out a space below those hanging. “Let me.” Men nodding, as you climbed up multiple crates stacked, balancing carefully to cut down the bodies as they dropped to the ground with little resistance from the rope. 

Your hands on your hips as you glanced to the others. “Start bringing down the rest of them I’m not leaving them all to hang for their loved ones to find.” 

From what you could see there were at least twenty old ones, and maybe eleven more fresh that still held a burning scent if you got too close. You had been cutting down another pair, some smaller then the rest as your stomach begged you pay no mind to the size. The faces as unrecognizable as the anxiety in your stomach. 

Others had begun to care for the dead soldiers around the court as some had names to identify, others had to be made note of their sigil and passed on. Blood weighed heavily in your nose and thick on your tongue, no solace was found in such a task but at least you’d find some use. It was some time later when Roose Bolton came to your side, “Your grace.” Nodding to him you both looked to the scene for a moment, a conclusion that seemed to come to his as well and no doubt had hit Robb. 

“We’re waiting on word from Riverrun and Kings Landing.” You nodded, carefully trying to pull the leather from your hands without completely soaking the skin underneath. The attempt was fruitless.

Your voice was tight and rigid as you spoke. “The men you have, looking for the Kingslayer.” You ran your teeth over your tongue in a sting before you shook off the twisting and churning in your stomach. “You trust their loyalty as much as their skill?” 

A curious look in his eye, “I do.” 

“Good. Because if they catch him, he’ll offer whatever he can to walk free and neither me nor the King have the time for that.” You watched the half smile on his face as his eyes did not match the motion. 

His chuckle didn’t either. “I assure you, your grace they have their orders and they’ll do whatever they can to follow them. They know the punishment for disobeying a command.” 

Your eyes narrowed at him, he seemed off to you, but it was difficult to place where that was coming from. A suspicion ran through you like something you hadn’t pinned was running through your own mind. “If I may say, your grace. It seems like you’re more on edge then usual.” 

Your look was harsh as it was blank as your arms crossed your chest. “I think all of us are more then agitated at this point. Some more then others.” 

Whatever it was you were trying to find in the other just wouldn’t come out, but you had no question that there was something he wasn’t saying just as you were. Only the thing you weren’t saying couldn’t have possibly lived in the same area as what he could be ruminating on. 

The ruins of Harrenhal were not what you had imagined. A great castle encased by a never ending smoulder that left it haunting and cursed with the dead burned alive inside. Only as you walked through the echoing halls, even as the darkness swooped over the sky, you felt nothing of it. Standing at it’s best, you could envision a mighty fortress. A hundred thousand men marching on these walls and a hundred thousand men would be repelled, now it was a place fought over to be ignored. 

On a ledge overlooking one of the courtyards, the space ran as a bridge between once massive structures with carved arches in acting like windows. One foot resting up on the incline as you leaned back against the stone the other foot planted firmly on the ground as you looked high to the night. 

Stars were bright, shining and the moon not yet full but bright as ever. No distracting red to shine with an ominous glow, no clouds looming over to pour down over the blood soaked grounds, just the yell of men below and the cawing of birds in the night above. 

Maybe you could find the strength to prey to the gods, ask them to spare your sins and turn you into a bird and find a place to live out in painless quiet. You’ve heard Highgarden is beautiful in the summer. 

Looking over the raven scroll once more you wanted to scrunch it up and toss it to the wind. Tywin Lannister was now stationed in Kings Landing as proper Hand of the King, the city still stands and Stannis Baratheons fleet suffered a great loss. Just as they were minutes from breaching the gates, coming up behind them in a last minute attempt were Tywins forces backed by that of the remaining Tyrells. Pushing what was left back to the sea.

A sea that burned, the hellscape this very castle is spoken so commonly of was actually that of the Blackwater Bay. Tyrion Lannister had set the water on fire, or more accurately, wildfire. A substance you heard much about, yet never had seen of your own eyes. Bright and green that burned so hot it could not be even stood next to without feeling it’s effects. 

Created by the Targaryeans as the last of their dragons died to keep their fire and blood as true words to oppress with. The absence of any life in the West made sense now, they had moved to push on King’s Landing, because they were not drawn in on the other side. 

The Riverlands did not draw the Mountain and his troops out, instead they were pushed back enough to give them all time to turn around and make a rescue of their captiol. Many thousands had died in the firestorm of the sea, and no words except that of Stannis himself spoke of any life. None other you knew from your life on Dragonstone had any mention and perhaps you didn’t have the right to it. 

That wasn’t the only news though. No it continued to get worse. Roose Bolton’s bastard had gotten to Winterfell and there was nothing left. Just as your own troops had found. A torched castle with scours of a massacre left behind. Bran and Rickon weren’t found, and word from the men there seemed to speculate they were dead. 

You could dream, but there were no demands, no rumour of them as a hostage and nothing of the Ironborn were that of kidnappers. Bran was around Shireen’s age, he didn’t even have the chance of life that could’ve meant much. Rickon was six, how much of this war did he even truly understand? No words of their wolves sighted either. 

Six Stark children, and only four of them remained, as six direwolves and perhaps only three remained as well. As if he could hear you think, Grey Wind approached you with a nudge to your abdomen. He huffed resting his head there satisfied when you rested a hand over his head scratching his ears. You’d seen this beast rip the hearts of men from their still beating chests and bear battle with his master stained with blood. Yet now he lay across you, no more then a large dog. 

The world saw fit to make the wolves stand alone in this world. But Stags? How long had they even lasted? Two were dead, and the third stands against the forth. Somewhere across King’s Landing you had known of Robert’s bastards and yet they were all as alone as the last of you. 

Only, as Grey Wind looked up at you, your stomach twisted and suddenly were filled with the blackness of lightheaded sensations. Moving to pull your leg over the bend, you wavered as you stood up. One hand pressing against the stone wall as your eyes closed and a low rumble came from the large direwolf next to you. Nipping at the edge of your shirt he pulled you away from the window as you opened your eyes in shock. “Alright, alright.” 

Looking at the dark eyes staring up at you, you ran a hand over his face. Some comfort finding itself nestling in the pit of your stomach as you did so. Nodding your head at him to the side, he turned on a dime and walked you through the halls of ruin. 

Coming into the door, you quietly shut it behind you as Grey Wind slipped in. Robb sat on the edge of a bed, elbows on his knees with his head in his hands. Your heart yearning for the possibility of healing his with no hope behind such a wish. You were slow as you approached, saying nothing before coming to kneel before him. Raising his head, the redness was already passing and his eyes were the remnants of what was once tears. 

You hesitated to reach out to him, this was a raw offence he did not deserve. His youngest brothers by what was once a brother to him. Your face was as fallen as it had been much of the day, only now you had to try and be the one there for him regardless. “If I ever see him again, he’d better be thankful that all I’ll do his take his head. Bran can’t walk, Rickon was six what does he think he’s proving to anyone by murdering two boys who can’t even hope to fight back?” 

There was a choke in his tone that wanted to yell or cry but had no more tempered energy to do either one. Finding his eyes, you tried to kneel as straight postured as you could, keeping the shaking of your lungs to yourself. “He wasn’t trying to prove anything to anyone but himself. They found all the ravens dead, he tried to hide this.” 

Robb sighed out, his hands falling to rest along his thighs as they curled into fists. “He knew Bran and Rickon their entire lives, they’ve known him their entire lives. They saw him like a brother,” 

Catching his eyes, he finally looked into yours properly before closing them again. His exhale much shakier this time. “The Lannisters take half my family from me, and now Theon kills the other half. What am I even left with?” Opening once more he looked to you, a plead for answers in his eyes while his fists tightened in the rage of not having any control. 

“Robb,” You started, a breathy whisper before he reached up suddenly. His hand finding the back of your head as he leaned to press your foreheads together. His breathe hot on your skin as he spoke. 

“My own mother betrayed my trust behind my back, the only brother I even have left?” His jaw clenched as your hands gently found the courage to dance lightly across the part of his chest exposed to the air. “I let him vow himself to the end of the world because I wasn’t brave enough to stand up for what he deserved. I think the only one I have left anymore is you.” 

One of your thumbs trailed over his jaw, as your heart raced. Pushing the images and memories of the other back down deep for Robb’s sake. You couldn’t keep this from him anymore, it was cruel. You didn’t breathe an inch as you spoke, “My love, you have more then just me. I promise.” With nothing but nerves and anxiety racing inside you, you gently opened the tight fist in his lap still, running your fingers along his until he could feel his tensity loosening. 

Robb thought you were trying to hold his hand, his brow furrowing when you took it and pulled it off his lap. Barley able to hear you as your own voice was so small, so unsure of yourself as you moved his hand to brush lightly under your shirt over your stomach. “You have us.” 

It took him a moment to even register what you had done, pausing before turning to look down at where you held his wrist that brushed over the sliver of bare stomach. “Us?” His eyes were bright as he whipped his head up to look at you, almost confused for a moment as you could see it all hit him. 

The nerves in your head ready to make you pass out as he looked back down. “You- you’re really?” 

Suddenly in his own mind, Robb put it together. The sudden distance in yourself that begun not long after you returned to the camp, the way you kept away from him and then compounding of everyone having found a way to wrong him and he felt angry. Angry that he had given you the slightest idea that he’d be unhappy with you, that he hadn’t paid more attention. 

The way you hadn’t been quite yourself, more needing of physical touch then normal to the point you even commented. You stared at him, for once too scared to try and read past his narrowed eyes and lips parted in shock as he suddenly sat up, grabbing you and hauling you into his arms and straddling his lap as he buried your face in his neck. 

He huffed out a laugh in disbelief, before letting out another. More came turning into a laugh of joy before pulling back long enough to press a kiss to your lips. Barley leaving them to speak softly, “My girl,” a smile a real smile that had barley been on his face in weeks painted over, “My perfect girl.” 

Pulling you back into another kiss, passion exploding in your mouth as you held the sides of his face as you tried not to let tears fall from them. You failed. Robb sat you on him back a little, one hand on your waist as the other ran over your stomach, “Why would you keep this from me? Why would you think I didn’t want to know about this?” 

Your chest rose with a bile that you didn’t want to form into a sob. Swallowing hard the tears did not give such an obey of order. He touched and looked at you so softly, you’d cry if you tried explaining yourself in full. All that came out as like a confession of a misbehaving little girl you once were, “I thought you’d be mad,” 

His hand now smoothed over your stomach firmer, thumb running back and forth as he narrowed his eyes in guilt. “Mad? At what for giving me the one thing I’ve dreamt of having with you for two years now?” 

Resting now on his shoulders, you held all the sadness for the both of you. “We’re at war, we have no idea when we’ll not be, the last thing you need-” 

Your name came out surprisingly stern from Robb’s lips. “Look at me.” Moving to keep your face looking right at his with a warm hand on your cheek. “War or not, you’re my wife, the love of my life. Do not think for one second, that you haven’t just given me the happiest news of my life. War or not, it’s you and me. It’s us,” His hand running over your stomach, “Now and always.” 

You wanted to say something back, anything that would return the love but all that came to mind was tears and the relief that he wanted this, he wanted this and through all of the noise inside your head? All you could do was wrap your arms around him back as he kept one of his around you and the other pressed against your stomach. 

It had been a long time in this war since you’d thought about what you genuinely wanted, but right here in Robb’s touch you found that answer. This, you wanted this. His voice was deep and the wavering of his was heard over the other clear distinction of a smile. “I hope you like being with child, my queen, because we have a whole list of names to get through.” 

The laugh you let out was choked in a sob that he yet was thrilled enough to make him laugh. “How about we have this one first, then we can go from there?” 

Robb pulled back, running his nose along the length of yours. “Oh no you’re not getting off that easy. You should know by now, there’s nothing a wolf wants then to see his mate with a whole litter of pups.” 

Your eyes crinkled in a mock protest before he kissed you again, rough but quick. “You’re that confident?”

He shrugged as you both grinned, barley leaving the other enough to not feel your breath on your faces as he jested. “My mother had five children and I don’t even think they were trying for that many.” Robb turned his next kiss more sultry. Moving your jaw to the perfect angle to bite at your lip before kissing you with a greed and a tone in his voice that made you shiver. “Me on the other hand, maybe I’ll just keep you pregnant long as I can. Help my perfect little wife make us a perfect not so little family.” 

Turning you to lay you out flat on the bed, Robb pulled your shirt up and off, giving him free reign to run his hands and lips over your stomach. “May as well start now,” Crawling up the length of your body until he caged you in hovering over you. His lips brushing against yours in a soft tease, “No harm in practising for later, right?” 

Nodding, you reached up to run your fingers through his curls as he consumed you with his kiss. All biting your lips until they were red and swollen before licking his way into your mouth. Pulling away suddenly, leaving a trail of saliva to snap between you as he yanked off his own shirt before moving to impatiently pull yours until you lay bare beneath him. 

Your heart raced and your blood burned as he reached for the laces of his breeches only to catch your eye, the hunger in his must have matched what you felt in yours as he then knelt straighter up. Looking at you with an eyebrow raised as he ran a hand over your jaw, “Show me how a good girl treats her King.” 

You’d collapse if you weren’t already laying down, a dizziness hitting you as you kept your eyes up on Robb, his blue eyes were as dark as the sky beyond his window. It wasn’t fair how easily he had you at his mercy, how much you wanted to be. Pulling the material down his legs until they reached where he sat on his knees, you braced your palms on his thighs before Robb tsked. Running hand through your hair before finally moving to lay you back down. 

Standing, he yanked them the rest of the way off standing bare to you as your thighs clenched together at how thick and heavy his cock was. Coming to sit on the bed beside you, he reached one hand to gently slide between your legs and push a space for his hand. Fingers brushing your clit before gently running over it with a slightly firmer pressure. 

“I’ve been a bad husband,” You opened your mouth to speak but he shook his head. “You’ve been upset, and I didn’t even pay enough attention to notice what was wrong.” Trailing down to run along your soaked entrance before sliding back up to your clit in a teasing pattern.  “You’ve stood beside everything I’ve said and done, always supported my decisions, but I haven’t been there to take care of you back.” 

This time you found your voice, stammering part way through as he slid a finger deep inside of you, “Robb you do take care of- me, fuck,” A gasp making you breathe out the rest in moan trying to hold back. “I don’t need you to be anything but exactly who you are.” 

Head thrown back as he slowly slid his finger out before pressing a second in deep to the knuckle, his other hand running along your forehead to move your hair gently off it. “You don’t deserve to be pregnant in the middle of a war, so far from our home.” His thumb running tightly over your clit as your stomach muscles seized at the pleasure growing within. “I should be taking you in our bed, not having you on the battlefield where I can’t promise your safety.” 

Your head felt as if it were sinking slowly underwater as your core screamed at you in addictive pressure. Reaching up, you grasped the wrist close to your head, running your thumb along his pulse as Robb picked up the speed of his fingers. “I, fuck, I belong wherever you are.” Robb’s chest rose and fell faster as he felt how wet and tightly you were clenching around him. 

Moving to press his lips against yours you wrapped an arm around his neck and into his hair once more. “You stay by my side now, no matter what. We don’t leave the other,” His tone warm and yet a bit possessive as he bit at your lips to gain entrance to your mouth, his hand adding a third to make you whine as his palm rubbed against your clit roughly. Your thighs tense and shaking but just as he wanted, you kept them nice and wide. 

Your breathe almost in needing high pitched pants when Robb pulled back, a smile on your lips that Robb could’ve melted at the sight of. You clenched around him and he could feel the pressure building inside you even despite your words. “From this day until our last day,” 

Just as Robb ran a hand over the top of your head, he pressed his forehead to yours with gentle shushes as you felt your orgasm shatter. Throwing you off the cliff into the waters below with no warning as his touch kept you from arching right off the sheets. You burned and almost could cry at the waves swimming inside you as he slowly pumped his fingers until your cries turned into unspoken begs of mercy. 

Giving no time, Robb kept them inside you as he kissed you again, “Turn over, my love.” 

Only sliding out as he climbed behind you, not giving you the chance to get onto your hands and knees properly before sitting on his heels, pressing your back against his chest as he moved your hair. Leaving sloppy kisses down your neck as he slid his cock between your legs, running along the teasing entrance with your hands wrapping behind you. “Robb, please,” 

With one hand on your hip, he spread the other wide across your stomach as he breathed heavily into your ear. “If only those men could see what perfect, needy little whore their pretty queen is.” You whined as he pressed his cock to tease more firmly against you. “It won’t take long, they’ll see how well their king fucks his queen soon enough.” Letting one of your hands fall to cover his on your stomach Robb grunted before sliding his cock inside of you. As he so loved to overwhelm you, he sunk as deep as he could go in one smooth thrust. 

Pulling a cry from your lips and a growling of swearing from him as he dropped his face more into your neck. Slowly, Robb fucked up into you. Barley giving much force as he drew his cock out and pushed back in so slow that the sound of how wet you were around him was obscene. “Fuck, anyone’d fight a war just for a chance at this cunt, kill whoever it took just to be able to feel how soaked you are around their cock.” 

His teeth leaving nibbles and his facial hair rubbing the sensitive marks raw and red as he moved his lips up and down. “Good thing I’m yours then, right?” You wanted to sound sultry but you couldn’t get through the words without almost breaking with a moan. 

Robb so thick inside of you, the stretch was a sting you never knew could be so perfect. He slid his cock inside of you so smoothly without ever picking the pace up. Every vein and ridge of his cock pressing against the sensitive wall inside of you that had tears creeping out. 

The hand on your waist moved, wrapping to force your face to turn to the side and let him capture your lips. His tongue meeting yours as gently and slowly exploring as his cock fucked you like maybe the world around you would stop as long as you two were intertwined. Only pulling from your lips long enough to slur out, his voice thick and accent strong as anything like he was to deep in how you felt around his cock to care if he was intelligible. “I love you, gods I love you.” 

You tried so desperately to say it back, but it was like he teased you by kissing you harder each time or fucking you deeply to tear a gasp from your throat. He smirked when you whined his name and laughed as he could see your brows furrowing when he kissed you again. 

Bodies covered in sweat, the coiling in your stomach build slowly as he took his time with you. Never speeding up, and always covering part of you with his hands, kiss, tongue, teeth and never letting go of your stomach. Instead choosing to press your hand down against the skin so he could rest it on top with his much larger hand consuming yours. 

Your orgasm is what had the tears rolling down, it was slow and not wild like fire but a slow consumption that took your body into the flames limb by limb before you were engulfed. Your chest felt like it was floating and your head in the clouds as Robb fucked you all the same through it before he followed. Cock buried deep as he came warm and thick into you, pressing his lips to yours as you finally found a chance to mutter out, “I love you, Robb, I truly do.” 

His muscles ached as he spilled inside of you before resting his face in your neck as you both slowly started to come down. “You don’t leave my side, either of you.” His hands now both running over your stomach as he knelt you more towards the bed. 

