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#pale kings and princes

elettralightwood · 2 years

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Simon, don’t you think I’m scared of that too? You’re not the only one on that ledge. If we jump, we jump together. We fall together.

- Pale Kings and Princes

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Taglist (pls tell me if you want to be added or removed <3) @gayforcarstairsgirls @idk-i-just-really-like-tsc @alexander-gideon-lightwood-babe @unorganisedbookshelf @queenlilith43 @i-sold-my-soul-to-house-wrath @sociallyineptbibliophile @i-deia @totalbookmaniac @kiwichaeng @magnus-the-maqnificent @ahanahahaha @steven--with-a-v @amchara @letsgofortacos @noah-herondale-lightwood @tis-the-boards-season @my-archerboy @raziyekroos @tellthestarshello808 @khaleesiofalicante @onetimetwotimesthreetimess @romas-dorogaya @alexandergideonslightwood @thestarkster1465 @chaandsifarishpdf @awecwightwood @priorities-as-straight-as-alec @bookishjules @rinadragomir @light-bane08 @jaceherondale780

#tsc #shadowhunters #the shadowhunters chronicles #shadowhunters edit #tftsa #tales from the shadowhunter academy #pale kings and princes

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sidhedust · 5 months

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I'm still on hiatus, but I caved in to drawing and sharing these sketches because I've been playing Hollow Knight to calm my nerves. It's nice to draw more simple shapes for once.

Anyways, this is Luana and Floris (not introduced yet) as...bugs. In a bug version of Tovera. Yeah. Extra explanations under the cut.

I don't know how to communicate their powers and other quirks in Hollow Knightverse speak, since of course my systems are different from HKverse's. But the is one thing I do know is that the snails' manipulation of soul very close to Luana's magic type (as she is one of the few people in the story that can use pure magic as a weapon in and of itself), and they even live in burial mounds, which fits her species well.

As for Floris, he's royalty, a descendant of someone who's treated like an ancestor of all ancestors, a powerful spell-slinging first monarch (so something like the grandson of the grandson of the grandson of the grandson of a Pale Being-like figure) so he can have a few higher being like traits as a treat.

Originally, Luana was a weaver, but since only witch characters weave sigils and the like in story and that isn't her primary way of using magic, I decided to go with the species that more closely resembles her mage class, that being a mixture of neighbor/theurgist.

Floris was also a weaver/higher being hybrid like Hornet, but now he's kinda mosskin-like/higher being hybrid. For spoiler reasons, I can't get into the nuance of his HKverse self's whole biology.

#sidhedust art #hollow knight au #hollow knight #might slap these into the arc 1 zine as a treat. lol #anyways. more notes on the designs: luana's motif is supposed to be kinda menhir like #something between the legends of them being sleeping giants/fairies and burial mound markers #if I stuck with the weaver concept I definitely would've pushed a more loom druidess look though #as for the prince he's straightforward. he gets a little prong like the radiance and pale king because he's heir to bug Tovera #though I suppose [tons of spoilers that are kinda obvious but I can't share yet]#it isn't easy adapting ocs to a new world. lol

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eagledrawsandvibes · 3 months

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I need to know about this hollow knight au immediately

Ask and ye shall receive!

The Pale Son AU

In this AU, Xero is an ant-moth hybrid, who hatched during the time of the Pale King’s rule of Hallownest but before the infection began. He was abandoned at this time, and was found by some of the King’s guards. Because the King wanted an heir to his throne and to make him look even better to the moth tribe, he took in Xero as his son.

Xero’s name at this time was the Pale Son, or the Prince, so I’ll be calling him Prince until later. He trained with the Five Great Knights, even becoming part of their line of defense (so technically, the Six Great Knights), and Prince was dressed like the guards, rather than his red look.

And for all of you Crimson Nail fans, Markoth was also a civilian of Hallownest and had befriended Prince. They were incredibly close, but no romantic connection was ever made.

However, despite all of this sounding great, the Pale King was still dismissive of Prince. Since he wasn’t a true pale being, the King would often neglect him or put pressure on Prince to be as perfect as a Pale Being, despite that being impossible.

This got even worse for Prince when the Pure Vessel ascended from the Abyss. Prince had no idea about the purpose of the vessels, so when he saw that the King was much more attentive and close to the Pure Vessel, Prince felt threatened and betrayed by this. He was afraid that the Pure Vessel would usurp him as the Prince of Hallownest, even though we all know that could never happen.

This resentment and heartbreak was exactly what the Radiance wanted. She began to infect the dreams of Prince, and saying that if he killed the King, Queen, and the Vessel, he would get to become an even more powerful king after them. Obviously, Prince jumped at this idea.

Prince trained with Soul Master (who was also infected but didn’t know it yet) to harness soul to create weapons, which is how he got his signature swords. Soul Master mainly helped because he was also upset at the King, so he’ll support any coup against him as long as the Soul Sanctum gets funded.

Once he was far gone in the infection, Prince changed his name to Xero, to signify the amount of hope and love he had in the Pale King, and turned his weapons against the throne. His blue coloring changes to red from the infection. He actually got pretty far until the Pure Vessel was called in to fight off Xero.

Now, this goes in two different directions for an ending, so I’ll call one ending the True Ending and the other one the Bad Ending.

True Ending

The Pure Vessel defeats Xero, and it leads to the Pale King having to execute him via beheading. This broke the King’s heart, because he did really care for Xero, and to see someone close to him infected took a toll on him.

Xero was given a warrior’s grave in the Resting Grounds, with a warning to anyone about rebellion. As a ghost, Xero was disgruntled and couldn’t move on until the Knight shows him the truth. He accepts his defeat and his death, and finally rests.

Bad Ending

The Pure Vessel is defeated and killed, which shook everyone in the throne room enough for Xero to execute both the Pale King and the White Lady.

Xero crowns himself as king, and his first order is to exile the Five Knights. The Five were extremely shaken up and still injured from Xero’s attacks, especially Isma, so in order to not make things worse, they hid somewhere to keep themselves safe until they could fight back again.

King Xero’s infection gets even worse, but he still recognizes Markoth as a friend and makes him his Vizier, or Adviser. Markoth is horrified to learn about what happened to the Pale Court, but is still hoping that his true friend Prince was still there.

However, this would never be the case. Xero made efforts to bring the Radiance back, despite what Soul Master wanted at the time, and Xero would eventually grow to become much more like a moth or a red version of a mortal Radiance.

After witnessing an execution from King Xero, Markoth quits his job and says that he’s never returning to Hallownest. Xero, much more the vessel for the Radiance than himself, promises Markoth that if he ever returned, he would die by his blade.

King Xero is completely alone now, and while he’s much more powerful, it’s lonely and barren at the top, and he realizes he was just a vessel for the Radiance.

But it’s too late. The Radiance won, and he’s doomed to be the sole king of a dead kingdom.

