#THE PRIEST WOULD BE A HOSTAGE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sihtricfedaraaahvicius · 1 year

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warnings: mentions of/hints to past abuse.

pairing: Sihtric x you (f)

summary: Your brother, Uhtred, has just returned from his journey north, and he has brought back a shy but rather handsome Dane.

word count: 1,8k.

note: this was supposed to be a one-shot, but our boy really deserves all the love, so there will be at least another chapter.

You have my word.

Part 1. [part 2] [part 3]

You hate when he calls you that, but he had been gone for months and you were that happy he had returned safe, so you decided to not say anything this time.

'Brother!' you called out and ran towards Uhtred as he climbed off his horse.

'Little sister!' Uhtred smiled, and he embraced you.

You told him your name and the Dane looked up at you, nodded, and looked back down to his feet again. You studied the Dane while Uhtred made a whole speech to him about how you were off limits, and that if he would try something with you, Uhtred would dismember him.

'Word had spread that there was some trouble with Kjartan's men?'

'Yes,' Uhtred said, 'we had some spies. But I killed them all. Except for that one,' he cocked his head towards a Dane, who was across the village's square, and you followed his eyes.

'You kept a hostage?'

'No, he's my servant.'

'So you got yourself a pet then?'

'No, I will train him to be a warrior, I have a feeling he might be good eventually.'

'Brother,' you sighed, 'how do you know he will not betray you?'

'Sister,' Uhtred said seriously, 'he asked to serve me. He promised me his loyalty. He has a fighting spirit in him, yes, but for now he seems rather harmless. He's Kjartan's bastard son, and he wants Kjartan dead as much as I do.'

'I hope you're right,' you said.

'I am,' Uhtred smiled, 'Sihtric! Come here, boy!' he called out, 'I will show you.' The Dane came running across the square.

'Lord?' he panted, and he held his head down.

'Sihtric, I want you to meet my sister.'

You saw that Sihtric was very nervous, shy and obedient. He was tall, a little thin but still quite muscular. He was dressed in leather armour and he carried a knife and a sword. You saw he had bruises, recent cuts, dried blood and old scars on his face, yet you thought he was very handsome.

Later that night you stopped by the alehouse. Uhtred celebrated his return, so the place was packed. You had been there for about an hour and constantly found yourself looking for the Dane, with no luck.

'Do you understand?' Uhtred asked after his speech.

'Yes, lord,' Sihtric said.

'Good, now go and take care of the horses.'

'Yes, lord.'

'See? Harmless,' Uhtred chuckled as Sihtric ran away. He looked back at you and saw you were slightly frowning at the running Dane.

'Sister,' he said firmly.

'What?' you rolled your eyes.

'You have a look.'

'What look?'

Uhtred sighed, 'A look that I do not like.'

'Then you shouldn't bring back cute Danes,' you teased and gave Uhtred a push.

'I did not,' he said. You shrugged at him and walked away with a smile.

'He is not cute!' Uhtred yelled after you.

You got up and walked outside, enjoying the cool, fresh air. You looked around, but it seemed like everyone was either asleep or inside the alehouse, for the place looked deserted.

'You didn't invite the Dane?´ you asked Uhtred, and you rested your head upon his shoulder.

'You mean Sihtric?' Uhtred asked, slurring his words a little. He clearly had a few too many.

'He was here before,' he continued, 'I think… I don't know where he went. Or if he was here.'

'Should I look for him? What if he's up to something?'

'Maybe, little sister, you should,' he smiled, and you punched his shoulder.

You didn't know where Sihtric stayed at night, you hadn't asked Uhtred, so you decided to just take a little walk. You didn't really think the Dane was up to something, but you found it strange that he was not out drinking, and deep inside you just you wanted to check on him, to see if he was okay.

After nearly half an hour you still hadn't found him. You had caught a priest and a servant in the stables, much to your disgrace.

You figured you'd walk to the river, as you like to spend time there, for it is always quiet, especially at night. And it was a beautiful night, albeit a bit cold, as autumn was approaching.

You were making your way to the river, through the woods, when you suddenly heard a twig snap behind you. You stood still.

'Who's there?' you asked, and waited a moment. But the only sound you heard now was the sound of the nearby river. You looked around in the dark, and you heard a sudden rustling of leaves to your left.

You reached for Wasp-Sting, the knife Uhtred gave you some years ago, 'You better come out now,' you said, 'I will gut you if you try something. Or if I find you.'

And then the moon lit up the skin of someone slowly walking towards you.

'I am not armed, lady,' a warm, but shaky voice said. 'I don't mean any harm, I swear.'

You saw a man approaching with his hands above his head. Your eyes adjusted to the bright moonlight on his skin, and you realised it was Sihtric.

'Sihtric?'

'I apologise,' he said and he stood still, slowly dropping his hands, avoiding eye contact as he turned his face to the side. For a moment you just stood there, watching the shy but muscular Dane who was only a few paces away from you, admiring his perfect side profile as the moon lit up his strong jawline.

You couldn't help but laugh, to which Sihtric slightly looked up, before facing down again.

'You… do… know you can… look at me, right?' you asked, slowly.

'Lord Uhtred said he would take my eyes if I would,' he answered quickly, 'my lady.' And he slightly bent one knee to make a quick bow towards you.

'Lord Uhtred,' you emphasised the word lord, 'is not going to do anything. He is just teasing you,' you smiled and you took a step closer to him.

Sihtric flinched at your movement, quickly stepped back and threw his hands up to cover his face in reflex. You stopped dead in your tracks and also threw your hands up, gesturing you wouldn't do anything to harm him.

'I am not here to harm you either,' you said gently, 'I promise.'

Sihtric didn't move for a moment, but then hesitantly dropped his hands a little. 'You won't?' he asked, and he turned his body towards you, his face down, eyes still fixated on his feet.

'No,' you chuckled softly, I actually was looking for you.'

You saw his eyes repeatedly move up to you and quickly back to his feet. 'Why?' he then asked, 'h-have I done s-something wrong, my lady?'

'What? Sihtric, no-'

'I am sorry if I did, I did not mean to. I-I did not know. I promise it will not happen again, let me try again. W-whatever it is, please. I will do better.' His words spilled out of his mouth like a waterfall, and you had to try your hardest to not drown in the rush it came out with.

'Sihtric,' you interrupted him a little firmly, to which you saw him close his eyes. He swallowed hard, and you felt a sudden sadness crawl into your bones, as your thoughts quickly trailed off to when you had met him earlier that day. And you suddenly understood that the behaviour of this beautiful, shy and seemingly harmless man in front of you was something he could not help. And when you connected his body language to your memory of the bruises and scars on his face, you felt your stomach drop.

'Sihtric,' you said quietly, 'you have not done anything wrong, I promise. I was only looking for you because I didn't see you at the alehouse, among the other men. It made me a little worried about you. And I wanted to know if you were okay.'

He slowly opened his eyes, let out a shaky breath and gathered all his courage to finally look you in the eyes.

'I promise,' you smiled softly at him as you locked eyes.

'Y-you were worried about me?'

'Yeah, a little, maybe,' you chuckled.

'Why?' he asked, and he looked down to his feet again.

'I'm not sure,' you said, 'I just…' and you paused to consider your words, something Sihtric seemingly did not do often.

'I would just like to talk to you. Maybe get to know you a little,' you continued and sighed, 'you just caught my interest earlier today.'

You saw Sihtric's lips curled into a shy smile, and so did yours.

You saw Sihtric felt flustered, and he tried to compose himself. 'Lady, I do not deserve your interest. I am a nobody, a bastard son, I have no importance.'

'Well, that is not for you to decide,' you said and smiled, 'I want to get to know you.'

'May I step closer?' you asked, 'to get a better look at you?'

He was silent for a moment, but then nodded in agreement. You stepped towards him and saw how he became uncomfortable the closer you got to him.

'I will not hurt you, ever, you have my word,' you said, to which he suddenly looked up into your eyes. You felt your heart break as his mismatched eyes gazed into yours with a fragile look. You both didn't speak for a moment and just stood there, merely one pace apart.

'You don't let people get close to you often?' you almost whispered, as you closed the space between the two of you.

'No,' he said, shook his head and looked down again, 'people only come close to me when they wish to hurt me,' he said, and a broken smile appeared on his lips.

Sihtric allowed your eyes to inspect him, and followed you cautiously with his own as you looked at his face, his neck, his shoulders and his arms, all the way to his hands. He still hadn't rid himself of the dried blood on his temple and under his nose, and you let out a sigh as you saw how many scars he had on his visible body parts.

Sihtric didn't know where to look and his lips curled into a shy smile again. After a few seconds he finally nodded his head. He hesitantly reached for your hand, as if he expected you to pull away from him. You heard a shaky sigh of relief escape his lips when he felt you gently squeeze his cold hand.

'Will you come with me?' you then asked, and you held out your hand.

'Where to?' he asked shyly.

'To my home,' you smiled.

'Why?' his face flustered.

'To take care of you,' you reassured him softly, 'at least for the night, I insist,' you smiled.

#sihtric kjartansson #sihtric #sihtric x you #sihtric x reader #the last kingdom fic #the last kingdom #fic #sihtric fanfic #tlk

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shinjisdone · 5 months

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To Soften a Warrior’s Heart (Vinland Saga; Thorfinn; Part 8)

In which you have joined Askeladd’s band…and grow closer to the Son of Thors. Though it is more difficult than anyone can could ever imagine…

[Headcanons of how it would be like to meet and crawl your way into Thorfinn’s heart (based on season 1; both platonic and romantic)]

Part 1 is here - meeting Thorfinn at the age of 14 and how he is at that age

Part 2 is here - meeting Thorfinn at the age of 16/17 + headcanons of growing closer (slightly following s1 story)

Part 3 is here - blooming friendship with Thorfinn (slightly following s1 story)

Part 4 is here - Thorfinn unwittingly opening his heart as he realizes he does not want you to die

Part 5.1 is here - sweet things Thorfinn would do for you (headcanons)

Part 5.2 is here - other seet things Thorfinn would do for you (headcanons)

Part 6 is here - meeting Canute and becoming his guard - Thorfinn accepts your relationship and bond

Part 7 is here - Canute grieving over Ragnar and Thorkell catching up; Thorfinn leaves you alone for revenge

Part 9 is here - Meeting Leif and Thorfinn dueling Askeladd; Losing while Askeladd told him the truth of his constant losses

Part 10 is here - Thorfinn and you bound by heart; Promises of Vinland broken and abandoned

Tag list: @luopenis , @jinsecho , @mitsureigen , @theknightssecrets

[Mentions of murder, death, war, slave trade, harrasment against women and whatever awful things happened in the viking era. Only mentioned and used as examples. Mostly gender-neutral examples but female-leaning ones are there, too.]

[This part will specifically mention: conversations about love in general (but hinted at to be the Christianity's view of unconditional love. I tried to have it a bit more character-focused), qestioning your bond with Thorfinn, Thorfinn being stupid, speeding through the plot because Canute and Askeladd are the main characters now I guess]

You're Gonna Make Me Go, You're Gonna Make Me Drown...

The snow is cold.

Even as everything is barren and clad in a gravely sick and whitest cloud of snow to let the prince know it is a dream, the snow below still feels cold.

He sees the blood on Ragnar and he knows how cold he feels as well but compared to all that he has known in his life, the rest of the world seemed far colder.

The man stays warm even as he begged him not to go. As he threw caution to the wind at his wise words of loss, of how he must awaken and grow.

He tossed it all aside.

Yet the outside world is harsh and forced his awakening with a splatter of blood.

Canute awakened and saw a familiar back. Under him he could not feel the cold of the white snow of the blankets he laid upon as another round of blood dared to taint his skin.

A viking he reckoned as Björn bellowed like a yet-to-be-seen beast as he threw his arm back yet again to cause another blow to a skull. His eyes wide and milky as he wildly smashed about him. To the left, was the priest with his alcohol. In front of him, with their back facing him, was you.

"...You've woken up now, finally." You soberly began as you watched the one-sided fighting, "Björn and the rest of the band are fighting over you, prince. Whoever wins gets to keep you...and everyone but Björn is ready to abandon Askeladd."

"...Everybody but Björn and Thorfinn."

You explain the fighting before you and the one behind the hills. Askeladd taking hostage and Thorfinn dueling for his right to kill him. You, are stuck here.

The atmsophere is awkward. It was as if the roars of battle did not exist, as if the bloodbath before did not exist - rather there was a silence that was drowning. Looking over your shoulder, you saw that Canute bore the same demure face as you.

"...I've had a dream..."

He began with the faintest of smiles...

"...Ragnar was there and he bid goodbye. He's gone, I know that...now," He seemed to hesitate as he took a deep but shaky breath, "Now...there is no one in the world left who loves me anymore..."

You look back to the ground below you. The snow under had long melted, your hands red and freezing from the contact of it. Your voice barely found the strength to be anything above a whisper. "...I am sorry, prince...I never wished that upon you. This shouldn't have happened but Askeladd is..."

You gritted your teeth. Askeladd was many things...and he seemed to not have an ounce of...care in his heart for his band.

Why are you surprised? The man, the killer and kidnapper of royalty...the leader of a band so vile. Yet it still hurt to be here.

Hearing something shift behind you, though you were still lost in your own, useless thoughts.

"Why...are you out of all people apologizing?"

The grave tone in his question made you snap your eyes to him.

Canute's eyes, though red, seemed...cold and deep.

The evident frown on his face was now a scowl, however, one of slight confusion. Did he...always look like that?

For the first time, you hear him say your name.

"Why...are you out of all people not fighting?"