Robb turned you in his arms to face you, one hand running over your hip and stomach while he switched between looking at your eyes and below once more. You snuggled as much as you could into his chest, Robb running his nose along your hair as you pressed into his neck. 

Tomorrow, you’d have a funeral to begin leaving for, but maybe as cruel as it was, one life was given up for the other. His grandfather’s life leaving to join the gods, so that you and Robb still on the plains of the living could bring a new life together. 

A few name ideas for boys rolled around in his head, but he worried not. Robb would share enough children with you to honour all of them. He’d make sure of it just as much as he could see in the hope in your eyes, that you too, wanted all of it. 

It didn’t just startle Jon, it almost horrified him. His conscious mind desperate to justify his actions, fighting between telling himself what he knew was true, versus what he was lying to himself about to cope with the reality. 

If he didn’t think about it, he could ignore how this was supposed to be with you. He could pretend that it didn’t matter how this played out, or lie to himself and say it felt good because he wanted it. The alternative outside the walls of the cave was death, prove your worth or die and this was the path chosen for him to do so. 

As long as it felt good and he lied to himself, Jon could pretend as if he was fine with it. Until the image of you, dragging a hand to your stomach flashed before his eyes. The gentle brush of fingers against a stomach that he somehow knew was pregnant and he flushed with how clearly Ygritte thought such a physical response was for her. 

Jon could feel his hand against your stomach, and he could see a dream of a baby. Eyes coloured just as yours but the hair was dark and curls that he knew all too well on himself. Let him think it was for her, and maybe Jon would get through this and just accept that lie as truth. 

But Jon could see the child in his mind, the swell in your stomach and your breathless needy sigh in his ear that had been his only source of comfort in the rough beds at the wall. He could see all of it, and he felt shamed that on the other side of you, he could only envision himself, not the brother he knew it really was all for. 

Jon could pretend he wanted this, when he knew the opposite was true, that he didn’t send his only protection left away at her demand. He could pretend that she was just like you when the opposites were the reality, and Jon would lie to himself as long as she was with him that he did want it. 

Lying to himself about this was easier then admitting the truth, he was a grown man, he shouldn’t get to tell himself that he was forced into it. He should be better then that, and yet the only thought that kept Jon from cracking that resolve and leaving him broken, was the image of you with a child that should have been his. 

The image of a pregnant wife that looked nothing like the wildling girl who acted as if such a role belonged to her. The need in the sounds in his head that belonged to you when they were being given to his brother. 

He told you to love him, he wanted you to love him. But in this cave, Jon found no solace in the forced pleasure his body was having that you willing shared with his brother. His mind wasn’t settled and it burned him harder each time he could see the woman he was with. 

Jon did this beacuse he had no choice, and he would lie to himself about not being forced into it for as long as he needed to to handle such a truth. But Jon couldn’t hide from himself, that every time he saw you as he touched the wildling girl, it fed her delusion of what she was to him. She forced him into it, and pretended as if his pleasure was the only consent she needed. You never did and never would force him into a single thing if you thought he doubted or hesitated in wanting. You respected him like none ever did or still does.

And it fed the pain that made Jon want to scream. This didn’t belong to her. It belonged to you.  

[grandmother-goblin]

Field Study - Chapter 6

Ao3 - Masterlist

Chapter Summary: After an argument with Cas, Astarion decides that it's best to try to make things right. Preferably, before Wyll has the chance to sweep her off her feet and he loses his chance.

Relationships: Astarion x Female!Tav

Rating: Explicit (18+) for eventual smut.

Word Count: 7.8k

Chapter Tags: Smut, oral sex, blow jobs, cunnilingus, fingering, penetrative sex, enthusiastic consent, mild begging, mild disassociation, references to past trauma, jealousy.

Note: Part of this chapter has already been posted as an excerpt.

Dawn crept over the horizon, accentuating two long shadows as Cas and Wyll returned to camp, looking equal parts exhausted and triumphant.

Astarion couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

The part of him that was irritated with the reckless idiots waged war against the part that was thankful to see them return in one piece. It meant that they didn’t have to stage a rescue mission for them. Or, more likely, find a way to deal with the tadpole without them. At the end of the day, Cas’s connections and Wyll’s reputation opened a lot of doors that might otherwise remain closed to them.

Astarion brought his foot up to rest on his knee and focused his attention on the book in his lap. Or rather, he tried to focus. Gale had been kind enough to lend him a book on Netherese magic that he just happened to have on hand for no suspicious reason at all. Not that he was complaining. The book was interesting, but his eyes kept darting back to where Cas and Wyll trudged up the path.

Blood stained the front of Cas’s leathers, and a gnarled staff had joined her bow in the weapon sling on her back. Judging by the smell and the way Cas carried herself, the blood on her armor did not belong to her. A sense of relief tickled his heart. It almost chased away his lingering irritation, but when Wyll tossed his arm around Cas’s shoulder like they were best fucking friends, Astarion ground his molars and went back to the book.

The way his own body responded only furthered his annoyance. Pushing the idiocy involving Ethel aside, the conversation with Cas prior to the unnecessary venture did not sit right with him. For multiple reasons. Not only had she turned him down in favor of playing hero with Wyll, she seemed to see straight through his plan to use her for his own benefit.

Cas wasn’t wrong, of course, but she also wasn’t supposed to figure that out.

Astarion had been careful to conceal his true intentions. It was second nature to him. Over the centuries he had lied to, seduced, and manipulated others to lure them back to Cazador so many times that he’d die of old age before he could recall each instance.

It wasn’t the first time someone had been suspicious of his intentions, but getting caught never really bothered him. It just meant he had to move on to the next unlucky idiot before Cazador got wind of his failure. But with Cas, a pinprick of guilt prodded the back of his mind with the insistence of an angry seamstress and he didn’t know why.

“You were amazing last night.” Wyll’s voice was soft, reverent even, over the sound of boots scraping against sunbaked earth. “It was a complete honor to fight a monster like Ethel at your side.”

Trying to be discreet, Astarion let his eyes drift back in their direction just in time to see Wyll pull Cas into a hug. One that lasted two seconds too long and did not seem entirely innocent. At least, not on Wyll’s part.

Cas gave Wyll a pat on the back before she put a single step of space between them. “Careful not to get blood on you,” she said with a light laugh, gesturing to the state of her shirt.

“Wouldn’t be the first time, my friend.” Wyll returned the grin and planted his hands on his hips as he looked her over head to toe, his eyes lingering on some areas of her figure longer than others. “There should be a spell to get that cleaned up. It can be a pain to get bloodstains out of leather like that,” he said and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Since you’re heading right back out, I might have a chest plate that will fit you. Or, at the very least, cover up most of the blood.”

“I think anything of yours would be too big for me,” she said. Then she seemed to realize the implications of her statement, and held out a single finger in warning. “Don’t even think about it.”

Holding up his hands in mock surrender, Wyll bit back a laugh. “I was just going to say we can find a way to make it fit.”

Cas smacked the back of her hand against Wyll’s chest playfully. “I’m going to…” her threat vanished into a bubble of laughter. “You go get some rest. Clearly you need some sleep.”

Sleep wasn’t the only thing Wyll needed. He could also likely do with a pair of fangs in his throat, but Astarion likely wouldn’t get away with that. No matter how much he wanted to at that moment. It wasn’t like he had any sort of claim on Cas.

But that did not mean he couldn’t have a claim on Cas.

Wyll did not seem like the type of man to pursue a woman who was already spoken for. Except for Lae’zel, no one at camp knew about their midnight liaisons. No one saw the way Cas smiled at him under the moonlight, or heard the way she moaned when his mouth was on her neck, or how she laughed when he teased her. After their conversation last night, he wasn’t even sure if he would have the luxury of being close with her like that again.

An uninvited memory of the night outside the swamp invaded his mind. The way she had saved his life from the Gur without a moment’s hesitation, and after when she wrapped her arms around him as he kissed her against a tree. He should have taken her right then and there. Then maybe the thoughts that plagued his mind would cease.

But it just hadn’t been the right moment.

It didn’t feel right because he wasn’t supposed to feel anything at all. Pursuing Cas was about survival, not pleasure. And it certainly should not have caused the clusterfuck of emotions he had going on.

Astarion pushed the memory aside. Knowing the kind of emotions that cropped up whenever she was around, was it even worth it to continue pursuing a relationship beyond superficial friendship with Cas? If what she said was true, she would help him regardless of the thing going on between them. Was this thing worth the trouble if he would get access to her powerful connections without it?

Absently staring at the book in his lap, he listened as Wyll excused himself to his tent followed by the sound of light footsteps that approached from his left.

“Good morning, Astarion,” Cas greeted as she stopped just out of arm's reach. “I hope you rested well.”

“I did.” He continued to stare at his book, unwilling to look at those pretty brown eyes with what they tended to do to him. “Sounds like you and Wyll had a lovely time together,” he added before he thought to stop himself. “I take it you’ve successfully avenged your vampire friend. Do you think he would be happy with your kill?”

Leaves rustled in the wind. Cas said nothing, letting his passive aggressive words hang in the air like a cloud of smoke.

“I don’t think he’d care, honestly.” Her tone, friendly and warm just seconds ago, iced over in an instant. “But slicing the hag’s throat means she can’t go looking for Eroc any time soon, so I suppose there’s that.”

“How incredibly violent of you,” he said and did not bother to hide the disinterest in his voice.

Mentally, he slapped himself. Why was he being hostile to her when part of him just wanted to set things right? It was like a reflex, or some sort of self-defense mechanism he could not quite explain. Irritated with himself, he took a breath and tried a more neutral tone. “When are we heading out?” he asked, just to steer the conversation towards something more productive.

“About thirty minutes,” she answered without missing a beat. “Are you okay with watching the camp with Karlach for a bit while Wyll gets some sleep?”

His fingers paused just as he was about to flip to the next page in his book. So, she was leaving him behind. She hadn’t done that since the day after they first met. Granted, it seemed everyone besides Cas and Shadowheart had gotten at least one day of rest. He could not help but think that she wasn’t giving him a break as much as she was taking a break from him. A cold feeling seized his chest and he promptly ignored it in favor of putting on a face.

Plastering a smile on his lips, Astarion finally turned to her. “Darling, I’m hurt,” he said as he pressed his hand to his heart in mock offense. “But I suppose I can suffer a day at camp while Wyll gets his beauty sleep. It sounds positively dreadful.”

The blank expression on her face did not budge an inch. Not a hint of amusement or irritation. “We’ll be back before dark,” she said, her tone taking on a business-like quality that grated on his nerves.

When Cas started towards her tent, Astarion forced himself to keep his mouth shut and returned to his book.

—

Six blissful hours of peace and quiet passed before the Bastard of Frontiers emerged from his tent looking like he didn’t know what day it was. A fresh bruise bloomed on Wyll’s hip where his trousers hung indecently low, and Astarion found himself glad that Cas wasn’t around to see what the monster hunter had on display. Compared to Wyll, Astarion was a scrawny little shit and that knowledge bothered him in a way it hadn’t before.

Even with the scars and the fake eye, Wyll was an objectively attractive man with his sun-kissed brown skin and a bright smile that made it seem like he hadn’t had a bad day in his life. Once upon a time, Wyll was exactly the kind of person Astarion would dream of marrying. Back before his entire life was upended in an undead nightmare. As things were, Wyll appealed to Astarion the same way an orchestra might appeal to a deaf man. He could understand why someone would have an interest, but he simply had different tastes.

Nearly two hundred years had passed since Astarion last saw his reflection. Time had turned his own face into a vague memory. Given how people responded to his presence, with coy glances and blushing cheeks, he knew he couldn’t look terrible. Hells, that was an understatement. The main reason he was successful luring people back to Cazador was because most people found him attractive. Beautiful, even. But his looks were nothing like the human man strutting around camp with his shirt off and looking like he just came off the cover of an erotic novel.

Once again, Astarion tried to focus on reading, wishing Karlach hadn’t taken Scratch with her to go to the grove. They were a far better distraction than the book.

For a while, Wyll left him alone. He took some time to train and make sure all of his gear was in working order. Why he did that all without a shirt on, Astarion did not know. He supposed it was a hot day. Maybe Wyll just didn’t want to dirty any more clothing.

However, the silence between them was tragically short lived. Wyll approached late in the afternoon with a flask of whiskey in hand and a smile on his face. From what Astarion could tell, Wyll wasn’t drunk. Small mercies. The Blade of Frontiers was a chatterbox when he was too deep in his cups, and Astarion was in no mood to deal with that.

“I’ve got a personal question for you,” Wyll said as he settled beside Astarion on a split log they used as a bench. “Cas said something last night that made me wonder…. Is there something going on between the two of you?”

A vague question, and one that invited divulging far too much if he didn’t care to think about it. Inexperienced magistrates and politicians easily fell into such traps because their need to hear themselves talk left little time to consider the weight of their words.

“Clarify something,” Astarion said and picked up his bookmark, sensing that the conversation wouldn’t be completely boring after all.

Wyll lightly nudged him with his elbow. “You know what I mean,” he said. “I get the feeling the blood might run a little hot between you two.”

That was one way to put it. Yet, he could tell that Wyll was being intentionally vague. As much as Astarion liked to gossip, he liked it significantly less when the subject matter was personal.

“And what makes you say that?”

Wyll shrugged and took a sip from his flask. “Cas seemed upset last night,” he said as his smile faded. “I tried to talk to her about it, but she didn’t say much except that you were giving her a hard time.”

“Nothing more than a lover’s quarrel, my friend,” he said, just to prod him a bit. It was clear that Wyll was after something with his line of questioning, he just didn’t know what. At least, he didn’t know anything for sure.

Although he had a sinking feeling.

“Truly?” Skepticism coated the word so thickly it was almost insulting. “I wouldn’t have thought that someone like Cas would — ”

“— It was a joke,” he said before Wyll could shove his foot into his mouth. Astarion wasn’t sure what Wyll was going to say, but the end of that sentence could not have been anything good. He decided to be offended just on principle. He turned back to his book and said, “I caught her sneaking out and we had a little spat. You know how Shadowheart and I felt about dealing with the hag.”

Wyll took a drink. “So, there’s nothing going on with you and Cas?”

“Nothing at all,” Astarion confirmed drily, not sure why he was lying. “Everything is just tickety-boo.”

There was definitely more going on between him and Cas beyond their petty argument, but Wyll didn’t need to know about that. It wasn’t any of his business.

Leaning back on his hands, Wyll hummed as his eyes trained towards where the sun was setting beyond a copse of trees. “I admit I’m relieved to hear it. I like her, you know? I want to see her happy.”

Astarion blinked. There was something to Wyll’s tone of voice… the way he spoke about her….

Shit.

Wyll didn’t mean those words platonically, did he?

That wouldn’t do. Not at all.

Part of him wanted to backtrack and confess that he had lied before. There was something going on between him and Cas. What that something was, who the Hells knew? But it was there and that meant something.

What they had was special to him, if nothing else. It wasn’t something he wanted to lose. Not when he still needed her for more reasons than he cared to admit.

He couldn’t let Wyll get any ideas. Astarion needed to act fast. It wouldn’t take long for Cas to realize that Wyll could offer her a whole lot more than he ever could.

He couldn’t let that happen.

An idea popped into his head. It was a low and petty notion, but hopefully subtle enough that Wyll wouldn’t perceive it as such. So long as it made him second guess pursuing Cas, Astarion didn’t really care.

“Well, I’m certain your little outing last night would have made her perfectly happy,” he said all too casually. “It was probably just like spending time with her brother. What with both of you being monster hunters with theatrical titles.”

Wyll chuckled and brought the flask to his lips. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, the wheels turning in his head as he weighed the implications of Astarion’s statement.

On one hand, it was a compliment. On the other, no man wanted the woman he was interested in to be associating his likeness with that of her brother.

“You’re ridiculous,” Wyll finally replied. “What I’ve done is like a teaspoon of water in an ocean compared to the Huntsman. Comparing me to him is like….” Instead of finishing his thought, he took a swig from the flask and shook his head.

“You’ll get there some day, I’m sure,” Astarion added just for good measure. He turned his attention back to his book, pleased that his little comment seemed to wriggle its way under Wyll’s skin.

A few seconds of silence passed. Wyll sat beside him quietly as if he was trying to determine whether or not he should say something. It didn’t take a genius to figure out Astarion’s game, but it did take a certain type of person to play it. And Wyll wasn’t that type of person.

Wyll gave him a friendly pat on the back and thanked him for the talk before he excused himself, saying something about having to get dinner ready.

A little knot of insecurity twisted in his stomach as Wyll walked away.

Wyll was a good person. Probably the best of them, if the way he spared Karlach was any indication. Especially since he implied that he put his own life in danger by letting Karlach live. Everything about Wyll screamed “hero”. Someone a person could look up to. Someone a person could trust.

Astarion was none of those things.

If he was honest, he wasn’t sure if he could be even if he tried.

—

Though he would never admit it, Astarion needed that day of rest. Not just for his body, but to give himself time to sort through the thoughts swirling around in his head. Mainly, it gave him time to figure out what he wanted to do about Cas.

He needed to set things right with her. Both as an ally and as the closest thing he had to an actual friend. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had anything close to friendship with someone. It would have been foolish to give it up so easily.

It didn’t take much to see his relationship with Cas was different. She spent her time with him because she enjoyed his company, not because she had nowhere else to go. As much as his instincts told him to twist her kindness, generosity, and naïveté to his advantage, part of him didn’t want to. Deep down, he knew that he simply enjoyed her company as well.

The dark desires that came with immortality easily infiltrated his genuine feelings. It was difficult to pick between the thoughts, or to figure out which ones were tainted by his affliction. Did he really want something more than friendship with Cas? Was his desire for more fueled by a lust for power or something else entirely?

He didn’t get to dwell on his thoughts long before Cas and the others returned to camp. Lae’zel seemed beyond pissed off, paying no mind to anyone or anything as she immediately went to work dismantling a training dummy with an ax. If he had to make a wild guess, something went terribly wrong with their quest to find the Gith crèche. Despite his awkward conversation with Wyll, it seemed staying at camp was by far the more enjoyable option. He did not want to imagine what it was like to walk miles upon miles alongside an enraged Githyanki warrior.

Cas and the others, thankfully, didn’t seem to share the Gith’s frustrations and simply went about their business as usual.

When Cas acknowledged Astarion with a soft smile and a nod, his heartbeat quickened in his chest like an answer to his previous question. The dark desires courtesy of his vampiric nature were cold, calculating, and yawningly empty. Whatever was stirring in his chest was anything but. Warm and pleasant, like a thick blanket around his shoulders that guarded him from the cold.

Her smile melted away some of his anxieties. Despite his behavior from that morning, she didn’t seem to hold a grudge. She was giving him another chance. A chance that he did not want to waste.

