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blzzrdstryr · 3 years

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Reveries of the Past. Yandere!Childe x Fatui!gn!reader

Wordcount: 3875

CW: Dissociation, graphic depiction of violence, hallucinations, unhealthy relationship and unhealthy power dynamics.

A.N.: I used a lot of my experience with dissociations in this and if it makes you uncomfortable, I would advice not to read it. I also plan on writing continuation for this, as it’s set before the Rite of Descension. P.s. I am not a native English speaker, so could you notify me if there’s awkward wording.

[Next chapter]

There are plenty of times you find yourself reminiscing about the past and now, your mind slips back to your memories, as you look at the horribly mangled body of the treasure hoarder. The stench of blood stuffs up your nose, it’s sickly sweet metallic odor making your gut clench and nausea rise, as your limbs grow heavier and numb. You don’t feel like you belong in your skin and bones and blood anymore - it’s cold, so cold, yet you don’t feel any of it. You are an outsider, an unwanted intruder in the house that is your body, an indifferent observer looking at the world through the thick glass.

The world around disfigures, shapes and colors changing in the constant whirlwind - they jump and dance around, small becoming large and large shrinking so much it’s barely visible, green shifts to red to blue and to yellow and to million of other colors, and sounds suddenly become muffled, losing their sharpness, but you don’t care about it: the part that is “you” fled to the daydreams of your childhood moments ago, leaving a clinically observing, yet unfeeling being behind.

Adults would describe you as a perfect child: quiet, obedient and dutiful, you were a stark contrast to the other louder and more free spirited kids. You studied hard, cleaned the house, helped with dishes and cooking and never talked back.

I can't upset mom and dad because they work so much. I can't play with other kids because if I do, they will make fun of me, I have to study hard and get good grades, because mom said I will have a good job and become rich and help them.

These particular memories don't feel good to you: they're bleak and boring, yet full of silent shame - they make your throat clog and eyes water, as something burning starts to bloom deep underneath your skin.

Childe stops beating the still alive treasure hoarder, a blood smeared on the cheek and a dangerous glint in his eyes, and turns his head to you.

"Hey, how about lending me a helping hand?", there’s a hunger in his voice you recognize, he wants to teach a lesson to the debtors, then. You walk towards him, feeling your knees get weaker and weaker with each step for some reason. A dagger made of ice shines in your hand with cold light.

"It's no wonder [First] received a vision! My [First] is always so good and smart, there are no children better" the exact words your mother says, as she brags to her friends, showing them the vision you were bestowed with. You left it to her, not caring what will happen to it - despite all the child's wonder you felt before receiving it, the glowing orb doesn’t look so amazing to you now. It feels foreign and ugly, a reminder of what happened seconds before you gained it.

“You know, when I was a child”, he takes the weapon and focuses on the treasure hoarder’s leader again, “we made a special kind of promise”. It’s tip travels to the hoarder’s hand. “You make a pinkie promise, you keep it all your life”

The sweet voice he uses and the fact that you know the nursery rhyme too would make you sick in the stomach the other day, but not now.

You don’t exactly remember how you joined the Fatui - it happened shortly after you gained a vision, when you were still too numb and cold to the outside world after the Event.

Mom will hate me, dad will hate me too. I can’t let them know.

Your parents say that officials just knocked on the front door one day and offered you an entry into the Fatui and a monthly salary, big enough to stop your parents from overworking themselves. You were terrified back then, Fatuis despite being known as a diplomatic organization are still a mystery to the ordinary Shezhnayan and a direct servants to Her will. The thought of disappointing Tsaritsa or letting down Snezhnaya was enough to paralyze you, but seeing the smiles on your parents faces was enough to make you swear to yourself, that you will work there no matter how scary it seems.

“You break a pinkie promise, I throw you on the ice.” The blade stops between phalanges of the little finger: “The cold will kill the pinkie that once betrayed your friend", he presses it, strong enough to detach the limb from the rest of the body in one swift slash. Treasure hoarder starts to cry and scream from the sudden pain, yet quickly chokes on it as Childe hits him in the solar plexus. The crack of bones feels deafening among the sea of muffled sounds.

Training was rigorous to say the least, you came back to your dorm room absolutely exhausted and after you fell on the bed you were practically dead to the world. Turns out, having a vision wasn’t enough to make you a fighter - you needed to know how to climb, swim, run with a weight to lift and wield a weapon. There were other children and teens with you, they eyed your vision with a mix of adoration and envy, you pretended not to catch it in turn.

“The frost will freeze your tongue off so you never lie again”, harbinger forces the victim's jaw apart by squeezing it with one hand, the other rapidly forcing a dagger inside the mouth. Treasure hoarder gasps and mumbles, fat tears forming in his eyes. A part of you expects a sound of parting flesh, but none comes: Tartaglia stands up and removes the blade, leaving a shivering and terrified man laying on the ground.

“Well,” Childe shrugs, as if he didn’t just dismember a person, voice back to his cheery tone : “You didn’t actually make a pinkie promise, so consider it a small mercy”. The treasure hoarder cowers even more, snuggling the injured hand close to the bruised chest. “But if you fail to repay your debt I will oversee that the frost”, he points in your direction, a treasure hoarder’s eyes going wide as he notices your vision, “will actually freeze your lying tongue off”, his voice descends again, back to it’s dangerous half-whisper.

You meet Ajax during the winter, he’s close to you in age and just arrived into Fatui grounds. He boasts and shows off to all of you, and you desperately want to retort something acidic to shut him up and rip off that arrogant bravado, yet say nothing, picturing how the tomorrow training session will have him laying flat on his back, too hurt and too tired to move even a single finger.

He defeats the trainer in less than a minute.

Now, that the treasure hoarder fled, still snuggling disfigured limb, Childe turns attention back to you. “You seem a little bit disinterested here”, his hand on your cheek is so foreign, it’s burning and freezing at the same time, the shock from the unwanted touch almost strong enough to pull you back into reality. He notices your unintentional flinching and unfocused eyes “Ah, you hurt my feelings, [First]! And I thought we already became friends”.

You say nothing, cold and unmoving, blind and deaf to the outside world, his words register a second too late, and there’s no cliche phrase for you to reply with. He looks a bit baffled and deflated for a second, but shrugs it off, just like he did during teen years, when you deliberately ignored all his attempts at catching your attention.

“Huh, even if you are so cold to me, I still forgive you”, he takes your hand, his touch still too overwhelming for you to process and pulls you back to Liyue harbor, your legs barely bending as you walk after him, like an obedient dog trailing it’s master.

“You know [First], I can beat you up so badly, that you will barely walk”, you put feather aside, stopping writing the letter to your parents as you glare at Ajax with barely masked indignation. He grins, satisfied to finally catch your attention after the whole day of pestering you. “I am aware of that” you reply in an absolutely flat tone, holding yourself from pouncing on him and trying to break the teeth out of that smug smile. He beams even wider, as if sensing your not-so-good intentions, revealing even more pearly whites as if taunting you.

“But I won’t, count yourself lucky”. And he leaves, this short interaction filling you with so much rage that you shake, handwritten letters noticeably becoming sharper and faster, your thoughts clouding around the idea of acquating his face with your boots.

Nonetheless, you indeed count yourself fortunate enough, when you see Ajax defeating grown men with bare hands. When you two, the only vision holders among your peers have to spar, he always goes easy on you, prefering to immobilize you rather than beating, making your defeat less painful yet even more humiliating.

Almost at the end of your trail he suddenly stops and says something, but you don't catch it, words turning into separate vowels and then fusing together into one unintelligible gibberish mess. He leans in, close enough for his breath to burn your neck, and he continues to get closer, until his empty eyes look into yours glazed ones. He seems disappointed for a second and backs down, his breathing no longer fanning your skin.

Distantly you think that you somehow angered him and he will slap you for it, and do nothing to dodge the hit - you barely feel pain in this condition anyway, but he doesn’t. The road to the Northland Bank is completed in absolute silence, Childe no longer trying to grab your attention, only when you enter Liyue Harbor does he whisper, that you two must look like a pair with all that hand holding. Judging by the volume and tone of his voice he says it more to himself than to you.

***

You come back to yourself in the safety of your room on the third room of the Northland bank. It feels like a rush of sensation, as everything becomes sharper and clearer again, like you just swam to the surface of water from the very depths of it. An invisible bubble around your head pops in one moment, and the world becomes real again, mind and body connecting for once more.

Eyes and ears focused you take in surroundings: the room is neat and lifelessly empty - just a bed and a working desk with a stack of written but unsent letters, along with a small bookcase near, no figurines, pictures or even plants to decorate living place, as you see no reason to adorn the area you use for sleeping only. Indiscernible wallpapers and a small window close to the middle of the bed finish the picture of austerity.

Once, your memory catches up to you, you can't help groan from the shame and irritation, hiding your face in both hands. Afterwards always feels both like a disgraceful escape and a warm blanket during the stormy night, a duality that you accepted long ago after joining the Fatui and today is no exception. You curse Harbinger when you remember why exactly you had an episode, and get up from the bed you threw yourself on minutes ago. You come to the desk, taking a clean form of a relocation request from the drawer and writing materials.

Filling in the blank feels like commiting a felony to you for some reason - you stop several times when you hear footsteps in the corridor, focusing on the door,ready to hide the half written form and say some lie as an excuse. You don't list the Childe-related reasons, knowing that there's nothing that could make any of the Harbingers face the consequence for their actions, and instead you write completely normal and fake causes: health concerns, family matters and so on. Part of you doubts that this will work and you will have the fortune to get away from a certain harbinger as far as possible. Trying and failing is better than never attempting, you think, quickly writing the paper.

Once you finish it, you almost rush to Ekaterina, praying that you won't run into a certain ginger on the way. Sometime ago you caught Tartaglia checking your letters, for a secrecy he said back then, we can’t let anyone know about the coming operation. Childe then instilled that every sent and received letter should be checked, lest Qixing and other Liyuens learned what Fatui had in plan. It sounded logical and sensible, but the paranoid thought that he enforced this policy just to have a glimpse at your feelings never stopped eating at you. From that day on you sent your family the most basic and vague letters, just stating that you’re in good health and mind, still missing them and Snezhnaya, leaving the ones with more private sentiments in your room.

Her eyes are completely obscured by the mask, but even with that you can’t miss the pointed glare she sends your way - Tartaglia never shied away from showing off, be it his strength, money or his twisted obsession that he calls love. With the amount of time and finances he spends on you and the way he acts like a kicked lovesick puppy in your vicinity, you are pretty sure that at least half of the bank workers see you as a cunning and cruel seducer, so keen and devious in the art of temptation that you managed to lure in Eleventh Harbinger.

As if archons decided to laugh at you, Childe descends from the second floor too, catching the sight of you near the receptionist. He looks unusually somber for a moment, but then he sees you, a smile appearing on his face as he takes the form from Ekaterina's hands. You can just feel how Ekaterina rolls her eyes under the mask, as if muttering complaints about the lovers’ spat and insubordination, having been working with her for some time, enough to have a clue of the inner workings of her mind.

You have to give him that he plays the confusion and regret very persuasively. He asks how he can fix this, says what a valuable team member you are to him and how much you are needed in the Northland bank. You agree to his suggestion - if years of training with Ajax and then work with Childe taught you anything, it is that Ajax is the chaos incarnate and Tartaglia is Ajax’s less tolerable and more unpredictable version, so it’s better not to anger him.

***

In the end he invites you to dine with him at Wanmin restaurant, a place Childe heard from some “xiansheng” as he called them. A bustling Liyue street is open before you two, tall midday sun painting the whole street into bright orange, so unlike the pristine white landscapes of Snezhnaya. He orders two Black Back Perch Stews on the chef's recommendations, and hands a bouquet of local flowers in a parody of a normal boyfriend. Any random observer would really see it as a date.

You take the flowers, pretending to pay more attention to them than to a man sitting near you. Tartaglia is an unpredictability wrapped in human skin, there’s no privilege as being lax and carefree near him, as even Tsaritsa has no idea what he will do next.

To your mutual confusion Xiangling presents the meal with two pairs of chopsticks. Utensils feel foreign in your palm, you having no idea how to handle them and Childe, by the looks of it too. Tartaglia specifically asks the chef for spoons, while you observe the other clients, noting how they use theirs. Holding one stick like a pen and then placing the bottom one in a fixed position under the thumb you manage to grasp the fish from the soup, albeit clumsily. You consider it a small win.

The image of a mighty Harbinger struggling in a failing battle with chopsticks would look funny to you, if it wasn’t for the whole "date" you were having. After putting them aside, and seemingly admitting defeat, Childe starts from afar: "You know [First], you changed a lot since I first met you" .

You raise an eyebrow at the starter, it's vague and innocent enough, but experience tells you that he will or at least try to stir the conversation into your relationship with him again. Straightening a bit and finally turning your eyes to him, you pause for a second, picking the least offensive reply you can muster - there’s a swarm of insults buzzing at the tip of your tongue prepared just for him, growing and sprouting since your pubescent years.

“Yes, I got taller”, he laughs it off, like you said some funny joke, his giggles not stopping for some time. "No, I mean as a person. Remember how you used to glare at me for joking? And now you act so unfazed ”

Joking. Is this what he calls it? Shivers creep up your spine when your memory oh so conveniently conjures the images of the aftermath of his jokes.

“Your jokes weren’t funny to anyone but you”. Breathe, you think, there’s no need to anger him. There are pictures of broken bones and bruised bodies and a cacophony of somebody else’s pained screams flashing and rattling in your head, Adults never did anything. Why would they? They had a golden boy Ajax, why would they help the others when they had him? Why would they help you? Bitterness and anger you thought you swallowed long ago rise up to the surface again, and you decide to bite down on the stew - Tartaglia always found a way to turn your words against you and hurt you, no need to give him more weapons now.

“I changed a lot too. I know I was insufferable as a teen”, he must have taken your silence as a free pass to continue whatever nonsense he’s sprouting, “I am sorry”.

The last three words catch you off guard, a piece of fish almost stuck in the throat from the jolt. Ajax takes you by surprise once again, for him to finally acknowledge and apologize for all the pain he caused and years he tormented you?

You blink and look at him intently, his facial expression changing into an unusually somber one. It seems authentic enough.

“Let’s start from the scratch?

You contemplate unsure what to say.

Was he lying?

Looking back, you in a sense are luckier than most of Childe's victims, witnessing his youth, familiarizing and distinguishing the tells of him lying and scheming, observing the way he bloomed into the manipulator he is today firsthand. You see a familiarity in his face and voice, something that helps you from falling to his charms. There's also the added fact that you were and still are an involuntary witness to the way how carnal and bloodthirsty usually friendly Ajax can become.

When did you catch his attention?

You remember his smile when he first approached you, less teeth and more sincerity that is thereafter,a hand outstretched to you. It happens on the next day after his arrival, almost as cold and unpleasant as the previous one. You brush the limb away like a noisy fly, secretly angry at his arrogant attitude and how effortlessly he endured training. His smiling doesn’t stop, yet you feel a sudden change in the air around you.

Would your fate be different if you took his hand?

You can't forget how your mind disconnected from your body for the second time. It was Ajax again vying for your attention akin to a spoiled child, and like one he threw a tantrum when you refused to give him any. The poor recruit you were talking with was hospitalized the same day, as you helplessly watched the carnage before you. You didn't fight, you didn’t flee, you just froze, like a scared animal, paralyzed by fear, yet somehow too detached from feelings. That day was bizarre: once you felt reality, it was solid and undeniable and then you didn't. The realness of the current diffused, slipped through the fingers like sand, leaving nothing but unreliable and delusive reveries behind.

Will he let you go?

“People do change and I see that you changed too. I don’t think of you as a teen you were” you carefully pick the words, Tartaglia visibly blooms, thinking that his apology worked, yet your next words snuff out his triumph: “but my memories stay the same. I don’t think we can start from scratch”

You bite the tongue, the second part still coming out too harsh for your liking. The moment of sincerity is interrupted, you see him, changing the masks, unsure what to do. It seems for the first time it was you who caught him off guard. You guess which one of the two standard facades he will decide to show to you, having spent years by his side to observe him masterfully wielding both, the friendly one with a vacant smile that never reaches his dead, dead eyes or the calculating one, distant and devoid of humanity?

In the end he uses none, a hurt still evident, dripping in his tone, face and moves - is it another mask you never got to see or is it real? - “So that is your answer”, he leans in closer, dull cerulean eyes looking right into yours.