You startle as he so boldly took ahold of your shoulder. Before that, the prince barely could glance at you.

"You seem so rueful...yet you are one of them who brought me here. You took me hostage just like Askeladd, but you still provide me with your comfort."

Feeling yourself rise and back away from the young man, your eyes widened, mouth silent. Yet Canute did not let go.

"You provide me with your comfort, your pity, your blade and weapon. With your body as a shield yet only out of obligation. You shared your rations out of obligation when Ragnar was no more but still did so with a smile. Why?"

Canute finally seemed to frown.

"The day before...you have killed for one. You rose your blade to kill for Thorfinn and willingly tainted yourself with blood, with sin for his safety. The day after that you shared the warmth and laughter as if none of that happened."

"Prince..."

"You kill and attack everyone but each other...your kindness does not reach anyone but him. I must have simply been lucky...or did I seem so meek to you to lower your guard? For you to be so merciless and ruthless to bring the slightest bit if goodness to a man who is just as cruel...and now you are here demurred by all the unfairness of it all? Is that love?"

Startled like a deer, you shift back. Canute spoke in riddles to you...or, perhaps, the word 'love' did linger in the back of your mind from a time far before your viking era?

That is up to you - but it cannot be denied that this royal must have lost his mind.

"When you kill for each other, is that love? When you indulge in your jokes, is that love? Is it love that you two share while you spare the rest of the world none?"

"Is that a bond of love?"

Moving even further back meant facing Björn and while both men seemed unnerving right now, you'd rather face the perplexing Canute. Though you cannot give an answer to his riddles.

"Do you love Thorfinn? And does Thorfinn love you? I've been wondering that since I knew you two."

You look away. It is hard to say whether or not you spared love any thought since your time here in Askeladd's band. The man and the rest of these vile creatures did not seem to know any love. Not Björn who was killing his own comrades, nor any of the men below the hills that were indulging in the art of battle and its entertainment.

Yet did you know any love?

Did you know love when graced by the shines of the sun? Did you love the feeling of winter, even as it tried to freeze you to death in the darkest of nights? Did you show any love to the critters you've killed for food? Did you know love when greeted by Thorfinn and his many snarky remarks? If so, did you love him from the beginning, when he was his cold, stark self or did you gift him any now, now that you know you could trust him?

Trust him now, even after he left you here to fight for the killer of his father?

It is strange.

It is strange as Canute discussed with the priest. As he compared the love of Ragnar and that of Thorfinn - to which the young prince took offense to.

"Both of them are discriminating. They prefer parts of the world over another. Your Ragnar preferred you over a village, and the young viking seemed to not hold any love for anything but this one." He pointed at you.

It is vile. It is discriminating, their love. They do not love all as they should. Perhaps they couldn't.

And so, the priest pointed at you again; "And this one is no different. You know love and you discriminate. You kill and steal and now drown in the consequences of your lacking love. You showed it out of pity to His Higness, I presume...but it still holds nothing. Even you, as you hold the young viking boy dear to you, can only show unconditional love in your death."

You could only watch with wide eyes. Were they right? Were they wrong? Did they know love better than you did?

Did you even know what all of this meant?

Did you?

It did not seem so.

For you stared in awe at the sight before you - the meek Canute craddling the face of a wild beast, Björn, as he struggled to swing another final blow. Eyes watched intently as he lowered his bloodied fist and held him close to his heart. Embracing him like a mother - a brother - a kin - a hurting heart!

Shocked, you stumble up on your feet as Björn regained concsiousness of his dazed state. This weak royal calmed someone as bloodlusting and barbaric as Björn!

You barely could breath and so was the priest. Mumbling about a miracle as Canute ordered the rest of the surviving men to tend to his wounds - as if he was deserving of tenderness - and to ready a sleigh for him. For he was injured, and the injured needed treatment.

The men berated of the unfairness of it all. Of the rules of fighting and of the winners and the losers. One shall be graced with victory while the other shall suffer.

The prince turned to you, ordering you to help him gather the lost horses as well. Even now his touch was firm but gentle.

"I shall show you the meaning of your battles as well. Even your death if I must. For you still hold an inkling of love...I can offer you paradise on earth if you let it happen."

Feeling Like I'm Living In Your Shadow...

He lost conciousness for a good moment, he know he did...and even though it felt like an eternity, he reckoned he flew higher than the birds...

Even after Thorkell broke his arm, he was still standing. Standing there, tall and alive as he kept asking him the same question.

"Do you know what makes a true warrior?"

Is it the valkyries and their offering hand? The promise for Valhalla? Does one need to die with honor or simply have a high body count?

Thorkell admitted on hoping the son of the man stronger than him could answer the conundrum. But the young blonde was only lost.

Lost on how to kill him. Askeladd had promised to find a weak point but so far the giant bastard has yet to stumble and fall.

His daggers are tainted with his blood but no matter the many slices, Thorkell was not admitting defeat. He challenged him to a duel, he sliced his chain mail, got his arm broken and Askeladd is on the verge of bleeding out...

The cheers of the men around him was deafening, too.

As it felt like an eternity to this fight, Thorfinn did not even notice that he wasn't thinking about anything but Askeladd.

Thorkell promised him tales of his father, who he apparently knew, but even thinking about Thors would only make him lose focus.

He couldn't afford to think about his father right now. Not about his mother or sister, Askeladd or you.

He could only listen to the hollers, the wind, Throkell's steps and the words of wisdom leaving Askeladd's mouth...

"Y'know, it almost seemed like Thors did love my niece Helga..."

Thorfinn backed away from a swing of his axe.

"So is love what makes a true warrior? Ah, no...couldn't be it, now could it?"

Thorfinn blocked it all out. Focus on the axes. Cut through the ankles and biceps. Win and you'll be fine.

And so he seemed to be. Blinded briefly by the reflection of Askeladd's blade and hit in the head, Thorkell fell into the snow. With a bellow, Thorfinn casted aside his shock and went for the eye.

He can win this. He'll win Askeladd back and kill him in a duel himself. He'll win, he'll win!

Whatever else may happen after that does not matter.

And so he won.

Enough not to have him and Askeladd be slaughtered by the others and having escaped with a mere scar and broken arm.

Canute descended the hill and with him, a small army of Thorkell's men. To his right were you, riding close by with a frown that could frighten the men. Thorkell watched the prince's bravery and equal foolishness. His lack of fear irritated the viking but he still believed it to be better to become his vassal instead of being his kidnapper.

You got off to tend to Björn, fastened at the sleigh, just like Canute ordered. As Thorkell's band followed the young royal with perplexed faces, Thorfinn tagged along before his eyes widened at the sight of you.

Running up to you, the calmness that overtook him due to his victory ceased and he almost panted like a dog as he finally reached you. One arm in a sling while the other hovered above yours - almost wanting to grab hold of it.

"You alright?" He panted out as his eyes looked you up and down - and so did yours.

The young fella was truly worn out. Even though he was lucky his arm had only been broken, bruises are surely soon to follow. You couldn't see any blood, blood that wasn't his at least, but it was clear that him even being able to stand could be considered a miracle.

The idiot gambled with another round with Thorkell the Tall, after all. It is a miracle he was alive.

"I am." You responded in a whisper, looking away with a frown. Without another word, you followed Canute.

I Know No One's There, I'll Stay, I'll Stay...

Thorfinn trotted after you like a confused child.

While staying close to the prince, the young viking talked to you mundanely as if nothing had happened. The tales that Thorkell told him - who was strolling alongside Askeladd with a tune - and how he knew about his father. About his mother and the many battles Thors had fought, and how he suddenly seemed to give it all up.

He told you how he now seemed to become a vassal for the princess, as if you had not witnessed it. Thorkell the Tall now following orders from soft Canute out of all people. The same man who almost made mincemeat out of the both of you.

Now there he was, strolling along with his eyepatch.

"What's the matter with you?" Thorfinn rose a brow.

You glanced to him. Arm tightly in a sling as if hugging himself, though his bored gaze made it clear that he was anything but concerned for his own safety. He had talked and talked ever since you met up again but not once did he ask you about your experience up the hill.

It was irrelevant to him. As long as you weren't beaten or bruised or killed, any kind of incident did not matter to him.

He did not even ask if you needed to fight for your survival. If you had to kill any previous bandmates - they did not matter though you could understand from where he came from with that logic.

They did not matter.

No one is left anyway. Eradicated either by Thorkell's, Askeladd's or Thorfinn's hand. Whether or not you helped out with getting rid of the vermin did not matter in the end.

None of that...was love, was it?

"Nothing." You curtly responded and focused on guiding the horses.

You cannot believe how much of an errand boy he was playing.

The meeting with the king was intimidating enough - you thought your good intentions to Canute would grand you to be on the good side of the king but he was keen on assanitating his own child. Canute seemed well aware and, with Askeladd by his side now, planning to kill his father himself.

It was intimidating. The meek, fair princess now plotting murder. He was so small to you, a frail bird too scared to fly - now he intended to conquer the sky.

You wished you weren't there. But as Canute introduced you as his guardian, you didn't really have a choice in this matter.

If you are female, well, having you there might do more harm then good. King Sweyn questioning his son's sanity on putting his life in the hands of a woman.

Still, what is done is done, and Thorfinn played along nicely. Both you and Askeladd could see that. The young man was training despite his broken arm, made a self-made sling or what you assumed to be support as he stabbed through the air.

The evening was cold but not refreshing to you. Spending the night in the barn next to the inn, where everyone merrily ate and celebrated the prince's safe return, you strolled along the house as if lost in a forest.

The inn was warm but unwelcome, even if Canute was in there. He ordered food to be prepared for you and Thorfinn but you'd rather wait outside than go in (Again, as a woman going in might be a bad idea).

The door opened and you watched Askeladd carefreely taking a piss on the snow. He grinned at you. "Not going to come in, into the warmth? The food is good."

You declined, saying that food would be prepared for you. The older man clicked his tongue as he shook his head. Pride is going to freeze you to death. Just look at all the men he lost.

"Only you and Thorfinn remain, oh, and Björn, too. What are you going to do after all this, eh, kid? I wouldn't call you loyal to me."

Scoffing, you turned away. Perhaps you did have a plan. Wanting to run away to a far-away place, start your own viking band or stay as Canute's guardian. Or maybe, you were as clueless as Askeladd made you out to be. Wandering like a lost child.

"Are you just gonna keep following Thorfinn like a pup? Or maybe he'll keep on clinging to you after he got his revenge."

You turn to him with a glare. Askeladd truly was an enigma of a man...does he hate you just as much as he hated his other bandmates? Why does he keep having you around when Thorfinn is a much better tool? Even now he does what he says in order to get a duel. And why would Canute, the one who spoke of love to you, recruit a cruel man like Askeladd?

You couldnt find any answers that night. Thorfinn kept on stabbing through the air, only the aroma of food making him stop. He gobbled it all up and you kept on pointing out the scraps of food stuck on his lips. Watching him eat, you absent-mindedly called his name.

"...Why do you keep me around, Thorfinn?"

The blonde let out a confused noise. You took a scrap of meat off his cheek before eating it yourself.

"Why would you ask that?" He kept on stuffing his mouth. Truly, why? He was the one who asked you that question many months before, he was the one confused by your behavior and actions. Yet here you are putting his into question?

"I don't want you to die." Though he kept on eating, his eyes stayed downcast and his voice barely above a whisper. Still, that was enough of an answer to him. It had been before. But you did not seemed satisfied by it.

"It's just strange." You mumbled and inhaled sharply to gather your words, "Thorfinn, do you-"

You halt, then hesitated. There was furstration in your eyes that even he could make out.

Was his wish for your survival his gracing of love?

Then why did he not love when surrounded by the sea, by land, animals and food?

Why did you gift love to the one companion to when he aims to murder out of honor?

Sighing, you sat back and leaned against his shoulder. Swallowing the last crumbles, Thorfinn wrapped you in a blanket as best as he could with one arm.

"Take this. It gets freezing cold here at night."

"...Why is my friend such a fool?"

You whispered and Thorfinn let out an offended 'huh'? He flicked your cheek before making himself comfortable. "You're acting so strange."

#vinland saga #vinland saga x reader #thorfinn #thorfinn karlsefni #thorfinn x reader #vinland saga headcanons #thorfinn headcanons #thorfinn karlsefni x reader #gender neutral imagine #vinland saga imagine #thorfinn imagine #thorfinn x you #prince canute #canute #askeladd #thorkell #thorkell the tall #TSAWH

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pinkanonwrites · 1 year

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Vash with a Courier!Reader

GN!Reader headcanons below!

Your job was far from an easy one, especially in the washed-out sandscapes of Gunsmoke where bandits and ne’er-do-wells could be lurking behind every dune and cliffside. You were a lone Courier, shuttling mail and packages in between the towns and major cities with the small herd of Thomases at your command. It was in one of those podunk towns where you met Vash for the first time, him squaring up against the bandits while you snuck about freeing hostages and recovering some of your stolen cargo.

Neither of you expected much past it, just a simple teaming up when it was easy and convenient. Yet somehow, whatever town you trotted into next, it seemed that Vash the Stampede was already there. Sometimes he was alone, sometimes he was flanked by two silly insurance agents and a so-called priest. But regardless of who he was or wasn’t with, he always had a smile and a few words for you.

You became an odd pair of friends, trading stories and knick-knacks whenever you happened to run across each other on your respective journeys. Vash was never the type to keep too much on him, he preferred to travel light. But he found himself getting more and more drawn to little baubles and curiosities he’d find in town shops, wondering if you’d like it, how you’d react if (when) he handed it to you. You gave him a feather from your head Thomas that he kept tucked into the inner pocket of his duster basically at all times.