Astarion went out to hunt while his companions busied themselves with their own dinner. By the time he returned to camp, Wyll was sharing a drink with Shadowheart, Karlach, and Gale around the campfire, laughing and telling stories while Lae’zel was still beating that innocent training dummy into oblivion. When he asked where Cas had wandered off to, Wyll cocked his thumb towards the river and said she went to wash up.

Perfect. Just the opportunity he needed to get a chance to chat with Cas alone, away from the potential interruptions from camp. Although interrupting her bathing wasn’t ideal, he didn’t want to sit around and wait for a more appropriate moment either.

Between the sound of friendly chatter and dull thuds of Lae’zel’s steel blade meeting packed straw stuffed in armor, none of his companions seemed to notice when Astarion snuck off.

Enough time had passed since Cas had left that he felt she’d be done with her bath and he was hoping to intercept her on the way back to camp. When he spotted her, it appeared as though she had just gotten out of the water. A beige towel wrapped around her torso, barely covering the curve of her ass as she carded her fingers through her damp hair. The faint scent of lavender scented oil and soap reached him just as Cas noticed his presence.

Her dark brows furrowed at him in question, but she continued working the lavender oil through her hair, focusing on the tips. “Please don’t tell me you were watching me bathe,” she said dryly.

“I considered it, but no.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets as his eyes were drawn to the way the towel clung to her subtle curves. “I just wanted to catch you alone for a moment. Figured we needed to talk about some things.”

Cas dabbed a few more drops of oil into her palm and began to work it through her hair. “I suppose we do,” she said and exhaled deeply as she averted her gaze. “I’m sorry for what I said last night. It wasn’t right for me to accuse you of using me for my brother when you had only just found out about him.” Her fingers worked through her hair, but in a way that was more nervous than productive. “I won’t bore you with excuses, but I am sorry. You didn’t deserve it. I hope you’re able to forgive me.”

Not what he was expecting, but he didn’t disapprove. The words stirred a funny, unfamiliar feeling inside him. When was the last time someone he knew apologized to him? For anything at all? While the apology was nice, and appreciated, it was something else she said that dug deep in a way he hadn’t expected.

You didn’t deserve it.

For centuries, there was always a reason why he deserved every moment of agony he endured. He failed to bring back prey for Cazador. Or he spoke too loudly. Or too softly. He wasn’t standing straight enough. Didn’t smile when he was supposed to. Stood six inches to the left of where Cazador expected him. According to Cazador, he had deserved every harsh word, every cut along his skin, every missed meal. For centuries, the only things in life he didn’t deserve were the good things.

Cas adjusted her towel, holding the thin material in place more with her arms crossed over her chest than with the corner tucked over the edge. She laughed sheepishly and brushed a damp lock of hair behind her ear. “I suck at apologies,” she said, her eyes almost pleading as they fixed on his face. “If there’s anything I can do to make it up to you–”

A smile crept across his lips as she bumbled over her words. Adorable. How could he have ever been upset with her? It was difficult to hold much of a grudge when she was wrapped in a towel like a gift and spoke such sweet words.

“I suppose I can forgive you, darling,” he said, as if forgiving her was some dreadful chore. A droplet of water ran down her neck to the hollow of her collarbone before it disappeared beneath her towel. Astarion licked his lips. “But if you insist on making it up to me, I might have some suggestions.”

The subtle sound of her heartbeat quickened in his ear as her mind went exactly where he wanted it to go but the noise was quickly drowned out with a laugh. “And what might those suggestions be?” she asked as she took a single step closer, keeping herself just out of his reach.

Astarion feigned interest in a non-existent speck of dirt beneath his fingernails, which only seemed to amuse Cas more. “Do I really have to spell it out for you, darling?”

His eyes wandered over curves the towel scarcely kept hidden, from the swell of her breasts to the roundness of her hips. As much as he wanted to close the distance between them and tug the towel loose, he resisted. He was a gentleman after all. Well, that was a lie. But he could very well pretend to be enough of a gentleman that he would at least ask before ravishing her on the spot. “I’m suggesting that we kiss and make up.”

“Isn’t that what we’re doing?” A smirk on her lips said she was intentionally being difficult, like she was waiting for him to just ask her outright. “Or are you more interested in the ‘kissing’ part?”

Astarion rolled his eyes. “You’re cheeky, aren’t you?” he said as his gaze landed on her full lips. “If you aren’t interested—”

“— I never said I wasn’t interested,” Cas said as she stepped closer until they stood toe to toe, her chest brushing against his. “But I want to make sure you’re certain about it. Now that you know who I am—”

He didn’t bother to wait for the end of her sentence. Astarion cupped her face between his hands and covered her lips with his own by way of an answer. He was certain. In this situation, her being the Huntsman’s little sister mattered as much as him being Cazador’s spawn. Which was to say, not at all. For a few moments, they could both forget who they were and the situation they were in.

A sound of surprise came from deep in her throat as his tongue brushed against hers. Sweet peppermint coated his tongue as he stroked hers, and it might as well be his new favorite flavor. Her fingers found the buttons of his shirt as his hands slipped to her waist. He pulled her body flush against his so she could feel the effect she had on him. His cock, already half hard at the sight of her, swelled and thickened between them. “I want to take this towel off,” he said, his lips brushing against her ear as he spoke.

When he bit her earlobe, she made a sound that fueled something primal deep within him. Something that only understood need, want, and possession. Something that took the fire in his core and doused it in whiskey, making the flames burn even brighter. His fingers hooked into the towel impatiently, wanting and waiting. He would still play the gentleman, though he wanted to be anything but being gentle.

Her hips pressed into the hardened length and he groaned at the moment of relief the pressure provided. Her movement was slow and deliberate. Taunting him, daring him to take what he wanted. Then her hand slipped between them as she palmed him through his trousers.

She unbuttoned the front of his pants and Astarion suddenly found it a little hard to breathe as her deft fingers ghosted over the inside of his briefs. It was the first time Cas had touched him like that: the first time she had gone for what she wanted rather than following his lead. A sense of familiar numbness mixed with excitement. It felt different than the countless others who had touched him. It wasn’t blind demand fueled by lust. She seemed to be focused on him as she wrapped her warm hand around his aching length.

She stroked him gently and a groan rumbled deep in his throat as he pressed himself into her palm. “You want this, don’t you?” His words were a sultry whisper against her ear. “You’ll have to ask nicely.”

Cas hummed in contemplation as she kissed down his neck. Carefully, she slipped his shirt from his shoulders, letting it fall to the grass behind him.

Then she lowered herself to her knees.

“Love,” he said, caution sneaking into his tone. “What are you doing?”

Of course, he knew exactly what she was doing. He just didn’t know why she was doing it. What in the Hells was she playing at? He was supposed to be the one in her position, the one offering pleasure, but not the other way around.

Lustful, doe-like eyes gazed up at him as she traced her finger from base to tip. “I’m asking nicely.” She licked her lower lip and her eyes went back to the bulge just inches from her face. “Unless you’d rather I do something else with my mouth. It’s up to you.”

Some mechanism in his brain sputtered. He couldn’t even remember the last time someone had made such an offer. Years. Maybe decades. Hells, she even left the choice up to him. She actually bothered to ask what he wanted in the first place and….

He could say ‘no.’

The realization sent a shockwave through him. For the first time in centuries, he could refuse someone.

Somehow, he knew she wouldn’t push it if he told her that he wasn’t interested. It would have been a lie, but just the knowledge that he could refuse her made him feel more powerful than he had in ages.

His heart picked up speed and his throat felt a little tight. “You’re sure?” he said, and mentally slapped himself. Gods, he was supposed to be seducing her! Not… whatever he was doing at that moment.

What the Hells did this woman do to his brain? Sometimes, he swore she affected him more than the tadpole.

Part of him expected her to change her mind. After all, her own pleasure was the only thing she wanted, wasn’t it? That was all anyone ever wanted from him. If his needs ever got taken care of, well, it was usually just because he got lucky.

“Very,” she said and kissed him through his briefs. Then, with a playful tilt of her head, she added, “Please?”

Astarion ran his fingers through her still damp hair. “If you insist, darling.”

Easing down the waistband, a faint hint of redness colored her cheeks as she took in the sight of him. Fuck, he had been in Cas’s position hundreds of times that it felt almost wrong to have someone kneeling before him.

Cas looked up at him with eyes that were simultaneously so innocent and so mischievous. Slowly, she dragged her tongue along the underside of his shaft and his fingers tightened in her hair. Just that small touch made his whole body tense as heat rose to his cheeks.

“Let me know what you like,” she said before wrapping her lips around the head of his cock.

His jaw fell open as she took him into her mouth and every single thought he had vanished. Nothing registered except for the warm, slick, heaven surrounding him. For a moment, he just watched her. Her movements were slow and delicate, like she was savoring him. And he wasn’t sure if anyone had ever paid him attention the way she was. He couldn’t bring himself to look away even if he wanted to, mesmerized by her lips wrapped so beautifully around his cock.

“Fuck, Cas,” he hissed. His fist tightened in her hair as he eased his cock further into her mouth, guiding her into a deep, steady rhythm. “Just like that, sweetheart.”

Cas was a quick study, figuring out exactly what he liked with just the smallest direction. Shamelessly, his eyes locked onto the sight of her lush lips sliding up and down his cock, following her movements, unable to look away even if he wanted to. He groaned when she sucked him a little harder, and took him a little deeper until the head of his cock nudged the back of her throat.

Gods, he couldn’t remember the last time someone touching him felt… not terrible. Heat pooled in his gut as his hips bucked involuntarily. Fuck. If he didn’t stop her, it was going to be over before it ever really started.

“That’s enough, darling,” he said, his voice somewhere between a groan and a primal growl. With his fingers tangled in her hair, he eased her off of him before he came down her throat. With a wicked glint in her eye, her tongue lapped over the head of his cock once more and he bit back a moan.

Her hands settled on his hips as she gazed up at him, pupils blown wide with lust. Waiting. Watching his reaction with parted lips.

She must have seen something in his face because then she breathlessly asked, “Do you want to stop?” The question almost made him want to laugh.

Astarion leaned down, putting his face close enough to hers that he could feel her breath across his lips. “That is the very last thing I want to do.”

His lips crashed against hers in a bruising kiss. It was like something ignited in him like a shot of whiskey tossed into an open flame, sudden and intense. Like the fire spread beyond his body, Cas inhaled deeply as her fingers sunk into his hair with unabashed passion. Astarion wasted no time pushing her down onto the grass.

The towel Cas had wrapped around herself had loosened completely and began serving a much nobler purpose of keeping them off the grass. Mostly. It was an admittedly small towel, but it was better than nothing at all.

Every instinct he had told him to plunge his cock inside her and fuck her until she couldn’t see straight. Once he removed the rest of his clothing, it took every bit of willpower he had not to do just that. Cradled between her thighs, his hard length prodded her entrance, teasing her as she arched to meet him, desperate and wanting. But he didn’t press into her just yet, no matter how badly he wanted to.

Normally, for him, sex was just about going through the motions. It was something that he had been forced to do for so long that he didn’t even have to really think about it. But Cas had completely thrown him off with a few words and a blow job. Gods, she had actually been willing to stop before she ever got her pleasure. She didn’t even seem to be upset by the prospect. All he had to do was say the word and… that was how it was supposed to be, wasn't it?

But after centuries of being denied even the most basic human decency, it felt like a godsdamned gift.

Astarion’s lips moved against hers, hot and eager, as he held his weight above her with his palms on either side of her head. He dragged his mouth down the column of her throat, over the lovely bruise on her neck, more interested in tasting the salt of her skin than the blood that pulsed beneath. His lips wandered to her collarbone, then her full, rounded breasts. Her dark nipples tightened to stiff peaks as his tongue flitted over the tips, one after the other.

“You’re gorgeous, darling,” he said, his voice thick and unrecognizable and far too full of desire. He drew her into his mouth, sucking the most sensitive part of her breast until she was squirming beneath him.

A small gasp passed her pretty lips when his fingertips brushed over the heat between her thighs. “Already so wet for me,” he purred as his fingers delved into her.

The response was immediate. Her hips rocked to meet the movement of his fingers as he kissed between her breasts, his lips trailing down to her firm stomach, lower and lower. His thumb strummed over her clit in practiced motions as he kissed her mound and her inner thighs. Everywhere but where she wanted him. Even in the moonlight, he could see the red flush to her cheeks and the sighs that escaped her lips were like music to his ears.

“Astarion,” she said, his name like the softest caress on her breath. Her fingers tunneled through his hair, blunt nails trailing over his scalp in a way that made his skin prickle with pleasure. Though he expected it, she did not pull or guide him to where she so obviously wanted him.

He glanced up at her and eyes met for a brief moment. A spark of electricity shot through him. Something more than lust, more than simple desire. It was too much. He closed his eyes, breaking the connection, and lowered his mouth between her legs.

Cas’s breath hitched when the steady rhythm of his thumb on her clit was replaced by his tongue. Like she was fighting the urge to hold him there forever, her fingers tensed in his hair without pulling it. As he dragged his tongue through her folds, his fangs ached with the sudden urge to bite her. To taste all of her; blood and sex. He let his fangs graze over her without breaking the skin, sending a satisfying shiver through her.

Cas arched when he began to suck on her clit. His fingers curled within her, stroking her sweet spot in a way that had her hips lifting off the ground. He pressed his forearm over her hips, pinning her in place as he licked, sucked, and tasted her.

Her legs pressed around his ears, her thighs trembling as her walls tightened around his fingers. “I’m going to come,” she panted as he lapped at her swollen clit like he was trying to brand her with his tongue.

It was only another second before her whole body began to shake. Then all of Cas’s muscles went taut as she let out a choked moan, her pussy clenching around his fingers as she came undone. Astarion glanced up and was greeted with the sight of her flushed face and her hand clamped over her mouth as she tried to muffle herself.

Gods, was she beautiful.

While Cas caught her breath, Astarion withdrew his fingers and pressed soft kisses to the inside of her thighs. He trailed kisses up the length of her body, his cock aching to be inside her.

His heavy length ground against her soft skin, desperate for any sort of relief and impatient for a response. The need he had to feel her around him, to fill her with all of him, was indescribable as it was instinctual. He spread her thighs with his knee and pressed himself against her, sighing as the slickness between her legs teased his cock, warm and welcoming.

“Tell me you want me, darling.” His lips brushed against her neck as he spoke.

“I want you.” Cas raised her hips in encouragement. “Please.”

Something primal rumbled in his throat as he notched his tip against her entrance. “I love hearing you say ‘please.’” He thrust into her with one deep, hard, steady plunge that buried him to the hilt.

Her mouth fell open as her pussy clenched around him. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders as if trying to pull him even closer, deeper. “Gods, yes,” she said as she pressed her face into his neck, nipping his pale flesh as she rolled her hips against his.

Astarion went still as his breath shuddered, cock throbbing inside her and his hips pressed against hers. Though he had done this exact thing thousands of times, she felt so incredible. So warm and snug around his length as she pressed delicate kisses over his neck to his jaw. Then, with her hand on his cheek, she captured his mouth with hers.

For a moment, something like shame and trepidation flickered within him, before he kissed her back. There would be time to dwell on that later. It was different with Cas. Cas wasn’t a victim, or a target, or just another meal for Cazador.

She was… so good to him. She defended him, protected him. Though she was obviously attracted to him physically, it was clear that there was something more. There was something in the way she smiled and laughed with him. Something in the way she wanted to spend time with him, hear his thoughts, and was willing to stand her ground when they disagreed.

For the first time in centuries, he might have an actual friend in Cas. A real connection. Usually he couldn’t wait for his sexual encounters to be over, but with Cas, he almost didn’t want it to end.

Worst of all, he was still manipulating her.

He was using her the same way others had used him.

She was far too valuable, and he had to keep that in mind. His feelings on the matter be damned. He could push them aside, just like every other time they got in the way of what needed to be done.

“Is everything okay?” Cas asked, her voice thick with lust as her brown eyes watched him with a touch of concern.

With a rakish smile, he rocked his hips. “All of your nipping makes me want to bite you back.” The lie rolled off his tongue easily and grazed his fangs along her neck.

Before she could think to question him, he withdrew almost completely and slammed back into her. A pleasured cry tore from her lips as her blunt fingernails bit into his shoulder. Astarion gathered her in his arms and his hips gently rocked into her, the practiced movement putting steady pressure on her clit. Her walls fluttered around his cock, and every time he slid in deep her breath sighed out as she held him tight.

He couldn’t remember the last time sex had made him feel so connected to another person. So close and so vulnerable. He couldn’t remember the last time he looked a lover in the eye as he was inside them. It was as liberating as it was terrifying.

Cas’s hands roved over the contours of his body, from his shoulders to his ribs to the curve of his ass. Fingertips traced over the marred skin on his back like she couldn’t even feel the scars. No part of him went untouched. No tormented past, no uncertain future, just her body against his like nothing else in the world mattered except their pleasure.

It wasn’t long before she was quaking, her eyes shut tight as she took every last inch of him. With a soft cry, she was coming again, biting into his shoulder to stifle herself. Fire spread across his skin as he picked up the pace. Sweat clung to their bodies as he found a steady rhythm. Just two people at the utter mercy of each other’s touches and her moans were like the sweetest harmony to his ears.

His eyes roved over her parted lips, her flushed cheeks, and the way her breasts bounced as he rammed into her over and over again. A sight just for him, and he wanted it branded in his memory. His movements became uncoordinated and reckless, immersed entirely in the feel of her. With each thrust, the fire pooling low in his abdomen grew stronger, wilder, until it burst into an inferno. He followed her over the edge, spending himself deep inside her as flames ignited him from within.

When Astarion slumped over her, Cas wrapped herself around him tight like she needed him close. Her heartbeat pounded in his ears as they both caught their breath. A comfortable, satiated, silence fell between them, the sounds of night and the rush of the nearby stream grounding them back to reality.

Astarion rolled them onto their sides. Cas curled into him, her arm draped across his middle as his fingers traced along her spine. His mind eerily blank, he smoothed her still damp hair with the palm of his hand as they listened to cricket song.

It was peaceful. Calm. He just wanted to hold her for a bit longer. To feel the heat of her skin against his as they laid together without doing anything more at all. To just be.

But it was far too soon to be getting sentimental.

At the end of the day, it was still about protection. And repayment for everything she had done for him. It would have been foolish to wish for anything more.

He pressed a kiss to her temple. “I take it you enjoyed yourself?”

“Do you really need to ask?” She raised a brow at him, but the blush on her cheeks betrayed her attempt at sass. As if she was suddenly shy, Cas buried her face into his chest and said, “I think I left a love bite.”

An unexpected bark of laughter passed his lips. “It’s not like I haven’t done the same to you, darling.”

She traced a splotch of red skin on his shoulder with quiet fascination. “You’ll be able to cover it pretty easily,” she mused as she pressed a kiss to the mark.