Here’s the design I had in mind for him!

#asks #eagletalks #cursed are those who turn against the king #hollow knight #pale son au #hk xero #hk prince xero #always ask me more about this au #i am mentally unwell #art #digital art #long post

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infracti-angelus · 1 year

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Pale Fire, Chpt 5

PALE FIRE, a Lord of the Rings fanfiction

Pairing: Éomer and Lothíriel

Summary: Lothíriel wasn’t unacquainted with infatuation; after all, she was nearly twenty-one years old and (by Gondorian standards, at least) well past her prime. But while she was acquainted with infatuation and the whispers of attraction, this was entirely different. And it infuriated her. And when his line of sight but glanced over her, she felt heated from top of her hair to the base of her foot. No, not heated. Burning. Set aflame. She felt as if she were the swine roasted on the spit for tonight’s dinner.

Rating: M

Click here for Chapter 1

Click here for Chapter 2

Click here for Chapter 3

Click here for Chapter 4

Chapter 5: The Incident

His manner and bearing belied a cool aloofness. Indeed, the only fault that could be found in his interactions with the other partygoers was his stiffness, most likely due to inexperience as a warrior thrust into the role of king. But his eyes betrayed him. Lothíriel didn't know how to describe it, but his gaze held such awareness, a true presence in this very moment, that it almost alarmed her. And when his line of sight but glanced over her, she felt heated from top of her hair to the base of her foot.

No, not heated. Burning. Set aflame. She felt as if she were the swine roasted on the spit for tonight's supper.

If this was what a brief look of indifference caused, she couldn't imagine what it would be like to be the center of his attention. The likelihood of that, however was in her favor, since he was making it a point to not rest his eyes on anything for longer than a few seconds while his captain was otherwise occupied, probably due to the amount of eligible women being blatantly paraded past by hopeful fathers.

Lothíriel felt perpetually flushed, not helped by the arrival of more partygoers. She announced to the rest of the family that she would find Ada, which left a very put-out Amrothos holding Alphros whilst Rosilith secured a dance ("or two!" she winked) from Elphir. Venturing this way and that and consciously keeping her gaze averted from the table housing the King of Rohan, she was able to cover a large amount of ground without any sign of her father. The surrounding lords seemed no longer content with her excuses and she could sense the electricity of their frustrations with each additional dance refusal. She had officially given up looking for her father and was going to seek out wherever Amrothos and Alphros had set up camp when her path was blocked.

"My lady," a masculine voice drawled.

"Lord Brayan," Lothíriel dipped her head in acknowledgement, schooling her features to one of cool indifference.

"You're looking…well."

Lothíriel inwardly squirmed. The epitome of gentlemanliness, Lord Brayan gave no indication to being the contrary. His gaze remained respectfully on her face the entire time, which was more than she could say for some of the other lords she had encountered. They had lasciviously dragged their eyes on her form, and one had even waggled his eyebrows suggestively (he'd been thrice her age, and she had to contain her laughter). Despite this, the statement from Lord Brayan left her ill at ease.

"Thank you, my lord. Excuse me." Lothíriel took a step to the side, attempting to extract herself before this chance meeting could evolve into something more.

He stepped to be in front of her again, blocking her path. Lothíriel felt a bubble of panic before narrowing her eyes. She had done much more difficult things than rebuff unwanted advances from a nobleman.

"I must confess, I find your appearance to be a bit of a surprise," he said, taking a step towards her to close some of the empty distance.

"Oh?" she countered, trying to sound entirely uninterested in his opinions (which wasn't hard).

"I thought you were sequestered away on your seaside palace," he said.

Lothíriel's brow quirked without her intending it to. She knew he meant what she was wearing, but spoken aloud he was referring to her presence in Gondor. Classic misdirection.

"Hmm," she said. The less she answered, the less fuel she gave him.

"It's nice to see your family let you out of that sandcastle." Lothíriel bristled at his reference to her ancestral home as a sandcastle.

He continued, "If you were mine, I would keep you tucked away, safe and sound. It's still very dangerous for such a journey. Then again, I'd be sorely disappointed if they did that."

Lothíriel stepped to her left this time.

"I could also understand if you were to get too bored being locked up, and need a release for your pent up energy." He stepped again to impede her escape. "Perhaps you've passed the time with other…activities." Lothíriel looked up sharply, and by the glint in his eyes, he knew he had touched a nerve. He grinned. "Horseback riding, perhaps?"

Damn him, Lothíriel thought. She could comprehend the deeper implication of his words.

He was extremely close to her now. She knew he could see down the front of her dress; his eyes dilated. "I'd like to see more of you."

Damn him again.

"Dance with me," he demanded and grasped her hand to place a kiss on her pulse point. Coils of revulsion curled inside her stomach. Lothíriel wished she could shed her skin like a snake. The memory of his lips on the inside of her wrist reminded her of a jellyfish sting.

"No," she extracted her hand from his. "Thank you," she added as an afterthought.

"When I wanted to escape, I had a special, isolated place I would go to," his voice lowered. "But I'd be willing to share it with you." He did not give up, despite her rebuff. She glanced around to see if she could find her family.

She noticed her father across the room –there he was! — and glanced at the man he was talking to.

Lord Brayan grabbed her wrist and pulled her into him, sliding his finger suggestively down the back of her dress. "If you're good, I'll let you come."

Lothíriel locked eyes with the King of Rohan. Fire seeped through her veins. Elbereth, the way he was looking at her. She felt a flush envelop her, and tore her eyes away from his as Lord Brayan's words registered in her mind.

If Lothíriel hadn't known the commotion it would cause, she would have thrown a fist (Erchirion had taught her how to fight when she was eight because Amrothos had, in her words, "kept trying to drown" her). Nonetheless, she knew the disgraceful behavior of her potential actions would only bring shame on her family, and perhaps affect their livelihood.

Lothíriel, instead, yanked her arm out of his grasp and took a step back. Her face burned in anger and she all but hissed "No, thank you" before she rudely (not enough to sate her rage, but enough to make a point) pushed past him and found the first exit she could.

She sought refuge in the pleasant but ill-tended gardens of Minas. Once lovely like the city, they too had fallen into disarray with the growing shadow. Even with the end of ethuil, spring, the gardens were lackluster. They could no longer compare to the gardens in Dol Amroth, but perhaps now that there was a new King, the gardens would be tended to once more. Even with the threat of war upon the lands, the gardens still held hints of aromatic scents from medicinal herbs cultivated by the Houses of Healing. Lothíriel leaned on the nearest stone balustrade and squeezed her eyes shut. She could still feel the imprint of his grip around her wrist as he pulled her against himself. She stifled the urge to retch.