Speaking of which, he’s obsessed with your Thomas herd! He’s constantly cooing and trying to snuggle with them, even as they gnaw on his coat and nibble at his spiky hair. You teach him about the massive bird-beasts and take him riding from time to time, your pair of Thomases careening up and down the dunes with your laughter bubbling through the rushing air.

You’d never once considered trying for the bounty on Vash’s head, something he was eternally grateful for though he never asked why himself. But he didn’t actually have to, because you ended up supplying the story yourself one night while sipping drinks under the star-speckled sky. As hard as it was, you truly adored your job. You liked helping people in need, making them happy, making sure they had what they needed. And 60 billion double-dollar bounty or not, you could tell that Vash was the same as you, he really just wanted to help. You really admired that.

It was at those words, that you admired him, that something finally clicked in place in Vash’s head. You weren’t even looking at him, staring up at the stars with this look of such contentment and comfort on your face, like you wouldn’t rather be anywhere else. That’s when he finally realized what that odd pull was whenever he saw something that reminded him of you, that bubbling excitement whenever he ended up running into you in the next town, the next city.

He liked you.

And god, he really had no idea how to feel about that. He knew that simply being near you would put you in incredible danger, yet he couldn’t find it in himself to fully distance himself from you. He’d gotten too attached, too comfortable. As strong as you were, compared to the kinds of people he was dealing with you were incredibly fragile, and the last thing he ever wanted was for you to get hurt because of his burdens.

And yet, he just cant help himself, he’s incredibly shameless. He flirts with you constantly but is flustered to the point of stammering with every compliment you give him, constantly toying at the idea of something more but unable to take the first steps himself. You’ll have to be incredibly patient and persistent with him to actually get him to be willing to enter a relationship with you.

Once you are though it’s so painfully obvious he’s smitten with you to literally everyone you guys ever meet. He bursts into delighted tears when you first tell him you’re going to be traveling alongside him from now on, not just wandering and hoping you bump into each other. You’re the first person he worries about when things go awry and the first person he celebrates with when he manages to pull it all together again. You tell his favorite travel stories to his other companions and he’s ecstatic with how fast you make friends with them too.

He’ll move to the ends of Gunsmoke’s most treacherous deserts and back to make sure you were safe and happy, and he can’t help but feel loved knowing that you’d do the same for him too.

#trigun #trigun stampede #trigun x reader #vash #vash the stampede #vash the stampede x reader #vash the stampede imagines #vash imagines #trigun imagines

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eretzyisrael · 5 months

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by Ben Cohen

The French Catholic priest who developed an international reputation for his pioneering research into the Nazi “Holocaust by bullets” in Ukraine has spoken out forcefully against the antisemitic attitudes coloring criticism of Israel’s war against Hamas in Gaza.

“I always say: if there were no Jews in Israel, few people would look out for the Palestinians,” Father Patrick Desbois told the French language service of Israeli broadcaster i24 on Tuesday.

Desbois has dedicated his life to researching the Holocaust, fighting antisemitism, and furthering relations between Catholics and Jews. In 2004 he helped found Yahad-In Unum, a project whose mission is to investigate the mass executions of Jews and Roma in Ukraine and Belarus between 1941 and 1944. In the process, Desbois and his team located the graves of more than 1 million Jews throughout Eastern Europe and interviewed scores of witnesses.

Desbois was particularly irked by repeated claims on social media over the Christmas holiday that Jesus himself would be persecuted by Israel were he still alive.

“If he had lived in 1942, Jesus would have been deported to Auschwitz, and if he had been born today, he would be the target of missiles or be a hostage in Gaza,” Desbois remarked, referring to the seizure of more than 200 people during the Oct. 7 pogrom carried out by Hamas terrorists in southern Israel.

Desbois insisted that the motive behind such messages was political, not religious.

“What we see in Bethlehem today, this need to affirm that Jesus was not Jewish, is political,” he argued. “Hamas has always officially supported Christians, but not in Gaza.”

He added that the “Islamists are always with us, except when we are at home; at home, we try to survive.”

Desbois also voiced concern about the alleged participation of Hamas terrorists in the oppression of Iraq’s Yazidi minority in 2014 at the hands of ISIS.

“I do not forget, either, and we never talk about it, that the Palestinians in Gaza, who were not locked in cages as we believe, were circulating a lot, and a number participated in the genocide of the Yazidi minority in Iraq in 2014 alongside the jihadists,” said Desbois, whose efforts have encompassed advocacy on their behalf. “Others also participated in the Yazidi slave trade.”

In an extensive interview with The Algemeiner in 2018, Desbois articulated his view that the fundamental goal of antisemitism has not changed since the Nazi era.

“The Nazis wanted to eliminate every last Jew, even the babies and the old people,” he said. Now, he continued, “they say to the Jews, ‘get out of France,’ ‘get out of Germany,’ ‘get out of Britain,’ ‘get out of Palestine.’ And at the end, who will stay?”

#father patrick desbois #jesus #bethlehem #hamas

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coochiequeens · 4 months

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A dude who was released from prison after serving time for killing his wife and raping a nurse wants to go back to a women's prison forever.

By Genevieve Gluck January 11, 2024

A German killer who began identifying as transgender while incarcerated is requesting to be locked up with women for the rest of his life. Thorsten Heinz P., now known as Monica P., 57, was recently released from a women’s prison after completing his sentence, and appeared in court on January 10 asking to be returned to a female-only facility “forever.”

Monica, whose surname has been withheld in accordance with German law, filed his bizarre request at the district court of Essen on Wednesday with his defender. He had been released from a women’s prison after completing a combined 30-year sentence for convictions pertaining to the murder of his wife, a burglary attempt, and two instances of taking hostages while incarcerated, including binding a nurse and forcing her to perform “completely degrading sexual acts,” reports Waz.

Currently registered as “female” on his identification, Monica is being held in a psychiatric institution but is seeking permanent placement in a women’s prison on the basis that he believes he can neither be rehabilitated, nor is able to cope with life outside of a jail cell.

Killer Thorsten Heinz P., alias Monica, in Essen district court on January 10. Photo credit: Bild.de

“I can no longer manage my everyday life,” he told Judge Martin Hahnemann at the Essen court, insisting he be returned to a women’s prison. “Sometimes I would like to hit my head against the wall and make it bleed… I don’t deserve freedom – at least not yet. I have caused enough suffering… I’m still dangerous.”

On December 28, 1992, Thorsten Heinz strangled his wife to death with a clothesline at their home in North Rhine-Westphalia. He was sentenced to 13 years in prison for the killing, and at an undisclosed time during his incarceration, began identifying as transgender and taking female hormones.

While detained, he twice took staff as hostages: one victim was a priest, and the other, a nurse, who he proceeded to sexually torment. For these offenses, his sentence was extended to 25 years.

Thorsten was released at the end of his sentence, but soon after threatened two married couples from Iserlohn with robbery in their homes. This, he claimed, was an act of desperation conducted in order to return to prison.

According to limited information provided in media reports on the recent court hearing, Thorsten’s transgender status is a recent development that occurred within the past five years.

He is currently facing charges of faking a crime after turning himself in to the police in Gelsenkirchen while wielding a steak knife and fabricated a story about committing a robbery. Thorsten, referred to in the press as Monica and by feminine pronouns, stated that he had just attacked a stranger in Feldmarkstrasse. However, the alleged victim was able to flee unharmed. When Judge Hahnemann asked him how far he would go to get back to prison, he hesitated, then said in a quiet voice, “I can’t answer that for you… I don’t want to hurt anyone and no longer produce any new victims, so I think I should be locked up forever.”

The case is scheduled for another court hearing on Friday.

According to 2021 government data for the region of North Rhine-Westphalia obtained by German women’s rights activist Madeleine, known on X as @missdelein2, a total of 9 “trans people” were imprisoned for crimes that year, of which five were placed in women’s prisons. Over the last five years, decisions regarding accommodations based on self-declared gender identity had to be made in 39 cases.

Speaking with Reduxx, Madeleine slammed the German government for “insitutional gaslighting” and a failure to “recognize women as human beings.”

“What we are seeing here are the consequences when the German state does not recognize women as human beings. They are locked up with a male killer, and he is rewarded for his crime. The German state has the gall to to call it a women’s prison to validate his so-called ‘gender identity,’ though in reality the prison no longer exists for women,” she said. Madeleine cited research provided by Johann Endres, from the Bavarian prison system’s criminology service, which states that a “legal change of sex in prison” has not yet been made a reality. The Transsexual Law of 1981 requires that an individual undergo a probation period of ostensibly living in the role of their preferred sex before an alteration of sex markers on identification can take place. Therefore, according to Endres, male inmates are being transferred to the female prison estate illicitly.

Endres also reports on complaints from women in prison who felt harassed because one man who has been legally considered a “woman” was touching his testicles while walking in the courtyard.

“I therefore assume that the woman-killer Thorsten Heinz P. was transferred to the women’s prison without going through the so-called transsexual law,” Madeleine said. “The transfer of men into women’s prisons illustrates the institutional misogyny in the federal state North Rhine-Westphalia.”

#Germany #KeepPrisonsSingleSex #Monica P. is Thorsten Heinz P.#Essen #NotOurCrimes #Transsexual Law of 1981 #GetMalesOutOfWomen'sJails

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darkbluekies · 2 months

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Lmao he’ll probably bring Reader’s family and hold them hostage and make his men hold guns to their head before making the priest asking again ‘Do you reader take Silas as your husband’

Btw do you think if reader agreed to getting married but not like a Christian wedding but like different religious types wedding would they?

Am I that predictable😭

I mean, I'm not religious so see this as more of a "We're going to be together forever" kind of thing instead of a religious thing!!

#minhas posts

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anonymousewrites · 8 months

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One Hell of a Love (Book 1.5) Chapter Twelve

Sebastian Michaelis x Demon! Reader

Chapter Twelve: One Hell of a Crisis

Summary: (Y/N) and Sebastian handle the issues aboard the train before having an encounter with Claude.

After a few minutes of running, (Y/N) and Sebastian looked out over the train below them, farther down the hill they overlooked. Ahead lay a divergence in the track. On one side was a town where there would be a stop and the bomb the kidnapper left would explode. On the other, the track continued. It was clear what the demons needed to do.

“Forks would hit better from here,” said (Y/N).

“I agree,” said Sebastian. He threw three forks from his jacket pocket. The cutlery precisely hit the levers on the side of the track, switching the train’s path from the station to continuing on tracks.

The demons leapt down from the hill onto the locomotive of the train. The conductor was staring at the change in direction in shock.

“Excuse us,” said (Y/N). The conductor whirled on them. “There is a bomb on this train that will detonate when it stops. Do not pull the brakes, whatever you do.”

“H-Huh?” The conductor was not given an answer as (Y/N) and Sebastian entered the passenger cars again.

“Ah! You’re Phantomhive’s butler and maid!” exclaimed Fred from where he was curled up with a stomach ache.

“Where is the Young Master?” asked Sebastian curtly.

“He went to save a child in the freight carriage,” said Fred.

(Y/N) narrowed their eyes. Ciel was likely running straight into trouble or had done so already.

The door opened behind them, and the nervous conductor cleared his throat to speak to the passengers. “I-I came to inform you…Not long ago, the train switched to a different track and is now headed in another direction. On our current course, we are heading towards an unused iron bridge. It probably won’t be able to withstand the weight of this train, so our final destination…” He swallowed. “Will probably be heaven!”

There was a moment of silence as the passengers absorbed the information. Then chaos broke out as people screamed and ran about. (Y/N) was just impressed by the conductor’s delivery of the news as if it was a normal change in destination (though they were cursing their bad luck that a bomb prevented them from stopping but the tracks were also going to run out).

“Then, we’d better stop this train quickly,” said a new voice.

(Y/N)’s nose twitched as they faced the other end of the passenger car. A man walked into the room holding Ciel as a hostage with a knife to his neck. Ciel looked annoyed. (Y/N) was irritated by the multitude of issues being thrown their way.

Sebastian was amused. “Young Master. So you have been taken hostage once again. It really seems like you enjoy being captured.”

“What are you talking about?” huffed Ciel.

“So…it was you.” The “priest” stood up. His face twisted in anger. “Johnny the Slaughterer.”

The passengers froze as yet another emergency appeared; the murderer had escaped containment.

“Look who’s here. Jack-Knife Hayward,” said Johnny. He brought the knife to Ciel’s throat again before addressing everyone present. “You can guess what’ll happen to this boy if someone doesn’t stop the train, right?”

“We would all like the train to stop, I assure you,” said (Y/N). They smiled brightly. “But if it does, a bomb planted by a kidnapper will detonate.”

The murderer now looked as confused and worried as the rest of the passengers.

Fred groaned and pulled himself to a seated position. “A-And there’s also a cholera outbreak.”

Hell, our luck is terrible, thought (Y/N).

“A train with a bomb inside, heading for a shabby bridge, and as if that’s not enough, there’s cholera, too?” listed off Johnny incredulously.

“Indeed.” Sebastian shook his head ruefully. “It’s a full-course critical situation.”

“Enough with this farce,” said Ciel. “Sebastian, (Y/N), do something to resolve this situation. Now. That’s an order, Sebastian.”

“Yes, my Lord.” Sebastian bowed.

“I am tired of this mess,” remarked (Y/N) in agreement.

“Enough of this!” said Johnny. “I don’t care about cholera or bombs. I’ll get out of this on my own!” He pulled Ciel with him and exited the room.

“Young Master!” Sebastian moved after him, but Fred caught him around the waist.

