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imaginesofeverykind · 2 months

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Witches Brew ~ Chapter 2

Summary: To practice magic is to slight God with the devil's embrace. It is evil, sin, consuming and the price one pays is never worth what one seeks. Yet people, in times of desperation often turn to desperate measures, in Aegon’s case, medicinal remedy is not an option. No healer can undo what has been done. But the Hag tucked away behind reeds, water topped with algae and the voracious bog may be able to. For a price.

Warnings: Catholic-Centric monotheism demonised, language, 18+ Minors DNI

Tags: DnD Fusion AU, Targaryens are just noblefolk, more vagueness

Word Count: 5k

Chapter Song: Harbinger - Kiki Rockwell

Yurisa and Ornmir aren't in a DND pantheon I just made them up for the purpose of the fic!

Series Masterlist

The power of words came from the ability to heed what is said, the Holy word of God revered by many and feared by others denounces the practices that don’t abide his word. Yet, your words — the words of a heretic, a pagan, a ‘devil worshiper’ — haunted the brothers, resounding in disembodied whispers cruelly reminding them of the events that transpired in wake of a seemingly ordinary day.

Neither spoke of what happened, in fear that speaking it outloud would make it a reality. It almost felt as though they shared a deranged and highly realistic dream that stubbornly did not disappear into the back of their consciousness when they were awake. A nightmare they were forced to reckon with when their Lord Father fell mysteriously ill, an infection that appeared seemingly from nowhere had him bedridden for a tenday.

His left eye had begun to fester and rot away.

Troublesome as the sudden ailment came, it all but made the brothers’ blood run cold when they soon realized the eye that had begun its necrosis would have been the same side on Aemond’s if he lost it that day. He did lose it that evening. And then a miracle — dark blood magic — brought it back. This had been the price. The saying ‘Eye for an Eye’ appeared to be most taunting in this instance.

Cycles of the moon that once meant nothing but something to measure time with became a looming presence for Aegon. A beacon of light in the night he looked onto with resentment and disgust where it once bore witness to his acts of sin and debauchery. Each phase a creeping reminder that he must return back to the decrepit hut, a threat he considered hollow until he felt the pull of the moon the closer to full it became.

The swamp surprisingly looked more harrowing during the day, perhaps it were because under the shield of darkness the night brings, many creatures were hidden away. The afternoon sun seared through the treetops, warming the marshy waters and in doing so lifted a pungent odour, souring the deeper into the bog it got. Sulfur fumes so strong it was hard to believe the sounds of nature indicated life thrived blithely, undisturbed in the thick mud pits, reedy bushes or trees when it so easily brought tears to Aegon’s eyes and made his lungs burn.

Fungus, abnormally larger than the toadstools that littered the edge of the Kings Road sat in halo’s of spores it created. Demanding reproduction and relentlessly over taking the grounds of which they grew, the damage a single spore can do to an entire ecosystem of plant life once it infected a single limb of a plant.

Nature was hideous and beautiful, harrowing and wonderous, unforgiving yet forgiving all at once. Amongst it all, as if tying the cacophony of life, death and all that sat in between nature oscillating and constant; A blissful humming. So subtle it was almost easy to miss the gentle caress in the area getting stronger, coaxing more fervently as it neared the epicentre of the swamp.

The Elder Tree and the Hut entwined in its roots.

“Hello little lordling,” You appear behind him, but Aegon doesn’t jump. Almost as if he were expecting you to be exactly there. The same presence that plagues his thoughts, you could tell how restless he had become over since you last met. A smile pulls at your lips, tauntingly smug, “the moon is not full and yet here you are. Five moons early.”

He regards you slowly, though out of fear or caution you can’t quite tell until he speaks, “my father has fallen ill.” There is no sadness in his voice, no guilt, no indication that he is upset by what you’ve done to ensure his brother became whole again.

You drag your feet toward him with a tilted head as you stare into his eyes of Violet, curling a hand around his jaw to look at him with far more scrutiny, your fingernails like thorns into his skin. Part of you is disappointed, the younger brother seemed to be a far more amusing moon servant with his boiled temperament, but when you look into Aegon, you see someone far less self involved — self serving perhaps but not one who uses a holy shield to look down on those who refute one God.

He is as much a sinner as you were but for different reasons.