You hold his stare, nodding, instead of saying anything and he hums, sitting back and wearing the cold mask, reserved for his enemies: “Just wanted to remind you that I am the Harbinger and you are just a position higher than an ordinary agent”. Despite seeing it so many times, it’s the first time he directs it at you and you have to suppress the shiver. The unsaid threat hangs heavy in the air, suffocating you.

You two are no longer solemn [First] and annoying Ajax, who trails your steps behind like a puppy, no, you are a special agent [Last] and Eleventh Fatui Harbinger Tartaglia, to whom you are personally assigned by Tsaritsa herself. Even possessing vision and delusion yourself you can’t match Childe’s power, and your loss would be easy to overlook if your harbinger wished for it. Honestly speaking, there are a lot of things he could do to you without anyone questioning it, the Harbingers being the second most powerful figures in the organization, right after Tsaritsa herself. You heard the stories of Krupp and other assistants who got missing under Il Dottore, you heard of horrible accidents happening to the people Scaramouche dislikes, you heard about the injuries Signora inflicts on the unfortunate recruits when she is in foul mood, yet you never thought that Tartaglia will abuse his power in the same way.

“Don’t worry” he seems to have taken mercy on you, “I won’t use my position like that, it’s cheating and I like to play the fair game”, despite the seemingly reassuring words , you don’t let yourself relax, knowing him for years.

“Don’t think I will back down though, I am not the type to give up”

#yandere genshin impact #yandere childe #yandere childe x reader #yandere tartaglia #Yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere x reader #Yandere #Childe #Tartaglia #Dialogues are hard #My brain is melting #It's 4 am where I live #Reader will have a crush on Zhongli in ch 2 #my writing

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mkbosworth · 2 years

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HOSAB - Sword & Knife Theory

So about that legend around the Starborn sword and knife....when sword and knife are reunited – so will our people be.

The end of HOSAB suggests this legend is MUCH bigger than Bryce and Ruhn, and their Starborn ancestry.

I have the theory that Theia Starborn's daughters split the sword and knife between them. Helena kept the sword in CC. While her sister took the knife/dagger back to Prythian (on her mission to save the ACOTAR world from the Asteri once more.)

So....the legend actually speaks about connecting the Fae people across worlds. Which in theory, could only happen once a Starborn Fae learned the truth about their ancestry and returns to the origin world. The legend is that the CC Fae and the ACOTAR Fae need to reunite.

Here are my thoughts/questions now...

....is Bryce in Prythian as a layover on her way to Hel...merely to collect the knife and warn the IC about the Asteri wanting to re-enter their world. Oh, and also concretely establish for the IC that the Harp can be used to world travel (which, duh.)

OR...is Bryce in Prythian to collect the knife, warn the IC about the Asteri, AND raise a Fae Army. I mean....does she even need to go to Hel if she can raise an Army in Prythian...would that not achieve her objectives?

TBH...it's probably a mix of both. I do think that Bryce has a rendezvous with Aidas, in Hel. It's been hinted since CC1.

But I also think that once Rhys x Feyre x IC learns that the Asteri want to conquer their world they're going to rally the forces of Prythian to step the eff up. (Sidebar: This is likely leading to Rhys as The High King of Prythian plot-point....as someone will have to lead and command all of Prythian into battle). I think the IC will figure out how to activate the Horn (either Feysand's powers or Nesta's remaining power should do the trick). They're also gonna figure out that the Harp can be used to travel between worlds.

Ultimately, I get the sense that Bryce is gonna world-hop and pull and Aelin - aka uniting armies from across the worlds to come together and fight at the absolute crucial moment. We're gearing up for an epic cross-over battle at the end of CC3.

Crack Pot Theory 1 : Because of the parallels between Ruhn and Rhys – might there be a moment in which Ruhn & Rhys do something epic together (i.e. kill one of the asteri.)

Crack Pot Theory 2: The sword and dagger are opposites. The sword reacts/calls to Bryce’s light power. The knife calls to Az’s shadow powers. The same sort of shadow powers that Ruhn has. Bryce claims that the sword is Ruhn’s…but thought maybe the knife was hers. I think it’s the other way around. It will be Bryce with her light power using the sword and Rhun with his shadows using truth-teller = Something Epic. The question is…will Az give up the dagger? And how’d he get it in the first place? Did he “earn” it in his ordeal (aka the blood rite.)

#acosf #acosf theory #acosf thoughts #sarah j maas #smj #cc hosab #cc hosab spoilers #house of sky and breath #rhysand #rhun #bryce quinlan #starborn #feyre

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systlinsideblog · 3 years

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Part 5

Systlin slept.

She always dreamed in vivid detail; scents, sounds, touch. Often, the dream felt quite real, until of course she woke.

This dream was warm. The warmth of the feather bed, of the blankets. The pleasant warmth from the summer breeze blowing through the open window. The warmth, most of all, of Foicatch.

She rested her cheek against the solid warmth of his chest, eyes closed. The beat of his heart, the tickle of the hairs on his chest against her nose, the smell of his skin, were all as vivid as reality.

He smelled faintly of smoke; he'd been in the forge, then. He didn't need to, of course. Hadn't, for a long time. A Bloodguard earned quite enough to hire a smith for whatever they might need, and a King Consort had the royal smith at his disposal.

But Foicatch, before any of that, had been the son of a master carpenter, and a smith's apprentice. He wore the tattoo on his arm that proclaimed his journeyman status proudly, even after two years spent in a city guard, a decade and more in the Bloodguard, and another twenty years as King Consort.

He rather liked rubbing it in the faces of some of the high lords and high ladies, to be quite honest. A smith was an honored craftsman. And he liked the forge. He liked watching the colors of the flames, the smell of hot metal and smoke, the steam from the quench tank. He liked the sound of the hammer and the feel of it in his hand. And so, quite often, the King Consort of the Northern Lands, the father of the heir to the Throne of the North, would go down to the royal smithy and serve as assistant to the master smith of Stellas Keep.

He joked sometimes that he was still working for his master-craft tattoo. It was, Systlin knew, not entirely a joke.

She pressed her cheek against the solid warmth of him. His hand was moving, fingertips stroking her spine from nape of neck to small of back and back up.

His fingers were rough, both from a sword and from the forge hammer. Systlin liked that about them, and how strong they were.

The sensation of his heartbeat under her cheek, the lingering glow of pleasure shared, and the fingers stroking her back were glorious. She hummed in pleasure, and felt him chuckle softly.

"Little cat." He said, teasingly. "You're purring."

"Mmm." She kept her eyes closed. She was the Queen Regnant of the North, had fought two wars, held the high lords in check mainly through fear of her and had earned the love of the common folk by shedding blood and sweat for them. She was a Breaker, the first in centuries, and rumored to be the most powerful yet to live. She held that power, and herself, on a tight leash.

But here, in the bedroom she shared with her husband, it all melted away for a little while.

She wondered, yet again, if he knew just how much he was the center of sanity that kept her moored and grounded. She had told him, of course, but still.

Foicatch shifted. She made a sound of protest, and he tweaked the gold ring in her ear playfully. She sat up reluctantly, eyeing the matching bond-ring in his ear and contemplating tugging back.

"I have something for you." His voice was soft.

She raised an eyebrow. He rolled to the side; she appreciated the shift of his muscles under his skin as he did so. He was a wonderfully built man.

"Here." He took something from the bed-table, and turned back to her. "I made this today."

'This' was a small round piece of iron. It was beautifully made, twisted threads of wire in a complicated interlinked pattern of knots. In the center was engraved the eight-pointed star of her family. It was strung on a chain, and clearly meant to be worn as a pendant.

"You made it?" She put it on happily.

"I purified the steel from ore myself. And quenched it in water mixed with a drop of my own blood. I burned three of my hairs, three of yours, and three of Serra's on it, for the forge spirits." He ducked his head a little, as if embarrassed. "They'll protect you, if you wear it."

It was an old ritual, Systlin knew. Hairs from her head, his, and their child, offered to the forge-spirits for protection. His own blood in the quench-tank, to keep away rust and wear.

"I know you don't need it." He was saying, still seeming embarrassed. "But..."

She kissed him. Hard and at length.

"Thank you." She told him, when they finally came up for air. He smiled, his face lighting up like the sun, and kissed her again....

Systlin woke.

The furs next to her were empty, of course. On her breast, the iron of the pendant Foicatch had made her long ago was as cold as ice.

The loneliness hit her like a brick, but there wasn't time to dwell on it.

From outside the wagon there was a cry of alarm.

She was on her feet and had her weapons in hand before it faded. There were sounds of a struggle from outside, and she was moving, barefoot and wearing her sleeping tunic, reactions honed by decades of experience engaged instantly.

It was coming from the rear of the wagon. The wood that made the wagon was sturdy, but it was roofed in canvas. Even as she leapt towards the sound of the commotion, a knife blade was stabbed through the canvas to slice a way into her wagon.

The wood of the wagon was sturdy.

That did not matter, to a Breaker, in the slightest.

The rear wall of the wagon fractured violently into a million splinters as she Broke it; she closed her eyes and raised an arm to protect them as she dove through the cloud of them.

She went low out of sheer instinct. Dove through the splinters, hit the ground outside in a shoulder roll and was back on her feet in an instant. Spun, taking in the scene before her.

A woman was on the ground, her throat slit. Another was crying the alarm, pointing to the wagon. A man was struggling to regain his feet as splinters rained down around him; he must, she surmised, have been climbing the back wall of her wagon. A knife lay beside him.

A second man was stumbling backwards, caught off guard by the explosion of splinters. He was armed with a quiva and a lance.

He saw her, and his eyes widened.

The cold light clarity of battle was setting in already. Systlin bared her teeth in a horrible parody of a smile, and lunged.

She was faster than him. She was better trained than him. She had the element of surprise.

It was a credit to his own skills that he managed to regain his footing and twist out of the way of the sword strike that would have gutted him. It was even more to his credit that he managed to parry the dagger strike that would have torn his throat open.

He did not dodge the knee kick. Systlin slammed her heel into his kneecap, and felt the crunch as bone gave way. He fell as the leg gave out, and lashed out savagely at her with his lance.

He was very fast. She was faster. Ice snapped down to parry the lance, and she sank her dagger to the hilt in his neck, just above the collarbone.

Then she was past him, and advancing on the stunned man struggling to find his breath again. He'd fallen a good eight feet from the top of her wagon, and the wind had been knocked out of him. He was bleeding in a dozen places, from where splinters had driven into flesh.

He saw her coming, and reached for the knife. She smiled at him, baring her teeth in the sheer bloody delight of battle, and stepped on the weapon, kicking it away.

"I was wondering," she told him, even as her guards finally arrived with weapons drawn. "how long it would take you bastards."

An hour later, the bound prisoner had been carted away. The corpse had been disposed of, and Systlin was back to bed.

They'd both been men granted freedom for apparent good behavior. To be honest, she'd known that some of them were acting, and had expected this.

It had been some time since she'd had assassins try to kill her in the night. It was rather refreshing, actually. Her aunt had always maintained that regular practice was needed to keep skills sharp.

The chill had faded from her pendant. She held it, for a long moment, imagining for a moment that she could still smell him, could still feel his touch.

She reached up and touched the rings in her ear...two of them, one a gold ring set with a ruby, the second silver, and set with sapphire. Foicatch wore a matching sapphire bond-ring. Sura wore a matching ring of ruby.

How long had she been here? Four weeks now?

Systlin Stellas, Queen of the Northern Lands, was not given to tears. But even so, as she lay in her bed alone, she felt wetness on her cheeks.

Come morning, when she had the prisoner dragged before her as she held court in the open space before her wagon, she had composed herself again.

The man who'd tried to kill her was not the only prisoner present. She'd had the men who'd not yet been freed dragged before her too, and set where they could watch. They were silent, and stoic. Systlin had come to expect that of them.

Despite this, of course, she noted with some pleasure that the presence of the severed head of her would-be assassin spiked on a lance set in the ground did seem to draw their eyes.

She smiled pleasantly at them. She'd learned years ago that it unnerved people when she did this.

"I am honestly surprised," she said. "That it took you this long."

The bound prisoner spat at her feet. She ignored this.

"I would like to publicly recognize," she continued, "Dina of Turia, who was clever enough both to recognize that an attempt would likely be made, and to think of setting guards at the rear of my wagon as well as the front."

Dina smiled brilliantly at the praise, and brought her lance to her forehead in salute. Her smile faltered, though; Systlin knew that she'd insisted on arranging for the death-rites of the slain guardswoman personally.

"I am sorry, Ubara." She said. "That your guards failed to stop them."

Systlin shook her head. "You cannot expect to best trained warriors after a month of practice. I have said as much. But they saw the men, and warned me, and it was clever of you to deduce where such an attack might be made."

That got another smile. "I have lived among Tuchuks." She said. "I've learned how they think."

"Now, of course, we deal with you." Systlin stood, and drew her sword. The prisoner met her eyes, defiant.

"Go on, sleen." He said. "You are no Ubara."

"Ah. Of course. Because I have not killed your former Ubar." She smiled at his shock, and in the gathered prisoners there were many suddenly wide eyes. "What? You think that I've not spoken to people? You think that the other women didn't tell me? What kind of fool do you take me for?"

Shock, from many of the men. But from the women, mocking laughter.

"It is a situation easily remedied." She smiled at him, and then planted her feet and cut, swift and hard, pivoting from the hips.

Ice cut through muscle and bone quite easily. The head hit the ground with a thump and rolled. Systlin ignored the body as it fell, and pointed towards the prisoners with the bloodied blade of Ice.

"You," she said, still smiling. "Kamchak, is it? Ubar of the Tuchuks?"

The man met her eyes steadily. She saw anger there, but no fear. He was, if nothing else, brave.

"A lesson I learned long ago." She told him. "Is that a queen with no people who follow her is no queen at all. And you, former Ubar, have barely a handful of men loyal to you. I have six thousand loyal to me. So who, here, is Ubara?"

He spat.

"But I am willing," she continued, "to do this properly. It will be a pleasure, even." She nodded to her guards. "Remove his chains, and give him weapons. If he wants his position back, he can fight me for it."

There was a roar from the gathered women, and Systlin smiled as Kamchak's eyes narrowed, and he bared his teeth right back at her.

We had known, of course. It had been whispered about camp, and the men who had managed to convince the women to free them had consulted Kamchak many times in the previous days. It had been done quietly, of course; Tuchuks are clever.

On the night that the attack was to occur, we of course heard the commotion, as the wagon we were chained to was not far distant from that claimed by Systlin. Adjacent to it, in fact, as I seemed to be of special interest to her and she apparently wished to keep me under close scrutiny.

I had asked for Kamchak to at least be chained near me. The request had been granted. We sat practically on, indeed, the flat space of grass before the great wagon that she used as her court.

We heard, quite quickly, that it had failed. Systlin sent out messengers immediately, and spent an hour before her wagon in plain view of any and all who wished to see that she lived.

She was wearing a brief silk tunic, as she had no doubt been startled from sleep. Her legs were strong; far too strong for Gorean tastes, but still shapely. The image was somewhat marred by the blood that had dripped down her thigh as she carried the head of her slain enemy to the lance fixed in the turf for this purpose.

The second man who'd attempted the attack was dragged to the grass before her, chained hand and foot and hand to foot, and tied down to lances sunk deeply into the turf.

The women, I noted, did not cringe so any longer when shouted at by an angry warrior. His cries of rage were ignored.

I noticed, for the first time, how well formed were the muscles of the women. I supposed that the hard work at camp and the running after the kaiila of their masters had always left the girls in excellent physical form. Had the last month of their play at weapons truely wrought such a change, though?

Or had the girls always been so fit, and I had simply not seen them drag a grown warrior by his hair before?

Systlin sat there holding court, clad in red silk and the blood of a slain warrior, a man who'd been sent to kill her bound before her, the firelight casting flickering shadow and light over the scene, seated on the furs and pillows as if they were a throne of gold and rubies.

She met my eyes once, in the shadows, and her smile was a terrible thing to behold.

For the first time since the she-demon had arrived, I understood how such a creature could be called a queen.

It's said on Gor that a woman who enjoys the touch of silk is a slave at heart. I wondered if the man who had first said it had ever seen a woman wearing silk and the blood of a slain enemy. I found myself, for the first time in a great while, doubting the phrase.

Come morning, of course, we were dragged to court. And there, of course, Systlin killed the warrior who'd attempted to kill her before all the Tuchuk. I had supposed as much would happen, once I had heard of the failure of the attack.

I had not supposed that she would call out Kamchak, or agree to fight him.

Kamchak, of course, accepted.

As the corpse of the executed warrior was removed from the circle, I realized that I had never yet seen the she-sleen truly fight.