“Wait! You’re just servants! This is too much for you,” said Fred. “At a time like this, we should rely on the help of all the professionals who happen to be gathered aboard this train! Let’s join forces and fight against evil.”

I preferred his brother. (Y/N)’s nose twitched.

“I see. You’re being quite optimistic,” said Sebastian.

“He may be right,” said Jack (Jack-Knife Hayward). “In the past, I also made a living as an assassin.” He unbuttoned his shirt to reveal more of his tattoos. “Then, Johnny killed someone important to me, so I decided to quit and become a priest. A passage of the Bible says, ‘Thou art thine enemy.’ It’s time to bring this matter to a close. But I currently have no weapons.”

“Use this.” The grumpy Japanese man unwrapped his precious parcel. He extended a katana to Jack. “This katana, Zantoumaru, is a treasure handed down through our family. I brought it with me to pass on to my son, who is studying here, but I think it will be better employed helping you.”

“Then, you can leave the bomb to me,” declared the archaeologist, standing up. “I happen to have worked with timing devices when excavating ruins. Normally, you have two cords: a black one and a red one. One is a dummy. If you cut the right one, you’ll succeed in deactivating the bomb, but if you get it wrong, then BOOM! The only problem is that it will take time to locate the bomb.”

“Oh! Maybe we’re safe!” cried the timetable obsessed man. “The switch ahead is important! If we switch at the track bound for High Peak, then switch again at the following point…Oh! We can gain twenty minutes!”

“Oh, yay!” cried the passengers as ideas were thrown out.

(Y/N) wasn’t sold, and although they were impressed, they trusted their and Sebastian’s abilities much more. Sebastian though the same and opened a window.

He smiled. “Thank you for very much, but we can do it alone.”

As the passenger’s blinked in confusion, the demons flipped outside onto the roof of the train. Ahead of them, Johnny was dragging Ciel towards the back of the train.

“You’re persistent,” huffed Johnny.

“Please hand over the Young Master,” said Sebastian.

“Yeah…Just wait there. I’m coming,” said Johnny.

(Y/N) nearly rolled their eyes. He clearly had something he supposed was “clever” in mind. However, it wouldn’t work.

“I won!”

Johnny dropped to the ground as the train sped towards a tunnel, grinning madly as he expected Sebastian and (Y/N) to be killed upon impact with the tunnel’s ceiling. His eyes widened with horror, instead. Sebastian stood tall, his head burrowing through the ceiling with ease since his demonic self was stronger than the stone that did no harm. (Y/N) had at the last moment bent into a backbend, contorting themself past human capabilities.

Sebastian stepped forward towards Johnny when the train exited the tunnel. Johnny let go of Ciel in fear and scrambled back.

“Here, Young Master,” said Sebastian, extending a hand.

“Y-You’re monsters!” cried Johnny.

(Y/N) picked up Johnny by the collar, and the man trembled at the strength of the maid. “Goodbye, murderer.” They tossed him off the train.

“Now, for the bomb,” said Sebastian. He turned and grabbed the edges of the train car. “Even if there were red or black cords…” He lifted the ceiling from the train, revealing the bomb attached to the inside. “…there would be no need to choose between them.” Sebastian through the ceiling into the air, and the bomb detonated far above them.

“Hey. Think of the passengers,” said Ciel, glancing at the man in the cloak and hat, still sitting at a table.

“All is well,” said Sebastian pleasantly.

“That was the dining car,” said (Y/N).

“Besides, that passenger…” Sebastian trailed off when he and (Y/N) met each other’s gaze. “Oh, well. Next is the bridge problem.”

Sebastian and (Y/N) jumped from the roof and ran to the front of the train, stopping on the tracks before the bridge. The two planted their feet. The train approached. They were hit. However, their strength outperformed the engine of the train, and it slowed to a stop before hitting the unstable bridge. It hung on the edge with the two demons in front.

“You barely made it,” said Ciel, climbing down from the roof.

“How could we be Phantomhive servants if we could not properly cook a full course critical situation?” said Sebastian smugly.

“Besides, everyone is disembarking as we speak, all in one piece,” said (Y/N) as the three walked to see the rest of the passengers getting off the train.

“Y-You’re wonderful, Mr. Butler, Mx. Maid,” said Fred, stumbling towards them and holding his stomach.

“Right! The cholera outbreak.” Ciel looked at (Y/N) and Sebastian. That was the last crisis to solve. “There’s a chance that all the passengers might be infected.”

“Of course not. No one has cholera,” said (Y/N), smirking when Ciel turned to them in confusion. “They have stomachaches. If you recall, they all ate the eel pie on the menu and then had rice balls with plum. Eel and plum are not a good combination, and together they caused the pains of what people assumed was cholera.” They held up a vial. “Digestive medicine should do the trick.” They tossed the vial to Fred, who eagerly swallowed and jumped up when he felt better. (Y/N) smirked. “Humans have such sensitive stomachs; they should know better than to mix certain foods.”

“You two aren’t ordinary servants,” said Fred, looking at (Y/N) and Sebastian.

“We are a hell of a pair of servants,” said Sebastian.

“Sebastian, ensure the passengers disembark safely,” said Ciel. “And make sure my luggage is unharmed.”

“Yes, my Lord,” said Sebastian. He and (Y/N) walked towards the freight car. Sebastian broke off to check on some passengers, and (Y/N) went to check the luggage.

(Y/N) picked up Ciel’s valise and, content with its intactness, turned to leave. They were met with Claude standing directly before them.

“(Y/N) Noir,” said Claude simply.

(Y/N) didn’t flinch at him knowing their current human name. Just as Sebastian had investigated him and the Trancy Manor, it followed that Claude would investigate them. “Claude Faustus.” Not letting him initiate the conversation, they looked him up and down judgmentally and tsked. “For a butler, you’re not very put together. Why, you have frosting all over your nose.” (They absolutely knew them and Sebastian dealing with the train had caused it, but they weren’t about to leave Claude a chance to speak).

Claude didn’t flinch at their words either, but he opened his mouth, and his long tongue reached up to lick the frosting away. (Y/N)’s nose twitched in distaste.

“You work for the Phantomhives, correct? Alongside, what is it now, ‘Sebastian Michaelis?’ ” said Claude.

“You know I do.” (Y/N) didn’t play games. Well, not with demons such as Claude.

“And yet you have no contract.” Claude’s eyes traced over them. The curiosity rested lightly in his words. “I suppose you play this part for entertainment. It must be getting boring. Perhaps you’ll find a more…stimulating environment.”

“As you could see today, life is never boring at the Young Master’s side.” Sebastian stepped up beside (Y/N). His words were amiable, but his gaze was hard as his eyes met Claude’s. He didn’t like the other demon approaching (Y/N).

“No, it is not,” agreed (Y/N). They raised an eyebrow distastefully at Claude. “I doubt I could find anything more ‘stimulating’ between contracts. Certainly not in a den of thieves.” The jab at Claude stealing Ciel’s soul was clear.

“I can see you’re quite content,” observed Claude, his eyes narrowing ever-so-slightly as he looked between the raven and cat demons.

“What called you into our business today?” said Sebastian, curtly moving to the point. He wouldn’t dance around the point with Claude, the thief of Ciel’s soul, especially not when the demon’s attention was so enraptured with (Y/N).

Claude’s eyes moved from (Y/N) to Sebastian, and he pulled a letter from his pocket. “If you’d like to investigating His Highness, you need only enter through the front gate.” He knew Ciel was looking into the Queen’s Spider after her mention of his involvement in cases that grew suspiciously criminal. He also knew Sebastian didn’t want Ciel near the Trancy Manor in case anything went wrong with his memories and soul, but Sebastian would have to let Ciel go once Claude continued to speak. “Besides, you want to help Young Master Ciel exact his revenge, do you not?”

Sebastian plucked the letter from his hand. (Y/N) glanced over and read the invitation. It was to a costume ball for Halloween.

“I shall see you there,” said Claude, turning and walking away.

(Y/N) and Sebastian didn’t respond. Sebastian already knew he would go. He had been searching for a way to bring Ciel’s soul to maturity once more, and he was capable of dealing with Claude in order to get his meal. (Y/N) would go because Sebastian did. They wouldn’t let him go to the Trancy Manor, the den of demons, as a lone demon versus a group.

Sebastian knew they would come, but he was torn. On the one hand, having them near would satisfy his own desires and also mean he could be at their side if the Trancy demons attempted anything. On the other hand, Sebastian wanted (Y/N) nowhere near Claude. He had seen Claude’s reaction when they had appeared.

The moment Claude had taken in their demonic aura, there had flashed in his golden eyes something wild. He had torn a piece of (Y/N)’s skirt away in his attempt to grab them. And now he had approached them and insinuated they should leave the Phantomhive household and come to the Trancy Manor for a more “stimulating” experience.

Sebastian’s eyes flashed fuchsia. He didn’t like the way Claude looked at (Y/N). He didn’t like the way his eyes followed them covetously. Claude was planning something, and now it didn’t just involve Ciel. It involved (Y/N).

(Y/N) wouldn’t be tempted from the Phantomhive household. No…that wasn’t right. No, (Y/N) wouldn’t be tempted from Sebastian. Claude couldn’t understand it, but (Y/N) was remaining by their former mentor’s side. Not even the promise of more entertainment (which His Highness was constantly creating, if a bit impetuous and vulgar with Hannah) interested the younger demon.

That was alright, though. Claude didn’t need to rely on words and promises to draw (Y/N) in. His plans were along far different lines. Claude preferred a more action-oriented plan, anyways.

Taglist:

@technikerin23

@im-making-an-effort

@izzieg3987

@jinxxangel13

@alexpangender

@otomyoli

@neenieweenie

@nex-crowley

@anxious-chick

@bellacastiel

@v1l-ismissing

@agentdedf1sh

@idkhowtoplayhoyoversegames

@iamsexytrash

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shuttershocky · 9 months

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Hey shutters! While I overall enjoyed FF16, I agree that I wish Jill did more or spoke more. I feel like there was missed potential of having a relationship more like Saber and shirou, where they both have similar mindsets and trauma. Specifically, when it came to overusing their powers and having to face the crystals' curse being similar to how Shirou and Saber did not want the other to fight but how they both needed to.

I'm still in the middle of the game (after Titan's bossfight) but it feels like Jill was written by an Aerith fan that only knew the FF7 cast from fanworks, movies, and Kingdom Hearts rather than the actual FF7, so Tifa's the tough spunky girl and Aerith's the softie flower girl when their original personalities are actually switched lol

Out of all the characters in FF16 I've seen so far, Jill was written for a role the hardest. What I mean by that is that while someone like Benedikta's an extremely standard femme fatale villain type (the kind that Urobochi would strangle midway through the season to be replaced by the real, male villain), she at least gets to revel in it. She gets to kick dogs, lose her composure, she's got at least one loyal minion she's genuinely close to and trusts in when the archetype doesn't usually, all that stuff. She gets to have fun with the role.

Jill? Jill was written to be Clive's woman before she was written to be a character, and it feels so glaringly obvious from how she's treated. She almost never gets to talk to anyone else other than Clive despite having screentime second only to Clive, she doesn't challenge him in any way, all of the other people barely acknowledge she's even there!

Like half of the main quest dialogue is

Plot Person: Bugger me, these Imperials won't live and let live won't they Clive? Plot plot plot dialogue dialogue. We oughta plot plot plot plot and get 'em right in the arse!

Clive: Hmm. Agreed. Plot plot plot important characters plot. We'll ride at dawn.

Plot person: Righto! See you in hell then. *Nods* Lady Jill.

Jill: *smiles meekly*

And it's such a waste because when she's actually allowed to do anything she's fun! Her character design is my favorite in the game, she gets to swing a sword around, when Clive gets bowled over her AI often gets caught too so the two get thrown up into the air screaming and doing a quadruple flip and its funny as fuck, as soon as she's finally given time to express one damn wish she's like "Clive, this priest did unspeakable things to children. I call dibs on killing him." And Clive's all "Of course Jill you'll get to murder him as much as you want" and that's fun!

They're each other's enablers! That's supposed to be their dynamic. Clive was a rejected son and a failure of a bodyguard, Jill's entire life was spent being someone's hostage (of both Rosaria and the Iron Kingdom), so they're the only pillar of support the other has. You can see the intent of their dynamic plain as day when Cid's trying to talk them into joining his merry crew of outlaws and Clive and Jill subconsciously hold hands and squeeze when they're nervous.

But to DO that right Jill has to be allowed to be her own character. Even in the Iron Kingdom level where Clive and Jill go after the High Priest because killing him is what Jill wants, in the ensuing bossfight Jill primes as Shiva while Clive fails to prime, and then instead of Jill taking charge she protects Clive while he fights the boss.

Seriously? One of them is flying around with literal god powers and the other has a bad case of Eikonic Dysfunction and rather than crush the giant lava monster herself, Jill makes sure Clive still gets to fight it in his puny human form and be the big hero? Come on. I was surprised that Jill still ran the High Priest through with her sword, I genuinely expected the game to take that away from her too.

Anyway she's obviously my favorite part of 16 now. Somebody's gotta be in her corner.

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sihtricfedaraaahvicius · 1 year

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warnings: sexual themes, misogyny, dominance, alcohol, very lowkey hint to past abuse.

pairing: Sihtric x you (f)

summary: you managed to escape the castle and went looking for Sihtric, but how careful were you?

word count: 5,2k

[part I] [part III]

Part II: The Truth.

You found out it was not hard to escape the castle. Many knew you by name, but not by face. You grabbed one of the servants' cloaks to cover your dress, which was too fancy and would most likely draw attention, and you lowered the hood to hide your face. You snuck out through the kitchen's backdoor, carrying a basket of apples to not look suspicious incase anyone would see you.