Lothíriel breathed shakily. She was on the brink of one of her attacks. No, not now, she thought. She swore under her breath. She would not relive her encounter with the Corsairs. She refused to do so; she refused to let Lord Brayan trigger that memory. Recalling that pain seemed to be a reliable distraction, she sunk her fingernails into the flesh of her hand, causing angry crescent shaped welts to appear. Focusing on the sting in her palm, she could feel attack dissipate. Merciful Nienna, thank you.

It was dusk but the air still held the warmth promised by fast-approaching laer. Lothíriel found herself a well concealed alcove inhabited by a stone bench. Perhaps she could obtain a moment of reprieve before rejoining the party. She dusted off the moss the best she could, hindered in her task by the fading light. She would have to, unfortunately, see and interact with Lord Brayan eventually. Hopefully he didn't follow her out, or she wouldn't be responsible for her actions. Before she could turn to lower herself onto her seat, she heard a masculine voice behind her.

"My Lady, I-"

Lothíriel spun around and at first all she could see were broad shoulders. Before she could identify the speaker, she saw two shadows and a flash of steel to her right.

"My lord!" she cried in warning as the figure wielding a sword approached and shouted something. She instinctively put her arm out to protect the man—Lord Brayan?—in front of her and move him out of reach.

If she had thought the King's eyes made her burn, she was so wrong. The unnatural sensation of cold metal sundering her flesh was followed instantly by agonizing pain. Her whole arm felt aflame and the trauma of her body accepting such a wound blinded her to the subsequent scuffle. A glint of a dagger and the whole affair was over, with the uninvited man hailing victorious.

Lothíriel felt her heart palpitate at an alarming speed and she began gasping for air. Immediately the man knelt to the ground in front of her –how did she get down here? -and guided her arm to his lap.

"The laceration is mild. You are in no danger of losing any permanent feeling," he stated, his tone clinical and dispassionate marking him as an experienced war veteran. She could feel the pressure of some sort of fabric he pressed down to staunch the bleeding.

Lothíriel could not thank him, could not quip that loss of feeling would be a blessing, or even check to see if he had sustained any harm. Indeed, she could not even breathe and her vision started to blur.

"My Lady?" the man's voice had colour to it now. He was clearly alarmed.

Lothíriel tried to even her breathing or she knew she would pass out from hyperventilation, as she'd seen it happen to more than one noblewoman. She only managed to choke out a mangled noise. With her left hand she reached behind her and attempted to unbutton her gown.

"My Lady!"

"Lothy!" Amrothos' concerned voice joined the shocked one. Lothíriel looked up to see Amrothos jumping over a corpse and skidding on blood to kneel by her side, joining the man who had blond hair. "Lothy, what happened? Are you alright? What's wrong!?"

If Lothíriel had been in her right mind, she would have chided Amrothos for pestering her with questions without waiting for answers, but the relief of the arrival of her brother surpassed everything, and she managed to choke out "corset."

She could see comprehension flash across his eyes, and Amrothos, with a set task given to him, immediately took over unbuttoning her gown. After opening the back, he reached the lacings and began to loosen them. But he was going too slowly and her lungs burned as if someone had jabbed an iron poker, blazing red from heat, into them. Everything was aching and the edge of her vision started to blur. She could feel herself slumping from the lack of oxygen; Amrothos started to panic. Immediately she felt his hands shoved aside, and a quick glance revealed a solid arm reaching around her. It held a small dagger, still dripping with the assassin's blood, and took her brother's place. A swift motion and the lacings of her corset were sliced apart and she could finally draw a full breath. She slumped forward all the way forward, into the blond man's chest. She felt exhausted and closed her eyes; her head felt too heavy to lift. Though her arm still burned, the pleasure of filling her lungs with the night's fresh air caused her to inwardly rejoice.

"Lothíriel, what happened?" Amrothos questioned again. She felt the man she was leaning on inhale and felt the reverberations in his chest as he answered for her.

"I followed her out here to speak with her. She was able to warn me in time before either of us were killed." He cursed in a foreign language-was that Rohirric?—and continued, "I wasn't quick enough and she sustained injury." His voice was deep and reminded her of waves on the shore during high tide: powerful and unstoppable, but peaceful and soothing. There was a certain lilt to it that betrayed an accent she wasn't familiar with.

Lothíriel could feel hot, white light pulsating from her arm with each heartbeat. She steeled herself for the effort it took to speak and croaked out weakly, "Amrothos, please get Ada."

"I will be right back," Amrothos replied, eager to do something useful. He stood up and darted away, evading the pool of blood on the floor.

Lothíriel took another deep breath and exhaled shakily. The man's arms, which still held her, tensed slightly. After a few more moments of breathing comfortably in silence, Lothíriel finally shifted. Wincing a little, she untucked her head from beneath his chin and glanced up.

She shivered. And his arms tensed around her again.

It was the King of Rohan.

"Do you have the strength to stand?" he asked, the tone of familiarity he had used with her brother was replaced with a strained one.

Gooseflesh prickled across her skin at his breath on her neck. Lothíriel nodded. He carefully shifted her from his lap and stood. Gently, he picked her up at the waist and set her on her feet. Lothíriel swayed a bit and he caught her before she could tip over.

"Thank you, my lord," she said, looking up at his face. His jawline was incredibly sharp even beneath his trimmed beard, and she tempered the urge to reach up her hand to cup it. She observed that his jaw was clenched. She watched the corded muscles in his neck twitching, and noticed that he wouldn't look her directly in the eye.

"Lothíriel?!" she heard her father's panicked voice call to her. The King of Rohan stepped away from her immediately and his stinging gaze honed in on Imrahil. Lothíriel turned around and saw her father, Amrothos, a few of their most trusted Swan Guards, and a Rohirrim hurrying toward them.

"Ada," Lothíriel cried out immediately, rushing into her father's embrace and holding onto him tightly with one arm while cradling the other. Lothíriel could hear whispered Rohirric behind her. Imrahil gripped her tightly by the shoulders to move her away from himself so he could take inventory of her injuries.

"You've been harmed," Imrahil's voice was low and tight. He took off his splendid mantle and draped it over her shoulders, as her dress was sliced and was starting to slip further down her body. Without the King's heat, she realized how chilled she was. The majority of her back was bare, and the mantle provided cover she didn't realize she needed. She watched as the Rohirrim left his King and slipped away.

The King of Rohan cautiously approached them and cleared his throat. Imrahil looked at him. "Prince Imrahil," he spoke lowly and quickly, "I do not think it prudent to stand out here in the open any longer where prying eyes may discover us."

His eyes darted toward Lothíriel and back to her father, raising an eyebrow. Imrahil's eyebrows furrowed and he looked at his daughter. His eyes widened at what he saw and he nodded in agreement. Lothíriel felt confused.

Imrahil looked at the King, knowingly. "You are wise, my friend, and I perceive you have a plan. Mayn't I be aware of it?"