"Be careful," I said to Kamchak.

He nodded, once. She was only a woman, of course, and he was proud...but I saw him narrow his eyes at her, thoughtful, as his chains were removed.

He was sly, the Ubar of the Tuchuks. I knew this.

"It is unfair." He said, as his ankle chains were unlocked. "You wear armor, and I am nearly naked."

Systlin smiled, just a twitch of her lips, and removed the red larl-hide cloak, and her leather vest. The glittering shirt of strange scales was brilliant in the sun. I could see no two scales of precisely the same shade.

She bent at the waist and wriggled out of the armor, leaving her in just the padded shirt that went under the armor. She unsheathed her dagger and spun it around the back of her hand, quicker than the eye could follow, the hilt sliding neatly back into her hand as the spin finished.

"There." She said. "Choose whatever weapons you please."

Kamchak observed her, eyes narrow, for some time. Then at last, he spoke. "Lance," he said, "And quiva."

Systlin nodded, and weapons were brought.

"You have the sun at your back," Kamchak observed. "So that it will shine in my eyes."

"Yes." She answered him calmly, matter of fact. She made no offer to change the situation.

"That is wise. I would do the same."

She inclined her head perhaps an inch in acknowledgement.

"If I defeat you, I will simply kill you." He informed her. "You are too dangerous to make a slave, witch."

She smiled at that, showing teeth.

"I suppose if I seized one of these women as hostage, you would simply overpower me with sorcery." He stretched, and weighed quiva and lance in his hands.

"Of course."

Kamchak approached her, cautious. Systlin waited, and I saw her shift her weight slightly. She was balanced on the balls of her feet, I saw, her legs spread slightly in a way that would give her stable footing and allow her to move any direction at the slightest notice.

"Tarl Cabot," Kamchak said, and I started. "It would be a terrible thing, should this witch slay me, and no one else know that which you seek is currently within my own wagon, and has often served me as throne."

I started; the gray, leathery thing that I had supposed was a bundle of old leather, and which Kamchak often sat upon?

Of course, it was like a Tuchuk, to hide such a treasure in the most clever of ways...

There was a ring of metal on metal, and I was torn from such thoughts. Kamchak had hurled a quiva, as he had at me once upon a time. And as I had, Systlin had apparently seen the throw coming, though it was so quick as to be missed upon blinking. She had moved, just as quickly, and the ringing had been her sword meeting the quiva in mid-air, and parrying it to the side.

I had seen her before in bits and flashes in the battle that terrible night, and later executing bound prisoners. Her form with a blade, I had thought, was good.

I had been wrong before. Her form with a blade was excellent, and beyond excellent.

It struck me, as she nimbly dodged a striking lance and the slashing blow of a second quiva, Kamchak bringing it up and around in a hidden strike close on the heels of his lunge with the lance, that she would have compared favorably with the best of the warriors of Ko-ro-ba.

As she danced in, light and nimble, and drove him back on his heels with a vicious, lightning quick series of strikes, it occurred to me that she was likely quicker on her feet than even I.

The sword and dagger at once was not a common combination on Gor, but the she-sleen used them to devastating effect. One may parry while the other attacks, and attack may follow attack without the slightest moment of respite. Equally, both may be used to turn aside blows given in return, though this relies upon the warrior being quick and nimble and possessed of excellent timing.

Systlin was all three. She was quick, marvelously quick. She was nimble, her footing flawless. Her timing was precise and deadly.

Within the first exchange, she had opened a deep bleeding slash into Kamchak's arm with that dagger, and as he fought to hold those biting blades off the sword slipped around and opened a cut into his thigh.

Kamchak's lance gave him reach, and he was quick on his feet as well. As she pivoted neatly around his lance and cut for his neck with a vicious flat slice of her sword, he threw himself to the side unexpectedly and hurled his quiva, at nearly point blank range.

She saw, and with a degree of control over her body and momentum that I had thought nearly impossible checked her momentum and changed direction, but still the quiva opened a cut across the front of her thigh.

Both warriors fell back, eyeing one another. Kamchak was serious, deadly so. Systlin was grinning, and I have seen that grin before on the battlefield.

Only warriors who truly delight in the fight smile so.

As we watched, the she-sleen lowered her hand, dipped two fingers into the blood flowing from her wound, and drew them across her cheek, smearing scarlet like war-paint across her skin.

"U-BAR-A!" There was chanting from the massed Tuchuk. A few, though, including the other still-imprisoned warriors, were crying "U-BAR!"

"You are good." Kamchak admitted.

Systlin simply grinned, and began circling. If the pain of her wound was troubling her, she did not reveal it.

Twice more they clashed, and twice more the she-sleen opened up wounds on Kamchak and then retreated to resume her circling. Kamchak did not manage to wound her a second time in these clashes.

I realized to my horror, as she closed the third time and hooked a blow of the lance out of the air as neatly as one could please, simply to rotate around and drive her elbow viciously into the back of Kamchak's skull, that she was toying with him.

Kamchak knew as well, as she retreated to resume that relentless circling again. The blow had dazed him for a moment, and she could have slain him on the spot, but she only pricked him yet again with that dagger, opening a slash across the back of his shoulder to join the half-dozen others he was bleeding from.

"Sleen." He panted.

"I prefer" she said, still smiling that cold and vicious smile, "to be called 'Queen'."

And with that, she moved in again.

Kamchak was a great warrior, and a canny one. Kamchak fought well. Kamchak fought with a skill that would have been credit to any warrior of Ko-ro-ba. Kamchak fought with skill and speed and guile. But no man can stand forever when bleeding from a dozen wounds.

Kamchak fought well. Kamchak fought bravely. And Kamchak died, a warrior of the Tuchuk, without begging or crying out in pain, when the she-sleen tired of the game.

She did not quite behead him. When his guard dropped, dragged down by exhaustion and blood loss, she cut again with that strange sword and opened his throat clear back to the bones of his spine.

Kamchak, Ubar of the Tuchuk, fell. I did not look away as his life bled out across the grass; I owed him that much.

Systlin turned to us as Kamchak fell, fierce and furious.

"There lies your Ubar." She cried this out, and I knew at once that she was used to speaking so that her voice would carry over battlefields. "Now we will have done with this! Is there anyone else among you who would challenge me? Because now is the time! If you wish to avenge your men, if you wish to claim the Ubar title...now is the fucking time! Because the next time I have to get out of bed to an assassination attempt, I am going to slow roast the balls of anyone involved and feed them to you."

Silence.

"Then." She hissed. "Who is the fucking Ubara here?"

I could say nothing, and I was not the only one to look away.

“That’s what I fucking thought.”

Three days later

“Fuck.” Systlin dug her fingertips into her temples. She could feel a headache coming on, and it was only midmorning. “Fuck. What is wrong with this place?”

Dina gave an apologetic sort of shrug. “I cannot answer that for you, Ubara. But the Tuchuk had been preparing for the Love Games for some time, and it is considered the event of events on the plains. We could simply move the bosk on and skip it, though it will be noted.”

Systlin gritted her teeth. Her new warriors were not well trained enough to put up against those who had been trained, as she had, since they were old enough to hold swords. They were eager, she knew, but simply not yet ready for such a fight. It would be a slaughter, and she would not have it.

“Abominable fucking tradition.” She muttered. “What will happen to the Turian women placed at the stakes if we simply do not show?”

Her advisors glanced at each other and shrugged. “I do not know, Ubara.” Said Shayla, a fiercely intelligent woman. She had a keen mind for numbers and a genius for organization, and Systlin had promptly snapped her up to assist with logistics. Her former and very deceased master had kept her in a length of nearly transparent silk that barely counted as a scarf; now she wore a long bosk-wool skirt and a conservatively cut tunic, and her hair was braided and pinned up in a coil. “But I am not Turian.”

“It would be counted as a win for the Turian champions.” Dina said. “And they will be free to go. But the Tuchuk will be marked as cowards, and runners will be sent to investigate.”

“Ah.” Systlin relaxed a bit. “Well. That’s no problem. I don’t care what they think of us for now, and a few runners are easily disposed of. We simply do not go, then, and we will come back and deal with Turia when the warriors are ready.”

“The Turians,” interjected Mettna, a Tuchuk Free Woman. She also had a keen mind for logistics, and was the matriarch of a large extended family with many ties throughout the Tuchuk. Gorean laws or not, she ruled her family uncontested, and her word was law among them. Even her teenaged sons and nephews bowed their heads when she fixed them with a flinty stare. “Will consider the women the Tuchuk would have placed at the stakes theirs by default, and they will come looking for them.” A dark look; her youngest daughter Hireena had been among those intended for the stakes. “They take pleasure in breaking us to the collar and chain.”

Systlin’s hand tightened reflexively on her dagger. “If they come looking,” She said. “I’ll make drinking bowls of their skulls, and send the rest of them back to Turia.”

“Good.” A nod. “I simply wanted you to know, Ubara.”

“And it is appreciated.” Systlin tilted her head at Dina. “It would be good practice for the warriors. Fighting for real with your life on the line is much different than doing it in practice. I know that you are impatient, Dina, but I didn’t learn in a month either.”

Dina nodded. “When DO you think…” she trailed off.

“A year, perhaps.” Systlin shrugged. “It depends on how hard you train, and how many chances there are to raid and test yourself in small skirmishes. You’ve all thrown yourselves in heart and soul, and are progressing remarkably. Keep training, and you’ll be flaying slave masters sooner than you think.”

Dina looked mollified at that.

“So it is decided then. We continue to move over the grazing grounds, bide our time, gather our strength, train, and ignore this abomination called “Love Games.” Systlin nodded to each of them. “Ah, Shayla. I had meant to ask…you had located the stocks of that stuff you call the ‘releaser?’ And the stuff you call ‘sip-root?’”

“We have, Ubara. One or two of the women have requested the releaser. I gave it to them. I hope that was not…”

“Not at all. Such things are entirely up to the individual. Continue to distribute it to any who ask, and notify me if stocks run low. I am not adverse to raiding for more supplies of any sort, should they be needed. How many men remain living?”

“Thirty two of adult years. Many more nearing adulthood, though many of them have been…difficult. There will be problems there, Ubara.”

“I know. But those will be dealt with as they come. Children have not owned slaves or raped women yet, and I’ll not punish them for their upbringing. There’s hope of teaching them better yet.” She tapped her fingers against her thigh thoughtfully. “Your siproot, quite honestly, rather reminds me of stoneseed, from my own world.”

“And Silphium.” The woman named Elizabeth put in abruptly. “From mine. The Romans…an empire, some two thousand years ago…used it so much that it was harvested to extinction, but it was apparently quite effective.” She worried at her lower lip with her teeth. “I wonder…if this siproot was grown on Earth…there’s so many who don’t have access to birth control yet. It’s a hardy plant. It could change so many lives for the better.”

Systlin raised an eyebrow. “Indeed. Stoneseed is considered a basic stock necessity for any civilized place on Ellinon, as siproot seems to be here. What is done then on Earth, to prevent unwanted children?”

“Well.” A helpless sort of shrug. “We’ve pills that work well, and barrier devices, but…well, in some places there’s not much, and while we’ve plants too many are toxic or don’t work well. So, in those places there’s just…nothing.”

Systlin hissed through her teeth in disapproval. “It’s a worthy thought, then. But before we can figure out how to return you to your own world, we must set this one to rights.” She rose, as did the other women in the wagon. “Thank you all. We will speak again later.”

Outside the wagon, she found her kailla, mounted, and went for a ride around the perimeter of the camp. She’d taken to doing so regularly; an early and hard lesson had been that people need to see their leaders.

Her father had ignored this fact. He’d died for it, with her brother, and the northern lands had dissolved into war for a decade.

After her circuit of the camp, she went to the field where the fighters were training. A few of the freed men had offered to help teach, and were so far proving helpful. Systlin had been dubious; the women of this place were so conditioned to expect nothing but brutality at a man’s hands that she’d wondered if it wouldn’t cause more harm than good. However, it seemed, after some tentative starts, to be helping both sides. The women were faster losing their ingrained flinching cringe when a man moved towards them, and the men, she knew, had been stunned by how quickly the women took to training. She’d heard them speaking to the still chained men about it, and arguing. She’d seen them as well cuff and get into yelling matches with a few of the sullenly furious teenaged boys who were nearing manhood, and had found their expected power ripped away in a moment.

The man named Carl Tabot was there too. He was still chained, foot to foot, and was simply allowed to correct errors when he saw them. She’d contemplated killing him; she was certain, in her bones, that he was guilty of the same atrocities of most of the other men. But she’d no proof, and the man was a skilled warrior; she’d only broken his leg rather than killed him for that, and because she’d noted the first time he spoke that he was not of these wagon people.

He spotted her, and glowered. She was more than certain that he’d happily stick a knife through her throat in her sleep if he thought he could get by with it. She smiled at him in return, the sharp, worrying flash of teeth that was famed and feared across the sands and the northern lands. He flinched, and glowered at her.

Fuck, but she would have given anything to have Foicatch there. The ingrained misogyny of this world ran deep, and she knew that words from a man would be more seriously taken than her words, however thoroughly she demonstrated that she was, in fact, the new superior power on this planet.

Actually, the idea was quite amusing. The men of this place had made it quite obvious what they thought of being ‘true men’, and that men not like them were ‘weak’ and ‘unmanned’. Foicatch, all six feet three inches and two hundred fifty granite-hewn, deadly warrior-trained pounds of him, could hardly ever be called either. But, like most real men, Foicatch was quite secure in himself and felt little need to loudly proclaim it for everyone to hear. He was, really, far more even-tempered and easygoing than she. He’d be mostly bemused by the arrogant, angry posturing and bellowing and rage of the men of this shithole.

Until he was not. It took a great deal to rouse Foicatch’s ire, but once roused it was terrible.

Systlin entertained the thought of one of the sullen, angry Tuchuk boys being dangled from one of ‘Catch’s hands, her beloved bellowing at the little shit, and smiled again in private amusement.

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bandsilike · 2 years

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hoyt axton

benjamin gibbard

nathan-paul & the admirables

dresses

family of the year

audits (barsuk)

hot milk

little brazil

bobby darin

347aidan

beat connection

tim kasher

billy dean

arrow of light

telekinesis (please ask for help)

snail's house

the shabby bastards

andrew belle

Duncan Laurence

asleep at the wheel

skeletal family

i can make a mess

Dem Franchize Boyz

common holly

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rufousnmacska · 3 years

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I have a lot of thoughts about A Court of Silver Flames, and since it helps me to write them out, I thought I’d share.

It’s behind a cut because SPOILERS and it’s long lol!

Nesta

I had expected we’d learn that Nesta had suffered some type of abuse or trauma as a child that Elain and Feyre were not aware of. I wasn’t expecting it to be so subtle, for lack of a better word. Abuse comes in a lot of forms, which I think SJM is good at showing. Emotionally manipulating your daughter for power, ignoring her in favor of your business and money … those may not be as visible as physical or verbal abuse, but they still cause damage.

I’m not sure how to convey it properly, but I thought it was important to show how the parts of her that were born from the abuse and trauma, while dark or not always healthy, were still useful. The wolf she became to survive her childhood helped her survive the cauldron. Not being able to “turn it off” is what hurt her. My favorite quote:

“So Nesta had become a wolf. Armed herself with invisible teeth and claws, and learned to strike faster, deeper, more lethally. Had relished it. But when the time came to put away the wolf, she’d found it had devoured her too.”

And as Amren said later “That’s the key isn’t it? To know the darkness will always remain, but how you choose to face it, handle it … that’s the important part. To not let it consume. To focus on the good, the things that fill you with wonder.”

I’ve seen a lot of fans upset that Nesta gave up her cauldron powers at the end to save Feyre and the baby. Although I’d initially hoped (post acofas) that her training would be more about her magic than physical training, I’m okay with how it worked out. She never wanted that power and she never liked having it. She stole it as revenge and she fought constantly to suppress it. Was she a badass when she wielded it? Absolutely! But ultimately, her giving it back was the final big step in her healing arc and acceptance of herself. (That doesn’t mean she’s “cured.” This will be an ongoing battle for her. I only mean this in terms of the story in this book.)

She chose to sacrifice it, unlike so many other times in her life when things were forced on her or happened to her. Unlike the future her mother had set out for her. Unlike when they were poor and her father did nothing to get them through. Unlike when she was thrown into the cauldron and then a war. Even unlike when she was forced to move into the House of the Wind, and her apartment – the one place she had chosen for herself no matter how run down it was – got demolished. I’m not going to go into the intervention too much. It was poorly done, but I doubt any of them had experience in doing one. A conversation acknowledging that might have been nice. And I’m not ignoring Feyre and Rhys’s hypocrisy of Nesta being confined to a place where she effectively had no way to leave on her own. The stairway at that point was not an option. But the bottom line is that Nesta needed help and was not in a position to willingly accept it or seek it out.