Outside, you became nervous. You remembered how earlier that day you had seen Sihtric again, as you had been staring out of the window. Just like the day before. He saw you as he rode his horse back to the stable. He made sure you could see him all too well as he got off his horse. You kept watching him and you blushed each time Sihtric looked your way, which he did a lot. He seemed to enjoy the reaction he got out of you, so he sat down and decided to sharpen his knife while facing you. He simply drove you crazy. And unable to really communicate, all you could do was exchange looks, smiles and smirks.��Before he left, after Finan had called him, he smiled and winked at you. The thought of that wink made your body tremble again.

You dropped the basket of apples, took a deep breath and quietly made your way to the alehouse. You kept looking if you weren't followed, and stopped in front of the alehouse. You smelled the ale and felt the heat coming out through the entrance. Suddenly you felt this might have been a bad idea, but before you knew it, your legs carried you inside. You kept your head low as you slipped through the crowd. It was warm, noisy, and drunk men bumped into you. As you tried to make your way to an empty table, one drunk spilled his ale on your cloak. You cursed. But at least now you definitely didn't look like a princess. Once you finally sat down, your eyes started to scan the crowd, looking for the Dane.

You weren't sure how much time had passed, but it must have been a while, as the spilled ale on your cloak had dried already. But you hadn't seen Sihtric anywhere yet. You started to realise this was indeed a bad idea. You saw many men with wives or whores in their lap, and some men had both. The possibility of finding Sihtric with a lady in his lap was not something you were prepared for. You decided to leave, but as you stood up you suddenly saw him. You stopped breathing for a moment. He was only several tables away from you, accompanied by Finan and a young man, who you hadn't seen before, but looked very out of place. There was no woman with Sihtric, but Finan was talking to several, while pointing at the young man. You saw a woman walk over, and she sat down in the young man's lap. The poor bastard shrieked, and Sihtric threw his head back as he laughed out loud. Sihtric slapped the young man's shoulder and squeezed it, before he looked away from them and immediately locked eyes with you. He squinted his eyes slightly as he saw you. You froze. He then gave you a mischievous smirk and took a sip from his ale. You quickly looked away, pulled your hood down further, and you made your way out of the alehouse as fast as you could.

You cursed yourself as you stepped outside. You had no idea who he really was, and yet you came alone to the alehouse. You, a princess of all things. And you suddenly feared that if he'd find out who you were, he would most definitely take you hostage and demand silver for your release. Or worse, he could just kill you. Or hump you, and then kill you. Afterall, the priest said he was a brute. And since he was a Dane, this behaviour was expected. You shuddered and quickly walked the empty road back to the castle. You had reached the stables when suddenly a low, male voice spoke and startled you.

'Lady,' the low voice called to you.

You gasped and froze. The voice sounded at least 10 steps away from you. The street was empty, and you contemplated running away, for the castle was close. But you also knew it was more than likely that whoever was calling you, would be faster than you.

You slowly turned around, keeping your head down and your face covered.

'Show me your face, woman,' the voice said, amused.

You heard him take two steps closer towards you, and you closed your eyes. You took a deep breath, not knowing if the man who spoke to you was a guard who would take you back to the castle, or worse, if it was the Dane.

'Lady,' the man sounded impatient now, stepping closer.

You knew there was no way out, and with trembling hands you lifted your hood off and opened your eyes. You slowly looked up and locked eyes with the man, who was now only a few steps away from you.

Sihtric.

You clenched your jaw upon seeing him and tried to swallow, but your mouth had gone dry and your cheeks turned red. Luckily it was dark, so he couldn't tell.

'Yeah… I thought it was you,' Sihtric smiled, and he looked you up and down, 'you enjoyed watching me?' he asked, raising an eyebrow as he bit his tongue between his teeth.

You didn't answer him, your voice would tremble if you spoke now.

He took another step closer, which made you take a step back.

'What, you lost your tongue?' he asked, 'or did you not enjoy what you saw?'

'No,' you replied hoarsely, taking another step back.

But you were abruptly stopped as your back hit a wall. Unknowingly, you had backed yourself into the stable wall. The same wall that had hidden Sihtric from view yesterday, except from yours. And you knew that if he wanted to hurt you, no one would see it.

He sensed your fear, chuckled, and took another step towards you. He was now so close that you could feel his body heat. And you smelled the ale in his breath as he moved his face closer to yours, looking deep into your eyes. And in that moment, the burning torch which lit the dark stable, revealed his mismatched eyes and the scars on his beautiful, yet dangerous face.

'No?' Sihtric repeated you, gently lifting your chin up with his hand.

He softly brushed his rough thumb over your lower lip and squinted his eyes, as if he was inspecting you.

'Hmm, no,' he spoke softly, 'I can see you didn't lose your tongue. So you mean to tell me that, no, you didn't like what you saw?' he asked, and he became cocky.

His warmth, his attitude and the touch of his hand had made you forget how to talk for a moment.

He looked away, smiled, shook his head and then looked back into your eyes.

'So, how long were you watching me yesterday?'

'Long enough,' you blurted out, surprised at how confident you managed to sound.

'Oh, really?' he smirked, and gently pushed his body against yours, 'So, do you watch other men too?'

You became dizzy as you felt his breath on your lips. You desperately wanted to taste him.

You closed your eyes as you tried to shake that thought, but it didn't help that Sihtric slid his hand down to your neck. And you could see the mischief in his eyes when you opened yours.

'Do… you… tease other women too?' you managed to ask.

You were sure he could feel your heartbeat, as you expected him to wrap his hand around your throat. Which you secretly hoped he would do. And you hoped he would kiss you, and that he would tighten his grip around your throat as he did, letting you know he was in charge. But instead, he let go of you. He smirked and took a few steps back and he composed himself. His back straight, his chin up and his hands behind his back. He cleared his throat.

'No, lady,' he said, suddenly politely, 'you caught my eye, so I only tease you. But if you are spoken for, then allow me to apologise-'

'I am not spoken for,' you interrupted, being surprised by his manners, 'and I do not look at other men.'

Sihtric nodded, somewhat confused. He brought his hand up to the back of his neck and rubbed it as he spoke.

'I thought that… you know,' he mumbled, 'that a king always beds his servants.'

'I am no servant,' you snapped.

'Then why do you live in the castle?'

'I am… I am a nun,' you lied, as confident as you could.

Sihtric looked at you for a moment and then burst into laughter.

'A nun?' he asked through his laugh.

You let out a nervous chuckle and tried to laugh along.

But then his smile disappeared, almost as fast as it had appeared. He rushed towards you, and before you realised it, he had already shoved you back against the stable wall. He grabbed your arms firmly and pressed his forehead against yours.

'So you're God's woman, hm?' he licked his lips, 'does He not forbid you any form of pleasure?' he asked with a low, threatening voice.

'Y… yes,' you stuttered.

'Then why did you watch me?' he breathed heavily, 'and why did you come look for me tonight?'

You didn't answer him. And you felt that you should be scared now, and maybe you were, but his low voice and his dominance turned you on more than anything else.

He brought his face down to your ear, never loosening his grip on you, and you became dizzy again when you heard his heavy breathing.

'You lie to me,' he growled, 'I think your god wants me to punish you for that sin.'

'Will you?' you almost moaned, and you pushed your body against his.

Sihtric released your arms and quickly slid one hand up the back of your head. He grabbed your hair and pulled your head slightly back, his grip strong and tight. You couldn't help but moan as he did, and you saw the hunger in his eyes when he looked at you. Making you feel a strange mixture of fear and lust.

'You wish to play with me, lady?' his voice was deep and guttural, 'you are no nun, you aren't wearing a cross. And you say you are no servant. So, are you a whore then?'

You knew he had come back from battle only a day ago, and you also knew that many warriors used whores to find relief after those battles.

He bit his lower lip and moved his hand down to your hip. Sihtric's grip on you was hard, as was his breathing, and you could feel he had bruised you already.

'I am no whore, but…' you said, breathing heavily, and you grabbed onto the leather belt around his waist, making him clench his jaw. You looked into his hungry eyes as he slipped his other hand under your cloak, and dug his fingers into your waist.

'But?' he asked.

And he pulled you towards him, moving his hand smoothly down your thigh without taking his eyes off you, shoving your dress up to your thigh.

You gasped at his touch, and he pushed your legs apart with his knee, in one swift move. He placed his hand behind your knee and pulled it up to his hip.

Sihtric positioned himself between your thighs, allowing you to feel how hard he was, and he used his whole body to push you back against the wall again.

'I am no whore,' you said again, pushing your hips against his, making him groan.

'But if you wish to hump me, you-'

'Gods, I wish to,' he grunted.

And before you could finish your sentence, Sihtric had you turned around already. He tore off your cloak, exposing your shoulders and your dress. He dragged you over to a fence, just outside of the stables. You felt his warm, strong hand on the back of your neck, and you willingly let him bent you over the fence. As you waited for him to continue, he suddenly noticed your dress. It was clean. And pretty. Unlike those of the woman he ever had before you.

You heard a low growl escape his lips, and his grip on the back of your neck tightened.

'Not a servant,' he spoke in a husky whisper, 'not a nun and not a whore. And yet you live with the king,' he paused, 'so you must be important.'

And suddenly you felt your fear come back. You already learned that Sihtric was unpredictable. And he now understood you were not just any woman, but a woman of importance.

He pulled you up, facing him.

'Have you ever been with a Dane?' he asked, catching his breath.

You shook your head.

'Is it wrong for you to be touched by a Dane?'

'Yes,' you admitted, 'but I don't care if it is wrong.'

Then he smiled, turned you around, wrapped his strong arms around you and pulled you against his chest.

'Lady,' he whispered in your ear, 'then I give you my word. I will do everything to make it feel right for you.'

And with those words, you forget everything you were ever taught about the Danes. All you wanted was to feel this man inside you. You didn't care if you got caught, or that he was a pagan, or if he could be dangerous. Sihtric's arms around you made you feel as if nothing could hurt you in this moment. You placed your hands on his arm bracers and you closed your eyes.

You allowed his warm, soft lips on your neck, playfully kissing his way down to your shoulder, making you slowly relaxed into his arms.

'Does this feel right?' Sihtric panted, as he felt your body weaken against his.

'Hmm,' you moaned.

'Good girl,' he whispered, 'but what is a good girl doing with a man like me?'

He tightened his embrace and softly bit your ear.

'I can't… get you out of… of my head,' you breathed heavily, 'ever… since I … since I saw you… ye-... yesterday'.

'I can't get you out of my head either.'

'Then please,' you begged, 'please, I want you. I just want you. You don't know how I long for you.'

He spun you back around and he looked deeply into your eyes. And you swore you could see that the hunger in his eyes was making place for vulnerability and hope.

'You want me?' he asked quietly.

'You have no idea,' you smiled.

He smirked, albeit somewhat broken, and he placed one hand on your neck and he started to kiss you. Roughly at first, tightening his grip on your neck and biting your lip in between kisses. Letting you feel how he desired you.

As you became more at ease with Sihtric, you moved one hand up into his hair, and used your other hand to pull at his leather armour.

You felt him smile against your lips as you moved your hand slowly up his arm, and you quickly learned that the more you touched Sihtric, the needier he became.

And soon he started to kiss you more gently, softly licking your lips after he bit them, before he pulled away to gaze into your eyes.

You took his face and pulled his lips back against yours, kissing him real slow this time.

You allowed his tongue into your mouth, tasting his lust, his desire, his passion and his hunger. Quickly, you both started to moan into each other's mouths, and you began to feel that you weren't "just a lady to hump" to him. There was more to this.

You could taste it in his kiss now, and feel it in his hands.

He wanted to feel desired too.

But then Sihtric broke the kiss, shook his head and let out a heavy sigh.

'No, not like this,' he mumbled under his breath, as he rested his face against yours.

And you understood that the Dane would not take you now, not here at the stables, even if he really wanted to. You were no whore to him.

You both tried to catch your breath, and started to laugh as your bodies were still pressed against each other. You did not want to let go of him, and you felt Sihtric had the same need to keep you close. You both knew that the tension between the two of you was something special. And you did not want to lie to him anymore, you wanted him to know who you really were.

You took his face in your hands and looked into his eyes.

'Sihtric,' you whispered.

'Hmm, you know my name?' his voice was weak, and he looked at you with near love-drunk eyes.

'Yes,' you smiled at him, 'the priests are not very fond of you here.'

He chuckled.

'I don't care about them', he whispered, 'I only want you to be fond of me.'

He leaned in again and kissed you deeply, lovingly, and you gladly let him.

'Wait,' you said as you broke his kiss.

'I don't want to wait,' he murmured, almost begging, and he brought his lips to yours again.

'Sihtric,' you giggled, 'but I have to tell you something,' you became serious.

He restrained himself and looked at you.

'I'm actually…', and as you tried to tell him the truth, you both heard rapid footsteps approaching.

You and Sihtric both looked up and you froze to the ground when you saw Father Beocca storming towards you.

'What in God's name are you doing!?' Beocca whispered angrily at you.

You looked at him, shocked, eyes wide. You opened your mouth, but nothing came out.

'And you?' he asked Sihtric, equally as angry, and he slapped the back of his head.

'Father?' Sihtric winced, confused, rubbing his hand over his head.

'You should know better than to try and hump a princess!' Beocca snapped at him.

Beocca took your arm and pulled you out of Sihtric's embrace.

'Father,' Sihtric said again, but he couldn't say anything else.

He looked puzzled at you, and then back to Beocca.

'I-,' Sihtric stammered.

'No!' Beocca fummed, and he tried to drag you away, but you broke out of his grip.