“You didn’t cover yours.” Astarion’s fingertips brushed over the fading bruise surrounding the two puncture wounds on her neck that no one else could claim. “Though, I do think it’s only fair that I return the favor,” he said as his mouth found the junction between her neck and her collarbone and inhaled her scent: lavender mixed with the salty scent of sweat. A mischievous grin grew on his lips as he gently nibbled her soft skin. Not hard enough to leave another bruise, but just to make a point.

Cas pushed herself away from him with a laugh. “Don’t you dare,” she said and he couldn’t help but chuckle at the memory it brought to mind. The one of the night where she so generously allowed him to drink her blood and he tried to go in for seconds. She had laughed and pushed him away then, with the same words on her lips.

They fell into easy conversation as they cleaned up and dressed. When Cas offered to fix his mussed-up hair, she did so with an uncertain smile, her eyes darting to his lips every few seconds. Unsure if she was being too forward, or being too tender, for whatever their relationship was. He soothed her worries with a kiss.

It wasn’t often he had that simple luxury. That he got to spend some time with someone after he had slept with them. Usually they left because they had been satisfied or because Cazador had taken them. Either way, his job was done once the clothes came back on.

He didn’t know what his relationship with Cas was. Or how sex might change it. But he knew one thing for certain: he didn’t hate it.

If anything, he wanted more.

---

Beginning

Previous Chapter

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[lostthenfoundmyself]

Firstly, wow. Using Yiddish words to insult a Jew? Really respectful of other cultures there. Shows you care so much about what you’re saying. /s

Secondly, Jews and Palestinians are both indigenous people of the land there. Jewish people have been referring to Israel as their homeland for millennia, it’s woven into our traditions and prayers. Furthermore, DNA evidence shows shared genetic roots. If you don’t believe that? Idk what to tell you, but it’s science.

Thirdly, calling Israel’s response genocide cheapens the term. Genocide is a systematic plan to wipe out a racial or ethnic group. Israel is attempting to defeat a government. Do their tactics have many, many issues? Of course. Countries tend to, you know, prioritize themselves in war, and not what’s philosophically right. But if Israel actually wanted to kill Palestinians as their goal, this is not what it would look like. Israel includes many Arab/Palestinian citizens. They hold office and have full rights. They are not forced to assimilate. This is not genocide. Israel’s leadership is displaying callousness, but Israel is not attempting to wipe out a whole race/ethnicity here. Pretending otherwise makes the term meaningless.

Now, why do I feel threatened? Because this IS about me. Because Israel is being singled out in a way no other country is. Because Jews in Israel deserve to be tortured and r*ped, but US citizens (who actually are NOT an indigenous population to the land they inhabit) do not. Because people are calling for the complete dissolution of Israel, but not for that of Germany (which actually committed genocide), South Africa (which had actual apartheid, where Black South Africans could not enter many locations, could not have sex with white South Africans, could not hold office, etc.), the United States (which is on occupied, brutally conquered land AND responded to a single attack on a military base by waging a war against the country that did that attack with no more US civilian casualties but many Japanese civilian casualties—wait, that’s normal warfare, as long as you’re not a Jewish state!), Italy (which had a bloody unification), or the UK (which currently includes Northern Ireland, Wales’s and Scotland). Because my classmates have stated that I deserve to be tortured and r*ped. Wouldn’t you be scared too?

So while the war itself isn’t about me, the “antizionism” my classmates are using is antisemitism, and yes, that is about me.

And lastly, as for the war itself, it shouldn’t be about me, even though my classmates’ declarations are. I have NO obligation to denounce Israel, even if Israel was what you say it is. Let it be known that I don’t have a double standard here. You said that Muslims have an obligation to denounce extreme Islamists, but they don’t. I do not expect that of them. They hold no responsibility for what others identifying as Muslim believe. I also, being an ethnically French person who has visited France, have no obligation to denounce Emmanuel Macron (who sucks) or Marine Lapin (who sucks even more). No one says “hey, you have a connection to the country of France, why are you silent about France’s treatment of Muslims? You’re complicit!” France’s treatment of Muslims is awful, but I haven’t made a statement about it because I’m…not a French politician?

Israel’s flag is bloody. As is that of every country in existence. At least Israel can say it never went to war without being attacked first. That’s more than most other countries can. What you created (I’m assuming you created it, since you didn’t credit an artist) shows a country that has been splattered time and time again in the blood of its own people, as they’ve defended themselves against countries that want them eradicated—and that’s a pretty inspiring image. I don’t feel insulted by it, though I’m sure you were going for an insult trending close enough to blood libel but with the plausible deniability of “I didn’t say it was a ritual!”

But anyway, when people who are neither Palestinian nor Jewish hop on this specific conflict, calling Israelis oppressors deserving of brutalization and Israel the most evil state, the one that it’s most important we dissolve…its not because Israelis are monsters or Israel is somehow the Evilist. It’s because Israel is Jewish, and people hate Jews, and it’s easy to whip people up into a frenzy against them. It’s because others saw this “righteous” anger and enjoyed how it felt and jumped on the bandwagon, without realizing that Israel is not uniquely bad, just uniquely Jewish.

I don’t hate myself. I do not deserve to feel unsafe.

Walking through my dorm last semester felt like a gauntlet. Handmade paintings declaring “from River to sea, Palestine will be free” filled the lounge. Announcements about various pro-Palestine rallies were on every corkboard. Each time I passed a room, I’d think of the things that person said on our dorm’s group chat—and none of them were good.

But someone wrote עם ישראל חי on the whiteboard outside their dorm room with a smiley face. And every time I could, I’d make sure to walk past that whiteboard, because it made me feel a little better, a little more hopeful, a little more alive. I was drowning, and three words on a whiteboard helped me surface for air.

[dfroza]

“The same One who has put seed into the hands of the sower…”

Apart from the Son we cannot see Light

there is no other way of finding the path to eternal life

and spreading the message of grace takes work and patience in the “sowing” of seeds.

Today’s reading of the Scriptures from the New Testament is the 9th chapter of the letter of 2nd Corinthians:

There’s nothing further I could add about your efforts for God’s people in Judea. I know you are ready. I bragged on you throughout Macedonia, telling them how the people in Achaia have been prepared since last year; and your passion has been contagious. Still I thought it would be best to send these brothers and sisters ahead to help you finish the final details so all my bragging wouldn’t be for nothing. If some of the Macedonians decide to travel with me, all of us would be more than embarrassed if we arrived and you weren’t ready to give after the way we’ve been going on about you. So to help you get your previously promised gift ready, it made sense to me to ask the brothers and sisters to go on ahead so you will have all the time you need to put it together as planned and so it doesn’t look thrown together or coerced.

But I will say this to encourage your generosity: the one who plants little harvests little, and the one who plants plenty harvests plenty. Giving grows out of the heart—otherwise, you’ve reluctantly grumbled “yes” because you felt you had to or because you couldn’t say “no,” but this isn’t the way God wants it. For we know that “God loves a cheerful giver.” God is ready to overwhelm you with more blessings than you could ever imagine so that you’ll always be taken care of in every way and you’ll have more than enough to share. Remember what is written about the One who trusts in the Lord:

He scattered abroad; He gave freely to the poor;

His righteousness endures throughout the ages.

The same One who has put seed into the hands of the sower and brought bread to fill our stomachs will provide and multiply the resources you invest and produce an abundant harvest from your righteous actions. You will be made rich in everything so that your generosity will spill over in every direction. Through us your generosity is at work inspiring praise and thanksgiving to God. For this mission will do more than bring food and water to fellow believers in need—it will overflow in a cascade of praises and thanksgivings for our God. When this mission reaches Jerusalem and meets with the approval of God’s people there, they will give glory to God because your confession of the gospel of the Anointed One led to obedient action and your generous sharing with them and with all exhibited your sincere concern. Because of the extraordinary grace of God at work in you, they will pray for you and long for you. Praise God for this incredible, unbelievable, indescribable gift!

The Letter of 2nd Corinthians, Chapter 9 (The Voice)

A note from The Voice translation:

Giving away money is one of the hardest things believers do, especially when there are bills to pay and more expenses than income. However, helping others with their physical needs and not only their spiritual needs is a fundamental principle of Christian spirituality. Perhaps it would be easier to give our financial resources if we could turn away from our own continual consumption and live simpler lifestyles. Then there would be not only the willingness but also the ability to share God’s blessings with others.

Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is the 17th chapter of the book of 2nd Kings about the dangers of idolatry:

During the 12th year of Ahaz (Judah’s king), Hoshea (Elah’s son) inherited Israel’s throne in Samaria. His reign lasted nine years. He committed evil in the Eternal’s eyes, but not in the same way some of Israel’s kings had.

Shalmaneser, Assyria’s king, waged war against Hoshea, but Hoshea humbled himself before Shalmaneser by paying tribute. But Shalmaneser sensed a secret plot in Hoshea who, instead of paying the expected tribute to Shalmaneser as he had done yearly, had sent messengers to So, the king of Egypt. Because of this, Assyria’s king bound and locked Hoshea in prison.

Assyria’s king then invaded Israel and besieged Samaria for three years. During Hoshea’s ninth year, Assyria’s king captured Samaria and carried off the Israelites to exile in Assyria. The exiles were forced to stay in Halah and Habor on the Gozan River and also in the cities of the Medes.

This all happened because the Israelites had committed countless wicked deeds against their God, the Eternal One, who brought them out of Egypt and freed them from the oppression fueled by Pharaoh, Egypt’s king. They revered gods other than the Lord and lived by the wicked traditions of the people whom the Eternal had forced out of the land before the Israelites arrived. They lived by the religious and cultural practices that Israel’s kings had introduced. The Israelites committed unrighteous acts and tried to hide them from the Eternal their God; but of course, the Lord witnessed them all. They constructed high places everywhere, small or large—from lookout towers to fortified cities. They decorated every hill and the shade of every tree with holy pillars and sacred poles. They burned incense at all the high places just as the people whom the Eternal One had forced out of the land before them had done. They repeated the very same sins. They did many wicked deeds, provoking the anger of the Eternal. They placed themselves in the service of idols—the same ones He had given them instructions about, commanding, “Do not do this. They are evil!”

The Eternal One gave fair warning to Israel and Judah. He gave His warning through the mouths of prophets and seers throughout the land: “Abandon your wickedness, and obey My commands and laws which I gave to your ancestors through the mouths of My servants, the prophets.”

But the Israelites were fools and did not heed the warning. They were stubborn just like their ancestors who did not trust in the Eternal One their God. They spurned His laws and even the covenant He had entered into with their ancestors. They rejected the fair warnings He gave to them. They were devoted to their own vanity and followed the same wicked path as the neighboring nations—the ones He had instructed them not to imitate. They abandoned all the laws the Eternal One their God had given to them. They crafted two golden calves, put up a sacred pole, and also praised the sun, the moon, the stars, and Baal as their master. They made their children pass through the fire, they performed witchcraft and divining, and they committed evil in the eyes of the Eternal and provoked Him to burn with anger. Therefore, He was furious with Israel, so He banished them from His sight. The only tribe that remained was Judah. But Judah also abandoned the laws of their God, the Eternal One, and they walked the same wicked path the Israelites had walked. He rejected all the sons and daughters of Israel and banished them from His sight. He made them suffer and handed them over to pillagers until they were finally cast out of His presence.

After the Eternal had cut Israel out of the house of David, the people made Jeroboam (Nebat’s son) their first king. But he caused the people to turn away from the Eternal One and caused Israel to sin in every way. The Israelites walked the wicked path of Jeroboam until the Eternal removed Israel from His presence, just as He had said through the mouths of His servants the prophets. The Israelites were forced to leave their own land and go live in Assyria, where they still dwell today.

Assyria’s king transported men from Babylon, Cuthah, Avva, Hamath, and Sephar-vaim, and he made them live in the Samaritan towns and cities where the Israelites had lived. Samaria now belonged to these new inhabitants of the towns and cities. When they first began living in Samaria, the foreigners lacked any fear of the Eternal One. So He caused lions to invade their ignorant community and kill some of the people. One of them contacted Assyria’s king.

New Samaritan: The people you have transported to the cities of Samaria from foreign lands do not know the ways of Samaria’s God. He caused lions to invade our community and kill some of the people who are ignorant of the ways of Samaria’s God.

King of Assyria: Send for one of the exiled priests, and take him back there so he can teach these new inhabitants the ways of Samaria’s God.

Ironically a priest who was exiled by God for not following His ways was brought back to Samaria and became responsible for teaching the new inhabitants how to revere the Eternal. He stayed at Bethel.

Even after all of this, all the nations were still crafting their own gods and placing them in the high places built by the Samaritans, each nation in the cities where it settled. The Babylonian men crafted Succoth-benoth, the Cuth men crafted Nergal, the Hamath men crafted Ashima, the Avvites crafted Nibhaz and Tartak, and the Sepharvites gave their own children as burnt sacrifices to their gods Adrammelech and Anammelech. They also greatly feared the Eternal One and nominated some of their own men to act as priests at the high places, interceding for them at the high places’ temples. They feared Him while at the same time honoring the gods of the nations from where they had been exiled.

Still today, they honor the earlier traditions of the wicked people before them, and they fail to revere the Eternal properly. They do not honor the sacred laws and judgments that He gave to the descendants of Jacob (whom He called Israel). He entered into a sacred covenant with the new Samaritans and gave them the same sacred commands to follow.

Eternal One: I am your God! Do not fear, bow down to, serve, or sacrifice to any other gods except for Me. You should only fear, bow down to, and sacrifice to Me who led you out of Egypt with My great power and an outstretched arm. Be careful to observe all the laws, statutes, ordinances, and commands I have inscribed for you. And do not revere any other gods. Remember the sacred covenant you have entered into with Me, and do not revere any other gods except Me. I am your God—your only God! You should only fear the Eternal One your God. I will deliver you from the grip of your enemies.

But they did not listen to the Lord’s message. Instead they did just as they had done when they lived in their own nations. They feared the Eternal One while at the same time serving their own idols. Their descendants have done the same ever since.

The Book of 2nd Kings, Chapter 17 (The Voice)

A link to my personal reading of the Scriptures for monday, january 9 of 2023 with a paired chapter from each Testament of the Bible along with Today’s Proverbs and Psalms

A post by John Parsons that seeks “healing”:

“I saw a great oneing between Christ and us, because when he was in pain, we were in pain. All creatures of God’s creation that can suffer pain suffered with him. The sky and the earth failed at the time of his dying because he too was part of nature.” - Julian of Norwich

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Where it is written in our Scriptures: "O LORD my God, I cried out to you, and you healed me" (Psalm 30:2), the sages comment that the heartfelt act of crying unto God is in itself a source of healing for spiritual ailments, and that the promise, "I am the LORD who heals you" (אֲנִי יְהוָה רֹפְאֶךָ, Exod. 15:26) means the knowledge that "the LORD is God, and there is none other" (הוָה הוּא הָאֱלֹהִים אֵין עוֹד מִלְבַדּוֹ, Deut. 4:35) is the true cure for troubles of the heart and mind.

Often, however, we resist turning to the LORD God for healing... Like Jonah we first must be “swallowed up” in the consciousness that we are undone and without remedy apart from His direct intervention and deliverance. עָקב הַלֵּב מִכּל וְאָנֻשׁ הוּא מִי יֵדָעֶנּו (Jer. 17:9). Often we find ourselves there - in the "belly of the fish" - and later are resurrected to go forth by God's mercy and grace. Likewise we first see ourselves as dying and go to the cross, finding pardon and given the power of the ruach HaKodesh to live unto God according to the truth. Amen.

[ Hebrew for Christians ]­

========

Psalm 30:2 reading:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/psalm30-2-jjp.mp3

Hebrew page pdf:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/psalm30-2-lesson.pdf

1.6.23 • Facebook

Today’s message (Days of Praise) from the Institute for Creation Research

January 9, 2023

The Heart of Our Understanding

“Brethren, be not children in understanding: howbeit in malice be ye children, but in understanding be men.” (1 Corinthians 14:20)

The wise man wrote long ago, “With all thy getting get understanding” (Proverbs 4:7). However, we need to be sure that the understanding we acquire is not perverted by the spirit of this world. When Paul wrote to the Ephesians, he emphasized the contrast between a darkened understanding and a spiritually illuminated understanding.

“Walk not as other Gentiles walk,” he exhorted, “in the vanity of their mind, Having the understanding darkened, being alienated from the life of God through the ignorance that is in them, because of the blindness of their heart” (Ephesians 4:17-18). A blinded heart produces a darkened understanding.

Paul prayed, rather, that God would give them “the spirit of wisdom and revelation in the knowledge of him: The eyes of your understanding being enlightened” (Ephesians 1:17-18). We need an understanding enlightened by the Holy Spirit, not darkened by a hardened heart.

By the same token, as today’s verse commands, we should seek to attain a mature understanding of the things of God, not remaining stagnant at the elementary level of understanding. It is dishonoring to the Lord who called us into His family to remain spiritual children. We should exhibit the faith of a little child, and be as free from malice as a little child, but in understanding we must grow! “For when...ye ought to be teachers, ye have need that one teach you again...the first principles of the oracles of God...who by reason of use have their senses exercised to discern both good and evil” (Hebrews 5:12, 14). “Grow in grace, and in the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ” (2 Peter 3:18). HMM

[apas-95]

As proponents of revolution, the question is often posed: ‘wouldn’t the turmoil of an attempt at revolution harm marginalised groups?’ The quick answer of ‘marginalised groups are already harmed under the current system’ is usually sufficient, but it is incomplete - for instance, we might point out that it’s the marginalised groups themselves who are the greatest drivers of revolution.

However, I’d like to rephrase the original question to better get at what’s really being asked, or at least assumed: ‘why would people stage a revolution, if it makes their lives worse?’ This is a good question! Some people, who might be a bit utopian in their thinking, might answer that revolution in fact makes your life better, not just in the long-term (which is correct), but immediately. The idea of revolution in their head is primarily of the ‘talk to your neighbours about starting a communal garden and a fire patrol’ type - without properly reckoning with the reality of revolution as war. Community action and peaceful organising are both incredibly important, but the defining aspect of revolution is that the police and military will try to kill you for it. Once your community breakfast program gets too successful, once you start defending yourself, they will try as hard as they can to kill you. Revolution is not fun, nor easy - it’s war, real war, something that anyone would rather avoid.

A better answer might be that people wouldn’t. To the imperial core, war might be something you protest against, but war is not something that actually happens at home. The worst you get are dead soldiers. Real war, however, is occupation, it’s bombing, it’s troops breaking into your home in broad daylight and shooting you dead because due process doesn’t apply. For people all over the world , including the internal colonies of the US, war is properly understood for what it is. Anybody would avoid that if they could. Revolution is not a dinner party. So, we might wonder, why do revolutions still happen?