Regardless, she is still a lethal badass. She still has some of her powers, along with her fighting skills, which will only get better and better. So, the idea that she gave up what made her strong, or ended up as some meek housewife … I don’t agree with that at all. She has the intelligence and potential to become a force in leading armies. Not to mention her skill as an emissary. (Which Cassian finally learned how to imitate lol!)

On a personal note, I’m intimately familiar with the depression and self-loathing Nesta experienced in this book. Although I don’t necessarily react to those feelings in the same ways or exhibit the same coping mechanisms (I tend to turn my anger inward rather than outward), I could still relate to her journey. Her stubbornness and feelings that she didn’t deserve love or anything good or kind were presented accurately in my opinion. Parts were hard for me to read because of that. But I loved that she was able to make her way through the pain and finally begin to accept and love herself. And I especially loved that she was helped not only by Cassian, but by her friendship with Emerie and Gwyn.

And the House! Holy shit. The magic houses in this world piss me off to no end because they are not real and I will forever need to clean my own place LOL! Her relationship with the house was beautiful and funny and I love that she Made it! She needed a friend, someone to understand her, not only what she wanted but what she needed, and boom! The House of the Wind came alive for her.

So, overall, I loved Nesta’s journey. I’m happy she ended in a place that brought her inner peace and the ability to better deal with her problems in the future.

Nessian

I loved them before this book and I love them more after. The smut was a little shocking at first lol but I’ve read the Black Dagger Brotherhood books, which SJM loves, so really, it wasn’t that out there. I loved that Cassian showed that even with the mating bond, he could give Nesta space and freedom. In that respect, their relationship felt more mature to me than feysand. Their banter and the sexual tension was great! (The book is about a book.) They had some not great moments, as they have in past books. But those were realistic. People argue and say things they regret. But they also talk through it and apologize. This is a good time to point out – NOT ALL APOLOGIES INVOLVE EXPLICITLY SAYING I AM SORRY. There are other ways to show remorse and ask for forgiveness.

I don’t know if I had one favorite moment as there were quite a few. I think the most emotional for me was when they reached the lake. I know firsthand how difficult it is to speak aloud the things Nesta said. And I am also lucky to have people in my life who responded the way Cassian did – with love and support and kindness.

The nightmare scene, the prison scene, the dancing, the mating bond, Cassian turning the knife on himself … I loved them all!

The Valkyries

I fucking loved them! Gwyn and Emerie were absolute delights and I’m so glad Nesta made good friends of her own who she could be herself with. Their bonding over books, training, and their pasts was wonderful. Nesta urging them on and defending them from the Illyrians in the Blood Rite was a beautiful step in her healing. Before this book, I was hesitant about the foreshadowing that Nesta would take part in the Rite, fearing it would become some sort of white savior trope to help the female Illyrians. But I enjoyed the way it ended up happening. I know it seemed unrealistic for Nesta, Emerie, and Gwyn to get that far against warriors who’d been training for years. But part of the point was the males were arrogant as fuck. They underestimated the trio, to their detriment. Nesta and her friends used cunning as much as strength and skill to get where they did.

And I loved the image of Emerie and Gwyn just sitting back, sipping tea and admiring the river after going through a week of pure hell and winning the Blood Rite.

I hope we get more of them all together in the next books.

ETA - I can’t believe I forgot! Gwyn writing their story because their stories deserve to be told 🥲💕

The sisters

Overall I liked how things turned out with them.

Elain is still a bit of a non-entity to me. I don’t feel like I really know anything about her. Which, to some extent, is the point I think. There will be a lot to reveal in her story and she has a shitload of healing to do. She may have the appearance of adjusting and fitting in, but I don’t buy it. Nesta telling Elain to fuck off was awesome and long overdue. But Elain was also right in pointing out how others treat her and the trauma she’s experienced. I think there is still more to be dealt with between these two in the next book.

Feyre and Nesta were the more interesting relationship to me. The eldest and the youngest tend to butt heads in my opinion (and personal experience). So I was glad they came to an understanding. And very glad that Feyre did not get angry with Nesta for telling her about the baby. Rhys deserved the wrath for that.

One thing I would have liked to see discussed was the role of their parents in their lives. Nesta holds a lot of guilt for how she reacted to their poverty and I think that is understandable. I think Elain does too. However, I do not think any of the sisters should harbor blame for what happened. Their father was responsible for them. Period. Even if he was physically unable to work or help around the house, he still could have been a father. Yes, Feyre stepped up and fed them. Nesta and Elain didn’t help. It was his role to make them. Not in an abusive way. But step up and tell Nesta and Elain to do something, whether it’s chop wood or gather food from the wild. I don’t know. In my opinion, it is wrong to place blame on young girls who had a parent that did nothing. His actions in acowar were noble, but they don’t erase his failures. That all of this was glossed over disappointed me. I think this was something Nesta needed to be told explicitly by both her sisters. She had things to apologize for and feel guilt for, but she was not the one who should have protected Feyre. All three of them should have been protected by their father.

The Inner Circle

It’s kind of funny to me how blind they all are about each other. I don’t even know what else to say about their dysfunction.

Amren’s sudden desire for Rhys to become High King was weird, and though I should know better, I still really hope the series doesn’t end that way. The IC tends to have good intentions about things, but I don’t think they know how to handle a problem without some kind of force. And controlling all the other courts is not something that would happen easily, especially with perceived allies.

Amren and Mor thinking Nesta belonged or should be sent to the Court of Nightmares was a spectacularly shitty take. The lack of awareness and acknowledgement that Nesta was suffering from multiple traumas was just … unbelievable.

But considering how much this group does not see about each other, I guess it’s not a surprise. I don’t know how much is willful ignorance or just really, really poor people skills. I understand how this all makes for good angst and drama, I really do. But I’m just at the point where it’s grating. They need to sit the fuck down and talk to each other. It’s been five hundred years for fucks sake. 🤦🏻‍♀️😂

Rhys

Okay. I liked Rhys in acotar and acomaf. But the sparkly exterior wore off big time for me in acowar and acofas. I honestly could have done without him in this book. But I wasn’t foolish enough to expect him to not be in it. I’ve resigned myself to the fact that SJM has her favorites and Rhys is at the top of the list.

Having said that, he annoyed the shit out of me in this book. Someone really needs to explain to him that a choice between two awful things, one of which might be deadly, is not really a choice. I don’t have the energy for it, but better writers than me could write a thesis on the illusion of choice in these books. Which is, in my opinion, pretty clearly tied to the brand of feminism presented.

Not only is the choice given to Nesta at the beginning not a choice, Rhys doesn’t seem to consider Elain at all in his argument with Az. All other issues with that bonus chapter aside, he saw them. He saw the mutual attraction and consent. What happened to not forcing females to accept the mating bond? What happened to respecting her choice and autonomy? I considered the possibility that maybe since he knows Az, there’s a reason he thinks they wouldn’t work. But then, that pretty much flies out the window by him asking Az about Mor. Sure, Az is still hung up on Mor, but she is pretty fucking clear about her opinion.

The whole thing about not telling Feyre about the risky childbirth was awful. And not that I would expect it to happen, but not even mentioning abortion as an option was frustrating. That plot line was not good in any way. There were plenty of other things that could have gone wrong with the birth to push Nesta to act at the end. To be honest, the feysand dynamic is not great. While I appreciated her standing up to him about Nesta and other things, he very deliberately uses sex as a distraction to get out of arguments. Yet another way he never really seems to suffer consequences of bad behavior.

I will say I was really glad he got the opportunity to experience the full trauma of what Nesta went through. And my petty ass loved him kneeling before her at the end!

Miscellaneous

Where was Illyria?? My one serious expectation for this book was that we’d learn more about Illyria and deal with the revolution that was hyped up in acofas. To be written off in one paragraph was disappointing. It makes me think that if we are to ever get more details about the Illyrians, it might be in Az’s story. It was mentioned a few times that he hates them (with good reason) and would wipe them off the map if it was up to him. So I’m guessing his arc will require him coming to terms with that.

Elriel-Elucien-Gwynriel

I’ve never been super invested in this story line but I admit I’ve leaned more towards Elriel in the past. Partly because I like some of the complementary symbolism associated with them, but mostly because I’d really like to see a story about rejection of the mating bond. Even with the extra chapters, I feel like we still don’t know much of anything about who Elain truly is. And the same can be said of Az. So, those chapters didn’t sway me that much. With the exception of Az interacting with Gwyn. I agree with a lot of others saying Az has a lot of work to do on himself before he can be with anyone. I think Elain and Gwyn also have a lot of healing to do. SJM can take this in so many directions that I just don’t know what to think.

I will say that originally I was expecting the next book to involve a love square of Elain, Az, Lucien, and Vassa, because I did see a connection between the last two. But now … Was Lucien annoyed by Jurian and Vassa because he’s jealous? Just annoyed? I don’t know. I still think Vassa will be in the next books if only because of Koschei. But I’m not so sure about her involvement with Lucien. I think we’ve got enough people in this love polygon lol! Jesus, what a mess. But maximum angst 😂

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compo67 · 2 years

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I was like that with hockey, too.

No way would I ever enjoy, sit through, understand or care about giant screamy men on skates chasing a puck. Nope. To enjoy a men's league pro sport was a dagger to my little queer heart.

I could only love World Cup soccer. Nothing else. And even that was only for Chilean patriotism and Latinx solidarity when Chile inevitably lost in the first round.

The gals and I used to do trivia at a sports bar. Best cheese curds ever. But yikes, a sports bar. But okay. I got used to it. People were friendly. We won our fair share of games. I remember posting about them here in the Before Times when we ate at restaurants without a second thought.

I'm pretty sure it was G who liked hockey first, because she probably found some slash erotica about it. (!!) I read Check Please and decided, okay, fine. I will try. If I wanna connect w the gals and understand what they talk about during games, I needed to try. (I wanted to try.)

I only got into hockey once they assigned me a team. A had the Bruins, G had the Pens. I asked for a team with a shippable pair of hockey bros. They thought about it and came up with a few teams. Then I asked if Texas had a team. Because I love Austin and my friend E moved to San Antonio and J2 are from Texas, so...

It just so happened that yes, Texas did have a team and a shippable pair: Tyler Seguin and Jamie Benn. Both were under long, no movement clauses so unlikely to be traded ie. split. But. Buuuuut. The gals warned me that the Stars were a mid-level team at best and bottom rung team at worst. But! The Stars, in their opinion, had one of the best jersey colors.

As soon as I learned more about Seggy and Benn, the more I was like wow, yes there is chemistry in this game. And Seggy reminds me a lot of Jared, both just rays of sunshine and doggo lovers. Whereas Jamie and Jensen are the quiet, serious types who will kill a man if they so much as bump into their beloved.

From there, I got to know the rest of the team. And then, the Stars acquired Joe Pavelski. And then, we made it to the playoffs. My scrappy little team beat out the gals established big east coast teams! And yeah, the playoffs were in the bubble, but what a time to be alive! I knew the players names and numbers, I could understand their style of playing, I could read plays and passes. I started to know other players from other teams (damn you, Binnington!).

Hockey fandom is alive and well here on Tumblr and ao3. I haven't gotten into reading much fic, mostly because I discovered that Jamie Benn agreed with Candace Owens views on trans women in sports. Jamie never (to my knowledge) apologized or explained. I will go hard for Seggy, who, along with his teammate Dickie, took a knee in support of BLM.

Hockey culture is, in many ways, toxic af. But it's also super supportive. These guys are tender with each other. Grizzled vets will treat the rookies like small lambs. The rookies will show the utmost respect for the vets. Your goalie is everything and deserves those forehesd nudges at the end of winning games. No one likes any coach 100% (except maybe Pens fans?). Getting your first jersey is a rite of passage for fans. I love fights in the ice because it's so satisfying to see justice dished out in knuckle sandwiches. How dare you play dirty and expect to get away with that shit.

So I'm excited to work on Swans and Skates. It will be in Jared's pov, because I could write forever about hockey and bore everyone with it. This way, I get to learn about dance and sprinkle in some hockey knowledge.

The universe is amused by itself.

#compo67 #authorial rambles #Csl yells about hockey #ideas for later #swans and skates fic

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nikethestatue · 3 years

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Things I really, really want in the new/next book:

Lots of backstory and flashbacks. Specifically:

Explanation of the Mor/Azriel/Cassian relationship and dynamic. Who knew what and when? 500 years is a long time. I am just saying.

Azriel’s shadows. What are they? How and why did he get them? What do they do for him? How do they communicate? Are they sentient?

Why does he sing? And where?

Can he winnow? How? Why? Illyrians can’t other than the night before Blood Rite.

What’s a network of spies? Where do they come from? How do they get recruited?

Backstory on the twins. How did they come into Rhys’s employ? Did they spend the entire time UtM? Could they come and go as they pleased? If they could go and leave, did they communicate with the IC? How they end up ‘working’ for Azriel?

Truth-Teller: what kind of a dagger is it? Why is it magical? What’s the story? How did Az get it? Why did he give it to Elain? Did he know she was going to kill the King? That episode needs to be explained. Why did she step out of the SHADOWS?

Why was Az so compelled and adamant about saving Elain from Hybern?

How did he know she was a Seer? What did he understand about her that no one else did?

What’s Rosehall/Is his mother alive?

Now, with the plot:

I’d much rather prefer to see a Dusk Court and Three Mountains story than Koschei story. I guess I view them as separate, but maybe they’ll be combined somehow?

Koschei belongs to Vassa/Jurian/Lucien – at least in my mind

BUT, why does Koschei want to hang out with Azriel? How does he even know about him? What does he want from him? (We know Az is hot, and who wouldn’t want to hang out with him? But still.)

Why is Koschei scary? What’s his threat? I don’t think it’s been developed at all so far, so I am curious as to what his power is and what does he want?

What are these girls that he is imprisoning at the lake? And why?

Koschei aside, I want to know more about Fae imprisoned in the stones.

Great Hunt

Why do the beasts of Hewn City look like the ‘hounds’ of the Great Hunt? I want ALL that backstory that Lanthys was rambling about.

4th trove (is it Narben? Gwydion? Something else?)

What is Rhys and the gang going to do with all these Trove objects? Seems a little dangerous to just have them around.

What’s up with the Cauldron? Is it just sitting on the island? Forgotten? What’s up with its power? Is it just hibernating?

Do I care about the Blood Duel? Not so much. At least not between Azriel and Lucien.

Let Helion kill Beron and end it!

Personally, don’t want much time spent on the Blood Duel.

What’s up with Eris? Why is he so mysterious and strange? Does he only want to be High Lord or is there something else on the agenda? (why does he keep going for women who want to bone Cassian?)

Side stuff:

Some Nyx fluff. Nyx doing magical things and not realizing it. Causing havoc.

Some tension/drama between Rhys and Feyre. They’ve been a little too perfect lately. It’s tiresome and uninteresting. Let them have some conflict (Elain-based? Pregnancy? I don’t know, but I feel like I need something). I need Rhys-based conflict. Like High King conflict or something between him and others.

Sisters having a heart to heart. Actual conversation about feelings and all that crap. No closure though. They are gonna live for a while—there is no ‘closure’ between sisters. (I know, I have two).

I hate angst, but I feel like because there is Azriel and Elain, it will be angsty. Oh well. I’d rather have adventures than angst.

Valkyrie and how that’s progressing. Nesta leading a unit of Vakyrie? Can they defeat Koschei? I don’t know. But he seems like a misogynistic asshole, so it would be fitting.

I want Emerie to be recognized by the Illyrians. That she is a Carynthian. I want HER to start bringing the needed changes into that society. No one else. A clipped female. Not the greatest Illyrian warriors with 7 siphons. I think it would be so much more compelling.

It also would be fun to see the three sisters working together, solving a problem, or many, finding solutions.

A little more Nesta, because I feel like her story isn’t complete/resolved yet.

Less Velaris and more of every other part of Prythian and the Continent.

Yes, it does seem like this book would already be 33 tomes long. And we haven’t even gotten to the love story part! Or Elain.

What else?

#acotar #sjm books #next book #azriel #elain #nesta #cassian #rhysand #acosf #a court of silver flames #inner circle #emerie

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stylesloveclub · 3 years

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Gwynriel: Okay so I started seeing the potential of these two even before the bonus chapter was released but thought that I was just reading wayyyy to far into it, but no my shipping radars were correct.