'He doesn't know, Beocca!' you hissed, 'I was about to tell him, but then-'

'Then what?' Beocca snarled, 'then you decided you'd let him disgrace you first? Good Heavens, what are you thinking?

'No!' you quietly yelled, 'then you barged in!'

'Do you think that having a bastard's child will make your situation better?' Beocca said as he threw up his arms in disbelief.

Sihtric could not bring himself to speak, as he did not understand what was going on.

You looked at him, and then down to the ground.

"Sihtric,' you said quietly, refusing to look at him, 'I am Alfred's daughter. The one who was sent to a monastery.'

Sihtric's eyes grew wide and his jaw dropped.

'Princess,' he gasped.

He took a step back and kneeled before you, keeping his head down.

'No, no, get up, please,' you said, 'I do not wish to be treated differently.'

You walked over to Sihtric, only to be stopped by Beocca before you reached the Dane.

Sihtric looked up as Beocca grabbed your arm, keeping you away from him.

'No,' Beocca hissed at you.

You flinched at him, and a sudden look of rage come over Sihtric's face. He stood up, took a step towards Beocca and reached for his knife.

'Go on, kill me now, Dane, and you know you will never see her again,' Beocca threatened.

Sihtric froze and hissed through his teeth, 'But, Father, I did not know!'

'And now you do,' Beocca said, 'you will be hanged if this comes out! Do not go near her again if you want to live.'

'But, Father-'

'No!' Beocca interrupted, 'the only man she will ever love is God,' he said as he dragged you away, 'so do not waste your time.'

That is a lie!' you yelled, trying to get out of his grip.

Beocca stopped and muttered something to the sky.

'This,' Beocca said, while gesturing between you and Sihtric, 'can never be. You are a Christian, and a princess! He is a Dane, and a heathen!' Beocca paused, 'and a rat.'

'Really,' Sihtric shrugged, 'have you forgotten that easily about 'Thyra?' he snapped.

Thyra?' you asked, but both men didn't hear you.

'Boy,' Beocca snapped back at Sihtric, getting up into his face, 'do you not remember what happened to her?' his voice broke slightly, but he composed himself, 'you listen to me, son, you will not go near the princess again. Or I will baptise you myself before they hang you, so you will rest in Heaven. No Valhalla for you, do you understand?'

Sihtric threw his hands up and backed off.

'Okay, okay,' he said and he clenched his jaw.

You looked at Sihtric, and thought he was not that much of a brute now, for he didn't even put up a fight against a priest.

And before Beocca dragged you back inside the castle, you glanced one last time over your shoulder.

You saw how Sihtric dragged his hands down over his bewildered face, and then furiously kicked at the stable wall, letting out a deep, angry growl.

'Sihtric,' your voice broke.

And that was the last you saw of him.

#sihtric kjartansson #sihtric #sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #sihtric fic #the last kingdom #the last kingdom fic #do not be afraid to tell me if I should continue or just stop writing LMAO

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magadauthan · 2 months

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Ep 9: Murder Machine

Aaaaand now for the @trigun98watchparty, we get into what makes Trigun, Trigun. Come for the dumbassery, stay for the trauma.

Cue the entrance of Nicholas D. Wolfwood, wandering priest, and his gloriously bare chest.

--Vash can dish out the whining, but he can't sure take it. Milly is the champion, as the baby of the family. "Pay for our bus fare or I'll hate you! and btw can I have ice cream?"

--oh my lord, Meryl, you are so mean to that poor man. Punch count: 3; insult count: 2 - and then you and Milly steal his water.

--WW's Kansai accent is usually coded in English as Southern. It's probably a good thing the dub didn't tackle that, because it would have been distracting, but wouldn't WW with a Boston or a Chicago accent have been amazing? Come on, the Blues Brothers are right there! (hmmmm... there are an awful lot of similarities between Elwood and Wolfwood...)

--Ah, the portable confessional. Add another notch to the "items seen once and never again" tally.

--Boob shot!

--WW's cold read regarding Vash's empty eyes and hurting on the inside is less impressive when you consider that he has more information than he lets on.

--look at his stupid dress shoes, Tristamp nailed that shit, didn't they lol

--"Why doesn't anything nice ever follow you?" F*ck around and find out, Meryl

--"Did we just become best friends?" "Yep!"

--even the kid thinks you two are a couple of dipshits, seriously

--All of this worthlessness is what Tristamp was missing. Vash and WW have to have adventures where they shoot things, get into trouble, and insult one another. This is what's called "male bonding."

--This is one of the clearer looks we get at how the Plants do their Plant Thing. Push the button and a spider robot comes out. Um, okay. Guess that one was less useful than the Tuna Fish Plant or the Canned Salmon Plant.

--Why was it left behind again? Aren't Plants irreplaceable?

--Vash has a pretty good idea that WW's full of shit and takes a risk on him anyway. He knows how to force a hand.

--they're so cute as a team, aren't they lol

--And there's the second gun. don't ask about Knives' third gun lmao

--Milly gets to be best girl again. WW does take a shine to her right away, doesn't he. That, and he probably thinks it's amusing to make Vash and Meryl sit together. It's so third grade. (it's okay, Meryl, you can admit you don't mind that much)

In light of later events, it's interesting to note what parts of WW's cover story are true and which are fabricated. WW has been handed his orders from Chapel, so his encounter with Vash was no coincidence; WW has to case the joint before making a move. The girls helpfully confirm that WW has made contact, and he has to get Vash to trust him. Not too hard, though Vash isn't quite as naive about WW as he puts on. Everyone's got their act.

WW figures out quickly that Vash is a big softy, or maybe he has info; nevertheless, his generosity towards children (which Vash shares) isn't false. The part about the orphanage and protecting the kids is true, though the circumstances of WW's departure have nothing to do with money and everything to do with a hostage situation. WW's amazement at who he's going to be dealing with is also genuine; he knows Vash is legendary, but seeing Vash wipe out all the mechanical mooks while injured is next-level.

And, at the end of it all...

WW certainly didn't expect to like Vash as much as he ends up doing. (cue the conflict, and a zillion angsty fanfics.) That's going to make everything a lot more complicated.

#trigun #trigun 98 #trigun 98 watch party #vash the stampede #nicholas d. wolfwood #meryl stryfe #milly thompson #Day 9

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ceruleanvulpine · 28 days

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ok so. this is gonna be very focused on my girl at the expense of the general plot but pls enjoy

in [redacted larp], the kingdom of vaguely medieval european fantasy is under attack by the evil wizard empire. the evil wizard empire are your traditional mage supremacists with an immortal god-emperor who ban the worship of all of VMEFkingdom's gods.

at my first game, Our Heroes were freeing an island from occupation by the evil wizard empire. they burst into a tavern and start killing the soldiers stationed there, and find a few civilians hiding, including a death priest. there are two death gods in the setting: one loves zombies and necromancy and suffering, and the other is about finality and respect for the dead and things in their right place. the priest, who follows the second, after recovering from getting whacked on the head while hiding behind a counter, introduces herself as Let This Darkness Be A Belltower (bell for short). this is not a normal name in the setting, lmao.

bell immediately joins in with the forces of the rebellion, mostly following around an elven doctor who becomes her new bff and healing people. by the end of the weekend she has blown up an evil wizard empire warship by sabotaging a laser cannon and helped to free the city.

of course, let this darkness be a belltower... is the name she gave herself after she had a religious breakdown/breakthrough and defected from the evil wizard empire. (a few people know this after her first game, most don't.)

meruet peitry! her mom is a politician, her brother is a soldier, her younger half-sister is a prodigy necromancer and the golden child. meruet is frankly a disappointment because she has a little mage blood and can't use it at all, but her family is nice about it. she's her sister's confidante/anchor/the person who tells her to take a nap when she's doing too much necromancy and it's affecting her temperament. (meruet haaaates necromancy. unbeknownst to her or anyone around her, this is because of being chosen by deathgod 2.)

she gets shuffled off to the occupied island as part of a political game, mostly as a hostage to ensure her family's good behavior, but she's just happy to not be married off.

she debuted in game in 2022. in the in-game equivalent of 2020, one of the PCs definitely the dastardly evil wizard empire kicked off a necromantic blight that caused all the dead things in a certain region to rise as zombies immediately. simultaneously, someone was fucking with deathgod2, and all his chosen started having extreme insomnia and nightmares. a sleep-deprived meruet has a break with reality and becomes variously convinced that she's dead (she is not) undead (no) and chosen by a higher power (yes.) after some time secretively investigating confiscated materials on VMEFkingdom's gods, she realizes she has some association with deathgod2 and starts spending more time with the locals...

getting us back to where we started. meruet peitry is presumed dead, and bell has new friends! with a certainty born of god visions and a convert's zeal, she resolves to just never think about her family again, and probably that will be fine.

she learns the world is ending and throws her lot in with freeing the old gods to fix it, resolving with that same self-centered moral certainty that she will lie to her new friends if necessary to achieve this (they turn out to agree. but she would have lied her ass off). at one point she gets kidnapped BY the evil mage empire for a month. she becomes frenemies (?) with the atheist goodguy necromancer who, when they met, made a corpse throw itself off a cliff and then told her god was fake. she's doing fine.

one day a skeleton shows up with a letter from her sister mariliz. bell is uhh upset by the necromantic messenger and also stressed. the letter is like "i saw by scrying that you're alive?? have the forces of VMEFkingdom kidnapped you?? please write back!!" bell ignores it. <3

unfortunately, her sister gets kidnapped by bone-eating vampires (?!) on a research mission, which bell learns when her sister's dream bleeds into the dream the PCs are exploring, and she walks into her childhood home with a bunch of her new friends and is greeted by her siblings. then her sister starts screaming, wakes up, and disappears.

a rescue mission is waged. bell continues to maintain the pretense that she is rescuing a random woman who is not related to or known to her in any way to everyone but a few people. she even sends a dream message ahead to her sister to be like "DO NOT say we are sisters when we meet. i love you. don't die"

when they find her sister, though, she is ... in a bad way from having her bones repeatedly eaten and regrown for months. bell takes her back to the clinic where she's living, and as her sister is basically swaying on her feet about to pass out, freaks out about how she's a traitor and a heretic and it would be better if they hadn't met again. (oh, her sister doesn't believe she can do divine magic, because the emperor is the only god. maybe bell has finally learned how to do arcane magic after years of failing to? bell: No!!) mariliz passes out and bell immediately ties her hands and has the local sorcerer cast a spell on the bonds preventing her from using her magic. (necromancy is not ONLY scary, it's illegal here. this is for her own good!)

cue bell's sister living in the clinic as a prisoner for months while they wait for someone who can take her home. bell makes some attempts at de-indoctrinating her, but she's bad at it (keeps getting mad that her sister doesn't believe her god is real). she mostly ends up making weird comments to the two elf doctors helping to treat her and reading trashy novels. god bless the person who played her, who hits the perfect balance of smugly chauvinist, kickable, and deeply unsettled by the changes in her sister and her life.

meanwhile, on a dangerous mission, bell finds out that one of the other PCs caused the blight (when someone casually mentions it). she punches him in the face and resolves she has trusted *too many goddamn necromancers*. that same day, she meets her god inside his nightmare of the time he was fucked with. she tries to look into his eyes as he freaks out and gets an instant "insanity no will save" effect, which was fun as hell to play because i just upped the ante on her panic about the dream and about the people around her being corpse dismembering murderers (this fear was already present). but she does recover and asks her god if he would have her take any action against the other PC. he says no. so now they're... extremely awkward coworkers.

incomplete list of. some of bell's other friends (?) (if you're not on here i just couldn't come up with a funny summary)

the elf doctor i mentioned: they love each other. bell is often Concerned about her schemes.

the daughter of blight guy, the second most powerful necromancer in game: now just stares unsettlingly at her whenever she sees her

a younger and, until recently, more powerful priest of deathgod2: why does she remind me of my sister

the token Guy Who Doesn't Want To Free The Old Gods, a former child soldier with a tendency to resort to violence to solve his problems. but he and bell have an awkward coworker relationship and he seems to think she's the only reasonable person who wants to free them, because she'll discuss the possibility of going his way instead.

goodguy atheist necromancer: bell accidentally spent all his money once while buying supplies for him from an NPC played by the same guy

game before last, bell willingly sacrificed her life to deathgod1 to push back the blight. she came back, died in a battle, came back again, but it gets less likely each time, so she's getting more and more frightened.

last game her sister escaped and showed up in town, so bell followed her around going "noooooo" while she (thinking she was being so sneaky) asked questions about life here and why all the mages don't just move to the empire. now she's been safely sent home. so it's fine and bell never has to think about her family again! she also, to her confusion, got to finish the deal with deathgod1 by 1) moving furniture into his temple and 2) peer pressuring a bunch of new characters into getting Agony'd with her to consecrate it. probably fine.

+ bonus: my fave face NPC (that i play) is a horrid anti-magic cop who just shows up and flatly bullies everyone holding scrolls. twice she has caught people with high level necromancy scrolls. i keep waiting for someone to murder her, i am NOT that hard to kill, but she does have a spell that boils the magic in your blood, which i am waiting eagerly to use <3

#ceruleanrambling #death priest hours

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serene-sun · 2 months

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𝕬 𝖑𝖔𝖓𝖌 𝖆𝖜𝖆𝖎𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖒

Chapter 4a of my series “𝕽𝖔𝖘𝖊 𝕲𝖆𝖗𝖉𝖊𝖓 𝕱𝖚𝖓𝖊𝖗𝖆𝖑 𝕺𝖋 𝕾𝖔𝖗𝖊𝖘”

Lust, it was one of the founding sins.