Obviously, if they are offered no chance of a peaceful life, revolution is a choice many take, though it will always be made easier to go along with the capitalist state, rather than against it. But, what about those who are given a chance at a peaceful life? The situation in the west, as an example. For many, revolutionary war would mean a drastic decrease in their quality of life - especially with them as a revolutionary. Paycheck-to-paycheck is still a lot better than ‘refugee camp-to-refugee camp’. Some few people still will decide it’s worth it to give it up for a better future for all; true revolutionaries are these; but it is the people, not the revolutionaries, who build the revolution - and the broad mass of the people won’t make this choice if they don’t have to. The irony is that the more means you have to wage a revolution, the more you necessarily have to lose from one. Those with the stability, education, or position to strike capitalism the hardest are the ones who want to risk it the least. Even if they do oppose capitalism, a mythical ‘peaceful solution’ will be much more appealing than revolutionary war.

So... what? Is revolution impossible in the imperial core, then? No, hardly. It just means what we already know: that revolution will occur where the chain of imperialism is the weakest. That’s not the imperial core at first - but every other revolution down the chain puts more weight on the imperial core, takes away the imperial benefits, forces the sheer volume of violence required to keep an empire afloat onto its own people. The people won’t subject themselves to revolutionary war unless their life is intolerable otherwise - and slowly but surely that will come to pass, and they will be forced to make that decision.

In short:

 - But that’s why it’ll get better afterwards.

[arc-misadventures]

Black Soil

‘Black soul, rich soil, fertile soul, good soil.’

It was a simple mantra that I repeated in my head over, and over again as the hoe in my hands buried itself into the soil, tiling up the earth to prepare it for seeding. The plow the horse pulled did a well enough job of tilling up the earth, but sometimes, you needed to rough it up by hand to really get the desired results.

Oh how I longed for this; As soon as I left to save the world, travelling across the bastblands of Remnant, slaying Grimm, bandits, and evil doers alike. Camping in the wilds while the snow, and rain blazed on. This, this was the simple life I missed.

At least I thought I did…

For the swirling pattern of vines, upon a crown that lay upon my arms dictated otherwise.

At first glance one may have thought that they were tattoos, or even burns marks. At least I thought it was when I first saw them when I was eight. It wasn’t until I was about twelve until I really realized what they were.

I for one, saw them as what they truly were; Branding’s. Branding’s that marked me, as the hero. The hero to save all of, Remnant.

Haa… Such a stupid notion.

Every few hundred years, the Grimm Queen would emerge, and the gods of this world would select an individual at random to be the worlds hero. Be they commoner, or noble they must accept the call of the gods, and save the world.

Must, more akin to being, ‘forced’ to save the world…

“A…”

When I was discovered to be the hero at twelve, I was taken away by the kingdom to train; I was trained to be a master swordsmen, a master magician, a brilliant strategist, a master diplomat, and a connoisseur of the arts, and litature. And, by the gods did I loath every second of it.

Training how to weld a sword till my arms screamed in protest. Casting spell after spell till I collapsed from exhaustion. Listen to the advice of armchair-generals on how to wage a war. Listen to the inane, stupid complexity of a politicians double talk. Spending an eternity why a poem was considered a classic, why a painting was considered a masterpiece, how to play a instrument like a master, how to stand, how to walk, how to dance, how to talk!

“H… R…?”

Eight years, eight long years that they spent day, after day, after day, after day training me. Not to be a hero, no no no, they trained me to a proper noblemen. And, I had to learn everything with a smile on my face. Oh, how fun it all was!

The hoe, in my hands hit the dirt harder than before, a rage burned inside as I remember their lessons. A few deep breaths were taken before I resumed my gardening. Though I could feel a rage building up inside of me.

I learned how to read, and write, how to do math, swing a sword, fire a bow, use magic; These things were all useful things to learn, I won’t lie about that. But, for the life of me I didn’t care why a painting of roses was considered a masterpiece. Nor did I care why a poem about a robin singing was considered a classic. How beautiful a violin sounded to someone else. Why should I care about how precise my steps during a dance were. Why would I need to know how to drink tea like a gentleman. And, I especially didn’t care how calling some pompous arrogant noble brat a ‘royal twat’ was a slight against his honour that required an ‘honour duel’ to settle!

If I had the stomach for killing then as I did now, I would have run the bastard through.

“Ja… A… R…?”

And, to top it all off, it wasn’t until four years had past that I saw my family again; They wouldn’t let me out of the castle for my own ‘safety.’ And, even then I couldn’t leave that accursed palace unless I had a guard detail shadowing me.

Holiday’s were the only days I didn’t have to do anything, where I could just relax. Even the holy day of the week, I spent training on one thing, or another. But, for four whole years I was not allowed to visit my family. They wanted to kill my commoner roots, to sever the connections to my family. When I finally managed to ditch the guard, and return home, my family didn’t even recognize me. Even they thought I had cut myself off from them.

I made the guards who hunted me down pay for their interrupting my long await family reunion. I made my sword instructors body numb for days from my magic because they refused to let me go home. I broke the arm, and hand of my magic teacher because they made my family think I didn’t need them anymore. I burned the poem because they thought it what was best for the hero. I threw away the paintings because they decided how perfection was made. A broke the violin because they knew what sounded right. I ran, hid, called out sorts of vile profanities because they deemed this was not how a hero should act. And, as for the tea, well, I threw it all away just because I really hated drinking tea.

I did all that, and more to teach them a lesson. That they weren’t dealing with a puppet, a toy, a slave. I was a human being! And, I was not going to be jerked around to the whims of some noble, some priest, some king, and certainly not some god for their own personal betterments!

I slammed my hoe into the ground hard one more time, this time my magic flared up, tearing up the ground in its wake for a fair distance. I couldn’t help, marvel how effectively that tilled the soil.

I should have tried that earlier. If I did, I would have been finished way earlier, and I could have gone to the lake with…

…

“Jaune~!”

…

Oh…

That’s right…

That’s another thing they stole from me…

“J-Jaune Arc… The Hero of Remnant?”

Ahh yes… The herald… I had heard he was calling out to me for sometime now. I was deliberately ignoring him, I had hoped he would eventually leave if I paid him no mind. However, now that I looked at him, I see I can’t just send him away. One can’t really do that to the Kings Messenger now can you?

You can try at least.

“What do you want?” I was too tired for whatever trivial thing the king would ask of me to do. But, a king is a king, is a king. And, I am the Hero, despite my status as a hero makes me no one’s subject, doesn’t mean I can’t heed the call of royalty. Though I wish I could.

“His majesty, King Tai Yang Xiao Long, Ruler of…”

Ahh… The speech of titles, names, famous deeds… etc. etc. etc. Haa… I had already begun to tune him out. I knew his majesty, personally. I didn’t like him, but I didn’t hate him. I spend eight years growing up around him, so I have grown to understand him to some extent, but just because I understood the reasons he put me through hell, doesn’t mean I accepted his apology. They never deemed me needing one, and just assumed I would accept all that they did to me as necessary.

Several broken bones, and some fires proved otherwise…

“Kindly requests you come, and see him at your nearest convenience.”

‘Nearest convenience.’ Political double talk for, ‘come now.’ Typical noble behaviour…

My life was no longer my own, by the will of others, I must live, and die by their whims.

I used to think the farmers life was the life I wanted. Now…

Now I just wanted to be left alone…

But, to these people, that was too much to ask for.

Bastards…

[drakaripykiros130ac]

If Aegon had done it, yeah, she would have let it slide after slapping him around a little. Same with her other kids.

With Baela and Rhaena, she would have still been upset, but she would have never demanded an eye in retribution, that’s for sure. Because if she dared do so, she would have had to face Corlys, Rhaenys and Daemon in one go. I would have loved to see her try.

Now with Rhaenyra’s boys, it’s a whole different story. Alicent abused Rhaenyra for years at Court and waged war against these children because she was obsessed with pointing out their brown hair. And she was overall extremely envious of Rhaenyra and wasted no opportunity to try to ruin her life.

Alicent used Aemond’s injury as an excuse to try to hurt Rhaenyra and her children even more, because she saw her as an easy target. Rhaenyra has been forced to defend herself and her children all on her own for years. The Velaryons, despite being her closest allies, never openly defended her and left her to the wolves. Her husband, Laenor, didn’t have the spine to defend himself, much less his wife and kids. Daemon was away from Court. The Arryns, despite being her kin, her mother’s House, never bothered to openly help her (even though it would have been in their interest to do so). The Strongs could not be seen supporting her (because otherwise they would raise suspicions as to why). And her fool of a father, Viserys, while he did support her, he was absolutely blind to how his daughter and Heir to the Throne was constantly being attacked by a faction of snakes, and did nothing to help her.

My heart truly goes out to Rhaenyra. She was all alone for many years, and fought her battles on her own.

So, yeah, Rhaenyra and her children were easy targets and Alicent had beef with them for years. And she found the opportunity to take her vendetta a step further.

She wouldn’t have bothered demanding the eye of another child who wasn’t Rhaenyra’s.

Not to mention that if the roles were reversed and it was Aemond who took out Lucerys’ eye, Alicent would have never allowed Rhaenyra to take Aemond’s eye in retribution.

Alicent is a subjective hypocrite with a big mouth. After the show she pulled that night, and after cutting Rhaenyra with that dagger, I would have had her tongue removed just so that I wouldn’t be forced to hear her annoying “opinions” ever again. She would have served better as a mute.

I am 100% convinced that if it had been Baela or Rhaena or even fucking (idk, somehow) Aegon II or Helaena or Daeron who had taken Aemond's eye on accident Alicent would've been all like "Whoopsie daisy! Don't worry, accidents happen"

[petalssunwards]

Written for @flufftober Day 6: Candles, Light and Fairylights.

I know it is meant to be the fluffiest setting, but it reminded me of Diwali and I had a big brain idea of writing about the first Diwali. The welcoming of Ram-Sita in Ayodha. And then it became more of a angst-fest! Sorry?

 . . . . . . .

Inhaling the scent of his beloved homeland was like being wrapped in the lovely embrace of his mothers. Ram could hear the drums from the river’s other side, and the music helped him walk a little faster. His brother, Bharat, was waiting with a boat for them, causing whispers to break out in the vanaras following him. He could understand their awe. He had had to assassinate their king because of the dispute between brothers. However, his younger brother had waited for him instead of ascending the throne.

Bharat ran towards them once he spotted them and bent to touch Ram’s feet. He felt Sita stiffening behind him when Bharat touched her feet, but he ignored it for now. Laxman embraced Bharat, clapping him on the back. Ram felt a weight on his shoulders lessen; he was home amongst the family after fourteen long years.

It was the longest boat ride, Ram thought, even though it was filled with the light chatter amongst his vanara warriors and Bharat’s soldiers. Bharat was talking about how well Laxman’s twin, Shatrughna, had handled the day-to-day duties in Ayodhya, but Ram’s attention was fixed on his quiet wife. 

Sita was intently looking at her reflection in the water, her eyes full of unshed, angry tears. The dark circles under her fair skin were pronounced, drawing attention to her swollen eyes. Her hands balled into fists when she felt her gaze and folded into herself more. Her bangles made a clinking sound, reminding him of the discord between them. He missed the time when her cheeks sported a lovely blush and he could tease her about it. He missed her warm smiles and her lilting voice whenever they talked. 

They hadn’t really talked since he won the war against Ravana, not really. Mostly he had thrown baseless accusations at her and asked her to prove her fidelity because, otherwise, everyone would accuse him of being susceptible to a pretty face. He knew, logically, as the future king he had to put the opinions of his subjects before his own and Sita would understand it. However, he knew he wouldn’t be forgiven, not after informing her he had crossed the seas and waged a war because her kidnapping was a slight on his reputation. It might have been appropriate behavior in front of the army, but was it worth the dimming happiness in her eyes?

She had fallen apart when he had declared that with Ravana slain; she was free to go since he wouldn’t recognize their bond anymore. He knew the king was to put a rock on his own heart, but that had been equivalent to shattering the glass into a thousand pieces with a boulder.

Once she proved him wrong, he had apologized profusely. He had proclaimed he always knew she was innocent and the only reason he had to question it was public opinion. He had announced to the world how she was the only woman he would ever love and how he had drowned in sorrows until he saw her again. Sita had smiled, touched his feet, and asked Laxman if he was alright after the war. In front of an audience, she had been the dutiful wife. Sticking to his left as expected, a striking queen just like a bright lightning against the blue sky. However, in private, she hadn’t deigned him with a single glance, nor let him explain. Those beautiful lotus-shaped eyes had always been glued to the floor when they were alone.

He had missed her so much. Her being next to him was a soothing balm after such a long separation. She had always been his own escape, letting him be whatever he needed. Ironic, how the only relationship that never expected from him had crumbled under the weight of expectations heaped on him by the world. She had been so confidant following him to the exile, stating she would never let the bond between them suffer, no matter what happened. It was her strength, her belief in him that had inspired him to build a bridge across the ocean and kill the kidnapper who had dared to separate them. Ram-Sita had meant to be a unit, forever and always. How he longed to run to her and hug her when she had seen her thin frame in Lanka. He wanted to touch her and ensure she was real; she wouldn’t vanish like she had been disappearing in his nightmares. But no, the moral obligations of the king had trumped the pining husband.

He still dreamt about their happy days, the soft jingling of her anklets whenever she walked towards him. Doe-eyes looking at him with adoration and his name falling off of those soft lips with admiration. He missed the feeling of silky hair as he braided them with beautiful flowers and the contrast of her fair hand in his dark one. Remembered when their nights were filled with conversations and melodious laughter not his longing yearning glances, heartfelt regrets, and her untrusting, suffocating silence. He wished she would shout at him instead, because while he deserved it, her taciturnity hurt a lot more. He was ready for any trial, if only it would allow him to have her in his arms again.

When the boat reached Ayodhya, the sounds of other instruments joined drumbeats. The auspicious notes were welcome after listening to conches, cymbals and trumpets throughout the war. It brought back the days when his life revolved around keeping his family happy. A decorated chariot was waiting for them, along with half of the citizens. Bards were singing in honoring the dutiful son, the dutiful warrior, the dutiful brother, the dutiful protector, the dutiful king…

They showered Sita with a lot of praise for her perseverance, waiting for him to rescue her from the clutches of the vilest monster imaginable. She had been simmering with rage from the second she had boarded the chariot and if he didn’t know she was a daughter of earth, he would have assumed she was a fire-born. Earlier, she had withdrawn her hand from him as if his mere touch burned her. Even though Laxman had never outright said anything, Ram could read him well. His lingering worried gaze on Sita, flickering between regret and sorrow versus the concerned, angry, and sometimes disapproving glances thrown at him, was enough to prove not much had escaped his observant brother. Ram wished Laxman could be spared from the drama, but Laxman had always followed him through thick and thin.

The city was rejoicing. They had found happiness after fourteen years. Hundreds of saffron motifs were shining in the light of lanterns hanging outside every door. Every town square, alley, and the shop front were decorated with brightly colored lamps, illuminating the city. The celebration was in a full swing, with people distributing sweets and setting off fireworks. Ayodhya was ready for a new beginning, a brand-new start with a leader at its helm.

Suddenly the love of citizens felt suffocating, no longer a comfortable blanket but a heavy burden. They would want him to be always perfect and he was deeply flawed. On his previous coronation day, Sita had held his hand and reassured him he would be the greatest king. She had teased him relentlessly about bringing her a co-wife and then promised him she would never be jealous. Her heart was big enough to accept his love for them both. But this time around, he wasn’t so sure about her support.

He dared a glance at her, hoping she might remember that light-hearted conversation. She was lost in her own thoughts, and he wanted to smooth out the small frown on her forehead. Her eyes roamed over the ecstatic people, the shining city, and the royal palace. She squeezed his hand once and pulled away again. Her expression was more of a frown than a smile, but it was a slight gesture of comfort… 

Stars in the moonless sky contrasted beautifully with the orange glow of the city, giving it the appearance of the fabled city of the gods. Sita to his left and a hope of her forgiveness was heaven enough for him.

[elriell]

Some jumbled up thoughts about Elain, Lucien and Azriel + Mating Bonds

There have been a lot of conversations regarding this topic and I thought I’d flesh it out a bit myself, but these are facts/observations that as a fandom many have noticed, discussed, analysed. I just wanted to dive in myself fully.

I want to talk about each of them individually as well as, as a whole. Their emotions and mindsets, as someone who loves all three characters and wishes for all of them to get a happy ending. I will preface this with saying I will be discussing why it is very likely Elain will reject the bond and such things, so along the lines of Anti-Elucien. If you are a fan of them, thats cool, just skip this one if you happen upon it. 

We are going to dive in to the following;

Lucien & Elain  (their choices)

Lucien & Azriel  (contrast)

Rejecting the Bond

New Bonds

Fate & THE POV 

and why the writing is basically telling us everything we need to know...

Lucien 

Lucien is noble male, he has a good heart and has suffered his plenty, and this is why people want what is best for him, to be the happiest he can... Unfortunately I think that in this case Elain is not it. 

He is right to feel that way, just as Elain has a right to feel as she does. I think it is incredibly interesting that when we finally see from his POV we see that in a way he feels as though this has been thrust on them. 

That with his last love he had a choice and so did she.

It reminds me very much of this line about Rhysand’s parents, who were an example of an unhappy mating bond.

We will deep dive in to wrong matches further down, but the fact is that mated couples are not always indicators of true paired souls, that they very well could be the couple that do not end up happy together.

I speak on Elain and her agency a lot because I feel like a large portion of the fandom like to discard it as if it means nothing, and even judge her for it but if we actually take a look at Lucien’s behaviour he is not all that more happy.

There are some key differences between them though, Lucien as a male feels their bond to a different degree than she does, and he also has been raised to believe and respect the bond. And thus he feels a certain obligation to honour it in the best way he can. 

This doesn’t mean he thinks she is right for him, any further than his attraction to her (which like same dude same), he hasn’t displayed any signs that they actually aline as a couple. And I feel like SJM clearly highlights this when she sets examples of his gifts not being... well right for her. 

The gloves we know she never wears show us how little they know each other as she loves to get dirty [which Feyre had told him] and the pearl necklace is then contrasted by Azriels which was very personalised to Elain. 

(The rose, the secret beauty of it hitting the light etc...)

These are all deliberate moves by Sarah to showcase their misaligned bond.

And during Elain’s section I will also be pointing out some Lucien moments that really don’t read well for him. I genuinely believe he is much happier amongst the Band of Exhiles than he is when he is seen with The Inner Circus.

Elain

Here is the thing, this situation isn’t any easier on him that’s true but people need to respect Elains feelings, and the fact is she does not like him. Not only does she not like him but she shrinks in on herself, she looses all the progress and confidence she has made since the Cauldron. That is not a good sign of anything healthy.

If this is suppose to be a romance we root for why is she doing everything in her power to make it seem the opposite? If she genuinely was playing the long game she would have at least started to make them comfortable around each other, goodness they don’t even have to talk, but she does the opposite.