"This must be dealt with discreetly. It would do no good for our peoples to know what has happened here, on this night. Peace is still too fragile, and news of assassins infiltrating during the coronation day would cause chaos."

"And Lord Aragorn?"

The warrior-king looked thoughtful. "I am loathe to divulge this information to him immediately and taint this day with ill tidings. I would have us deal with it privately until tomorrow at least. The less people who know will be to our advantage."

Lothíriel turned at footsteps coming towards them, and the Swan Knights instinctually went into a defensive pose. The footsteps belonged to the Rohirrim returning from his errand. The Swan Knights only relaxed when Imrahil motioned them to with a wave of his hand.

He spoke rapidly to his king in Rohirric. The King of Rohan turned to Imrahil and explained. "I asked Éothain to procure the services of Éowyn. Your daughter needs her arm tended to, and I think it best that we do not go to the healer here, or else it will be reported. We needed someone trustworthy, and Éowyn has been studying the art of healing. Éothain has informed her of being needed, and she is waiting in her room with the appropriate supplies. That is, with your permission."

"That is agreeable," Imrahil said, turning from Lothíriel and speaking in hushed tones with the Swan Knights. The King of Rohan's expectant gaze shifted to Lothíriel. It took her a few seconds to realize he was waiting for her approval as well. She nodded mutely, a warmth spreading through her that had nothing to do with her wounded arm on which she was still putting pressure. At her consent, the King spoke to the man named Éothain in their language, and though she could not understand them, it sounded like they were arguing.

Suddenly she felt a hand at her elbow, and she was being ushered away by the Swan guards. Lothíriel stumbled often, and was steadied by one of her father's most trusted guards. Lothíriel didn't register for several moments that the knights were following Éothain through the servant corridors to the guest rooms. The further they walked, the more agitated Lothíriel could feel herself become. Finally, they arrived in a wing that Lothíriel recognized as being reserved for important dignitaries, and Éothain rapped on a solid wood door in a staccato rhythm before the lock clicked open. A beautiful woman with long golden hair answered the door a crack, her face drawn tight and worried. Upon seeing Éothain, she cried out and embraced him. She spoke quickly with him in their native language, and motioned for Swan Knights to stand guard at the door. She smiled tentatively at Lothíriel until she noticed the garment wrapped around her arm, and then the woman's face paled.

She spoke sharply with Éothain who answered in what Lothíriel perceived as a snippy tone. Lothíriel watched as Éothain shrugged the woman off and left while she was in the middle of a sentence. The woman looked extremely frustrated before taking a deep breath, schooling her features to one of calm and turned to Lothíriel and invited her in.

"My name is Éowyn," she said softly as she locked the door, gesturing at a padded bench at the foot of her bed for Lothíriel to sit on. Lothíriel's blood pumped thunderously through her veins and she could feel her body vibrate with energy as she moved to the bench and sat down. Despite her upbringing, Lothíriel could not still sit. She watched Éowyn glide with impossible grace over to a table positioned underneath a window. There were a variety of herbs mixed into poultices, a sharp needle and thread, and cotton fabric strips. A set of closed doors led to an adjoining room, which was for a spouse as was custom in Gondor. Perhaps Éothain's? Based off of their interaction, Lothíriel wasn't sure. Her general knowledge of the Rohirrim and their naming customs could very well point to Éowyn being Éothain's sister, which would make more sense. The room was large for just an apprentice healer, even if she was foreign, but perhaps it was due to Éothain's rank. A fireplace on the opposite side of the room boiled a pot of water and crackled comfortingly, though it did nothing to soothe Lothíriel's reeling mind.

"I'm Lothíriel of Dol Amroth," she provided, as she tried to think of anything that would keep her still, "and I'm so dreadfully sorry to disturb you during the festivities." Lothíriel gripped the fabric of her dress with one hand and forced herself to sit still as Éowyn approached her. The Rohirric beauty was dressed in the traditional dark blue robes of the Houses of Healing. The fabric was almost black in order to disguise blood stains, and had the White Tree of Gondor embroidered in shimmery thread on the left side over the collarbone. The robe was tied with a swath of fabric, silver in color and purely decorative, which indicated she was an apprentice. The higher up in training, the plainer and more practical the belt was. The Warden of the Houses of Healing had a leather belt which held many pouches and slots for tools. Her hair was down but plaited back. Its pale gold colour reminded her of a ghost crab Lothíriel routinely saw scuttling across the sand after dusk near one of her favorite places to sail.

Éowyn knelt down next to Lothíriel and reverently unwrapped the fabric from around her arm and folded it. She replaced it with a damp cloth. "Is he alright?" she inquired quietly, while pouring a sterilizing concoction over the wound to prevent inflammation.

Lothíriel ceased the bouncing of her leg and winced at the sting, startled out of her reverie. "Pardon?"

"Is the King alright?" she clarified, dabbing at the wound to clean it.

"Oh! How did you know he was involved?" Lothíriel puzzled aloud. Éowyn gestured towards the fabric at her feet that had been used to slow her bleeding. The discarded item was a costly tunic of brocaded green.

"The King of Rohan was wearing this. It used to be King Théoden's, and it has blood on the outside of it. Yours has not seeped through it yet."

"Oh!" Lothíriel flushed. She hadn't even realized that the King had given her his own tunic. She couldn't believe she hadn't noticed him in nothing but his under-tunic and breeches. She looked at the woman who was tending to her. Lothíriel thought that she looked frightfully pale. "Your King is completely unharmed, as far as I am aware," she reassured, recalling that the people of Rohan had already lost one King. Lothíriel watched colour return to her face and a look of immediate relief.

Éowyn breathed a prayer of thanks in her own language. Smiling at Lothíriel, she handed her a less than half full small glass phial to drink from. "This is the last of the poppy tears I could find. It should help to dull the pain while I stitch the wound closed. After this, all I have is willow bark," Éowyn explained.

Lothíriel downed the bottle in hopes that it would help. She immediately felt her heartbeat slow down, though she didn't feel sleepy like the last time she had been in this situation about a year ago.

"How is it that you were wounded?" Éowyn asked casually as she prepared the needle.

Lothíriel recalled vaguely that the King of Rohan had said Éowyn was trustworthy, but didn't know to what extent. She settled that it wouldn't hurt to tell the healer, but Lothíriel froze at seeing the threaded needle coming toward her. Éowyn, believing Lothíriel's hesitation to be from lack of trust, paused in her task. "Éothain told me it was ill-tidings for all, that you were attacked."

"He told you what happened?"

"Not the complete tale. I've known Éothain since we were very young. He grew up with my brother and I, and the three of us are still very close. My brother and he, especially. It is rare to see them parted. He said just that you were involved in a scuffle with an enemy, and the consequences of it are far reaching for us all."