So firstly, his shadows dance and sing around Gwyn. They have never done that with any other character in the series. Gwyn and Azriel are both incredibly competitive. It’s noted that during the Blood Rite trials Gwyn wanted to wipe off the cocky smirks from the guys faces but it specifically says especially Azriels. The two had a private dagger handling session.

They both sing. They both challenge each other and above all Azriel doesn’t coddle Gwyn. Azriel finds Gwyn’s irreverence charming. Gwyn is the first person to ask Azriel if he sings and this is where we learn that Azriel can in fact sing. Azriel doesn’t want Elain to know how brutal and dark he can be, but Gwyn already saw that side of him when he saved her. They’ve both seen each other at either their most violent (for Azriel) and most vulnerable (for Gwyn). Azriel threw a jacket over Gwyn the same way Lucien threw a jacket over Elain.

At the thought of Gwyn’s smile something of secret lovely beauty glowed in Azriel’s chest. They are both Carythian warriors. They are both incredibly loyal as we see with Azriel to the IC and Gwyn to Nesta and Emerie (both were willing to die for their family). Gwyn would be the talkative, bubbly, girlfriend while Azriel would be the quiet breading boyfriend.

Azriel looked at Gwyn in admiration when she was about to cut the ribbon. They already banter with each other (as seen in the bonus scene when Gwyn teases Azriel about him needing his dagger). Both Azriel and his shadows calmed down when they saw/talked with Gwyn. They both never shit talked Nesta when she was going through shit. When Gwyn finishes the Blood Rite trials with the test of the Valkyrie’s she looks up at Azriel with her eyes gleaming.

During that same scene of Gwyn completing the blood rite trials she leave the room before throwing Azriel a withering look and saying “See you tomorrow Shadowsinger” (which is a direct callback to the bonus chapter where Azriel states “I am a Shadowsinger”). Nesta then says the iconic line of “You’re the new ribbion Az” (which I interpreted as, the same determination and reliance Gwyn had with cutting the rib ion is the same that she’s going to have with getting with Azriel).

Personal headcanons that I constantly think about: Gwyn and Azriel singing together (because why tf not). The two of them winning the annual snowball fight every year. It’s mentioned that Azriel likes astronomy so now imagine him and Gwyn going through the library for astronomy books. Gwyn chattering away about a book she’s just read and Azriel just listening to her and looking at her with admiration. The two of them fighting together. The two of them having a game night where it’s so competitive because both want to win. Gwyn tying Azriel up with the ribbon. Azriel introducing Gwyn to sex. Gwyn and Azriel being the badass warriors that they are on the battle field together. Them both threatening those who dare insult the other with their daggers.

Well I tried to make this one shorter than the Elucien one. I think I failed -🥀

BESTIE U HAVE SUPERIOR SHIPPING SKILLS! O GOSH I NEED TO GO BACK AND READ ACOSF BC I DIDN'T NOTICE ANY OF THIS STUFF BETWEEN AZ AND GWYN BUT I LIKE IT :) I AM SUCH A SLUT FOR SWEETHEART BUBBLY GF AND SERIOUS MYSTERIOUS BF AND THEY R LITERALLY THAT !!!!!!! AND UR PERSONAL HCS ..... I AM LOOKING 👀👀

#ACOTAR ANON

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sakuratragedy · 3 years

Text

Emperor’s Consort | Chapter 1

Fandom: Genshin Impact Pairing: Zhongli / Childe, #Zhongchi Tags: R18, A/B/O Dynamics, Royalty AU Summary: aka "Emperor's consort doesn't know the difference between being a concubine and being a consort" Tsaritsa wants her child to have a good life after serving her on the battlefield for so long, so she makes a deal with an old friend. In exchange for her military might, he will marry her son. Childe who has no formal omega training has to do his best to cover up the fact he has no idea what he's doing. Do your best to be a good omega Childe!

“If we are the last two left, I’ll give up and let you be the Tsar.”

“‘That is only if we are the last two standing. We need to think of who to take down first.”

She had her back against the wall, listening to her brothers through the slightly open door as they sharpened their weapons while whispering quietly amongst themselves. The sound of blade being polished against whetstone echoed through the room.

“Yelena’s strike is the fiercest. She should be dealt with first.” she hears her brothers when the blade lifts from the stone before another sharp sound is heard.

The succession rites to become the next Tsar hosted by her father started tomorrow. The Tsar was an old and terrible tyrant, taking eight wives and will be making his children slaughter each other for the sake of tradition. She hated him and his rancid smell, the same stench he used to command his court by exerting his alpha pheromones and bringing them to their knees. She especially hated when he would use her mother as a means to torment her. She would feel the spikes of rage and the flash of red in her vision when he would threaten to humiliate her mother in front of the court to get her to do what he wanted.

The succession rite was a chance to change all that. She could fix decades of ugly rituals, dismantle the corruption and burn it to the ground, raising a new court from its ashes. She'll get rid of the corruption with her own two hands.

If she survives the succession rite as the true heir.

First, she had to survive the night. She moved away from the wall, making sure her footsteps were light so her brothers would not hear her.

The dawn came quickly with few casualties. Two of her eight siblings were missing during the morning ceremony. It was right to assume her other siblings had started early by eliminating some competition before the rites. They were surrounded by spectators from the court, their mothers cry and sob as their children were cut down and their father, watching them with a smirk on his face.

She was fast, she had to be to survive the slaughter. While her brothers and sisters were stronger, she was swift to cut deep and fast at their necks before avoiding the rest of the fight.

As she held her dagger to her dear older brother’s neck, his words echoed through her ears.

“Yelena’s strike is the fiercest.”

She hesitated for a split second when he smiled at her and closed his eyes, giving up the fight and giving in to his death.

“I’ll give up and let you be the Tsar.”

Perhaps he knew that she was there that night. She frowned. She swore for her brothers and for her mother that this ugly methods of succession would die along with them. She landed a swift killing strike to make his death painless before a booming laughter filled the court. Yelena got off her brother's corpse and turned to face her father behind her.

“Who would have thought.” she turned to her father, who had a smirk on his face, overlooking his five dead children and his sole heir bathed in the blood of her beloved.

“My littlest won the succession rites all on her own. It is as true as the court says,” her scowl deepens at his show of pride. “You do have my good traits.”

That night she killed the tyrant that was her father.

It had been 40 years since she was 15 and living the nightmares of her succession rites. The ghosts follow her as she burns away the old world for her new one. One where her children do not have to cry from the heartache of losing their families. For 40 years, she had destroyed her fathers empire and built it back up with her own hands the way that she desired. Everyone in Snezhnaya are her children, as long as they were born in this frosty land of ice and snow they would be cared for by her.

Her children always did say that she loved too much. She loved too hard and that made her soft.

She had never been married, but she had adopted 11 children from different family situations to be her official princes and princesses, her Harbingers as they liked to call themselves when they assisted her in her endeavours. The fights are long and tiresome but after 40 years of fighting for her ideal world she can finally rest peacefully with her family.

Unfortunately, she had spent the last 40 years hardening her 11 children for battlefields and life in shadows, so suddenly wanting to have a loving relationship with her children was less than fruitful. Especially with her older children, which was understandable since Pedrelino and Dottore had been with her longest and since they were young she hadn’t been treating them like children. They were forced to oversee missions from the shadows, travelling Teyvat for her and lengthy battles away from home, so she understands when they couldn’t receive her motherly love very well.

Her younger children however were very welcoming to her attempts at affection.

She sat on her throne, she watched her only daughter approach her along with two fatui skirmishers by her side.

“Your majesty.” La Signora did a low curtsy before her. She nodded and the two skirmishers dismissed themselves, leaving her and her daughter alone together.

“Signora. How was your trip to Mondstadt? I trust you had a wonderful time.”

“It was alright.” she glanced over to the side, making a face the Tsaritsa couldn’t really read, but she could guess that it was distaste. The reason for the distaste was unknown, but according to the intel that reached her ears before Signora did, it could have something to do with that mysterious traveller and that omega bard she had encountered in Mondstadt as she was leaving.

“I’m glad you’re home.” she started before hesitating, clearing her throat behind her fist before shyly admitting. “I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too.” Signora responds shyly, her neck and ears flushing red clearly unused to the outright affection. The red flush made Signora look like a young maiden in the moment, you could have forgotten that she was one of the Tsaritsa’s coldest killers. The Tsaritsa smiled behind her hand at how cute her daughter could look before she decided to move on to other matters.

“Signora, an old friend of mine would like support from our military might regarding a ghost from his past.” she started with a serious voice as she leaned into her throne. Signora’s expression changed immediately to her usual stoic expression as she listened to her mother speak.

“Don’t support him.” she says sternly without hesitation. She understands why her daughter feels that way. A foreigner having control over their old and great military might unsupervised would be an unwise decision for both Snezhnaya and her old friend. While the Tsaritsa knows that her fatui agents have good independent action and work in a team, sending them to a foreign land two weeks away from Snezhnaya without supervision for a friend could turn dangerous.

“He is a dear friend and I owe him a favour.” she continues. “When Pedrelino was very young and I was rebuilding Snezhnaya, he lent me a hand in terms of investigation of the court. I feel the need to return the favour.”

Signora still looked against the action, but Yelena was determined to convince her daughter.

“We both know how I feel for those who have ghosts.”

“Your majesty, I’m stepping out of line when I say this but you love too hard and too deeply. It is my job to make sure you don’t get hurt and by making such a bold decision to send our agents for this person... It is just unreasonable, especially if they are unsupervised.” Signora has her hand on her hips as she borderline lectures the Tsaritsa.

“We could send a Harbinger if supervision is your concern?” Tsaritsa says as she avoids her gaze. She knows her daughter is glaring at her. She hears Signora give in by her sigh and her fingers rubbing at her temple.

“Who is your friend? Let me get Dottore to run a background- ”

“He is the emperor from Liyue.”

“Tartaglia spent a year in Liyue, didn’t he?” Signora said as she thought out loud. Perhaps they could send a portion of their military might if it is under the supervision of their youngest Harbinger.

Then again… it is Tartaglia they’re talking about.

“Yes. Tartaglia is familiar with foreign languages to a certain degree as well, is he not? Perhaps we could send him as a consort?”

“Mother.”

“Yes?”

“Did you say consort.”

“Yes.”

A long silence filled the throne room.

“Your majesty.” she let out another heavy sigh. “Harbingers are not marriageable. Especially Tartaglia.” Signora knows her mother is a kind hearted woman, but attempting to marry off Tartaglia as a favour to the Liyue emperor was mind boggling. Surely, Tartaglia was the only omega of their siblings, but he was still a Harbinger. A nasty, cold hearted killer with blood on his hands.

Not to mention his pheromones that smelled too strong of withered roses, a result from years on the battlefield fighting through his heats by literally fighting enemies, muddying his scent by surrounding himself with bloodshed. No high class alpha let alone an emperor would be in their right mind to want to mate with him.

“Do not say that Signora.” Signora’s posture straightened at the appearance of her stern voice, perhaps automatically out of fear or respect, or something between those lines. Regardless her daughter had reverted back to actively listening rather than roasting her brother.

“Tartaglia has worked hard for years for this country. Nevertheless, he is an omega forced to live like an alpha for years on the battlefield for me. Snezhnaya is entering an era of peace, I would like him to start living like his age.” Signora still looked against the suggestion of sending Tartaglia to be married. She understands that perhaps it would be troublesome for her as well, since they were close in age and she would essentially be losing her closest sibling.

“I think this would be good for him.”

“Mother… Tartaglia has no formal omega training for a supposedly ‘high class omega’, considering he’s a prince. If the emperor takes a whiff of his scent, he’d be sent back in a crate to Snezhnaya like an animal.”

“There’s no harm in letting Tartaglia try his chances. If he turns out to be the emperor's concubine, it would not be too bad, would it?” she says softly. She watches as Signora’s expression softens as well at her tone.

“Alright. I’ll let Tartaglia know and make the preparations.”

“Thank you Signora.”

“Childe! Be reasonable!” Signora yells as she chases her half naked brother through the palace gardens, passing by agents and maids who were forced to avert their gaze in fear of being beheaded for looking at the prince half decent.

“Advert your eyes!” Signora points at the oncoming squadron who were heading in their direction. Their faces turn to all different directions to avoid seeing the prince and princess racing each other through the palace grounds.

“Childe!” she lets out a shrill scream as she continues to chase him.

“No! I’ll never marry! You can’t make me!” he jumps over mother’s marble fence and lands behind an unfortunate fatui agent, making him jump from the scare. It doesn’t phase Childe and he continues running. Signora looked down from where Childe jumped and looked at the heels she was wearing ‘ah… my 500 thousand mora heels...’ and decided against it.

“Don’t treat me like a fucking omega!” he sneers at her. She rolls her eyes. In her vision Childe is nothing more like a hissing kitten.

“News flash genius, you are an omega.” Signora managed to catch up to him and successfully cornered him in his room after a long chase outdoors that lasted approximately two hours and forty five minutes, not that she was counting to spite him later. Her angry pheromones leak and overpower Childe, bringing him to his knees. If he were in his prime state, he would be able to resist her pheromones without flinching, but this version of Childe had taken a short break from the battlefield and has started to enjoy living the life of a spoiled prince.

“I’ll make him kick me out in a week if you keep this up.” Childe gasps with his mouth before pinching his nose, trying not to breathe in too much of her scent.

Signora rolls her eyes at how dramatic her younger sibling is being. In a palace full of boys and her being the sole princess, she lives in a house of stubborn alphas. Somehow, Childe being the only non-alpha had caught their terrible personality traits.

“Get up off the floor we have to start going through basic training now.”

- “Ow!” Childe whines when Signora pushes the dildo into him. His ankle rested on one of her shoulders as she stood at the end of the bed, monitoring how much slick he produced.

“Come on, you’ve got to be better at producing slick than this .” she says with a mixture of disappointment and irritation. Firstly, she had to chase her brother through the gardens and now she was in charge of his training?

Well, she did promise the Tsaritsa that she would handle it. But it doesn’t mean she couldn’t complain about it.

“It’s not my fault. You don’t turn me on.” Childe mutters into his pillow below his head, crossing his arms across his torso. Signora smiles, irritated before pushing the dildo further in harder than she should have. He flinches violently before sitting up.

“Ow!”

“The Tsaritsa wants you to go to Liyue and play nice with the emperor, and you know that whatever mom says goes.” Signora ignores the high pitched whine that Childe makes when she gently pushes the dildo further into his cunt.

“Mom just wants to marry me off to some old geezer. Isn’t the emperor supposed to be a 40 year old man.”

“Don’t call her mom. Refer to her as ‘her majesty’.” “You literally just called her mom.”

Childe feels a knot form on the base of the dildo, expanding uncomfortably against him while hitting all the wrong places that made him uncomfortable. One particularly hard thrust caused him to flinch violently again, arching up against the bed in discomfort.

“Ow, ow, ow! ” He complains as Signora finishes pushing the knot into him.

“You’re such a crybaby. How are you going to withstand those dreadfully long hours of mating when you can’t even handle a fake knot.” she pushes his ankle off her shoulder and they fall limp onto the bed below them. She throws her hair behind her shoulder before moving across the room and sitting on the sofa in his room, lying herself across it as if she’s done some terribly hard task. Childe sits up to look at her, irritated at how dramatic she looks.

“Mom should have gotten you a proper trainer years ago rather than this ridiculous last minute coaching.”

“News flash genius .” Childe bites back at her. “I was away on the battlefield ever since her majesty adopted me as a Harbinger? How long has that been, hmm?” he taps his chin, ignoring the shiver that ran down his spine from feeling so much of the knot against him.

“One? Two? Three years?”

“So you’ve been away for six years. Big deal. All of us travel around for her majesty’s missions.”

“None of you alphas need whatever this ‘formal omega training’ is.” he makes air quotations with his fingers. “Cause none of you are omegas.” he glares at her. He knows she can feel the glare, but it's making him angry how easily she ignores him in favour of closing her eyes and sinking her head into the plush pillow on the sofa.

“Most high ranking omegas from across Teyvat go through formal omega training. It teaches you the basics from how to control your pheromones to the importance of heats and proper mating rituals.”

“I’m not most high ranking omegas, if you haven’t noticed.”

“You’re right.” Childe feels some sort of pride with being agreed with.

“You smell like smelly roses and you’re not soft or cute at all.” He made an unhappy noise at his sister. How typical of her, unable to compliment him at any time. He feels the knot soften inside of him and thinks that it was the perfect opportunity to work the dildo out of him before aiming for his sister's head. The dildo misses Signora by two inches before falling on the other side of the couch.