She emphasises that he brings out the bad in her. Again, no bueno. She quite simply does not want to be around him and with SJM’s writing I think this is highly deliberate on her part. 

[And let’s be clear there are countless quotes from the other books that do NOT reflect well on their relationship but I am trying to stick to ACOSF, as it is her most recent work, otherwise I would be here all day.] 

Rejecting the Bond

We have almost a two page discussion on why mating bonds are not an exact science, and that they can be more harmful than good. We are given two examples of it, with both Rhys’ and Tamlin’s parents. And then we get a very subtle hit at Azriel. This is all in the book Sarah said she began planting the seeds for the sisters journeys.

We also know from this there is a choice. But that many force it, because they feel it it right, (much like Lucien is probably doing right now, because he feels a duty and hope that it will work out.)  

Then we have the fact thrown at us that a lot of males believe that their mate belongs to them and will challenge the other male, which we now have a call back to with Rhys’ mentioning “The Blood Duel”. 

There is literally not one reason Sarah would put this in TWICE only for it never to happen or come close too happening. How anyone can question at this point that Elriel will happen is confusing to me, she has laid all the groundwork for it.

Now I don’t believe for a second that Lucien wouldn’t respect her choice, I think it will most certainly come down to Beron forcing his hand to wage the war we know he wants.

I think despite what Rhys said in Azriel’s POV under immense stress, TNC will protect Elain and ultimately stand by her decision. 

Not only does ACOSF spend a great deal of time creating a further divide between Elain & Lucien it also add a shockingly large quantity of easter eggs about “Elain choosing bonds” “Other Mate” “What if it chose wrong?” and again in this book like in ACOMAF we bring back up a failed mated pair to remind you of it’s existence.

All possible signs lean towards them breaking the bond.

And frankly from a storytelling perspective having three perfect bonds that are basically the same overarching love story (enemies to lovers) is boring, she would want to shake it up and throw a little curveball.

Lucien + Azriel  &  Why I think Azriel will have a bond with Elain.

“If anyone can sense if something is amiss, it’s a mate” And low and behold it is Azriel who figures out what was going on with her. Not to mention in the reveal SJM further displays that Lucien has no clue what was going on with her.

I don’t know what bridge holds their bond but I wouldn’t trust crossing it personally... :/

Further still, Lucien cannot hear her heart. Their bond is definitely not strong but you could also argue that is not an element of the bond at all but rather of her abilities perhaps. Since we know she could hear the sea too though it was nowhere close by.

But Azriel did hear her, he did pay attention and he figured out what was amiss. 

It is interesting to me that people took such issue with this when I believe very few have issues with Rhys or Cassian fighting for their respective partners. Now I have gone in to it in depth about how I think that this was pure emotion and illogical on Azriel’s part, and I don’t believe he would kill Lucien so carelessly.

I think it speaks to the same blind emotion a lot of them have displayed for their mates, Lucien may have wanted to see if she was worth it but Azriel knows she is worth the fight.

And for all intensive purposes in that moment he was willing to fight for someone he believes shares his feelings.

Now let’s tackle the whole “Possessive” crap.

First of all, all of the male pairings in this series have shown moments like this, so if it is bothering you here why isn’t it bothering you at other points?

Lucien has been just as instinctively possessive from their bond, and let me clarify, I am not shaming him for that anymore than anyone else. What I am pointing out is the double standard, if anything Azriel has more reason to feel like he can fight for her because she has actually shown him care, interest and attraction. 

They have actually bonded a lot more than she has with Lucien thus far.

And if they truly do have an upcoming bond then judging him on three paragraphs when we don’t know what the heck is going on is just ridiculous.

On the same note of that scene, let’s talk about “deserve”

First of all he never said he deserved her, Rhys implied that is what he was gleaning from the conversation and that it is just lust, which we know is not the case. Clearly Rhys perception is not accurate at all so to take his statement at face value and call it fact is a bit disingenuous.

Azriel wasn’t claiming he deserves her, did you read his POV at all?? He didn’t even feel like his hands should touch her let alone deserve her. Please go back and read that chapter again if you can’t see that.

Not to mention I think that the idea of FATE, and believing in hope even when the odds are stacked against you (AKA her having a mate) is actually very consistent with SJM storytelling and Az. Remember this;

The fact that he is hopeful despite the despair of his situation is exactly what people have valued about him. Not to mention after Rhys says this to Azriel he says to them;

So Rhys too believes they were brought in his family for a reason, some sort of fate.

Amren too thinks they are blessed by fate. Why is it so shocking and offensive that Azriel have a little hope that there is a reason they came in to their lives? Because he isn’t with your fav?

Let’s be honest he didn’t exactly get over Mor in ACOMAF, ACOWAR and then even ACOFAS there are slight moments, thats over a long period. Three sisters didn’t just arrive and he went TAG “I want one.”

No, he genuinely grew to care for Elain, and let go of his past, and in watching Elain not find any connection with her mate he saw it as a sign that the Cauldron was wrong, which we know it can be. 

I don’t know if people are selective readers but if you think that he doesn’t care for her as a person beyond being a “sister” I don’t know what to tell you, we are not reading the same books.

ANYWAYS back on topic.

I think Sarah has laid a lot of groundwork for her breaking the bond and perhaps choosing a new one. I know not everyone is keen on another bond as they feel her free will and choice is enough, that’s fair and I agree to a point. 

I just wanted to analyse the data at hand, and I do believe after ACOSF (I never thought it prior really) that they are mates in some capacity, whether that is because of the Cauldron or something that will occur... I think she has laid enough groundwork for them being Soulmates at the least. Hence why I love the idea of a Carranam bond.

There are so many parallels between Rhys, Cassian & Az that could be taken as little signs but honestly this is long enough I am sure you all want to kill me already for making you read all that hahaha 

One last little morsel, it very well might be nothing but Az shouting after they take Elain is an interesting choice, it’s ambiguous enough that you can take it to mean the pain but it could also be another little crumb.

Basically with all said and done I think she will give Elain her agency back and break it.

And potentially something will occur with Azriel as a result but thats certainly more grey than the rest of it.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk!

Obviously, to each their own opinion, have fun and ship whatever you want these are just my thoughts on the text at hand!

(Also I am sorry I got like 20+ messages to get to in my inbox, yeah I kinda ignored everyone and worked on this today, sorry!!! I’ll be back tomorrow)

[theggning]

I Hate the Alternate Ending of Blind Betrayal, and Here's Why!

DISCLAIMER THE FIRST: Massive spoilers for Fallout 4 abound. This post discusses Blind Betrayal, a quest with suicide as a heavy theme. Content warning applies.

DISCLAIMER THE SECOND: This post discusses cut OFFICIAL content from Fallout 4 that has since been repurposed into multiple mods. I am not criticizing any modders or their implementations of this content. Mods are fun and people can enjoy whatever the hell kind of game experience they want with whatever mods they want.

I am ONLY interested in discussing the original cut content as Bethesda had written it, and how it would have impacted the story and lore of Fallout 4.

So, yeah, it seems there was originally going to be another way to conclude Blind Betrayal (BB).

As described in this Kotaku article (citing this post by Tumblr user tentacle-explosion,) there are unused audio files of Danse’s dialogue that show an alternate ending to his pivotal quest. These lines are the only evidence we have of this ending (suggesting that it was cut fairly early on, as no other actors/characters seem to have recorded for it.)

From what we can tell, in this alternate ending of BB, Danse comes up with a possible way out of the sticky situation re: his identity as a synth. According to the Brotherhood Litany, he is able to challenge Maxson’s authority as Elder via combat. If you agree to this idea, you go with Danse to challenge Maxson. The Paladin and the Elder duel one another, Danse wins, and Maxson dies. Then Danse names the Sole Survivor the new Elder-- or with a hard charisma check, you’re able to convince Danse to take the job himself. It is unknown how the main plot would have progressed beyond this point, as there is no other evidence of what being (or influencing) the Elder would have been like or what choices it would have given you.

There is understandable disappointment in learning that this ending was cut. Choices in games are great, and it could have been fun to have multiple different options for how to resolve the quest. In many gaming circles, people complain that this theoretical ending is superior to the one we got and shouldn’t have been axed. The Kotaku article calls it a “way better” ending, and you’ll see many players lamenting that it wasn’t implemented, saying Bethesda was bad at writing for cutting it, etc.

So why did Bethesda get rid of the Elder ending of BB?

In December 2020, after the Fallout 4 Cast Reunion, Danse’s voice actor Peter Jessop answered questions in a private signing session on his Instagram. Peter Jessop is an extremely kind and gracious man, an avid gamer, and a huge fan of Fallout. During the stream, he reflected on the alternate ending and remembered recording the lines, but stated the content was ultimately cut because Bethesda decided it was lore-breaking.

Peter Jessop is right. Bethesda was right. The Elder ending of BB is a bunch of dumb nonsense. It sucks, I hate it, and I’m glad they got rid of it. And now I’m going to tell you why!

SIDENOTE: King Shit of Fuck Mountain

There is no wrong way to play a single-player video game. If you are having fun, then you are accomplishing the task for which the game was made. Good for you! Play it on easy. Play it on hard. Mod it. Speedrun it. Make up an intricate roleplaying scenario. Perform “challenge” runs. Kill everybody you see. Ignore the story and run around collecting wheels of cheese. Games are meant to be fun and there is nothing wrong with enjoying a game however you damn well please. This is especially true for RPGs like Fallout, which are designed with player freedom in mind.

There is an RPG playstyle I like to call King Shit of Fuck Mountain: a naked power fantasy in which your protagonist is the most powerful person ever, even beyond normal RPG plot significance. Through brute strength, incredible charisma, or having completed tons of quests for world-breaking artifacts and weapons, your character wields godlike influence, able to control people, factions, and the fabric of the world itself. A game enables KSoFM gameplay when it allows the player limitless freedom to gain as much power as they like with zero consequences to plot or storytelling.

A great example of this is the Dragonborn in The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim. If the player chooses to pursue every questline in the game, one single person can become Harbinger of the Companions, Archmage of the College of Winterhold, Listener of the Dark Brotherhood, Nightingale and Guildmaster of the Thieves’ Guild, hero of the Imperial/Stormcloak army, the chosen one of like, 11 different Daedric princes, a bard, a Blade, and otherwise just, absurdly goddamn powerful in completely unrealistic ways. And that’s not counting DLCs. A fully-kitted-out Dragonborn is King Shit of Fuck Mountain.

There is absolutely nothing wrong with playing KSoFM if you like to. But I’m not a big fan of this style, personally. Sure, my first Skyrim character became KSoFM while I was figuring out the game, but after my first playthrough I preferred my characters become coherent figures in the story of the world. I pick one or two character traits and things that my Dragonborn is good at, focus on them, and make them part of some overall story. My honorable Imperial paladin werewolf is in the Companions, and hunts vampires on principle. My Argonian sneaky archer is a gleeful thief, but would never jive with the College or the Dark Brotherhood. I like creating protagonists who fit into these settings immersively. I don’t care about power fantasies or being in charge. I don’t WANT my character to be all-powerful, because that ruins my immersion and my little story.

Additionally, in a plot-driven story-focused game like Fallout, KSoFM tears the narrative apart. Skyrim is fairly light on story, so the Dragonborn can be the leader of the Companions and the Dark Brotherhood and whatever other factions without any of them noticing or caring. But FO4’s themes, faction drama, and the main thrust of the plot don’t work at all if the Sole Survivor is able to become too powerful or too influential. The Sole Survivor cannot become the leader of every faction, solve every problem, or eliminate every inconvenient bend of the conflict because it makes the lore of the entire setting implode. Thus, the game forces you to choose between factions. You cannot be with the Minutemen and the Nuka-World Raiders. You cannot be with the Railroad and the Institute. And you cannot become Elder of the Brotherhood of Steel.

So if you’re the kind of person who loves playing KSoFM, if you like plots that your character can “solve” with relative ease, or if you just think it would be super cool for your Sole to become Elder regardless of surrounding storytelling, then you might think the Elder ending sounds super cool. You are absolutely allowed to disagree with me here. Install all the mods and write all the fic and have all the headcanons you like. I respect that. There is no wrong way to enjoy a single-player video game. Have fun!

But if you’re a big nitpicky pedantic lore nerd like me, a fan of cohesive storytelling, or if you just want to hear how the Elder ending of BB absolutely fucking ruins Maxson, Danse, the Brotherhood of Steel, and the entire plot of FO4 from a narrative perspective, read on!

1. The Synth Thing

The Elder ending requires the stupid plot contrivance of the BoS forgetting about Danse’s synthhood.

One of the biggest problems with the BoS as an institution is their strict and dogmatic beliefs, which include a widespread dislike of non-human species. Perhaps more than any other non-humans, the BoS hates synths. Synths are, in their eyes, machines given free will, a violation of the sanctity of human life and the ultimate example of technology run amok. To them, synths are not sympathetic, they are not slaves, and they are not victims of circumstance. They are weapons that left unchecked will destroy all of humanity for a second time. Synths are anathema to everything the BoS stands for, and finding out that one of their most beloved and trusted Paladins is one is an earth-shattering blow to their integrity and sense of security.

It is completely absurd that the BoS would allow a synth within their ranks, particularly as they are waging war against the Institute, who created synths in the first place. It is even MORE absurd that they’d allow one to influence their Elder, or even worse, to become Elder. It completely undermines their mission in the Commonwealth, and the core tenets of their extremely rigid beliefs. No matter the Elder, no matter the Litany or obscure BoS law, no matter how valuable the Sole Survivor is as a soldier or how much influence they wield. Danse is a synth. He’s the enemy. He is physically the embodiment of everything they hate.

Not only wouldn’t they trust a synth in general, but the BoS specifically believes that Danse is an infiltrator for the Institute. Even Danse believes that he is a danger, that the Institute may be able to take control of him and use him as a weapon. Sure, we know none of this is actually true, or possible, but the BoS don’t know that. And given how quick they are to order Danse dead without even the possibility of surrender, I don’t think there’s any charisma in the world that’s going to convince them otherwise.

According to Peter Jessop, this, ultimately, is the reason why the Elder ending was cut. He talks about it around the 11:30 timestamp in his Instagram stream, linked above:

“We recorded an ending where you keep Danse alive and you take over the Brotherhood. But there was a question of content… there’s no way the Brotherhood, once they knew he was a synth, would let him be even the right hand of the person in charge.”

Bethesda correctly recognized the incredible narrative contrivance for the BoS to shrug off the reason they’re trying to execute Danse in the first place. Whatever other beefs I have with this ending conceptually, they all come in second to just what a big dumb leap it is to get beyond this first and most important problem.

2. The Complete Death of Conflict

The Elder ending of BB destroys the conflict of the quest, and potentially the conflict of the entire game.

Greed is a poison. There is no such thing as a perfect ideal or a perfect organization. Power corrupts. Humanity has the choice to build back better. War never changes. The Fallout games are full of themes, depicted by the characters and quests and factions we play out.

Blind Betrayal is rightfully praised as one of the most powerful quests in FO4. Not only is it well-acted, but it puts the player in a very difficult position. The BoS has given you clout and glory and free power armor and lots of firepower, but now you see the price: unquestioning obedience. You are ordered to execute your friend and mentor Danse for the mere fact he is a synth. Are you going to follow that unjust order? Are you willing to give up your principles on command? Or is this where you can no longer stay quiet and stay in line?

To be honest, I’ve always thought the fact you can talk Maxson out of killing Danse but still remain with the BoS in good standing was a cop-out. BB goes 90% of the way to forcing you to choose between a companion and a faction, and then chickens out at the last second to let you have both, if your charisma is high enough.

(I believe this has the fingerprints of Skyrim’s development on it-- Bethesda’s writers got nervous about doing another Paarthurnax choice involving the fan favorite Brotherhood of Steel. That’s right. Danse is the Paarthurnax of Fallout. Frankly, I understand why they chose not to go there, but damn, wouldn’t it have been wild? You want to run with the BoS? Then kill your friend and feel the burn. THIS is what it means to follow orders without question.

As for me, I’d pick Danse every time and sleep soundly without the company of shitty bootlicking dieselpunk LARPers- but I digress.)

Anyway, you know what would have REALLY been a copout? If the game asked you to make a difficult thematic storyline choice, and you solved the problem by just not choosing at all.

You are supposed to feel uncomfortable when Maxson orders you to kill Danse, because the game is telling a story about how it is maybe a bad thing to thoughtlessly follow orders without question. It is asking you to think about what the BoS is, what they are doing, and how they are going to run things, if you choose to let them “win” the Commonwealth. It is pointing out that there is no room for gray in the BoS’ black and white. That a good, loyal man may die because of the way he was made, through no action of his own. That soon, you’ll be killing other people on command. The Railroad. Fleeing Institute synths and scientists. Others, down the line. It all depends on who’s giving the orders. Are you going to follow those orders?

Eesh, that sounds thought-provoking and unpleasant and difficult! Let’s just skip it by killing Maxson and making ourselves the boss. Now we get to tell everybody else what to do!

It’s unknown what powers the Elder ending would have granted the player, or how it would have interacted with the other factions. There is speculation that you’d have been able to ease back on the BoS’ dogmatism, or change some of the later events of the game. For instance, perhaps you could talk the BoS down from attacking the Railroad, sparing popular characters like Glory and Deacon who must die in the normal BoS storyline. Perhaps you could have made the BoS a kinder, gentler faction and directed them to run the way you want them to.

If this was indeed the case, then the Elder ending would not only suck the gravitas out of BB, but torpedo the entire main plot.

If you can get rid of any and all downsides to siding with the BoS, why in the hell would players side with anybody else? With the player given total power, the BoS becomes a perfect faction with no drawbacks, no weaknesses, no tough decisions to be made. Screw slumming it with the Railroad or the Minutemen, let’s take over the BoS. Free power armor and a giant robot! Forget the whole intolerance thing, I hereby proclaim the BoS No Longer Problematic! Now to force all the factions to get along, completely removing all conflict and nuance from the plot!

That’s some real anticlimactic “tell Legate Lanius to go home and then he does it” bullshit right there. King Shit of Fuck Mountain!

Look, it might be nice if there was a perfect path like that to take through the game. It would be cool if our characters could be that powerful and the game was that tailored to our individual choices. On the other hand, “I change all the factions to suit my exact liking” might be a fun idea for a fanfic, but it’s an incredibly boring plot for a video game. “I get to make everything in the world exactly how I want it” is Minecraft, not a story-driven RPG with a complex and intricate plot.

It would be great if complex conflicts could really be solved that easily and effortlessly, but hey, you know what? War never changes.

3. The Assassination of Arthur Maxson (Literal)

Arthur Maxson’s death is too significant and fundamentally disastrous for the Elder ending to make any sense at all.