"I was in the gardens," Lothíriel explained as she exhaled through her mouth, "when I heard a voice calling to me. It was your King, though I did not know it at the time. I saw a flash of steel in the corner of my eye. I tried to move him out of the way, but I wasn't fast enough. " Her speech slowed as the needle Éowyn held initially pierced her flesh. Lothíriel's eyes took on a glassy quality, and she appeared to be reliving some horrific memory from a time long passed.

"Breathe in through your nose and exhale through your mouth," Éowyn coached. Éowyn had witnessed many soldiers experience this after the Battle of the Morannon and had herself struggled with the episodes of the warriors' waking dream after the Battle of the Pelennor Fields. Lothíriel dug her nails into her upper thigh to ground herself and inhaled slowly through her nose and could feel herself return to reality as she exhaled.

Éowyn watched intently. She looked extremely contemplative as she knotted the final stitch and used a small dagger to remove the excess thread.

"I-" Lothíriel started to speak.

"Nay; there's no need to explain. It never happened." Éowyn interrupted her, making herself appear intently busy on wrapping Lothíriel's arm with cloth strips. Lothíriel looked extremely grateful, her vigor finally returning. "Well at least the assailant has been dispatched," Éowyn continued, hoping to distract her patient from feeling any residual uncomfortableness.

Lothíriel nodded. "Yes, it is good. Do you know if they captured his companion?"

Éowyn's sharp eyes snapped to Lothíriel's. "Éothain spoke only of one."

"Yes, one assassin. I'm talking about the accomplice he was with," Lothíriel said. She felt renewed energy flow through her body, like a thrumming running through her veins.

"They do not know there was a second enemy," Éowyn stated harshly.

"Well someone has got to tell them!" Lothíriel exclaimed, jumping to her feet as the urgency washed over her. She felt as if she were racing the rising tide; there were but a few, fleeting moments in which she could secure her fate. "There's a chance we could still prevent them from leaving the city."

"They are debriefing now in the war room as we speak," Éowyn spoke hurriedly. Lothíriel started towards the doors but was stopped by a firm hand on her shoulder. "Ye cannot go while you're like this."

Lothíriel wrenched her shoulder out from her grip and assumed her mask of indifference. "I am perfectly capable of speech, therefore I am going."

"Nay, I do not mean to prevent ye from going," Éowyn said softly, turning her palm up to suggest she meant no harm. "But ye may want to be at least properly covered up."

Lothíriel looked down at herself and blanched. Here she had been abashed at the King of Rohan in naught but his under-tunic and breeches, while she had looked twice as disheveled. The hem of her dress was a shade darker from the rest, stained from the blood pool. A rip on the side by her right knee must have happened when she hit the ground. But truly, the most mortifying thing was the top of her dress. Its mutilation to save her life had left her with little decency. The slips of fabric that served as her sleeves sagged near to her elbows, and Lothíriel realized that had she not been keeping her injured arm so close to her body, the entire dress would have slid down to expose her bosom. In fact, the entire torso at the back of her gown was ripped open, and displayed her bare back from the very nape of her neck to her tailbone.

"Sweet Elbereth," she breathed. Éowyn said something to Lothíriel she didn't catch and ventured into the adjoining room while Lothíriel took a mental inventory of everything wrong in her appearance. Her hair, which Maren had painstakingly taken the time to curl, was haphazard and wild. Lothíriel tried to run her fingers through it like a comb, but was interrupted by Éowyn returning.

"No clothing of mine will fit you," Éowyn apologized, handing Lothíriel a small stack of folded clothes. Lothíriel regretfully knew how true that statement was; Éowyn was slender everywhere that Lothíriel was not. Lothíriel's bust and hips would never fit into any of Éowyn's dresses. "I took this from my brother's room; Éomer won't mind. There's a pair of trousers and one of his old shirts, too. I found an old belt of his that should keep everything from falling off you."

Lothíriel thanked Éowyn and began to hurriedly strip off the remnants of her dress. Taking care not to unnecessarily jostle her arm, she slipped the soft shirt over her head and tucked it into the trousers. Éowyn had to assist her with tightening the belt. Lothíriel thought she looked like she'd been swallowed, but Éowyn looked at her approvingly, strangely satisfied with the end result. Lothíriel thought that was odd, but was distracted by Éowyn tossing worn leather boots toward her.

"We look to be the same size," she smiled. "You will look less ridiculous wearing these than your sodden slippers." Lothíriel looked down at her slippers and grimaced. "Now make haste."

Lothíriel threw a few words of gratitude over her shoulder as she darted into the corridor. She decided she would have to sacrifice a little time in the name of discretion. After all, imagine the fuss that would occur if some Gondorian were to recognize her, the Princess of Dol Amroth, while she wore trousers, not to mention her bandaged arm. Thus, Lothíriel followed the servants' corridors and passageways. Thankfully the party was still in full swing, unaware of the happenings, and the corridors were largely empty. Lothíriel was able to make it to the war room in record time.

Lothíriel took a fortifying breath and charged towards the doors, where two Swan Knights stood guard. One, the older of the two, looked panicked as she strode towards them. His bushy eyebrows lifted in surprise and his face paled. The younger's eyes widened, his jaw dropped open, and he flushed crimson. Both stood frozen as Lothíriel approached, and she could hear raised voices within the room. She grasped the door handle and wretched it open without delay, ignoring the belated reprimand of the elder guard croaking a distressed "Princess!"

She entered the war room.

Additional Context-

Nienna -a Queen of the Valar, the sister of Mandos and Irmo (known as the Fëanturi), acquainted with grief and sorrow but also pity and courage. She is ranked as one of the eight Aratar, the most powerful of the Valar. Her element is grief and she is ever mourning for the wounds of the world by evil. Those who listen to her learn wisdom and endurance in grief.

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sarcasticsweetlara · 1 year

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Rhaenys Targaryen, The Queen of the People

Summary: Rhaenys was the Queen of the People of Westeros, at least that was how the commoners felt.

Loved by many, hated by others.

Rhaenys never let herself be seen as weak.

Warning: Westeros misogyny

Rhaenys is a beauty with black hair in Canon.

Rhaenys Targaryen was the most beautiful maiden in the entire the realm.

One of Daemon's first memories was staring into Rhaenys' eyes.

Her eyes were the very same her father had, a rare shade of pale lilac. Her pale lilac eyes stood out even more thanks to her beautiful raven black hair.

Everytime Daemon looked at Rhaenys, he was sure he was looking at a Valyrian goddess.

Rhaenys thought Daemon's little crush on her was cute, she knew he would eventually grow out of it.

Rhaenys was five and ten years old, she had already flowered and as expected, many lords were asking for her hand. Rhaenys was not naive though. She knew they were proposing not because they had fallen for her, though their lusty looks upon her body gnawed her. Rhaenys knew they were all interested because she was the heir to the Iron Throne.

Surely they thought they could manipulate a dreamy teenager who did not know anything about the world.