“Tartaglia!” the shrill scream echoed throughout the palace.

- The day he was sent away, the Tsaritsa and Signora stood out at the front gates to bid Childe goodbye. He kisses her majesty’s knuckles before meeting her eyes.

“I promise I’ll do well.”

The Tsaritsa smiles at him, gentle and motherly while a step further behind her Signora is glaring at him with all her might. The wind blows harshly, little flakes of snow sticking to Childe’s red hair. He smiles mimicking the gentle one she gave him.

“I know you will. Even if he does not choose you to be his mate, as long as you are happy,” she hesitates and bites her lip. She knows that she would be lying if she continued. “I will be happy.” she finishes.

In her heart she is hoping that it does not come down to that and that her old friend would treat her son right, but the possibilities are endless when it comes to Zhongli. If he was similar to her image of him when they were younger, he would still be an unpredictable enigma, coming and doing as he pleases like an outdoor cat. Then again, Tartaglia was a hurricane in a human shaped shell, with the ability to sweep everything in his path off their feet, dragging the air from their lungs with the chaos he’s capable of leaving in his wake.

“Even if you come home, I’ll take you with open arms.” she says softly, unsure if he heard her over the harsh blowing of the Snezhnaya wind. He turns back to look at his mother (and his sister who caught his eye, and looked away) and the palace he could be leaving for the rest of his life before he boards his carriage that would take him to the docks to board his ship to Liyue, this time with no predicted date of his return.

If he would even return. He was unsure.

The carriage left the front gates of the palace, but the Tsaritsa continued to watch until it was out of their sight.

“I wonder if it was a good idea to send Tartaglia.” she puts a gloved hand to her mouth and another on her stomach. “He has no formal omega training. I’m afraid if he were to lose out to any other potential omega the emperor had his eye on.”

‘I literally told you that.’ Signora thinks, but she gives her mother a sympathetic look and places a hand over her shoulder, pulling the Tsaritsa close to her body. Tsaritsa’s eyes widen in surprise as she feels herself being pulled closer to her daughter's body. Signora is taller than her and blankets herself over her mother, sharing their warmth. While she’s proud that her daughter isn’t as afraid of her as she was years ago, she’s still worried about Tartaglia.

“You worry too much, your majesty. He will be fine.” Signora says as she brings a gloved hand to the Tsaritsa’s back and strokes fondly, comforting her.

#zhongli #childe #zhongchi #genshin impact tsaritsa #genshin impact childe #genshin impact zhongli #genshin impact la signora

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welllpthisishappening · 3 years

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Okay can we talk about ACOSF???? Bc on booktok all I’m seeing is so much negativity about how people don’t like feysand or don’t like nesta but?? I read this book, loved it, thought nesta grew SO much and we got to see feysand from a different POV which gave them depth! Plus a baby!!! I can talk about it forever

We can absolutely talk about ACOSF. I have thoughts, feelings, opinions and this is going to get long. And, uh, any of those super negative critiques:

Alright, alright, alright, so initial feelings? I enjoyed it a lot. Like, way more than I thought I would honestly because going in I was like eh, Nessian, but I loved Nesta’s character development and the flirt-to-roast ratio with her and Cassian and every single time Cassian called her Nes or God help me ARCHERON, my soul reached another plane of existence. Don’t even get me started on that one time she called him General. The noise I made was not audible to human ears.

That said, there were some parts that I was like: oh ok, that’s happening. So, because I cannot function without organization, let’s break down some of the major things that happened into a LIST WITH OPINIONS ATTACHED

Sexual Tension Fucking fuck, these two idiots. Pining after each other while both desperately wanting someone, anyone, to be like — please stay in bed and cuddle me all night?!?! Idiots. Both of them flush with power and the ability to make people legit terror before them and they’re so goddamn soft with each other. Which is kind of hysterical because they are also able to rip each other to shreds? Oh my God, some of those fight scenes, I just—my heart was in my throat. And I do not want to hear a single word of how CASSIAN IS MEAN TO NESTA? Were we reading the same book, internet? Bro is In Love. From the G E T.

Which leads us to—

S O L S T I C E God, rip my romantic-loving heart out of my body. Learning what was in the box from the solstice before made me screech and then the music. THE MUSIC. Can we talk about Cassian, feared general, dude who has canonically lost track of how many people he has killed, cornering an ENTIRE ORCHESTRA to recreate music for Nesta? I just—f u c k. It was a lot. A lot. And then we circle back around to how soft they were and there’ll never be another and I am going to have to pace around a bit. I loved it. I love them. I nearly screamed when it took Nesta a few more chapters to realize it was a mating bond, and then Cassian just bolted because he also couldn’t quite deal with it, and I am still not super sold on the mating bond, like, as a thing, but I kind of went into this book pretty certain this was going to happen, so...good. Also them arguing by the Sidra, oof.

There was a lot of sex in this book. I knew there was going to be a lot of sex in this book. I must have told my husband four different times, “God, there is a lot of sex in this book.” Some of it was good. Some of it was kind of cloying in its descriptions. I genuinely lol’ed at Nesta fantasizing about being straight up railed by both Cassian and Azriel. (Why was that in there? Still don’t really know, felt a lot like very obvious fan service, but it was also kind of hysterical.)

JEALOUSY DIDN’T MAKE ME WANT TO RIP MY EYES OUT I hate jealousy plots. HATE THEM. It’s one of my biggest pet peeves in relationship writing, but I was super into it here??? Cassian cutting in on the dance and TAKING DANCING LESSONS. It was good. I enjoyed it.

Nesta’s Power Yo. YO. This was really cool. She was terrifying and out of control, while also learning how to be in control and intimidating and I was like YES, GET IT. When Rhys flew into the House and Nesta was just wrapped in silver flames, that was super cool. Also Rhys being freaked out by her? Kind of bad ass, honestly. But. But! I wish it was explored even more. I wish we got to learn what she could really do and the extent to which she could do it, because I thought it was a fascinating possibility to parallel Nesta to Feyre and I don’t really think we got that. Like, Feyre Cursebreaker — with power given from all the High Lords, this bringer of new life and a fresh start for all the courts. Then her sister — with power stolen from the Cauldron itself and death at her fingertips. With all the comparisons of Feyre and Nesta, I really figured we’d be gunning towards that eventually ESPECIALLY with Feyre being pregnant, and the idea of life in that capacity. Also, what was the point of Lucien saying “Gods help you all” or whatever he said when he was watching Nesta train if...nothing ever really came from that? We’ll circle back around to that in a second, during what will be my ending-based soliloquy, but first let’s talk about—

Feyre Being Pregnant, Why That Kind of Felt Like Twilight and Why I Get Why Rhys Was Being an Idiot Listen, part of the reason I wanted to read this book was for what I assumed would be the Feysand crumbs we’d get. Most of me was convinced that this book would not take place in Velaris and I was mentally prepared for that. Color me pleasantly surprised when it wasn’t and we got an IC feast. But. But! Part two! I’ve mentioned how I’m never really here for...pregnancy being like this ultimate endgame, and I understand why Feysand wanted a kid and I get it, I do. Just the whole thing with she’s going to DIE felt very Bella Swan, was kind of dramatic in mela-sort of way and I TOTALLY GET WHY RHYS KEPT THE WINGS A SECRET. Was it idiotic? Yeah, of course. But I don’t think we talk about his trauma enough, really. Those fifty years under the Mountain are not just gong to disappear, and I cannot really blame him for totally losing his mind at even the idea of Feyre dying. This is not a dude who is trying to control Feyre. I’ve never felt that way about Rhys. At all. This is a dude who has already lost ALL of HIS control and is desperately trying to hang on. He’s already had his entire world shattered six ways to Sunday, this was obviously going to destroy him. Aside from, y’know, straight up killing him too. (That was dumb, guys.) And I think telling Feyre would have made it REAL for Rhys, which he obviously could not cope with. Was I surprised that Feyre’s pregnancy was such a big plot point in a book that was supposed to be super Nessian focused? Yeah, for sure. But also—I like established relationships and Feyre and Rhys could not stop making eyes at each other. Not totally here for the deadly pregnancy trope, not totally here for using family as a trauma recovery, but sort of understand it.

Training, Valkyries and Friendship Bracelets Like I said, I thought this book was gong to take place in the Illyrian camps way more than it did, but I L O V E D the training sessions. Adored Nesta, Emerie and Gwyn’s friendship and how often they teamed up to snark Cassian and Azriel. I was painfully here for all three of them together and the sleepover in the House warmed the cockles of my cold, dead heart. Especially when the bracelets proved so important during the Blood Rite. Which—let’s talk about the Blood Rite. Didn’t expect that!! Was pleasantly surprised by that!! Nesta drawing the literal line in the dirt made me fist pump the air. (And is another parallel to Feyre and her taking inspiration from old Fae legends, but that’s neither here nor there, whatever I’m not here to harp on missed opportunity.) I thought it was really important that all three of them got to showcase their own power too, and how they worked SO WELL together and I was just really glad that there was such focus on this sisterhood outside of literal sisterhood. I thought those relationships were so well done and it was just such a joy to read about their growth and strength and I loved them. Am I here for Gwyn and Azriel? Maybe. Possibly more here for Emerie and Mor? Maybe maybe.

The House I thought it was Amren, for a very long time. Like secretly helping Nesta still and I was really into that idea and really into Amren not being able to totally let Nesta go and I wasn’t really into Nesta bowing to Amren.

THE ENDING Oh my God, so much happened. So quickly. With some occasionally jarring scene cuts. The Blood Rite surprised me, but I was not surprised by Cassian getting ensnared by the crown. Fully expected something like that to happen, was still making ridiculous noises when he tried to turn the dagger on himself instead of killing Nesta. LOST MY MIND WHEN NESTA UNMADE THE QUEEN. I’m still sort of...confused about the Trove, though. I know there are a fair number of hanging plot threads that are gong to lead into other stories, but I just—I don’t know, when they were talking about the High King and everything I sort of thought they were leading towards Nessian being that. I know the whole IC was very into Rhys and thematically it made sense, but also let’s consider—I don’t want that? Rhys needs to get his shit in order and his own Court to calm the fuck down and again I think the potential for LORD OF THE BASTARDS and LADY DEATH to ascend to this position of power and lead the world into this new era was there and I just, I don’t know, I liked the idea of it. Particularly when so many people have referred to Nesta as a Queen. That whole thing in the prison happened, y’know? I’m not sure (read: I’m fairly positive) that won’t happen now, especially because Nesta gave up so much of her power to save Feyre. And I know that’s a TALKING POINT™ but also...I was pretty cool with that? Once it came out that Feyre was going to die, it made sense that Nesta would be the one to save her—to twist death again, and kind of seize control of it. Granted, I’m still a little confused by the Trove and what everyone’s going to do with all that power, but Nesta saving Feyre was this perfect sort of wrap up. For me, at least. I think they balance each other out in a lot of respects, and that was really the last step of Nesta’s growth. Also, uh, back on my Feysand ‘ish and Rhys screaming and crying and trying to get to Feyre? o o o f. Also, also, RHYS BOWING TO NESTA. I CANNOT TELL YOU THE LAST TIME I CRIED AT A BOOK, BUT I CRIED AT THIS BOOK. RHYS, BABY, I ADORE YOU.

Nesta Finding Herself I just really—liked it. I think sometimes in these sorts of stories we get people who are so focused on characters being “the bitch” and having an edge and we have a tendency to think that’s what makes them STRONG. Nah, that ain’t it, son. I don’t want to read about someone being a dick just for sake of being a dick. Nesta was NOT IN A GOOD PLACE. She was self-imploding and destroying herself and getting her POV made it blatantly clear that she thought she deserved that. That she truly believed she didn’t deserve anyone else. And as much as the romance was good and the friendships were fantastic, the key to this story was Nesta (as cheesy as it sounds) learning to love herself. To find worth in her own self. Reading about Nesta simply learning to want to live again, for no one except herself, was really, really good and I think, for the most part, well done. Which is why it makes sense that Nesta gives up some of her power. This isn’t about being A BAD BITCH, PATENT PENDING. This is about love, and joy and embracing your own faults. I get the disappointment over Nesta losing her power. I do. But I’m not sure she totally did? Maybe that’s too positive, or too naive, or something, but...whatever.

Other things that I really enjoyed, include but are not limited to: Cassian having allergies Nesta absolutely decimating Tamlin. And Tamlin’s just like...a lion all the time now, huh? And, uh, also is Tamlin Gwyn’s dad??? Like, is that a thing? Am I crazy? Nesta telling Elain to fuck off (Also, Elain—darling, I wish you got more character development. Elain is to SJM what Belle is to me in CS fic. Sometimes I think she just forgets about her.) Azriel calling out Cassian for getting BLOWN at the dining room table Azriel getting Nesta a Solstice gift and then THEY HUGGED Nesta wanting an over the top mating ceremony. Get it, girl. Feyre going full on Court of Nightmares in the Hewn City Nesta making it down the steps

Other things I thought we’d get more of and just...didn’t Whatever the fuck Lucien has been up to, and more on the continent with Vassa and Juran More stuff in Illyria Reaction to the trio in the Blood Rite Amren and Nesta reconciling. I know Nesta apologized, but Amren kind of got on my nerves. Nesta understandably criticizing the IC and their tendency to get a little sanctimonious. THREE SISTER PEAKS. THREE BAT BOYS. THREE VALKYRIE. WHAT IS IT SARAH? WHAT DOES IT MEAN?

#acosf #acosf spoilers #nessian #a court of silver flames #a court of silver flames spoilers #oh my god this is so long #i'm really not here for the negativity #so i will not engage with that #stealing-vengence #laura rambles #laura reads books

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empyria-archive · 3 years

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character summary

Alias/Nicknames: She doesn’t really have any personal nicknames, her sister calls her Ari sometimes, if she’s the WOL: ‘Warrior of Light/Darkness’, Warrior, Champion, Savior. etc. As for an alias, she went by Lenora for quite a time when she ran away to Ishgard.

Gender: Female

Age: 26

Zodiac: aquarius

Abilities/Talents: Expert in magick of all sorts, alchemist by her blood-rite, has extended medical/medicinal knowledge. Versatile with a katana and gunblade. Quite acrobatic and agile, fancy flips and shit, be prepared to dance when you fight her.

Alignment: lawful / neutral / chaotic / good / neutral / evil / true

Religion: Thaliak the Scholar

Sins: envy / greed / gluttony / lust / pride / sloth / wrath

Virtues: charity / chastity / diligence / humility / justice / kindness / patience

Languages: Common tongue, Sharlayan languages and some draconian-dialect.

Family: Mother & Father, a red mage and alchemist, alive and well. A twin brother who’s a Summoner and Bard, (who may or may not inherited the villainous trope down the line. we serve angst here sir.) baby sister who specializes in black magick, potty mouth and will rat you out for one corn chip. Lowkey headstrong and sweet, loves her siblings a lot but will not hesitate to bonk them. Also. An uncle on her mother’s side, named Isaac, but Aria has never met him.

Friends: to be fair, Aria has never expected to befriend so many people in her time in Eorzea. (considering she had a bit of a lonely childhood due to her being shy/scared of other children. And living in a strict household where interactions with other’s were limited. Aria was always around her siblings at this point.) but yeah, the Scions, people on the first, the Alliance/etc. And a majority of other oc’s: [points aggressively at u all]

Sexuality: heterosexual / bisexual / pansexual / homosexual / demisexual / asexual / unsure / other

Relationship Status: single / partnered / married / widowed / open relationship / divorced / not ready for dating yet / it’s complicated

Libido: sex god / very high / high / average / low / very low / non-existent

Build: slender / average / athletic / muscular / curvy / other

Hair: white / blonde / brunette / red / black

Eyes: brown / blue / gray / green / black / other (red,,,,)

Skin: pale / fair / olive / light brown / brown / dark / other

Height: 5′8″

Scars: A myriad of them. Some more noticeable on her arms and hands. A diagonal scar on the apple of her cheek from a gauntlet.

dogs or cats || birds or bugs || snakes or spiders || coffee or tea || ice cream or cake || fruits or vegetables || sandwich or soup || magic or melee || sword shield dagger or bow || summer or winter || spring or autumn || pastorfuture

A few songs that remind you of them:

Absofacto (Dissolve)

REAKTION by Rezodrone

Tagged: i honestly just stole this from the dash

Tagging: whoever wants to steal this

#invidia. ( headcanons. )#q.

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margoshansons · 4 years

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N+A=J, Azor Ahai, and Dawn

Look, before you go and crucify me for presenting and actually believing this theory, just hear me out. I’m not here to convince you or bash on your theory, so please don’t do that with mine.