Hero, villain, leader, monster, tortured soul, brutal dictator, immature twerp, bearded sex hunk. However you personally interpret Arthur Maxson, there is no denying that he is a venerated, popular, beloved figure in the BoS. He is the blood heir of the organization’s founder, a powerful warrior, a brilliant tactician, and a charismatic negotiator. He is responsible for reuniting the East Coast BoS with the Outcasts, leading the new, stronger BoS with a sense of shared purpose. There is a damn good reason his name is Arthur and he named his ship The Prydwen, echoes of King Arthur and the legends of his glorious kingdom of Camelot. Arthur Maxson is so beloved that many view him as a demigod, a messiah sent to lead the BoS into a mighty and prosperous future.

So I’m sure nobody’s going to be upset when some wasteland jackass recruited a month ago stumbles in with a synth, kills him, and takes over his job. Right?

It doesn’t matter that it’s “honorable.” It doesn’t matter that it’s done “by the book” via obscure BoS rules. There is no codex or litany or rule so binding that it’s going to overcome the cult of personality around Maxson. There is no way that the BoS is going to accept the death of Arthur Maxson, a man whose reverence borders on worship, especially not when he is immediately replaced by a wastelander, or a synth.

The death of Arthur Maxson removes the unifying glue that’s been holding the BoS together since mending the rift with the Outcasts. Maxson’s death eliminates the one person that both sides of that conflict agreed could steer the organization in the right direction. Some level heads may try to keep the focus on the mission and the Brotherhood tenets, but Maxson loyalists will never forgive the new Elder for his death, and that amount of passionate righteous anger will not be quelled by appeals to the rules. The new Elder’s war on the Institute is basically over before it begins, when the forces splinter and start infighting over the change in leadership.

And this is if the new Elder lives long enough to actually give any orders. I give them around 24 hours after the duel before some angry Maxson loyalist “accidentally” pulls the trigger and “tragically” empties a clip into their back.

24 seconds, if it’s Elder Danse, the dirty synth abomination.

4. The Assassination of Arthur Maxson (Figurative)

The Elder ending of BB falsely pretends that Arthur Maxson is the biggest and only problem with the BoS.

In the Elder ending, as written, the conflict of BB is considered completely and totally solved by the death of Arthur Maxson. The core problem, that Danse is a synth and considered an enemy by the BoS, has not gone away. But by getting rid of Maxson, this apparently no longer matters. Nobody else is going to take offense to Danse’s nature or protest his presence. Nobody else is going to attack him or try to follow through with Maxson’s prior orders. Nope, that meanybutt guy who gave the order is gone, and everybody else is going to welcome Danse back into the fold like nothing ever happened.

I touched on this a little bit on an ask about Maxson a few weeks back, but a lot of people seem to believe that the FO4 Brotherhood of Steel is the way they are purely because of him. That he is the one making them treat non-humans as second class citizens at best, and enemies to be slaughtered at worst. That it’s his fault the BoS is so vehemently against synths and the Institute. That he is the one influencing their imperialistic tendencies, and treating the Commonwealth like territory to be conquered and people to be ruled over by their betters.

He’s not. That’s the Brotherhood of Steel, guys.

The charitable, altruistic, virtuous BoS that many of us met for the first time in FO3 were outliers. Lyons’ group was literally disowned by the rest of the faction because their kindness to wastelanders had gone so far astray from the “core” tenets. The BoS as a whole has always been exclusive, isolated, and seen themselves as “superior” to the average wastelander. They have long disliked or outright hated non-humans (and even Lyons’ BoS in FO3 use ghouls, feral or not, for “target practice” if they get too close!) The rigid dogmatism of the BoS is not something that Arthur Maxson started, but has always been part of their fabric.

Now, it’s true that Maxson is absolutely going hard on the BoS tenets, and extremely dedicated to upholding them. His BoS are the way they are and act the way they act because he believes that this is the way it should be. Is it possible that a different leader may be a little more flexible? Absolutely. Could a skilled Elder eventually show them the benefits of a softer approach and a more generous worldview? Totally. Is getting rid of Maxson and replacing him going to make that happen overnight, or going to make the rest of the BoS who supported him shrug and follow suit?

Nope.

Blaming Arthur Maxson for everything unsavory about the Brotherhood is unfair to him and also foolishly ignoring the deep, massive problems that are far older than he is-- problems that plenty of its members wholeheartedly believe are not problems at all. Getting rid of Maxson does not make the BoS kinder or gentler. Even pretending Maxson isn’t as personally beloved as he is, any new Elder who steps in and starts trying to fundamentally alter the way the BoS operates and what they believe in is going to face some major, immediate pushback.

Like, a full clip of bullets in the back type of pushback.

In the face if it’s Elder Danse, the godless freak of nature.

5. The Un-Redemption of Paladin Danse

Last, and my personal least favorite!

At first glance, Paladin Danse is a steely jackboot, a die-hard Brotherhood loyalist who fully and firmly believes in their cause. Many immediately dismiss him as a humorless brute, or completely ignore him because they think that’s all there is. But if you spend any time with Danse at all, you’ll notice a sort of weariness in him. He is tired, overworked, and his years of service are starting to weigh on him. He has watched friends, comrades, and mentors die in horrible and gruesome ways, and he suffers from PTSD. Though he has always been told that his own sacrifices, the sacrifices of his brothers and sisters have been” worth it,” he’s starting to question if that’s true.

After telling of the incident where he personally executed his best friend Cutler, who’d been turned into a super mutant, the Sole Survivor is able to console him:

Player Default: You did the right thing. Danse: {Somber} It's what I was taught. I don't know if it was right.

This line is an excellent summary of Danse’s entire character arc. He learns to question whether to believe what the Brotherhood has taught him, or to believe in himself. His gut feelings. His sense of justice and his own ideas of what’s right and wrong.

(In the interest of not turning this into an essay about Danse’s character, I won’t even get into how this also applies to his beliefs about his worth as a person. But keep in mind, that dimension is there, Danse just covers it up by making everything about the Brotherhood.)

During Blind Betrayal, after getting the orders to execute him and hearing Haylen’s plea for mercy, we may expect Danse to be ready to fight back or flee. But when you confront him in the bunker at Listening Post Bravo, he’s compliant and suicidal. Danse is so deeply poisoned by the BoS’ rhetoric that his own feelings or will to live don’t factor into the conversation. He demands that you follow your orders and execute him, because he believes, as the BoS does, that all synths are dangerous and must be destroyed.

Danse: {Stern} Synths can't be trusted. Machines were never meant to make their own decisions, they need to be controlled. Technology that's run amok is what brought the entire world to its knees and humanity to the brink of extinction.

{Confident} I need to be the example, not the exception.

Through various dialogue options, if your charisma is high enough, you are able to talk Danse off the ledge. He is able to consider, at least, that the BoS’ merciless judgment of him is wrong and that what he was taught isn’t right. He is a thinking, feeling, self-aware synth, and that makes him as much a person as any human. Danse is no danger to humanity-- and maybe, most synths aren’t either.

Danse is an example, not an exception.

Later on, if you manage to get him out of BB alive, Danse shows further acceptance of his nature. His approvals about synths begin to soften slightly (or many of them do, at least… it’s not perfect.) He is still struggling with his identity and reconciling it with his former hatred, but his dialogue suggests that he’s on the road to being more open-minded and understanding. Along with this, Danse learns that he has value as a person beyond the Brotherhood. He no longer needs to define himself with BoS beliefs or judge himself by how useful he is to them. He learns that he is worth caring about, worth being friends with or being loved because of who he is-- not what he is, in any regard.

[SIDENOTE: Many players, myself included, are frustrated that Danse’s arc leaves off sort of midstream there. Due to the open-ended nature of the game, we don’t get a real conclusion to his arc-- even though much of his idle dialogue doesn’t change and he still espouses pro-BoS sentiments ( an unfortunate by-product of writing for a video game) there is every indication that he’s started down the right path, but understandably has a ways to go.

Also, Peter Jessop agrees with us.]

Meanwhile, in the Elder ending, Danse doesn’t get a redemption. His entire character arc, actually, hits the skids and does a total 180.

He never leaves the BoS. So scratch the need for Danse to ever think about himself as separate from them. He never needs to question what they’ve taught him or whether they’re right or wrong. He never needs to find any worth in himself beyond his use to the BoS. Why would he? He might be the Elder. The BoS is all he needs to care about anymore. The BoS is all he ever needs to be, ever again.

And I think, most horrifying of all, this Danse never needs to change his mind about synths. On the contrary, one of the surviving dialogue files includes Danse’s speech to reassure the rest of the BoS of his stance:

Danse: I want to make one thing clear to everyone. This body might be synth, but my heart and mind belong to the Brotherhood. The Institute is still a tremendous threat to the Commonwealth. They possess technologies that need to be confiscated or destroyed. And even if that means I have to pull the trigger on my own kind, I’m willing to make that sacrifice.

Elder ending Danse doesn’t grow more understanding on the nature of synths. He doesn’t accept that synths are people, or anything more than technology run amok. He won’t even accept that for himself. Elder Maxson wasn’t wrong about synths-- they’re the enemy and they need to be destroyed.

But, see, he was wrong about Danse. It’s okay for Danse to exist in spite of his nature. It’s okay for him to never fully accept his own personhood, and to outright deny it to his kind. Because his body is a machine, but he’s different from the rest because his heart and mind belong to the Brotherhood.

He’s the exception, not the example.

CONCLUSION:

The Elder ending of Blind Betrayal is dumb, contrived, stakeless, character-derailing powergaming crap at its finest and I’ll happily dance on its grave.

People give Bethesda a lot a shit for their writing-- whether it be stuff they left out, stuff they left in, or stuff that they never, ever could have made work due to the limitations of writing for a video game. Plenty of it is well-deserved, or at least worth a discussion. But from the minute I found out about its existence, I have always wanted to extend a congratulations to Bethesda for cutting the alternate Elder ending of Blind Betrayal. It was a good choice. A very good choice to cut a very dumb plot that would have fundamentally altered the story they were telling, and characters that I’ve grown to love. I think the writers deserve some credit and a hearty handshake for the wisdom of this decision.

Now as for why Nick Valentine isn’t romanceable--

[vialaviolenza]

Life has an unfortunate way of granting the desires one utters, often shrouding them in mysteries best left unsolved. From a young age, Jolyne had dreamt of a life filled with suspense and excitement, fast cars, and intrigue. She had achieved it all, but the cost had been steep, and now her father's state lay in shambles as an unfortunate ‘casualty’ of her ‘aspirations’. Why couldn’t he be there more? why couldn’t he show he cared? why had her dreams aligned with the most devastating of outcomes, and why had their family been the victims of her selfish desires? Being in Green Dolphin Street prison was an eternal purgatory, all she had was time to think. Friendships had offered some respite, a cushion to soften the fall into grief, but even their calloused embraces couldn't quell the relentless self-blame that gnawed at her from sunrise to sunset.

It felt as though years of bad choices had converged, constricting her like a vice, suffocating her spirit. Jolyne HATES that she took her relationship with her father for granted. Still, as the saying goes, ‘you never know what you have until it’s gone’.Kakyoin's visit, though well-intentioned, was proving to be much more challenging than she had ever anticipated. If it had been anyone else, she might have held the torrent of anguish in check. . .but, now she feels close to bursting at the seams, unraveling much like the string inside her. She listened to Kakyoin's words, absorbing his reassurances, but the words failed to provide the solace she desperately needed, till things were FIXED she’d take ownership⸻someone had to. Perhaps if she just listened to her father one goddamn time this wouldn’t be happening !

Tears continue, their existence finally causing Jolyne’s eyes to burn due to the diy prison makeup she had made up in her cell that rested on her visage. A chapped lip is tucked between her teeth as she waged war internally to regain her composure. Through the storm, kakyoin’s gentle touch reminded her that he was there despite EVERYTHING that had transpired. The response to his touch is instant and comes in the form of her digits tightening around his hand, using the link as a lifeline of support in the turmoil. As the emotions continued to surge she recalled her breathing exercises and as she decided to attempt to use them to calm herself. Shoulders lift and fall initially with intensity before they calm. Despite her mind being elsewhere she hears Kakyoin’s voice repeat that this ISN'T her fault, and while she wants to believe it, she just doesn’t.

❝ If I wasn’t such a fucking disappointment he’d be okay. . .It is my fault. ❞ initially, her voice is aggressive until it falls into a near-catatonic murmur. Slowly, her head lifted, her makeup smeared and disarrayed, her gaze fixed in the distance, unable to meet Kakyoin's eyes. Her own eyes, red and puffy, conveyed a steely determination, much like her father's. ❝ It doesn't matter what's happened in the past… He will be okay. I'll make sure of it.❞ it didn't matter what obstacles lay ahead or how much pain she might have to endure; she was resolved to save him or die trying. Even in the face of doubt from the SWF scientists, she clung to the belief that he was alive and had a chance. No one could convince her otherwise; she needed something to fight for.

A heavy breath escaped her, her eyes closing as she practiced deep breathing, the grinding of her teeth the only audible sound as she wrestled with her emotions. Eventually, the emotional storm seemed to subside, replaced by a heavy, melancholic calm. Slowly, her eyes reopened, meeting Kakyoin's lavender gaze once more, her expression now etched with sorrow.

❝ I don’t hold anything against you. ❞ A whisper, one that Jotaro is left out of, ❝ I know… you care about me, and you've been far kinder than I deserve for how much of a shit I've been.❞ A faint smile graced her lips, although it held deep sadness. She wondered what her life might have been like if Kakyoin had always been there. Would she be in this situation?

❝ How's Jouta ? ❞ her eyes brightened with hope as she leaned closer, her hands still holding onto his, a lifeline in the storm.❝ I never thought I’d say it but I miss him so much.❞ briefly, she looks down as she laughs, more tears falling though this time she doesn’t try to hide them. ❝ I’d do anything to hug him, to play a videogame with him⸻hell, I’d probably even take him to the zoo and buy him one of those stupid expensive stuffed animals he always begged for. ❞ these desires, once sources of annoyance that she’d throw the biggest fits over become cherished, cathartic memories of a simpler time, and now they held the power to reignite her fading hope.

With her heart gradually steadying, Jolyne found the strength to resume discussing the matter at hand. ❝ I have a few leads… and I've made a few good friends that I think are willing to help me. I'm not alone, and I don't want you to get wrapped up in this.❞ her voice was tinged with concern and affection. ❝ Jouta needs you, and so does Dad, even if he's not… really there. I know you want to help, Kakyoin, but please, let me try to do this on my own. I can't lose you too.❞

Jolyne's determination was unwavering, and she sniffled, her head tilting slightly as she continued. ❝ I only know the stand's name⸻WHITESNAKE… but not the user. I've been trying to find him… so far, no luck, but I won't quit looking.. .and in case I haven’t said it. . .Thank you, Papa. I’m so happy to see you.. .I hate the circumstance but. . .I’m glad I can rely on you.❞

    to imply that all of this had turned their lives on an uncomfortable axis would be a   laughable understatement   ━━━━   kakyoin cannot recall with any clarity when last he’d had a good night’s sleep ,   when last his chest hadn’t been residence to a deepening chasm that cleaves his heart to   pieces .   &   while this is far from the first time he’s had to function under circumstances that foster the potential to break   any person   down to fragments of their identity ,   it   is   the first time his entire family has been involved   &   directly affected ;   the family he’d taken the time to build   &   dedicated his life to providing safety   &   stability for alongside his husband ,   his soulmate .   it seemed that in the batting of a single eyelash ,   all of it had been taken under a   cataclysmic wave of grief ,   &   there was nothing he could have so much as hoped to do to stop it .

he’d planned to visit jolyne the moment she’d been sentenced ,   but going alongside jotaro wasn’t an option .   not only was she permitted just   one visitor at a time   due to her assigned category   (    &   now ,   her reputation as a   ‘ troublemaker ’   ) ,   but they have a ten - year - old to look after ,   &   finding him a trusted caregiver on so   desperate a notice   is no simple feat ,   considering both of their parents still live an ocean away .   thus ,   they’d agreed that kakyoin would stay home with jouta while jotaro made the trip to visit first ,   &   though they knew   (   or   thought   they knew   )   the gist of what they were   really dealing with ,   kakyoin hadn’t imagined jotaro would never make it home   ━━━━   jolting awake to his son shaking his shoulder at 7am   &   realizing he had dozed off sitting on the floor of the foyer was a sobering experience .

life has been a collection of hazy images since then .   his tactical mind is at work ,   the wealth of knowledge   &   experience in his brain active   &   available ,   but he feels as if he’s only vaguely existing amid the chaos happening around him .   he doesn’t know what to tell jouta or his parents or jotaro’s parents about what’s happened ,   he can only focus his energy on comforting them   &   assuring them that everything will be okay ,   that he will figure it out .   but will he ??   this feels different from being a seventeen year old chasing a vampire in the desert   ━━━━   this feels   hopeless ,   though kakyoin knows that with everything on the line ,   he cannot succumb to despondence .   he will be hopeful until he draws his last breath ,   should that occur before his family is brought back together .   he has no other option . 

“   this isn’t your fault .   ”

the words leave his mouth with the ease of an uninhibited breath .   he is not certain of much during this time ,   but this is one thing he knows for sure .   “   nothing you’ve done could have caused this ,   not even indirectly .   i know how easy it is for you to blame yourself because of how this all started ,   but you have to stop it .   you didn’t cause this ,   jolyne .   ”

verily ,   he knows that what he’s saying has a thin chance of changing her perspective   ━━━━   she’s a lot like her father ,   after all ,   though she’d likely   run through a wall of fire   before admitting as much .   but kakyoin can see it clearly ;   a piece of jotaro sits across from him now ,   as familiar as it’s been all these years   ━━━━   prideful   &   stubborn but   unyielding   when it comes to doing whatever it can for those it holds dear .   he sighs ,   a slight shake to the suspiration as it tapers off .   “   . . .   i hate that i have to leave you here ,   ”   says kakyoin ,   hands raising to remove his glasses .   the softest   clinking   sound is emitted as he sets them down on the table .   “   but i’ll be back once i’m able to make all of the arrangements i need to .   there’s a lot that your father   &   i haven’t told you about our lives ,   &   i’m sure you can imagine this isn’t the best place to have that conversation ,   ”   lavender irises pierce through scarred lids ,   the determined glint in them outshining the artificial lighting of the shoebox of a room enclosing them .   “   he wanted you to have a normal life ,   &   so did i ,   so we never told you about the world you’ve been thrown into so suddenly .   i always thought that maybe it would come up sooner or later ,   but not like this   . . .   ”

kakyoin holds his breath ,   petal pink lips folding into a tight line .   then ,   he sucks in enough air to inflate his lungs ,   grounding himself before the intensity of his emotions can take wing .   “   i guess i just want to say that i’m sorry you weren’t prepared for this ,   ”   he utters ,   voice airier than before .   “   you shouldn’t   have to be ,   but regardless ,   i can’t help but think of everything i could have said or done to have made this less of a disaster .   i’m sorry ,   jolyne .   i’m so sorry that all of this has fallen on you ,   all because of someone from   our   past .   ”   

when jolyne finally makes eye contact ,   her gaze at last torn from the   shackles   ’round her wrists ,   kakyoin feels his heart shatter impossibly more .   the glaze of unshed tears ,   the tightness of her mouth to keep her lips from quivering ,   the crushing pressure of   guilt   boxing her in from every angle   ━━━━   of all the trauma he’s witnessed during the height of his career as an agent ,   nothing can shake him like this .   it’s why he’d ignored the attempts of his peers to convince him not to get involved with something so   personal   upon revoking his retirement from the field ;   the depth of his connection to it   &   all that he has to lose is   why   he must do this . 