Lucifer lusted for power, equality…answers. And soon it would drag him down to the carnelian flames of hell in which his kingdom rose from the ashes and the souls of the dammed turned into terrible beasts that roamed the land to devour.

Wrath, the art of emotion, the feeling of hell fire burning deep inside.

Laziness, the ability to let things play out, the sense of patience and control.

Gluttony, to consume what is rich and abundant.

Greed, a feeling of pleasure in others, a sense of want.

Envy, the sin of appreciation and love, desire filled with fire.

Pride, the crown of independence that’s laid upon our heads by our father in hell.

Seven rules of life, seven ways to live, seven acts and seven ways to die. It was truly a beautiful thing.

It was late evening and a storm had taken swoon of the entire ministry. Thunder cracked through the midnight sky, lightning lit the room for a moment before disappearing. Wind howled like hunting wolves against the windows.

“Did you bring it?” A nameless ghoul asks another, a nod in response as murmurs filled the meeting room.

“What is this about…? Im concerned…count never summons us so late in night.” One says before handing them a book.

“I heard a feral ghoul was seen wondering the campus…” someone murmurs.

“Do you think…it’s about him…?”

The door quickly opens, the count and his ghouls make through the room as it goes dead silent. The older man wears his usual slicked back hair, black eye circles and painted top lip. He was in his black cloak as usual, it draped to the floor and slugged behind him as his eerie demeanor focused on the presence of the clergy in the room.

It was only upper members and priests, ghouls and the heads of certain departments like the kitchen and infirmary that were in there. It felt like the walls were closing in with the crowd waiting whatever had summoned them all.

Another angry rumble from the sky, and a strike of lightning that make the sliver ghoul masks light up. They stood behind his desk as he took a seat.

He breathed a deep sigh, “I apologize for such a late summoning, but it appears that we have a disturbance”

“A disturbance?” One person asks, “like an intruder?”

“No…uhm…as you may of heard there was a feral ghoul on campus, it has been taken care of.” The count says, swallowing deeply.

The crowd picks up their murmurs, “what?! How could that happen?”

“Calm down everyone, don’t act as if this is a shock. We’re only a week from the solar eclipse…the demonic realm is closer to ours than ever before and we must take precautions.”

The crowd calms down as they nod, it wasn’t easy to dislike such a righteous man.

“I’d like to remind everyone what happened last eclipse.” The second eldest son rose from his seat, “I’d prefer if we didn’t have search dogs looking across our land for a corpse they will never find.”

“Oh don’t scare them…as long as we keep everyone accounted for this should go smoothly with no deaths.” Primo said, tapping his cane against the seconds foot.

The count stood up, “I need you all to listen very carefully…” he says, taking off his gloves as the room got very serious like the air turned thicker, “no rituals will be held until after the eclipse, nobody enters or leaves this ministry, and not a single word will be said as to why.”

“But won’t a riot start out? We can’t hold these people hostage.” A priest said

“Yes, won’t they question? And when it gets out of hand what do we do? They will break out in fear and want to leave” another agreed

“Tell them something to keep them occupied. Change the conversation to about the upcoming vows, those are in only three days, keep the newer people busy and focused on their sin.” He said as he sat back down, “your all dismissed…”

After the room cleared out, a nameless ghoul handed count copia the ancient book, “my lord…why do you request such a book?”

The thing was thick, dusty and falling apart. It was centuries old, said to be written at the time of the crusifcation.

“Im afraid we have an unwanted foe trying to visit.” He said, placing the book in his desk.

“Ghouls, you are all ordered to protect everyone here, stand guard everywhere. If anything is suspicious or out of ordinary, you come to me immediately.” He ordered.

“This foe….is it possibly…uhm…you know…” water asks

“If anything is out of the ordinary…come directly to me….”

#serene sun nocontext #the band ghost #serene sun spice time #ghost band #the band ghost x reader #nameless ghouls x reader #nameless ghouls #serene sun writes #ghost band fic

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merakiui · 1 year

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thinking about yandere!rollo who is the priest who marries you to your lover but detests every minute of it because he’s been obsessed with you ever since he learned it was you who would come to speak to him through the confessional. so when he blesses you and your spouse, the words are hollow and bitter on his tongue. he doesn’t mean any of these blessings; in fact, he wishes the earth would split open and swallow your lover whole so that it would be you and him (how it should rightfully be!). instead, he’s left to silently mourn the fact that you will never be his (at least not in the legal and romantic sense) while he watches you and your lover seal everything in a sweet kiss.

rollo supposes the church is good for one thing, what with its many uninhabited, dust-filled storage rooms. no one would think to check those areas when you’re reported missing (after all, who would think to kidnap someone and hold them hostage in a church of all places?), and no one will hear your pleas for freedom in the midst of singing hymns of divinity. though the space you’re confined in is bleak, at least the stained glass will cast a magnificent glow upon rollo’s captive sweetheart at sunrise, painting you in the colored hues of christ.

#meraki mumbles #yandere twst #i love mr. rollo :D

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istumpysk · 11 months

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Operation Stumpy Re-Read

TWOW: Arianne II

The Peregrine made port at the Weeping Town, where the corpse of the Young Dragon had once lingered for three days on its journey home from Dorne.

Could be relevant.

The Dornish prince was three days dying. - The Queen's Hand, ADWD

+.+.+

The town was large enough to support three inns, and all their common rooms were rife with rumors. Arianne sent her men into each of them, to hear what they might hear. In the Broken Shield, Daemon Sand was told that the great septry on the Holf of Men had been burned and looted by raiders from the sea, and a hundred young novices from the motherhouse on Maiden Isle carried off into slavery. In the Loon, Joss Hood learned that half a hundred men and boys from the Weeping Town had set off north to join Jon Connington at Griffin's Roost, including young Ser Addam, old Lord Whitehead's son and heir. But in the aptly named Drunken Dornishman, Feathers heard men muttering that the griffin had put Red Ronnet's brother to death and raped his maiden sister. Ronnet himself was said to be rushing south to avenge his brother's death and his sister's dishonor. That night Arianne dispatched the first of her ravens back to Dorne, reporting to her father on all they'd seen and heard.

I'm going to laugh if she's sending him a bunch of gossip and hearsay.

"Send a raven whenever you have news," Prince Doran told her, "but report only what you know to be true. We are lost in fog here, besieged by rumors, falsehoods, and traveler's tales. I dare not act until I know for a certainty what is happening." - Arianne I, TWOW

For the record, Jon Connington didn't actually kill Red Ronnet's brother, or rape his maiden sister. However, he's currently holding his own family hostage, one of his men threw a maester from a tower, and only four of the castle garrison survived the attack.

Similar to Daenerys Targaryen in Slaver's Bay, sometimes knowing the truth of a situation doesn't bring much more reassurance.

+.+.+

Huge willows grew along the watercourses, larger than any that Arianne had ever seen, their great trunks as gnarled and twisted as an old man's face and festooned with beards of silvery moss. Trees pressed close on every side, shutting out the sun; hemlock and red cedars, white oaks, soldier pines that stood as tall and straight as towers, colossal sentinels, big-leaf maples, redwoods, wormtrees, even here and there a wild weirwood.

I don't think this is anything, but I get paranoid.

+.+.+

Arianne had once heard her father and Maester Caleotte arguing with a septon about why the north and south sides of the Sea of Dorne were so different. The septon thought it was because of Durran Godsgrief, the first Storm King, who had stolen the daughter of the sea god and the goddess of the wind and earned their eternal emnity. Prince Doran and the maester inclined more toward wind and water, and spoke of how the big storms that formed down in the Summer Sea would pick up moisture moving north until they slammed into Cape Wrath. For some strange reason the storms never seemed to strike at Dorne, she recalled her father saying. "I know your reason," the septon had responded. "No Dornishmen ever stole away the daughter of two gods."

It's astonishing to me that a priest lacks understanding of the scientific field of meteorology.

For some strange reason the storms never seemed to strike at Dorne

+.+.+

The princess lost another game of cyvasse to Daemon Sand, won one from Joss Hood, then retired as the two of them began to teach Jayne Ladybright the rules. She was tired of such games.

There ya go!

You better not be tired.

+.+.+

Nym and Tyene may have reached King's Landing by now, she mused, as she settled down crosslegged by the mouth of the cave to watch the falling rain. If not they ought to be there soon.

Yeah? Is that what you'd like me to believe, George?

Boy, I'm eagerly anticipating the amusing antics that will unfold between Cersei Lannister, the High Sparrow, Nym Sand, and Tyene Sand. That's definitely a plot you can count on happening, no shadow of a doubt.

+.+.+

Prince Trystane had remained safely back at Sunspear, after a tearful parting from Princess Myrcella.

That moment you realize nowhere in Dorne is safe.

Reminds me of this one:

Steffon and Stannis were thousands of leagues from the fighting and safe from harm, but Devan was at Castle Black, a squire to the king. - Davos II, ADWD

Nope!

+.+.+

That accounts for one brother, thought Arianne, but where is Quentyn, if not with the griffin? Had he wed his dragon queen? King Quentyn. It still sounded silly. This new Daenerys Targaryen was younger than Arianne by half a dozen years. What would a maid that age want with her dull, bookish brother? Young girls dreamed of dashing knights with wicked smiles, not solemn boys who always did their duty. She will want Dorne, though. If she hopes to sit the Iron Throne, she must have Sunspear. If Quentyn was the price for that, this dragon queen would pay it. What if she was at Griffin's End with Connington, and all this about another Targaryen was just some sort of subtle ruse? Her brother could well be with her. King Quentyn. Will I need to kneel to him?

You are too old to be acting like this.

+.+.+

No good would come of wondering about it. Quentyn would be king or he would not. I pray Daenerys treats him him more gently than she did her own brother.

The irony of this thought occurring immediately after she ponders the absurdity of her own brother as king shouldn't be lost on you.

+.+.+

It was only as she settled down that Arianne realized Elia Sand had not returned from her explorations. [...] The cave proved much deeper than any of them had suspected. Beyond the stony mouth where her company had made their camp and hobbled their horses, a series of twisty passageways led down and down, with black holes snaking off to either side. Further in, the walls opened up again, and the searchers found themselves in a vast limestone cavern, larger than the great hall of a castle. Their shouts disturbed a nest of bats, who flapped about them noisily, but only distant echoes shouted back. A slow circuit of the hall revealed three further passages, one so small that it would have required them to proceed on hands and knees.

Giving House of the Undying, House of Black and White, and Red Keep vibes.

+.+.+

And all at once she found herself in another cavern, five times as big as the last one, surrounded by a forest of stone columns. Daemon Sand moved to her side and raised his torch. "Look how the stone's been shaped," he said. "Those columns, and the wall there. See them?" "Faces," said Arianne. So many sad eyes, staring. "This place belonged to the children of the forest." "A thousand years ago." Arianne turned her head. "Listen. Is that Joss?" It was. The other searchers had found Elia, as she and Daemon learned after they made their way back up the slippery slope to the last hall.

Wait a second, I know this scene!

Are you telling me that wasn't real?

Okay, but what about this?

↓

Might I ask about these corpses in the ice cells? They make the men uneasy. And to keep them under guard? Surely that is a waste of two good men, unless you fear that they …"

"… will rise? I pray they do." - Jon VIII, ADWD

"Thrice I flew Silverwing high above Castle Black, and thrice I tried to take her north beyond the Wall," Alysanne wrote to Jaehaerys, "but every time she veered back south again and refused to go. Never before has she refused to take me where I wished to go." - Fire & Blood

Shit!

Okay, but what about this?

↓

Mormont snorted. "Because I sent him, why do you think? He's bringing the hand your Ghost tore off the end of Jafer Flowers's wrist. I have commanded him to take ship to King's Landing and lay it before this boy king. That should get young Joffrey's attention, I'd think … and Ser Alliser's a knight, highborn, anointed, with old friends at court, altogether harder to ignore than a glorified crow." - Jon VIII, AGOT

Shit!

Okay, but what about this?

↓

The Cinnamon Wind was spinning all around them and he could taste the rum on Gilly's tongue and the next thing her breasts were bare and he was touching them. - Samwell IV, AFFC

Shit!

Gosh, it's almost as if the creators of Game of Thrones pulled an entire season and romance from their ass.

+.+.+

Their passageway led down to a still black pool, where they discovered the girl up to her waist in water, catching blind white fish with her bare hands, her torch burning red and smoky in the sand where she had planted it.

That black pool sounds familiar.

Blind white fish swam in the black river, but they tasted just as good as fish with eyes once you cooked them up. - Bran III, ADWD

Where else does this river go?

+.+.+

"I caught two fish," said Elia Sand. "You could have died," said Arianne again. Her words echoed off the cavern walls. "… died … died … died …"

A bit ominous.

+.+.+

"Elia, this must end," she told her. "We are not in Dorne now. You are not with your sisters, and this is not a game. I want your word that you will play the maidservant until we are safely back at Sunspear. I want you meek and mild and obedient. You need to hold your tongue. I'll hear no more talk of Lady Lance or jousting, no mention of your father or your sisters. The men that I must treat with are sellswords. Today they serve this man who calls himself Jon Connington, but come the morrow they could just as easily serve the Lannisters. All it takes to win a sellsword's heart is gold, and Casterly Rock does not lack for that. If the wrong man should learn who you are, you could be seized and held for ransom–"

[...]

"You are a Sand Snake, and Prince Doran would pay any price to keep you and your sisters safe from harm." That made the child smile at least. "Do I have your sworn word? Or must I send you back?"

"I swear." Elia did not sound happy.

"On your father's bones."

"On my father's bones."