These are just my opinions and while proof for R+L is stronger and is probably what will happen in the books, I do think that people are missing out on the awesome potential for N+A.

This is not an attempt to prove it. There are people with more dedication and more time on their hands who have tried. I’m only here to discuss why I like this theory from a narrative standpoint better than R+L=J

TLDR: Jon is Azor Ahai and making him a Dayne gives him access to Dawn, cool warg magic, and the potential to be the Sword of the Morning, which I think is pretty sick.

So let’s go!

1. Jon Snow’s Narrative Arc

Jon Snow is arguably the main character of ASOIAF, with Bran and Daenerys joining him as other main protagonists of the series. And it’s no secret why.

All three have very distinct, very important relationships to Magic.

Daenerys has her dragons, Bran is the Three-Eyed Crow, and Jon Snow’s whole storyline is about preparing for the next Long Night. The war against the Others.

It’s been that way since the beginning. We get small bits and pieces of it here and there but once Othar attacks Mormont it’s finally revealed to us and Jon that there are bigger things beyond the wall than wildlings. And we know that this is a complete surprise to Mormont and the other men of the Night’s Watch.

We also know that there is little written about the Others in Westeros at all, seeing as Sam isn’t able to find much on them when he travels to the Citadel.

This leads to the Great Ranging which leads to the Battle of the Fist of the First Men, which leads to the mutiny, which leads to Jon betraying the wildings which leads to the Battle at the Wall, which eventually gets him elected Lord Commander.

My point being, Jon’s storyline at this point has been spent 100% in the North surrounded by magic. There is no indication of him going south, no indication of politics beyond strategy and Stannis, no indication of him doing anything except planning for a battle against the Others and trying to save as many people as possible.

IN FACT! The reason he gets shanked is because he momentarily forgets his duty and puts the same people he promised to save in danger.

Up until Jon gets the pink letter, he never thinks about going south, but then “Arya” is in trouble and he puts NW and wildling men at risk. That is why he gets stabbed, that’s why they say “For the Watch”

Because in doing so he not only forgets his vows, but also the cause the men had pledged themselves to.

Now, all of this next bit is speculation based on what I personally think is going to happen and why I think Jon being Ashara’s son makes for a better narrative.

We know several plot points need to be resolved regarding Jon. I personally think he warged in Ghost, and then Melisandre will give him the last kiss as a priestess of r’hllor, which resurrects him like Beric Dondarrion.

Now, interesting thing here. The last kiss is a common funeral rite for the religion of the R’hllor and there’s another name for it as well.

The last kiss is a rite practiced by the red priests of R'hllor. When a follower of the Lord of Light dies, priests fill their mouths with fire and breathe flame into the deceased, as they believe that fire cleanses and is a bright gift. Harwin and Thoros of the brotherhood without banners refer to it as the kiss of life. (Wiki of Ice and Fire)

So, a kiss of life that is related to fire, that’s interesting. You know what else is interesting?

The exact circumstances of Jon’s death. It’s very different than what happened in the show. The show scene was quoted as being “a bad guy killing a good guy” while the books made it much more morally grey.

The most interesting part of Jon’s death, however, is Bowen Marsh sticking the dagger in Jon. He’s not only the first person to deal a mortal blow, but GRRM describes in detail how much Marsh is weeping, and how tragic this end really is.

Hmmmm, is it just me or is this starting to sound familar?

Flames, saltwater, wow this is really starting to remind me of something, but I can’t quite put my finger on it....

*stares into the camera like I’m on the office*

He’s being set up to be reborn amidst salt and smoke!

And now we get to my main part of the theory (took us long enough) but before that happens I need to make one thing very clear.

The Prince that Was Promised and Azor Ahai are NOT the same person.

Yes, Melisandre refers to them interchangeably, but no offense, she’s wrong...like a lot.

And while we know that Rhaegar knew about TPTWP, it was highly unlikely he knew about the Others, because as stated above, there is little to no information about them in Westeros and they haven’t been seen since the Long Night. So I really don’t have any idea why Rhaegar would think his son was destined to destroy beings that didn’t exist.

He got the details of TPTWP from Valyrian scrolls, and based on the info we have, Valyrians never interacted with the Others.

Azor Ahai on the other hand, is prophecized to directly battle with “the Great Other” which Mel connects to the Others (although this isn’t confirmed). On top of this, here are the two prophecies of Azor Ahai and TPTWP

TPTWP

born of Aerys and Rhaella’s line

born of salt and smoke

prophecised by a bleeding star

has a song of ice and fire

“the dragon must have three heads”

will deliver the world from darkness

will wake dragons from stone

Obviously this is exclusive to Targaryens, and Rhaegar was even thought to be the Prince that was Promised, but I think this applies to Daenerys or Aegon more than Jon even with R+L.

Especially considering Rhaegar used the song of ice and fire line on Aegon before even thinking of Lyanna.

Azor Ahai:

will show up after a long summer

born or reborn amidst salt and smoke

born or reborn after “stars bleed” and “the cold breath of darkness falls heavy on the world”

will draw forth a burning sword named Lightbringer

will ultimately fight against the Great Other

There’s no mention of dragons, songs, or anything else that most people use to interchange the two. Now the reason I bring this up is because if Jon turns out to be the son of Ned and Ashara, then he not only has a claim to Winterfell through Robb’s will, but he also can claim Dawn, the Dayne’s ancestral sword.

Dawn is a unique sword in the fact that its not made of Valyrian Steel but it’s just as sharp. It’s blade is described as “pale milkglass” and it’s a two-handed greatsword wielded by the Sword of the Morning. It was forged from the heart of a falling star and is the entire origin for House Dayne. It’s even said to glow.

The intesting thing about it? Only a Dayne can wield it.

It’s not passed down from father to son like most Valyrian Steel swords, but is instead given to the knight most worthy of possessing it.

GRRM has always emphasized the importance of Swords, especially Valyrian Steel swords. But I think what’s so interesting about Dawn is that we get its history in the very first book, and Arthur and Ashara Dayne are some of the only named Dornish characters we get from that time period.

(Also, just a fun fact, George has said that if he could wield a sword it would be Dawn, so do with that what you will)

I think that Dawn is Lightbringer, and the fact that George hasn’t given much information about the Daynes (a relatively minor house) when asked, makes me think that they play a much bigger part in the endgame than we think.

They have ties to the First Men, which means they were around during the first Long Night and the Battle for the Dawn. This also means that they potentially have the same warging abilities the Starks do, which would only be heightened if they were joined.

(I have so many theories on the First Men and magic, but that would take longer to get into than this.)

So, if Jon were to be the son of Ned and Ashara, then he could become the Sword of the Morning, which provides interesting imagery when you place it next to “The Long Night”.

It also would create one of my favorite parallels. Ned Stark heads to Starfall to return Dawn to Ashara after killing her brother, The Sword of the Morning. Jon Snow/Stark heads to Starfall to claim Dawn after being declared the Sword of the Morning and Ashara’s son.

Tbh, I just love this theory because magic! And heartbreaking parallels.

In conclusion, ASOIAF is messy and complicated and won’t be solved with a perfect parentage reveal. I think this one is interesting and while I think R+L=J will be what’s revealed (tbh I don’t mind it as long as they don’t romanticize it), I think there’s just as great a story if Jon really is the bastard of Ned and Ashara Dayne.

Please be kind, I am only a lady who likes cool theories with way too much time on her hands.

#asoiaf #asoiaf meta #a song of ice and fire #jon snow meta #valyrianscrolls #jon snow #ned x ashara #*mine #house stark #house dayne #asoiaf speculation #{I just really needed to get this off my chest}#{please don't yell at me}#{also it's four am and I am very tired so please excuse errors}#{again please be kind}#{I just love magic okay?}

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presumenothing · 3 years

Text

one more light

ALRIGHT SO this isn’t a new fic but i just realised i somehow never did post this to tumblr, so here it is: 2k worth of atla zombie apocalypse non-au.

no archive warning content beyond the fact of. y’know. zombies

(AO3)

“It’s not your fault, Aang,” Katara says after they beat back the latest siege, and only his sister could still sound sincere even in something they’ve all said at least a dozen times by now.

Sokka feels so proud of her that his heart is almost bursting… or maybe that’s just the effort of hacking his way through dozens of actual damned zombies. A bit of both, really.

Not that the rest of them don’t believe what she’s saying. This whole mess is Sozin and maybe Roku’s fault if it’s anyone’s, and Sokka would gladly repeat that until he went hoarse if he thought Aang would listen.

But Katara is the one who’s always believed in Aang before any of them did, and that sort of thing made a difference.

Or it used to, at least, but today there’s no brightening in Aang’s expression as he stands up, glider having never left his hands. “I’ll take first watch.”

Biting her lower lip, Katara meets Sokka’s gaze as Aang flies off without waiting for any response, and Sokka shakes his head slightly: let him be.

“Twinkletoes fly off again?”

“Yeah.” When Sokka looks over, Toph’s eyebrows are furrowed in what he would’ve called concern if it hadn’t been on someone who could still fling him off the cliff even after a whole day of fighting. “He’s… not doing too well.”

Not that any of them really are, by this point. Toph doesn’t even call him out for stating the obvious, only crosses her arms. “I wish Sparky was here.”

“You and me both,” he admits – and fine, yes, it’s already enough of a lucky coincidence that the four of them had been travelling together when the sudden case of apocalypse broke out, so asking for more would just be tempting fate, but…

Sokka sighs. “I’m sure he’s fine. Jerkbender doesn’t know how to lose.”

Toph’s punch on his shoulder is far lighter than her usual. “You’re a real shitty liar, Snoozles.”

“Doesn’t make me wrong,” Sokka retorts, and he really really hopes he isn’t wrong. Because Zuko has his firebending and his dual swords and a whole palace full of scarily armed guards plus Suki hellbent on protecting the first sane Fire Lord, so there isn’t any reason why he shouldn’t be okay except that there is.

A century of war dead, in every corner of their world. Legion doesn’t even begin to cover it.

ii.

Aang had still tried to be careful, at first – dodging blows from shambling corpses is easier than usual, if anything, and he could call up enough water or earth to freeze a half-dozen bodies in one sweep even if it wouldn’t be fatal (insofar as that applied to the undead).

Not that they really had any other option besides stopping them permanently; Katara had tried healing once, on someone who’d just been turned an hour before, and the way her entire face had gone grey answered that well enough.

But Aang is still their most powerful fighter, and after everything with Ozai none of them had been willing to say anything until they almost lost three people to a too-quick thaw. Toph had been the one to react, a flying shard of rock decapacitating the half-frozen zombie with extreme prejudice right before it could lurch onto the cowering villagers, and later she’d also been the one to say it.

“They’re already dead, Aang! Someone’s going to die if you keep this up, and it’s gonna be one of us still alive!” Toph had shouted, eyes glimmering even as Aang stood too quiet and too still, and even now Sokka isn’t sure which had been the worse sight.

iii.

In a way, taking down zombies as a non-bender is – well, maybe not easier, but at least a sword thrust clean through the throat works just the same on everything.

It wouldn’t have been Sokka’s first choice of target before, but at least he hadn’t needed to change strategies as much as the benders had: internal injuries from blunt force rock don’t slow down an opponent who lacked working organs to start with, and getting frozen in ice probably ranked as a minor inconvenience compared to literally being dead.

Toph had begun hoarding metal after their first fight, and now could bend and fire wickedly-sharp blades in a manner scarily reminiscent of Mai except she never ran out. Katara’s ice missiles aim for the head instead, and Sokka doesn’t need a closer look to know that her ice had gotten denser, heavier somehow, even if he doesn’t quite know how.

At least air still works the same in clearing a swathe through the hordes when they need it, which is just as well – Aang fights almost solely as an airbender, now.

It had taken Sokka a while to realise, since he’d initially sorta assumed that Aang had just been avoiding any use of fire (because the stench of rotten flesh burning is really enough to make anyone consider joining Aang in vegetarianism).

But then he’d paid more attention, and confirmed it with Katara and Toph: Aang really doesn’t fight with anything but air unless he’s forced to. Like he’s not the Avatar at all.

And that makes its own sense, in a twisty sort of way – even after they’d ended the war and brought some sort of peace Sokka knows that Aang still blames himself for having let things get that far, and being the bridge to the spirits doesn’t help this situation at all because it had nothing to do with the spirits to begin with as far as they could tell, so what good is the Avatar?

…just because it makes sense doesn’t mean that Sokka has to like it, and he is going to confront Aang about it one of these days as soon as he’s figured out what to say. Just like how he still needs to talk to Katara about what the heck happened during that fight in the desert.

(All Sokka knows for sure is that Katara had run out of water to bend even though they still had far too many zombies to take down, so instead she had reached and–

Empty bodies had fallen like cut marionettes in a half-circle around her, in the same moment that Katara had turned to the side and thrown up, and if Sokka’s being honest with himself he thinks he can figure out what happened there too even without asking Katara about it.)

(There are many things they don’t talk about, these days.)

iv.

At least it’s a blessing in disguise that Aang and Zuko had already gone through the Air Temples to perform the appropriate rites, because they’ve proved to be the current best option for evacuating people and keeping them safe.

Not that the temples are invulnerable, not by a long shot – but it’s better than staying on flat ground, and definitely way better than it would’ve been if there’d still been century-old corpses scattered around.

Also, it turns out zombies aren’t really keen on higher altitudes. Who could’ve guessed?

Admittedly the temples were never built to host that many people, especially not after standing vacant for this long, but it’s the best they can do for now. Iroh had told them about the White Lotus safehouses, of course, just in case everything went wrong during the comet and they needed some place to regroup, but Sokka has to wonder if those are fortified enough.

He tries to imagine Master Piandao preparing for the zombie apocalypse and can’t help a snicker.

Aang, staring straight ahead, doesn’t notice.

It’s just the two of them on Appa now as they make their way back down from ferrying more people up to the temple, so Sokka isn’t expecting it when Aang shoots upright from his seat on Appa’s head, turning wide-eyed to shout in the direction of the saddle. “Take the reins, I have to get down there!”

Sokka almost yelps in alarm when Aang barely waits for his glider to open before throwing himself out mid-air, but then he looks down and does swear a dozen things that would have Gran-Gran washing his mouth out if she heard, because there’s no mistaking those bursts of blue fire.

He urges Appa down at top speed and scrambles off once they touch land to see Katara facing off squarely against Azula, Aang by her side and Toph a few paces behind.

There’s at least a dozen ice daggers hanging in the air around Katara, but Azula doesn’t even seem bothered. “Zuzu? Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“I took you down once, Azula.” Katara’s voice is scarily level as Sokka slows to a stop beside Toph. “I can do it again. For the last time: where is Zuko?”

Azula doesn’t even bother to answer now, only throws her head back with a laugh, and Sokka can see Aang tensing up in preparation to redirect lightning–

–can see Toph twitch in something like surprise, opening her mouth to say something just as another voice roars: “Hold your fire!”

A grin spreads across Toph’s face even as Sokka turns, and there they are: Zuko supporting Suki as she limps up to them, both looking worse for wear but still safe.

Suki waves at them with her free hand, smile a little wan. “Hey. Sorry we’re late?”

Sokka volunteers for first watch before anyone else can.

He’s only just gotten settled in when Zuko comes over to sit beside him, and if Zuko notices that this position conveniently lets Sokka keep a lookout while still being able to see Suki – screw it, okay, he hasn’t seen his girlfriend in ages and he’s missed her like hell.

They’d gotten the chance to talk earlier while Katara had been healing Suki’s twisted ankle, but even now that Sokka knows she’s okay, it’s still good to have the visual reminder.

Zuko doesn’t comment on it, though, so it’s up to Sokka to point out the obvious. “You can rest, y’know. Katara will wake you when it’s your turn.”

“In a while, maybe. I’m not sleepy yet.” Zuko shakes his head even as Sokka gives him (or more accurately the dark smudges beneath his eyes) a dubious look – but then again, none of them are strangers to being exhausted but sleepless, whether from adrenaline or something else. “Suki has been taking more than her share of night watches, anyway, she’s the one who really needs the rest.”

Sokka almost snorts but stops himself. Honestly he might’ve done the same, if he had been sharing a camp with Azula. “So how are things in Firetown?”

“Still standing when we left,” Zuko answers, which Sokka takes to mean possibly overrun and definitely on fire. “I gave the decree to open the imperial bunkers to anyone who needed shelter, right before the Fire Sages burst into the hall and demanded I immediately leave and seek out the Avatar to end this blight upon our world.”