But Aemon and Jocelyn, her parents, knew better as they had already prepared her to expect everything from everyone.

She wasn't surprised of hearing her grandfather Jaehaerys urging her parents to have another child. A son, more specifically, in order to succeed both Jaehaerys and Aemon, ad Jaehaerys said.

Nonetheless, Aemon and Jocelyn said they would guide their daughter in order to be a good ruler. Aemon always said there wasn't anyone better suited to the role than Rhaenys.

Her grandmother Alysanne was of great help too, she had been the first one to take Rhaenys to go the streets and see the Commonfolk.

Jocelyn accompanied them many times. They told Rhaenys that a ruler must know how their people are living and ensure to improve their lives.

Soon the commoners fell for the girl who visited them and cared for them.

Aemon and her uncle Baelon taught her how to fight, saying a ruler needed to fight alongside their people.

Jocelyn taught her as much as she could about the customs and laws of every single one of the regions of Westeros, emphasizing how important was to listen but also to always find common ground to make her rules and exert power. To listen and cede, but also to be steady and firm.

"You must be a just ruler Rhaenys, but also not let yourself fall to machinations and schemes." That was something Jocelyn would always tell her.

Alyssa would take her flying most of the time. Alyssa said she was proud Rhaenys was a warrior, a woman with the three attributes, the softness of Rhaenys the Conqueror, and the strength of Visenya the Conqueror. As well as she also was fierce and knew how to earn command with only a stare as Aegon the Conqueror did. After all, the Dragon has Three Heads.

It was necessary, said Alyssa, if she wanted to be the first woman to ever sit upon the Iron Throne.

Everytime a petty lord would try to woo her, she would ask them if they would be willing to kneel to her, to obey her as their queen, and everytime she asked, things would get awkward as they would try to evade the answer or would reply they expected her to come with them to their castles as surely her parents would try to have a male heir, or they would say they expected her to give the rule to them.

It wouldn't be easy, she knew, to get a husband willing to bend the knee for her and respect her, but she would find him. She knew she would.

Rhaenys wanted to make of Westeros a better place, if the commonfolk already loved her she would do her best for them.

She would start a new era, she was sure of it.

#Rhaenys Targaryen (daughter of Aemon and Jocelyn)#The Queen of the People #rhaenys the queen who never was #aemon (son of jaehaerys and alysanne)#Aemon Targaryen (son of Jaehaerys and Alysanne)#jocelyn x aemon #jocelyn baratheon #Aemon the pale prince #baelon targaryen #alyssa targaryen #king jaehaerys #good queen alysanne #alysanne targaryen #house targaryen #house of the dragon #fire and blood #the blood of the dragon runs thick #Rhaenys Targaryen The Queen of the People

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zoriety · 4 months

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game looks like average dull strategy war game but im so down bad for this dude on the dlc cover.... awoooo

#im a repeat offender #my ocs look like this #pale king gijinkas look like this #dark souls 3 twin princes looks like this #if hes 40 im even more sold frankly #ghetsis also looks like this

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iraniq · 1 year

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RAVINGER

A.N. My fave Joker story so far. Contains gore, torture and mentions of suicide. Read with caotion!

Everyone knows the Joker went ballistic after the tragic death of his fiancé Melisa Wayne. He was known to be insane before, but now he is unstable to say the least. He maintained appearance and a specific level of style, that came with his class. The suits, the jewelry, the hair. The purple Lamborghini, all custom made, paid with the blood money he made.

No one knows how he met Melisa. Some said he kidnapped her, some said she was tired of being raised in the glass castle with golden chains. She was never harmed and was often seen shopping with Oswald and Ed. Even baby clothes trips for Two Face's youngest adoptee Janus. Even Dr. Crane was seen with her on one of the fancy underground parties...

Then one night, one simple, chill late spring night all changed. The city woke up with the screams of the dying and blood was raining on the streets. Melisa was dead. And he went after everyone. Some suspected gang war, but T monster's last will, read 2 days after the Blood Morning, swore he was innocent and pleaded his people to leave Gotham for good.

Penguin and Riddler was missing. Probably ran away the same night, since they were the closest with Ms. Wayne.

Freeze was found half melted on the street with the scalp of his wife stitched to his hand...

Two Faced survived the longest - 3 days. Ended up setting his house on fire and burning in it with his wife and 4 children. People suspect he drugged them to bring them calm and burned them all to spar their corpses of the wreckage.

Nightwing and Batgirl were hanged and gutted in the backyard of the Wayne mansion... right on the sunset of the 4th day, when Mr. J announced to all Bryce was Batman.

Some suspected The Bat killed his own daughter after he found out she was pregnant with the Joker's kid.

The butler, Alfred was also missing.

There was a firm graffiti from Red Hood. There he confesses that he was Jason Todd, former Robin, who gave up on Batman after he was not too much pleasant than the Joker who almost beat him to death, right before he took off his mask and recognized his old time friend. He said that The Joker is beyond reason, that all citizens must evacuate, people must leave Gotham, and leave him be for his remaining time on Earth. It said he is leaving and will help the evacuation.

5th day was the quiet before the storm. The city was full of police and military. No one listened to Jason. Most ended up chewed to death by Killer Croc, who was Mr. J's personal pet on drugs. He experimented with the poor being to the moment where it answered only to him with little to no care of it's own life. Oswald and Edward came back, offering themselves to save the people.

Some people suspected they were responsible for Melisa's death, but if they were the Clown would not accept their offer.

Om the 6th day at noon most people were evacuated, some chose to stay, Jason went back to be with his friend, although some people plead him to leave. He responded with "he has no one, and he was there for me when i had no one". That was the last time someone saw or heard of him.

Dr. Crane was there too... too drugged by his menace gas to be adequate enough, he helped the joker make a zombie like army to scout around the city looking for alive people...

The cruel, but rather beautiful paled man with vivid green hair, silver teeth and always sharp purple outfits... looked more like a homeless drug addict now... dark messy hair, skinny, limping... he put so much make up on his face he looked grotesque...

Two weeks after Day one, as people called Blood Morning. Gotham got a radio signal. Single message from and unknown voice, saying "it is over" then muffed crying and radio silence.

When the police came back thy found literal wreckage of the city, took them almost all day to find the source. The message came from under the Wayne manner... in the tunnels... single big cave... untouched. An old man was sitting on the ground, crying. The police identify him as Alfred Pennyworth, Wayne Family butler. And later reviled as Batman's assistant. He was inconsolable. He kept on rambling and had to be sedated. The cave was untouched, so was the house.

People suspected it was because this was where she lived. One more week of cleaning and assessing the damage. The new mayor spoke with the poor old man.

People say that the young man came out of this room 10 years older... People suspect that whatever the old man had said must have been horrible... Alfred never spoke again and in 3 days passed away peacefully in his sleep. He was named hero. All consider the poor man who fathered orphan billionaire child was the one who killed the Joker. Since Melisa was too attached to the old man for the Mad Clown to kill him.