“   jolyne ,   i   . . .   i wish i came here to tell you good news ,   ”   he chokes out ,   suspended tears starting to sting in his own eyes .   “   i wish i had an answer for all of this .   but i   don’t ,   not right now .   i just wanted to see you ,   to tell you that i’m   here for you ,   that i’m going to do everything i can to help you   &   that not   one fucking thing   is going to change that .   ”   

the sudden shift in attention toward   him   is what threatens his composure .   others have asked that exact question since jotaro   . . .   went down ,   &   kakyoin never dug too deep into his devastation because he couldn’t afford to .   his son is depending on him ,   &   jolyne   &   jotaro need someone to be strong for them , too   ━━━━   falling apart ,   as much as he craves the   fleeting reprieve   of catharsis ,   would only serve to drive them all deeper into misery .   he closes his eyes ,   threading his hands through the crimson waves cascading down his shoulders to keep them busy ,   to mitigate the   trembling . 

“   jolyne ,   ”   he calls softly ,   eyes opening wide just as her forehead hits the table .   eyebrows threading together with concern ,   he reaches for her ,   a   verdant tendril   carefully moving his glasses aside while he slants forward , placing his hands overtop of her bound ones .   the overhead fixture catches his wedding ring ,   and he bites the seam of his lips ,   lowering his head just slightly so that the   symbol of eternity   leaves his line of vision ,   his voice just centimeters from her ear .   he feels wetness   bound   down his cheek .   

“   it isn’t your fault ,   ”   he repeats ,   the words seeping through his   quivering throat   as he holds her hands   tighter ,   hoping that she could believe him ,   even if just for a second .   “   it’s not your fault ,   jolyne .   it’s not your fault .   we’ll fix this   together ,   i promise .   ”

[excellentexecution]

Anonymous asked: Have you and your lady love Chyna talked about future plans like children? They would be gorgeous babies! Or do you feel selfish asking her to step away from the career she loves in order to grow a family with you?

Much had been discussed between them since dark lines were drawn in the sand. When loyalties were turned upside down, all but Chyna part of the plot to double-cross the Hitman when he was wounded, a soldier broken. There was nothing that could be hidden between the lovers. Whose side they each were on - either innocent or guilty depending upon who asked - where they stood as a couple. Bret couldn’t reconcile with not knowing for certain. He had to know, a clear picture painted by the hand of his beloved Joanie, what she wanted, needed. His own dreams shared, too, despite how heavy his heart felt within his chest, still beating but hurting so. If their love proved true, as was promised, though their armies in battle waged further war, they would outlast. Bret just believed it to be so. Couldn’t allow himself to think otherwise - it would’ve shattered what remained of his soul - even if the Hart Foundation saw their cruel defeat. A best friend no longer a face that could be pleasantly seen, a crazed angel in a heaven that sounded so comforting, Pillman’s ghost a haunting one, WCW wouldn’t finish off what DX missed, not of the Hitman and what remained. 

He would live despite them. For the honor of a fallen brother, for the woman who loved him, Bret would have his chance at happiness once again. All that he could ever dream of and more; Joanie beside him and just as at peace. 

“Yeah. We’ve talked about it. We don’t have anything set in stone, but we have talked about starting a family. It’s something that we both want. But, y’know, who the hell knows anymore if we’ll even get the chance to. With how things have been going on around here in the professional wrestling business, somebody else might just decide to stab us in the back and take that away, too.” Bret grumbled, brown eyes a mirror to the anger he felt. 

“More than ever, nothing’s certain. Joanie and I, we want kids. Least one. We’d like to get married at some point. We just don’t know when. Our careers, they keep us apart more than any damn faction war ever did. I don’t even care about all that DX-Hart Foundation bullshit anymore. I realize now just how much McMahon and his friends used it against me and Joanie, how they put us against each other for their own greed. How they hurt us both. I still think her best friends, the Heartbreak Kid and Triple H, are chickenshit, and I know neither one of them are man enough to face me, to get the beating that they deserve, but I love her more than anything. She’s the only person, besides my own family, who still has my back. I don’t care if she’s still with McMahon and his freakshow. That’s her business, and I’ll respect her for it. But, y’know, in regard to us, we’re not breaking up any time soon.”

Shaking his head, curls subtly bouncing, he disagreed. “No. I don’t think it’s selfish at all. Frankly, I think I have every damn right to be selfish about what I want. Everybody else has been acting pretty selfish recently. I’m just following along. Joanie knows me. She knows what I would like to have out of life, just as I know about her hopes. I’ve always been very honest with her. For me, the two things that I want are: to be married and to have kids. Nobody’s stepping away from anything at the moment. I want her to continue on with her journey. Whatever that may be, whether that be in wrestling or not. Joanie has every right to achieve her dreams. I won’t stop her from that. I know she wouldn’t want me to do the same, either. I don’t exactly have the option to, anyways. Hulkster and Bischoff and the nWo need me. But when the time is right, we’ll both leave our careers with our heads held high. Off to better and brighter things, a family and children and a happy home. Everything that we could ever want.”

___

[cwarscars]

7. Do you ever think that despite your muses actions/morality they do have a point when it comes to their reasons?

Questions for Problematic/Villain muses

ohhhh, i like this one because this is kind of a complicated one - 

so, i wanna preface this by talking about how heidegger sees his actions because not for a second does he see himself as evil or sadistic. for real. like, i know it’s easy to look at him and see a moustache-twirling-villain but, i get the impression from heidegger that he genuinely believes what he’s doing to be right. 

the man is self-righteous (in a twisted sort of way) and in my own headcanon, has been raised by an iron fist (both metaphorically and unfortunately, literally). 

not to woobify anybody but i feel he was almost brainwashed from a kid to an adult to believe that you get what you want by being fierce, aggressive, unforgiving and unwavering. when one looks at a war like the wutai war - heidegger sees it as, shinra are the good guys stamping out an enemy. he genuinely believes shinra to be good. he believes wutai should have submitted and therefore they’re the bad ones for denying them. if someone told heidegger it was evil to wage a war, he’d be genuinely confused. like, he wouldn’t accept it. to him - war is a necessity and him and the shinra are heroes of the people. (in some ways, he is delusional). 

( side note here : i also see him as a blood knight. heidegger wont be satisfied unless blood is spilled, be it someone else's or his own ). 

on a more personal note as well; he doesn’t see himself as harsh or horrible to his troops because it’s the way that he was treated as a young boy / man. it’s that cycle of violence; that idea that ‘i was treated this way and therefore, i’ll treat others the same’. funnily enough, there is some self-awareness there (in my own headcanon), he would never and has never hurt his daughters or his ex-wife. he has some level of morals (especially when it comes to women / children) but otherwise sees men as ‘fair-game’. 

(( one thing i adore about writing heidegger is how complex i can choose to be with him - in this case, he believes himself to be right but it doesn’t mean he’s entirely without awareness. he’s been traumatised by war - he KNOWS the horrors of it. but a sentiment drilled into him by father + this unfathomable NEED to serve the shinra has him believing war to be right etc ))

in terms of my own personal view of heidegger - 

no, man. i don’t believe his morals are right or in check. i think that this is a man well and truly raised in the bosom of the shinra company. this is a man who would live and die for them and do whatever to retain his position on top (perhaps maybe because he’s fearful of the bottom?). for me, personally, while i agree with his stance on the ethics of hojos methods (not all of them but his disgust over hojo’s treatment of aerith says a lot). i don’t agree on his treatment of his subordinates or his attitude toward war. (in game, we literally see him pushing for a continuation of the wutai war - like, he tries to manipulate shinra into it!) 

all in all - i see heidegger as believing his morals / beliefs are the right ones and those against him are the ‘bad guys’. though he’s ‘evil’ in regards to his treatment of others, his short-temper and his arrogance / rambunctiousness - i don’t believe he’s evil in the same sense as say jenova, sephiroth (to some extent) or other ff villains like kefka or even seymore. there is a degree of humanity with heidegger (more so seen in the original, funnily enough) but...you know, he’s no prize haha. 

[chocolatte-and-despair]

How would the the Allies go about a darling that rejected, but the darling seems scared when they did. Not scared of them but something else. Before the nations can do anything, The darling fearfully tells them to stay away from them, because they don't want to see them get hurt or worse killed. After that they ran away. After a good 2 weeks of the darling avoiding them. The Nations go threaten ask the darling's friends what's going on. The darling's friends has told them they have this crazy stalker (Yandere) that's been threatening them and hurting the people they care about. So what are the Allies going to do when they find out that the darling only rejected them to keep them safe and that they actually do love and care about them; that and they have another Yandere after them.

Aph America -   Alfred F. Jones

Alfred would honestly feel offended. What does this mean, babe? Did you think that he was weak and couldn’t protect you? Okay, he knew that you were pretty awesome, but still! He has been training to try and impress you, so, he is even stronger than before! Please, some stalker isn’t going to stop him. Without a second thought, he would kill the fuck! And if it’s a country, he is a big country, he could wage war and put that country into its place! Honestly, Alfred would find your reasoning for not accepting his love very stupid and would punish you after getting rid of the problem. Losing half of the people that you considered close was good enough punishment, right? 

Aph England -  Arthur Kirkland

Arthur wasn’t physically all that strong, that’s why he knew that he couldn’t win against the person in a physical fight, especially if the stalker is someone who is strong like Ludwig. Because of that, he would find different ways of getting rid of your stalker. For example, a poisoned cup of tea, or poisoned food. Worst-case scenario, he could just poison that area's water supply. Yes, many people would die, but if it gets the job done, who cares, yes? Everything is fair in love and war.  After the problem would be taken care of, he would move on to punish you. Avoiding him without telling him anything? You think he was not going to punish you for such a thing? I hope you are ready for some heavy psychological torture because he needs to teach you some new rules, it seems...

Aph France - Francis Bonnefoy

Francis would be horrified, and understanding. It must have been so frightening! He really isn’t sure what to do though... He isn’t that strong, and he isn’t talented in assassinating people in different ways... Oh, wait! He could just hire someone to kill them! Very easy! And if it’s a country, he could make up some lies and deliver them to both Ivan and Alfred, so that country would be destroyed by the two idiots! Don’t worry, he will save you! Afterward, he would officially ask you out, and he hopes you finally accept otherwise.. Well, after what he managed to do, he isn’t going to be a pushover anymore, willing to hurt you to get you. 

Aph China -  Yao Wang

Yao would say that it’s nonsense! Just give him a day or two and that person will disappear. He is a martial arts master, and you need to remember that he has a very loyal family that would do anything just to make him proud. Not even talking about them actually being very talented at martial arts, minus Kiku.. He’s the only one who wanted to be different.  Afterward, Yao would feel very proud, having another reason to show off and explain why he was the perfect partner for you. I mean, he dealt with the problem almost immediately. Now, there is no reason to reject him anymore, yes? 

Aph Russia -  Ivan Braginsky

Ivan would nod, smiling and saying that you didn’t need to worry about the problem. He will go and make sure that the little person is crushed. No mercy for someone who scares his little rabbit. He is the most brutal with his execution, seeing as he will beat the person to death with his metal pipe and won’t hold back at all. After Ivan returns, he wouldn’t even ask if you want to be together, as he isn’t going to let you escape. Clearly, you were attracting very bad people, so, to keep you safe, he is going to lock you up in his small cabin, so the two of you can be together happily.

Aph Canada -  Matthew Williams

Matthew would be completely enraged. Both with you and him. What, you think he is not enough of a man to protect you? Just watch! He will prove to you that he is enough of a man to protect you and after he is done, he will make sure to punish you for ever doubting you. It seems you were like everyone else and didn’t see his true potential.  When he is done beating the person to death with a hockey stick, he returns to take you away. He was nice before but he won’t anymore. He will take you somewhere far away and teach you what happens when you doubt his skills. I mean, he is even stronger than Alfred! He could have killed the person in seconds!

[ambssssssssss]

part 1

Despite Lex’s untimely demise, or timely depending on who you asked, bringing Luthor-Corp back under Lena’s control was a quick and easy process. That was mostly due to Kara, who had insisted that Lena build connections between the board members and employees when Lex essentially abandoned the company in his crusade against the Supers. Even gone, Kara was still saving Lena. Lena thought that it was high time she returned the favor. 

Lena retreated to her personal lab two days after returning to National City and wasted no time. This wasn’t something that Lena could run multiple trials on before deeming it successful. She would only have one attempt to get this right, which meant she had to get all of her calculations exactly right on the first try. There were far too many variables to consider. 

The first step, Lena figured, in travelling through time was to figure out the equation for the speed at which time passed. She quickly ran into a roadblock and reached out to the only person who might have been able to help. She was lucky that the Legends had yet to return to the temporal zone when Lena reached out to contact Gideon. She suspected that such an occurrence was more planned than it was a coincidence due to the fact that Gideon gave up the missing variable Lena needed without any fuss. A message from Sara and Ava followed, advising Lena to be careful messing with time and wishing her good luck on her mission. There was a post script from Sara telling her to say hi to Kara, when she saw her again. It seemed that Lena’s plans were more obvious than she thought, but Lena wasn’t too concerned about it. As long as no one tried to stop her, and Lena didn’t think they would, she honestly didn’t care if they knew what she was doing. 

With the equation issue solved, Lena set out to answer the second and most important questions on her list: how far back should she go?

The simplest solution would be to go back to the day before that final battle, but there was no guarantee that Lena could stop Lex’s attack in time. There was still too much risk. 

The second option Lena considered was going back to just after Crisis, before Lena started to wage her own personal war against Supergirl. She could keep Lex from getting too powerful, patch things over with Kara and they could take him down together. Lena shot that idea down as well. She had no idea how many contingency plans Lex already had in place at that time and no way of knowing how much damage he could do. 

Lena quickly decided that the only way to keep Kara from dying at Lex’s hand was to keep Lex from ever rising to power again in the first place. But what about Kara? Lena needed to be in a time where Kara trusted her, otherwise they would never be able to work together. If this was going to work at all, they couldn’t build their friendship or anything more than that on lies. 

The only way Lena could think of fixing all of this was to start all over. She needed to go back to the very beginning of her friendship with Kara. 

With a date in mind, Lena began working on the final component of her trip.

Because Lena was only sending her consciousness back in time rather than physically travelling there herself, it was simple enough to build the headgear and attach it to the computer that would run the program Lena had designed for the task. Lena had the sense to leave a note addressed to Alex that explained everything that Lena was doing, just in case. She hoped that Alex would never read the note but Lena was too much of a pessimist for that. The fact that she wanted this to work so bad was probably a sign that it wouldn’t work at all. 

Nevertheless, Lena resolved to try. Kara deserved that at the very least. 

After checking the equations for the tenth time, Lena set the date she wanted to travel into the computer and started the algorithm. She settled on the exam table with the headpiece in place. There was no time like the present, after all, and Lena had wasted more than enough time with Kara. She wouldn’t make the same mistake again. 

With her mind focused only on Kara and all the wasted time between them, Lena let her eyes fall closed and the work she had done washed through her being. 

Lena awoke with a splitting headache and groaned into her pillow before her surroundings registered in her mind. Once she realized that was laying on a much more comfortable bed than the examination table in her lab, Lena sat upright in bed. She was in her bedroom, in her apartment in National City, but everything was just slightly off. It was like her apartment hadn’t been lived in yet. 

With a gasp, Lena bolted from her bed, her headache forgotten as she scrambled for her phone to check the date. The model of the phone was enough to let Lena know that she had successfully made it to the past, but she needed to know the date to be sure. Lena could have cried in relief when she finally got her phone on and unlocked but she held the tears in until she was standing in her living room and had turned the television on. There, wearing a sunny smile and her original suit, was Kara. The coverage showed Supergirl stopping a collision between a school bus and semi-truck. 

Lena covered her mouth as a sob escaped her throat. Kara was here, Kara was alive. Lena could save her. Lena did save her. Kara was alive, even if she had no idea who Lena was, she was alive. They had a second chance and this time Lena wasn’t going to waste a moment. 

Making her way to her home office, dimly aware of the way her home seemed so unlived in with the absence of the last five years worth of memorabilia, Lena searched through her desk until she found a simple notebook bound in black leather. The notebook was small enough that Lena would be able to carry it on her person easily, which was good because that was the only way that Lena could be sure the information she put in the notebook was safe. A list of important events that would be happening in the next five years was not something that would be safe as a digital file. Even L-Corp’s servers could, and would, be hacked. Armed with a mechanical pencil and determined not to lose Kara again, Lena began writing. 

The first list was much simpler than the second one that Lena wrote down. First, Lena created a to-do list for herself. Staring with what Lena considered the most important, she wrote:

befriend Kara again

befriend Supergirl 

It seemed silly to list both halves of Kara’s identity as separate entities but Lena had to acknowledge the fact that she was essentially starting from scratch with both Kara and Supergirl. She would need to build a relationship with both versions of the woman she loved separately before she could be let in on Kara’s secret. Selfishly, Lena hoped it wouldn’t take her near as long to prove herself trustworthy again. Leaving complicated thoughts of time travel and relationships to be pondered over later, Lena continued with her list. 

make anti-kryptonite suit

upgrade supersuit

put Lillian away

Deal With Lex

Again, Lena paused for a moment before moving on to other matters. She would have to deal with her equally complicated feelings about her family later. 

build Watchtower

keep Kara alive 

The last item was underlined three times. 

Turning a page in her notebook, Lena began her second list. This one was more of a timeline than a list, a timeline of all the important events that would happen in the near future, from the Daxamite invasion, to Reign’s attack (Lena made a note to bring Sam to National City as soon as possible), to Red Daughter and everything that happened with Lex, to Crisis and Leviathan and finally, to the battle that had resulted in Kara’s death. 

From the rules of time travel that Barry and the Legends followed, Lena knows that there will be some events that she simply cannot change. There will be things that she can’t stop from happening no matter how hard she tries, but she was okay with that. As long as Lena can minimize the damage of those events with her advanced knowledge and, most importantly, as long as she can keep Kara safe, Lena could cope with all the rest. Kara’s death would be the one thing that Lena would change, no matter if the universe wanted her to or not. 

Before she could make any changes though, Lena needed to get to work. After all, it wasn’t every day that a woman got to meet the love of her life for the second time.