Sokka raises an eyebrow. “That a direct quote?”

“Yeah. I don’t even think I’ve ever seen the Sages literally running, but apparently there’s a first time for everything.”

Like mostly-ending the war only for the walking dead to happen, Sokka’s pretty sure they’re both thinking. “Don’t suppose they might’ve mentioned what exactly Aang is supposed to do?”

“That would’ve been too easy,” Zuko says dryly, before sobering. “Aang hasn’t figured anything out?”

“He doesn’t even think there’s a spirit behind this.” Which had all sorts of disturbing implications that Sokka refuses to consider right now. “So Suki decided to come with you?”

Zuko doesn’t say anything about the blatant change of topic. “Insisted, more like.”

Sokka grins – that’s Suki, all right – before he looks over at the other addition to their group. “And Azula?” he asks quietly.

“She’s my sister. I–” Zuko scrubs a hand roughly over his face, shakes his head. “I couldn’t just leave her behind. She’s my sister.”

And if Sokka hadn’t already noticed how tired Zuko looks, that would’ve been clue enough. Yeah, they’ve all made their fair share of jokes about Zuko being a broken record about honour and capturing the Avatar way back when but really, he’s never been one to repeat himself. Sokka isn’t even sure Zuko realises that he’s doing it.

He takes a page from Toph’s book and punches Zuko on the shoulder. “Get some sleep, hotman,” he says over Zuko’s splutter. “We’ll still be here in the morning.”

“You better be,” Zuko grumbles as he heads off to bed, but when he flops down to sleep it’s right between Suki and anything that might come at them.

Sokka turns back away with a smile.

hell yeah sokka pov

also my other atla fics are here and here if you need a pick-me-up after that, i swear they’re actually like. my usual funny fare

#i feel like this is..... considerably more grim of a take on a zombie apocalypse than you'd expect from me...??#but then again. i did just turn al into a house so yeah #atla #avatar the last airbender #fanfiction #mine

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theskyrimlibrary · 4 years

Text

Table of Contents

Here is a full list of the books I’ve collected so far and will be adding to this blog. If there’s one you’d like to see before the others, let me know because right now, I’m just choosing at random.

✲•······················▃🖋️······················•✲

2920, morning star, v1

2920, sun's dawn, v2

2920, first seed, v3

2920, rain’s hand, v4

2920, second seed, v5

2920, sun's height, v7

2920, last seed, v8

2920, hearth fire, v9

2920, sun’s dusk, v11

2920, evening star, v12

a children's anuad

a dance in fire, v1

a dance in fire, v3

a dance in fire, v4

a dance in fire, v5

a dance in fire, v6

a dance in fire, v7

a dream of sovngarde

a game at dinner

a gentleman's guide to whiterun

a hypothetical treachery

a kiss, sweet mother

a minor maze

a tragedy in black

advances in lockpicking

aedra and daedra

ahzirr traajijazeri

aicantar’s lab journal

alduin is real

alva’s journal

an explorer's guide to skyrim

ancestors and the dunmer

annals of the dragonguard

antecedants of dwemer law

arcana restored

argonian account, book 1

argonian account, book 2

argonian account, book 3

argonian account, book 4

arvel's journal

azura and the box

battle of red mountain

battle of sancre tar

before the ages of man

beggar

beggar prince

biography of barenziah v1

biography of barenziah v2

biography of barenziah v3

brief history of the empire v1

brief history of the empire v2

brief history of the empire v3

brief history of the empire v4

butcher journal

butcher journal #1

butcher journal #2

catalogue of armor enchantments

cats of skyrim

chance's folly

charwich-koniinge letters, v1

charwich-koniinge, v2

children of the sky

chimarvamidium

chronicles of nchuleft

cook’s journal

darkest darkness

daynas valen’s notes

death blow of abernanit

death of a wanderer

dunmer of skyrim

dwarves, v1

dwarves, v2

dwarves, v3

dwemer history and culture

dwemer inquiries vol.i

dwemer inquiries vol.ii

dwemer inquiries vol.iii

effects of the elder scrolls

enchanter’s primer

fall from glory

fall of the snow prince

father of the niben

feyfolken i

feyfolken ii

feyfolken iii

fisherman’s journal

forge, hammer and anvil

frontier, conquest

galerion the mystic

gallus’s encoded journal

ghosts in the storm

gods and worship

great harbringers [✓]

guide to better thieving

hamelyn’s journal

hargar’s journal

harvesting frostbite spider venom

have need of cynric

herbalist's guide to skyrim

herbane's bestiary: hagravens

herbane’s bestiary: ice wraiths

holdings of jarl gjalund

horker attacks

ice and chitin

immortal blood

imperial report on saarthal

incident at necrom

invocation of azura

journal of wyndelius gatharian

killing - before you're killed

king

king olaf’s verse

kodlak’s journal [✓]

kolb & the dragon

last scabbard of akrash

legend of krately house

life of uriel septim vii

light armor forging

liminal bridges

lost legends

lycanthropic legends of skyrim

mace etiquette

magic from the sky

margret’s journal

mixed unit tactics

mysterious akavir

mystery of talara v1

mystery of talara v2

mystery of talara v3

mystery of talard v5

mythic dawn commentaries 1

mythic dawn commentaries 2

mythic dawn commentaries 3

myths of sheogorath

n’gasta! kvata! kvakis!

night falls on sentinel

nightingales: fact or fiction?

nords arise!

nords of skyrim [✓]

notes on the lunar forge

ode to the tundrastriders

of crossed daggers

of fjori and holgeir

olaf and the dragon

on oblivion

on the great collapse

orsinium and the orcs

palla, volume 1

palla, volume 2

pension of the ancestor moth

physicalities of werewolves

pirate king of the abecean

proper lock design

purloined shadows

racial phylogeny

red eagle’s rite

remanada

report: disaster at lonith

riften home decorating guide

rising threat vol.i

rising threat vol.ii

rising threat vol.iii

rising threat vol.iv

rislav the righteous

ruins of kemel-ze

ruminations of the elder scrolls

scourge of the gray quarter

shadowmarks

shalidor’s insights

shezarr and the divines

short history of morrowind

skorm snow-strider’s journal

song of hrormir

song of the askelde men

songs of skyrim: revised

songs of the return vol.2

songs of the return vol.7

songs of the return vol.19

songs of the return vol.24

songs of the return vol.56

souls, black and white

sovngarde: a reexamination

spirit of nirn

surfeit of thieves

thalmor dossier: delphine

thalmor dossier: esbern

thalmor dossier: ulfric stormcloak

the adabal-a

the aetherium wars

the alduin/akatosh dichotomy

the amulet of kings

the arcturian heresy

the armorer's challenge

the bear of markarth

the beginner’s guide to homesteading

the black arrow, v1

the black arrow, v2

the black arts on trial

the book of daedra

the book of the dragonborn [✓]

the buying game

the cabin in the woods

the cake and the diamond

the city of stone

the code of malacath

the doors of oblivion

the dowry

the dragon break

the dragon war

the exodus

the falmer: a study

the firmament

the firsthold revolt

the gold ribbon of merit

the great war

the holds of skyrim

the hope of the redoran

the importance of where

the legend of red eagle

the legendary sancre tor

the lunar larkhan

the lusty argonian maid, v1

the lusty argonian maid, v2

the “madmen” of the reach

the madness of pelagius

the marksmanship lesson

the mirror

the monomyth

the oblivion crisis

the pig children

the ransom of zarek

the real barenziah, v1

the real barenziah, v2

the real barenziah, v3

the real barenziah, v4

the real barenziah, v5

the rear guard

the red kitchen reader

the rise and fall of the blades

the seed

the song of pelinal, v1

the song of pelinal, v2

the song of pelinal, v3

the song of pelinal, v4

the song of pelinal, v5

the song of pelinal, v6

the song of pelinal, v7

the song of pelinal, v8

the tale of dro'zira

the talos mistake

the third era timeline

the wild elves

the windhelm letters

the wispmother

the wolf queen, v2

the wolf queen, v3

the wolf queen, v4

the wolf queen, v5

the wolf queen, v6

the wolf queen, v7

the woodcutter’s wife

thief

thief of virtue

three thieves

treasure map iv

trials of st. alessia

troll slaying

twin secrets

uncommon taste

venarus vulpin’s journal

venarus vulpin’s research

vernaccus and bourlor

wabbajack

walking the world, vol xi

warrior

watcher of stones

whiterun home decorating guide

withershins

words and philosophy

words of clan mother ahnissi

wraith’s wedding dowry

yellow book of riddles

yngol and the sea-ghosts

✲•······················▃🖋️······················•✲

#table of contents #masterlist

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solitaria-fantasma · 4 years

Text

((Session 10 highlights, go!))

Fake Lord Hassan confirmed for “The Shadow” bandit we saw a bounty for waaaaay back in the early sessions.

We also found a set of money printing plates in the pile, so let’s add forgery to the long list of crimes committed here.

We also found (3) Potions of Speed, several boxes of (100) ‘mysteriously’ enchanted arrows, a silvered dagger, and a silvered mace.

I am rushing back and forth between taking notes and cooking a depression meal on mute and Google Docs is lagging HARD to update this 40 page document.

We wrapped up this arc of the story, and left the country to head on home!

We escorted Colette back to her homeland, and as thanks, she gave the party her blue Cloak of Protection.

I voted for it to go to Mountain, on the grounds that he is also blue, and it would match his color scheme….also he has the lowest AC of the party bc his player never upgraded his armor.

The rest of the party couldn’t decide, though, so the cloak went into storage as we traveled onward.

“So you all travel back to Phwie. You bond, and your hearts grow five sizes.”

We brought the magical dowry chest back to Lady Rose, and gave her the first key we’d found. She pulled out the other key and opened the chest in front of us.

Inside the chest was a tiny clockwork dragonling. It had been intended as a companion for Clarrissa when she was far from home, but Lady Rose gave it to the party, instead, as a tribute to her daughter who had always wanted an adventure.

This tiny dragon saw Udaji (a bigger dragon), decided “that must be my mom!”, and curled up on her flower crown.

Udaji had a sudden understanding of how her father felt when she hatched, cried, and was made its caretaker.

If we feed it metals, it gives us money, and it can also light small flames, and curl up into a pocket-watch form to hide.

It’s a tiny Transformer and I love them.

I’m going to name this clockwork dragonling “Filigree” and nobody can stop me.

The DM approved. ‘Filigree’ it is.

We head back out into town, and find out from the artificer we made a delivery to earlier that Maxine Von Trikona has been asking about us.

As soon as we seemed receptive to seeing Von Trikona again, she teleported our entire party - animals and all - right to her.

She tells us that she’s having a problem with her apprentice, Humphrey - he’s been going off to those ruins we first found him in and doing gods know what, and she wants us to drag him back.

We’re rich now and the reward isn’t super huge, but we’re still on good terms, and still owe Humphrey a semi-apology for stabbing him and only barely healing him in time, so we took the job.

We went back to the ruins where this whole campaign started, and found resurrected bandits waiting for us.

The DM had us roll for Perception and Udaji shattered all her records with a 16, allowing her to hear the muffled screams of some poor captive somewhere within the ruins.

We walked into a trap and every single one of us failed the Will save.

We blacked out, and woke up in a different room, tied up on an arcane circle as our life force was slowly siphoned away from us.

The new player is also tied up with us, and their icon is Dr. Strange. I like them already.

Also we got stripped of our armor and weapons and left in just our skivvies. Udaji is upsET but mostly because we’re lying on bloody stonework.

Aaaaand Humphrey is trying to kill us again. I wish I could say I’m surprised.

“I did not consent to this.”

Matthias keeps talking, and Humphrey keeps getting more and more annoyed, but he doesn’t stop the ritual.

I tried to freeze him with my ice breath, since I was tied up right beside him, and RIGHT as I did so, Mountain cloned himself, and charged.

Humphrey ran away like a little bitch, and teleported away with a magic circle, leaving all of us behind.

We got ourselves untied, and realized that Astrid - along with our dogs - is missing.

Oh nO FILIGREE IS MISSING TOO-

The new wizard - Sane - confirms that the portal Humphrey escaped through (though now inactive) is for interplanar travel.

There were a few more people around the circle who didn’t survive....

Udaji came in clutch with the high investigation rolls, and found a trapdoor in one corner of the room, as well as a lot of super-sketchy, nefarious arcane shit.

She grabbed a book of notes that looked pretty fresh. She may not know what it’s all about, but Von Trikona probably will!

Mountain recognizes the dead bodies as the judge and a guard from the nearby town that we had dragged Humphrey to jail in early in the story for misdemeanor necromancy.

Claus found a strange pendant, but quickly alerts the rest of us not to touch it.

We open the trapdoor instead, and are instantly hit with the smell of rotting bodies. It’s the corpse storage space - chock full of bodies and personal belongings, all strewn around.

We find our stuff, and we find Filigree!! They’re scared, but unharmed!!!

We do not find our dogs, though.

If Humphrey has hurt Burnt Toast and/or Matthias Jr, I will return him to Von Trikona in a coinpurse.

We’re all missing something - Udaji’s Entertainer’s pack, a week’s worth of rations, a healing potion, and candles are gone.

Mountain is missing his leather armor (hah! Now he’ll HAVE to upgrade!) and his warpick.

Matthias is missing his beloved crown, one of his (stolen) luxury pillows, and his quiver (but not his arrows).

Sane found his psionic focus and cape, and doesn’t seem to be missing anything.

Claus also seems to be able to find all his things.

Astrid is still missing.

“Claus will not heal you [Matthias] if you keep stealing shit from the dead bodies he’s giving final rites to!”

Mountain apparently goes commando under his armor, and is not bothered by his lack of proper clothing. The rest of the party is.

“You’re gonna traumatize Udaji! She’s still a minor!”

Claus gave Mountain a cloak from one of the dead bodies purely for the sake of covering up.

Since the corpse room has no exit, we go back upstairs, and try the door instead.

The door is locked, and has no keyhole or handle. Udaji knocks, but no-one answers.

Mountain tries to bash the door down, fails, and takes four points of bludgeoning damage.

We still have the crystals Sane found, and the teleportation circle Humphrey left behind, but the crystals wouldn’t be strong enough to transport one of us out, let alone all of us, so we go back down to the Corpse Room to look around again.

Mountain found a pressure plate, and when he stepped on it, something clicked upstairs.

Claus is single-handedly throwing dead bodies up the trapdoor so that he can take them out of captivity and properly dispose of them.

We make it out the door…..aaaaand it’s a 10ft drop straight down into a hell realm.

Completely unprepared to explore another realm, the party went back inside and tried to get the portal working.

We failed, and after a while of debating amongst ourselves, we bit the bullet, and headed out to explore this weird realm.

The landscape eventually transitions from barren, craggy rock to green, fertile farmlands

There’s a few adults and a few children around, and Mountain goes up to talk to them, COMPLETELY FORGETTING THAT HE’S STILL M O S T L Y N A K E D-

I pointed this out in the chat, and the DM had to mute herself, she was laughing so hard.

We tell the adult Tiefling that we were robbed/nearly murdered by a necromancer, and for the sake of their child, they offer Mountain an outfit out of their closet that they weren’t really wearing.

I HAVE REALIZED THAT IT WAS NEVER SPECIFIED IF I LOST/FOUND MY LUTE AND I DESPERATELY NEED TO KNOW NOW IF I STILL HAVE IT-

The DM isn’t always looking at the text chat, and my mic is acting weird tonight so I can’t turn it on, so I’m just sitting here sadly as the others progress the story, waiting to hear if Udaji’s family heirloom and prized possession has been lost or not.

The Tiefling farmers tell us that there are a few gates back to our realm relatively nearby, but that the road between them is dangerous.

Our best bet is a semi-permanent gate maintained by a cult of Lythander, and Claus (a cleric of Lythander) perks right up.

The Tiefling farmers give us a very old map, and it turns out that by “relatively nearby”, they mean “on the same continent”.

I STILL HAVE MY LUTE: CONFIRMED!!! Udaji and I feel much better now.

Claus sees that the farmers’ well is a little dry, and uses magic to refill it for them. Suddenly, they’re more willing to give us better deals on trading.

We decide to head for the gate held by the cult of Lythander, and skirt around the magical ‘death zone’ by going through a territory ruled by an ice elemental.

Finally, Udaji’s ice resistance comes in handy!

We need to give a Potion of Darkvision to the wizard bc he’s human and can’t see otherwise, but I’m the one who’s holding it and no-one’s reading the text chat.

We’re starting to chat more than play now, and it’s past 11pm, so we’re probably about done for tonight.

#OOC #Quarantine D&D

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