That vow she will keep, Arianne decided. She kissed her cousin on the cheek and sent her off to sleep. Perhaps some good would come of her adventure. "I never knew how wild she was till now," Arianne complained to Daemon Sand, afterward. "Why would my father inflict her on me?" "Vengeance?" the knight suggested, with a smile.

Later:

Arianne was on her way back to her own chamber when she heard muffled laughter from the adjoining room. She paused and listened for a moment, then pushed the door open to find Elia Sand curled up in a window seat, kissing Feathers.

[...]

"Feathers is a man." A serving man, but still a man. It did not escape the princess that Elia was the same age she had been when she gave her maidenhead to Daemon Sand.

Lmao.

This is why I'm never having children. I would be cursed with raising another version of myself.

+.+.+

Mistfall's new sellsword masters called themselves Young John Mudd and Chain. Both knights, to hear them tell it. Neither behaved like any knight that Arianne had ever met. Mudd wore brown from head to heel, the same shade as his skin, but a pair of golden coins dangled from his ears. The Mudds had been kings up by the Trident a thousand years ago, she knew, but there was nothing royal about this one. Nor was he particularly young, but it seemed his father had also served in the Golden Company, where he had been known as Old John Mudd.

That's considered fAegon evidence.

Young John Mudd (Young Griff), son of Old John Mudd of the Golden Company, bears the name of previous kings in Westeros. However, it's clear there's no real ancestral ties to that royal bloodline.

+.+.+

At evenfall a fine supper was served to them in the solar, high in the Tower of Owls, where they were joined by the dowager Lady Mertyns and her maester. Though a captive in her own castle, the old woman seemed spry and cheerful. "My sons and grandsons went off when Lord Renly called his banners," she told the princess and her party. "I have not seen them since, though from time to time they send a raven. One of my grandsons took a wound at the Blackwater, but he's since recovered. I expect they will return here soon enough to hang this lot of thieves." She waved a duck leg at Mudd and Chain across the table. "We are no thieves," said Mudd. "We're foragers." "Did you buy all that food down in the yard?" "We foraged it," said Mudd. “The smallfolk can grow more. We serve your rightful king, old crone.” He seemed to be enjoying this. “You should learn to speak more courteous to knights.”

"If you two are knights, I'm still a maiden," said Lady Mertyns. "And I'll speak as I please. What will you do, kill me? I have lived too long already."

Princess Arianne said, "Have you been treated well, my lady?"

"I have not been raped, if that is what you're asking," the old woman said. "Some of the serving girls have been less fortunate. Married or unmarried, the men make no distinctions."

"No one's been doing any raping," insisted Young John Mudd. "Connington won't have that. We follow orders."

Chain nodded. "Some girls was persuaded, might be."

"The same way our smallfolk were persuaded to give you all their crops. Melons or maidenheads, it's all the same to your sort. If you want it, you take it." Lady Mertyns turned to Arianne. "If you should see this Lord Connington, you tell him that I knew his mother, and she would be ashamed." Perhaps I shall, the princess thought.

Might as well start the obituaries now.

+.+.+

That night when she told Ser Daemon what Chain had said, the Bastard of Godsgrace seemed as perplexed as she was. "Storm's End was still held by men loyal to Lord Stannis when last I heard. You would think Connington might do better to make common cause with another rebel, rather than making war upon him too." "Stannis is too far away to be of help to him," Arianne mused. "Capturing a few minor castles whilst their lords and garrisons are off at distant wars, that's one thing, but if Lord Connington and his pet dragon can somehow take one of the great strongholds of the realm …" "…the realm would have to take them seriously," Ser Daemon finished.

Including Daenerys!

+.+.+

Near dusk on the fourth day, not long after Chain and his wagons had taken their leave of them, Arianne's company was met by a column of sellswords down from Griffin's Roost, led by the most exotic creature that the princess had ever laid her eyes on, with painted fingernails and gemstones sparkling in his ears.

Lysono Maar spoke the Common Tongue very well. "I have the honor to be the eyes and ears of the Golden Company, princess."

"You look…" She hesitated.

"…like a woman?" He laughed. "That I am not."

"…like a Targaryen," Arianne insisted. His eyes were a pale lilac, his hair a waterfall of white and gold. All the same, something about him made her skin crawl. Was this what Viserys looked like? she found herself wondering. If so perhaps it is a good thing he is dead.

(Please give yourself a moment to laugh at her discomfort at the sight of someone resembling a Targaryen.)

That's considered fAegon evidence.

It's another reminder that people from Lys have the Targaryen look.

"Your Grace is kind," said Waters with a smile. A wicked smile, the queen thought. Aurane did not resemble Prince Rhaegar as much as she had thought. He has the hair, but so do half the whores in Lys, if the tales are true. Rhaegar was a man. This is a sly boy, no more. Useful in his way, though. - Cersei VIII, AFFC

↓

"Serra. I found her in a Lysene pillow house and brought her home to warm my bed, but in the end I wed her. Me, whose first wife had been a cousin of the Prince of Pentos. The palace gates were closed to me thereafter, but I did not care. The price was small enough, for Serra." - Tyrion II, ADWD

Somewhat worrisome, because Aegon also resembles young Illyrio.

A naked boy stood on the water, poised to duel with a bravo's blade in hand. He was lithe and handsome, no older than sixteen, with straight blond hair that brushed his shoulders. So lifelike did he seem that it took the dwarf a long moment to realize he was made of painted marble, though his sword shimmered like true steel. - tyrion I, ADWD

↓

He was a lithe and well-made youth, with a lanky build and a shock of dark blue hair. The dwarf put his age at fifteen, sixteen, or near enough to make no matter. - Tyrion III, ADWD

+.+.+

"I am flattered. The women of House Targaryen are said to be without peer in all the world."

"And the men of House Targaryen?"

"Oh, even prettier. Though if truth be told, I have only seen the one."

That's considered fAegon evidence. The author made it ambiguous.

Lysono Maar is the spymaster for the Golden Company, it's possible he's met Viserys Targaryen.

Her brother Viserys had once feasted the captains of the Golden Company, in hopes they might take up his cause. They ate his food and heard his pleas and laughed at him. - Daenerys III, ADWD

+.+.+

"Do you play cyvasse, my lord?" asked Arianne. "My father has been teaching me. I am not very skilled, I must confess, but I do know that the dragon is stronger than the elephant." "The Golden Company was founded by a dragon." "Bittersteel was half-dragon, and all bastard. I am no maester, but I know some history. You are still sellswords." "If it please you, princess," he said, all silken courtesy. "We prefer to call ourselves a free brotherhood of exiles." "As you will. As free brothers go, your company stands well above the rest, I grant you. Yet the Golden Company has been defeated every time it has crossed into Westeros. They lost when Bittersteel commanded them, they failed the Blackfyre Pretenders, they faltered when Maelys the Monstrous led them." That seemed to amuse him.

That's considered fAegon evidence.

He might find it amusing if he knows they have another Blackfyre.

+.+.+

By midmorning a light rain began to fall, as they were making their way north through a land of green fields and little villages.

The rain still fell, soft and steady. The sound of moisture dripping off the leaves was all around them, and every mile or so the music of another little waterfall would call to them.

They travelled to the music of steady, lashing rains beating at the treetops up above, though underneath the green great canopy of leaves and branches she and her riders stayed surprisingly dry.

And finally Griffin's Roost emerged from the sea mists, on a grey wet day as the rain fell thin and cold.

Rain falling from start to finish...

+.+.+

"Has no one told you?" Halden Halfmaester favored her with a smile thin and hard as a dagger cut. "Storm's End is ours. The Hand awaits you there." Daemon Sand stepped up beside her. "Shipbreaker Bay can be perilous even on a fair summer's day. The safer way to Storm's End is overland." "These rains have turned the roads to mud. The journey would take two days, perhaps three," said Halden Halfmaester. A ship will have the princess there in half a day or less. There is an army descending on Storm's End from King's Landing. You will want to be safe inside the walls before the battle." Will we? Wondered Arianne. "Battle? Or siege?" She did not intend to let herself be trapped inside Storm's End. "Battle," Halden said firmly. "Prince Aegon means to smash his enemies in the field."

Let's talk about a few things.

One.

Previously covered in ADWD's Epilogue.

There's two hosts in King's Landing, both belonging to the Reach.

Randyll Tarly and Mace Tyrell had both brought armies to King's Landing, whilst the best part of the strength of House Lannister remained in the riverlands, fast melting away. - Epilogue, ADWD

Mace Tyrell intended to deal with Aegon and the Golden Company after Margaery's and Cersei's trials.

"[...] we must destroy Connington and his pretender now, before Daenerys Stormborn can come west."

Mace Tyrell crossed his arms. "I mean to do just that, ser. After the trials." - Epilogue, ADWD

If Cersei carries out a massively destructive and violent act at that trial, causing significant harm to House Tyrell (and we have a lot of reasons to believe she will), then it seems logical to conclude that the host coming from King's Landing intends to join Aegon, not fight him.

"… as for Connington," Tyrell repeated, "what victories has he ever won that we should fear him? He could have ended Robert's Rebellion at Stoney Sept. He failed. Just as the Golden Company has always failed. Some may rush to join them, aye. The realm is well rid of such fools." - Epilogue, ADWD

Two.

"Battle," Halden said firmly. "Prince Aegon means to smash his enemies in the field."

Once again, the author is reinforcing the idea that Aegon is lacking necessary skills for this job.

In Jon Connington's last chapter, we learned the Golden Company does not currently have the strength to face enemies in the field.

The great beasts would be useful in a pitched battle, no doubt, but it would be some time before they had the strength to face their foes in the field. - The Griffin Reborn, ADWD

Now, at Aegon's command, they're going to ABANDON THE WALLS OF STORM'S END, and meet the King's Landing host in an open field.

That is unbelievably stupid, and the only reason it won't end in disaster is because the Tyrell host probably isn't coming to fight.

Regardless, what is it telling us about the future?

Ser Jorah considered that for a moment. "Robert should have been born Dothraki," he said at last. "Your khal would tell you that only a coward hides behind stone walls instead of facing his enemy with a blade in hand. The Usurper would agree. He is a strong man, brave … and rash enough to meet a Dothraki horde in the open field. But the men around him, well, their pipers play a different tune. His brother Stannis, Lord Tywin Lannister, Eddard Stark …" He spat. - Daenerys IV, AGOT

This is the problem with Jon Connington: he's dying, therefore he's no longer patient.

He will allow Aegon to be reckless, and use flawed strategy.

" … once we have Storm's End . . ."

The princess let that aside go without comment, though it gave her considerable pause. Storm's End. This griffin is a bold one, it would seem. Or else a fool. The seat of House Baratheon for three centuries, of the ancient Storm Kings for thousands of years before that, Storm’s End was said by some to be impregnable. Arianne had heard men argue about which was the strongest castle in the realm.

Three.

Has this girl lost her mind? Why would you voluntarily go to Storm's End when an army is descending upon it?

Catelyn Stark also found herself in the middle of a dispute at Storm's End, but Catelyn Stark isn't the heir to Dorne.

+.+.+

"Your brother is not at Storm's End, we know that now," Ser Daemon said, as soon as they were behind closed doors. "If Daenerys Targaryen has dragons, they are half a world away, and of no use to Dorne. There is nothing for us at Storm's End, princess. If Prince Doran meant to send you into the middle of a battle, he would have given you three hundred knights, not three."

Do not be so certain of that, ser. He sent my brother off to Slaver's Bay with five knights and a maester. "I need to speak with Connington." Arianne undid the interlocked sun and spear that clasped her cloak, and let the rain-soaked garment slip from her shoulders to puddle on the floor. "And I want to see this dragon prince of his. If he is truly Elia's son…"

"Whoever's son he is, if Connington challenges Mace Tyrell in open battle he may soon be a captive, or a corpse."

"Tyrell is not a man to fear. My uncle Oberyn–"

" –is dead, princess. And ten thousand men is equal to the whole strength of the Golden Company."

"Lord Connington knows his own strength, surely. If he means to risk battle, he must believe that he can win it."

"And how many men have died in battles they believed that they could win?" Ser Daemon asked her. "Refuse them, princess. I mistrust these sellswords. Do not go to Storm's End."

I think it's a little concerning that the designated Voice of Reason doesn't want her going any further in this journey.

+.+.+

"Ser Daemon, you squired for my uncle Oberyn," she said. "If you were with him now, would you be counseling him to refuse as well?" She did not wait for him to respond. "I know the answer. And if you are about to remind me that I am no Red Viper, I know that too. But Prince Oberyn is dead, Prince Doran is old and ill, and I am the heir to Dorne."

"And that is why you should not put yourself at risk." Daemon Sand went to one knee. "Send me to Storm's End in your stead. Then if the griffin's plans should go awry and Mace Tyrell takes the castle back, I will be just another landless knight who swore his sword to this pretender in hopes of gain and glory."

Whereas if I am taken, the Iron Throne will take that for proof that Dorne conspired with these sellswords, and lent aid to their invasion. "It is brave for you to seek to shield me, ser. I thank you for that." She took his hands and drew him back to his feet. "But my father entrusted this task to me, not you. Come the morrow, I sail to beard the dragon in its den."

Yeah, I don't have a good feeling about any of this.

I don't think the danger is the host coming from King's Landing. I think it's the decisions she makes after that.

Final thoughts:

What happens when Daemon Sand is the more likeable man in the love triangle?

Let it be known, I'm Team Bastard of Godgrace. I'll let you guys enjoy the one assuming the role of Joffrey.

Next chapter: The Forsaken (Aeron Dam-phair)

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#operation stumpy re-read #twow #arianne ii

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