No one knew that after their conversation the mayor wrote everything down in an attempt to get it of his head... only he knew his wife accidentally saw it and could not take it and drown herself...

No one knew, he burned the note and was the one who cut the ribbon of "Pennyworth" memorial, appointing the everyday people who do good as the real heroes. People say, Gotham is safer now, the safest city even.

No one knows that it was the mayor who paid a gang to set the Wayne manor on fire, burn all evidence. No one knew one of the kids found Alfred's voice recorder on what happened...

< i am so sorry, so so sorry so sorr ... *cuts in tears*

I had no idea it would have happened like that, to whoever finds this, please take my life at sight, i cannot live like that anymore... *coughs*

She... Mel came back late again... Bruce was not at home... i spoke to her, she seemed agitated. We had just... *coughs* received an anonymous note on who her secret boyfriend is... Joseph... son of Jack Napier... the original Gangster named Joker. This one... he was born bleached skin... *laughs* I... i could not believe it.. i yelled at her, could see the pain in her eyes, i never yell at her... i would never… *cries* we argued... we were at the stairs... oh God... my baby... j am so sorry… *cries again, coughs* i got her hand, was trying to get her in her room, her dad was about to some shortly. We were gonna sit and talk... but she was no 14 years old girl anymore... i... i pulled her too much, she pushed away she... *laughs* she fell... *cries and laughs* she fell down the stairs... my baby... *cries*

It happened on … on last day of April…. She …. *cries* I barely listened to her … I never do these days … I am so consumed by the DAMN BAT’S VENGANCE *yells* I barely pay attention to my other child …. *cries* I raised her, she is …. She is my baby *cries* I … *recorder drops on the floor* *recorder is picked up* I didn’t listen … she said she love him, I asked how could she, after all his dad did to hers… kidnapping young Ms. Vale and forcing her to birth him a son … she protested, said Vicki ran away from Bruce… and was in love with the old gangster … this girl *coughs* she kept on speaking … I was so mad … I grabbed her hand … *muffed sounds* I … *cries* she fell … *coughs* I … might have pushed her … it was an accident I swear … I … *coughs* God spare this world … *cries*. He … he came the next morning, it was too early … no … Bruce came back in several hours, found me holding her already cold hand … I just nod my head … I could not say it … what I did *coughs* … *cries* they are both my children … *coughs* The Clown came in several hours … Walked through the door. Yelled “papa I am home” and laughed …. She must have told him… although Bruce suspected he knew way before that and that’s why he seduced Melisa … he was asking for her … he saw us … looked … that DAMN BASTARD LOOKED LIKE HE IS *yells and coughs* looked like he was at his own place … then he said, he was here for the breakfast … Bruce had no idea what he was talking about … she might have said something about it … I did not listened *cries* the Clown explained Mel wanted to gather us all to meet and to have an official meal together…. he even took his jacket off to show he had no guns *cries* he had come in the house of his greatest nemesis unarmed, out of the love for my granddaughter the one I … *cries* Bruce said she was indisposed, the clown said “yah I know, it has been while” then I knew … *several seconds of silence* and right after me … he knew as well. He spared no time in talking, hit Bruce with the vase and kicked me in the guts.

We woke up in a cell in the cave the same night. He came back … was even paler, his face looked like his nerves had been frozen in some weird sad mad grin… he had locked us and went on a killing spree, starting with the nearest houses, the streets were in literal … *cries* he gutted monster T strangled him with his … *coughs* insides, since he always smiled at her …. *voice shaking* he brought a radio, and emergency line was ongoing telling every detail, he said he gave them their life back, but they must tell everything every little detail. He was completely mad … I had no idea he was sane before … everyone thought he was … *cries* the 2nd day he tortured one of his best friends and his wife, he could not stand them happy … he killed her, made him watch … then sewed her face on his … the news said it different, but I know what I saw, he showed us the pictures he made *cries* every time he killed a person he cut a piece of Bruce … cooked him and ate him … in front of us … he was inconsolable … was looking for the Riddler and the Penguin… Two Faced killed his family and burned them, to spare them the pain … he knew the monster would come for his children … on the 4th day we awoke with the hanging Richard and Barbara … he had written “Bruce Wayne is batman, and non of them can keep his kids alive” *cries* he cooked Bruce’s leg that night … with mushroom sauce… *cries*

Jason came at some point, tried to reason with him, they talked, screamed, Jason gave up and left … *coughs* was allowed to leave. I don’t know in which life hey were friends … *cries* I don’t know how it all went down …

On the 5th day Os and Edd came in the cave … they offered their lives … were brutally …. Were killed I wanted to look away, but he made me … they looked each other, smiled even … *cries* the tenderness and love in their eyes … *coughs and cries* he had the same expression hen he came to look for Melisa that morning *silence* … they saved the city, because of them almost all manages to escape … *coughs* whoever stayed was a pray for Killer Croc, he was drugged with something, poor creature *laughs* I wished him death for so long, but when I saw what the Clown did … dr. Crane was there too, Joker tortured him into madness, he made him kill his clone … his own son and laughed about it laughed while repeating how much Melisa liked the little boy … Bruce … Oh Bruce *cries* he was dead … I don’t know when it happened *laughs* the bastard kept on eating him …

*coughs* he was changed … he ate … we ate the last of Bruce and the last night, 6 days after it all started he confessed he made a deal with a demon out of this world … right after he knocked us out … he asked for the strength to kill everyone involved in her death … the demon said the price is great *laughs* the Bastard just shrugged, his wish got granted, the price … the price… *laughs then cries* he was rotting alive … he had no need of me to live, could kill me … but no *laughs* had to make everyone suffer and barely hurt me. The next morning he untied me… he wore so much make up and his hair was almost all fallen of … he smiled, his teeth were all gone, he then started screaming and his cheek fell off … *cries* I begged him to kill me … then he said “no”, he just sat next to me, said nothing, we stood like that, for 5 min or 5h I don’t know, a black smoke came ... I shat my pants, he just laughed … then this wild disconnected from the world man, got up, fixed his suit and said “ I am ready “ and walked into the black mist. Before he disappeared at full, he told me the radio is working and I can let everyone know it was over … I stayed there for a long time, hoping to die … but I did not, my greatest pain was that all suffered because of me … *laughs* it all went down *cries* because I refused to listen to… *cries* then I called the radio… I got saved from the slaughter … and so many more died *cries* please … whoever finds me, just save me from the misery … end my life … I am recording this, since I don’t know how long I will be consciousness or alive … but I … *cries, laughs and cries again* I am so sorry my dear … I am … *cries* *recording disconnects* >

No one knows it was Jason who found the shocked boys on the verge of madness and shot them, setting the mansion on fire himself.

People suspect Jason Todd, known as Red Hood, killed himself by poison after witnessing his only true home burning in flames.

No one knows it was Jason who found the shocked boys on the verge of madness and shot them, setting the mansion on fire himself.

People suspect Jason Todd, known as Red Hood, killed himself by poison after witnessing his only true home burning in flames.

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

@diyunho @loki-hargreeves

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universestreasures · 1 year

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@blasterdiablo Sent: An 𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐀 Sentence Starter (Accepting!)

❝ i’m allergic to dogs. ❞ [Junos to Luquier for Club lololol, junos trying to convince himself he’s not hurt by this absolute betrayal

This idiot...

Luquier had thought after their last encounter that night she’d never see this guy again, let alone so far away from the palace. Though, she should have predicted the possibility considering the beast she had tamed by pure accident. The fact it happened at all was still surprising to the young vampire assassin. In all her years she’s never seen a High Beast abandon their master, especially when they were facing down an enemy.

Then again, this noble idiot wasn’t much of a master, was he? That much was evident by the pathetic tone lacing his words. He might be trying to act tough, but she could see it in this wine-red eyes of his that he was upset beyond belief she stole his dear canine away. Serves him right for what he put her through that night. The fact he’s not a dead corpse right now was a blessing Luquier was giving him considering he wasn’t her target at the moment. No need to waste her energy when no payment was to be delivered after.

Besides, she’s sure he’ll be up for bounty again eventually. It seems like with all the trouble he causes and gets into, he’s a walking target for assassins and mercenaries. Noble vampires had no use for weaklings among their ranks. In fact, she’s heard a rumor the only reason the current prince of the vampires was still alive was because of his rare royal blood. Guess he’ll be an easy target if some vampire or human wants to stage a coup of some kind, something Luquier suspects will be the case at some point in the future.

Vampires...Humans...They all just loved getting into fights with each other for power. And while she has a preference towards the idea of the humans winning, regardless of which side wins she is sure she’ll benefit from it. With both sides hating each other, she’ll always have clientele, after all. As long as she had that, she'll continue to further her own position in the world. That was all that really mattered, anyway.

“Is that so? Well, I guess you won’t be needing your precious beast back, will you Lord Idiot?” The assassin smirks, petting the beast she had learned was called Fullbau’s head. She was enjoying seeing this idiot squirm. It was almost as satisfying as beating him to a pulp.

Almost.

“You take can your leave now that your business here is finished.” She assumes he was just here to try and get his dog back, after all. Why else would he willingly seek out someone who was hired to kill him before? “Be grateful you’re not my target today. You might not be so fortunate the next time our paths cross.”

#💎 King Of The Blasters Of Darkness (Blasterdiablo)#💎 Assassin Treasure (Asaka Narumi)#💎 Assassin Answers (Asaka Asks)#💎 Assassin's Hidden Sanctuary For The Cursed Crimson (Asaka Pale Moon Club AU)#tw long post #(THE LOOK ON HER FACE WHEN I BET JUNOS GONNA SAY: OH I CAME HERE TO SEE YOU #(LMFAOOOOO #(THIS JUNLUQ SLOW BURN MAN #(ITS INTERESTING THAT HES THE ONE PINING AFTER HER INSTEAD OF THE OF THE OTHER WAY AROUND. ROLE SWAP #(I ALSO BET THE REASON SHE DIDNT KILL HIM THE FIRST TIME IS FULLBAU GOT HER TO SAFTEY BEFORE THE REST SHOWED UP #(ESSENTIALLY FORCING HER TO RETREAT #(I BET HER CLIENT WASNT TOO HAPPY BUT THEY DECIDED TO LET I GO FOR NOW #(MAYBE IF IT IS JUNOS' DAD IT COULD BE THE AROUND THE TIME OF THE OTHER JUNOS AHMES THREAD WHERE HIS POWER WOKE UP #(AND JUNOS CAN SAY HE DID THAT #(AND THUS GET CREDIT #(DAD COULD BE ALL: OH HES GOOD FOR GETTING THE PRINCE TO UNLEASH HIS POWERS THROUGH ANNOYANCE #(MAYBE HE CAN LIVE A BIT LONGER LMFAO IDK

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vamprei · 2 years

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𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍. 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘳.

due to their family’s peculiarities, people were pretty well tuned-in to the fact that rei and his brother were “vampires,” in the way that his family regards their illness. having traits of anemia, lupus, and overall health deficiencies (headcanon pending), people who were close to his family all kind of knew he was as different as the rest of them. however, he was also exceeding wise for his age, if only due to how much he consumed when it came to his education. whether in school or out, rei took to all forms of media consumption as a way to cope with being shut-in due to his illnesses, his favorite forms being documentaries, non-fiction, and classical literature. this wisdom starting showing around age seven, when he became a natural at leading and advising his peers. all throughout rei’s youth, he was really regarded as almost beyond human, with people perceiving his wisdom beyond age. as he got older, people began to treat him almost as some kind of wiseman, coming to him for advice and guidance, and while rei was extremely happy to help, he didn’t realize the toll it took on his mental state.

being depended on and desired and praised for his intellect and talents did have an impact on his ego, and somewhere between starting at yume.nosaki and before the creation of the five eccentrics, he did own into the idea that he was like a god of sorts. he allowed himself to be praised and sought out, and almost had a hand in the purge of yume.no.saki. however, i think that when he saw ei.chi and ke.ito use their abilities to manipulate so strongly, as well as realizing where he stood on the matter, he had to step away from the center of it all. if he tried to fix everything from the inside, that ego would only make things worse, and he’d end up playing more of a role in a disaster than saving the academy.

so, that’s another big reason he withdrew. left dead.manz, gave his guitar to k.oga, and abandoned his little brother in the process. not only was he seeking answers to his health, but he was trying to find new ways to use what he had to better himself, as well. advising people not with intellect, but volunteering with his time and labor. humbling himself while still staying true to his desires to help people.

as well, he doubled down on all the things that made him strange and unlikable to others, especially those who now saw the five eccentrics as people to blame for the inequity in idol production. rei bought into the vampire aesthetic, buried himself in this persona of a victorian vampire, and let that weirdness create a barrier between him and his powers of manipulation. if people did not want to be near him, he could not possibly overstep and hurt them. and this worked, for the most part. upon returning to the aca.demy, the change was so drastic that, to this day, second and third years who knew him before are bewildered why he suddenly went from a punk rocker to a grandpa. having that self-nerfing of his charisma kept him from essentially being a cult-leader.

now, he’s trying to rectify his true self among everything, and it is difficult. but he is content knowing that he has people who care for him and accept him regardless of what “him” he is, namely his unit members and the five eccentrics. but he also honestly has a really fun time with the vampire thing, and it reminds him of when he and ri.tsu were younger.

#❛ ♰ 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯. ╾ pale kings and princes too pale warriors death-pale were they all.

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