“That is the price, to meddle with the forces of nature.” You muse, taking away the hand that clawed into his soft cheeks, crescent moon indentations mark where your fingers had previously sat. Head tilted once again, you inspect his rugged appearance, the dark circles under his eyes and how stringy his hair looked. Leagues different in comparison to how he had looked the last time he had enlightened you with his presence. The moon gives and the moon takes, just like magic, just like nature.

”I didn’t come here to hear riddles, hag.” His lips downturn into, what you could only assume was, a frightful grimace with his brows casting downward. Haggard in appearance wasn’t the only change you could note, where he had last been in the clothes of a nobleman now he was wearing commonfolk garb. Though you are inclined to believe this is his choice to do so and not an artifact of disowning from the Lord and Lady of Oldtown.

“I’ve jokes if you would rather,” you smile tauntingly, though he looked less than amused on account of his eye twitching with an ire you had only previously seen with his brother. It must be the Moon. Though you don’t concede in your jest,“forgive me, I was under the impression you were the fun brother.”

He snapped, grabbing the scruff of your cardigan and pulling you up off your feet with a strength that seemed to surprise even him briefly, “there is nothing fun about what you did to me.” His eyes were wild, animalistic like he might just snap a little further over the threshold of man and monster. This anger appeared foreign on him, you could tell. The creases worn into his face like ridges in a tree were that of someone forlorn and closely recognised misery as a friend, not someone who was quick to anger and enmity. His ire was not of desperation as you had seen once before, it was an artificial plague of your making by bestowing him the curse of the moon in your actions of removing it from his brother.

As if reading his thoughts you shake your head, “I cannot undo what has been done.” You have said this many times to many different people who seek you out, an echo of the woman who raised you, as she would say the same to similarly lost souls. This time it filled you with feelings distant to you but not entirely unheard of, it stirred a deep sorrow that you could not understand the origin or why.

“Why not?” His grip loosened, a crack in his voice indicated that he will not lose himself to the beast that lives inside his very being now.

“What is taken, must be returned. Your brother's eye was returned to him, but only because it was taken from someone else,” his father, you don’t need to say as he is sure enough to understand on his own, “the curse bequeathed to your brother removed, but only because it was parted onto someone else.” You, Aegon. Your eyes watch his with great interest, his pupils begin to shrink and the violet in them return, and a faint whisper that barely passes as a thought but still registers in your mind are three simple words that shake you to the core: I’m so sorry.

***

Blood curses on their own are incredibly hostile in nature, to meddle magically with the very rivers that bring a soul life, is to be inherently evil. You recall the night of your eleventh winter, the moon at its highest and forever etched into your memory was that it was red. A Blood Moon. Auntie, (as you referred to the woman who raise you as despite her being anything but) would regale you with stories of the various cities she had visited, the travels she would get up to and despite the discrepancies in her timelines you would always listen with a grin on your face and wide eyed.

While the Moon was the symbol of the wolves, the goddess commanded her soldiers and servants when it was at its fullest. A Blood Moon was the symbol of petrifyingly beautiful harbingers of death, lustful creatures seeking blood to keep their souls appeased and their hunger satiated. Though, to your recollection, you weren’t sure what a moon decorated in a blue hue meant and who served the Moon when she turned blue.

The bones of your beloved childhood pet ferret laid out before you indicated troubling signs for the evening's full moon, it warned of uncertainty and danger. “Gods be good,” you whisper and gather the bones of the late Yurisa, you had named her after the Goddess of Winter aptly because of the fur as white as snow. The Goddess of Winter was known to be cruel and calculating, worshippers often regarding her as the Mistress of Atrophy, for when she brought her touch upon the land, it withered beneath her.

To you, Yurisa was merely a name to call your furry companion.

Now you are well and truly alone. No Auntie left to gently guide you through the mystical arts or teach you kindness and compassion. No more Yurisa to cuddle up with when loneliness crept up like a misfortune or to scuttle around your feet when you went foraging for ingredients. It seemed as though you were destined to be alone, abandoned by a mother, abandoned by another and left alone when death crept up and seized the soul from your small companion.

Perhaps that may have been the reason your thoughts lingered to mournful and sorrowful when lamenting on the impromptu visit for the lordling Aegon days prior. The same reason that voice whispered to offer mercy the night the brothers arrived. Though, you could lament no further out of frustration of not getting any answers and by happenstance due to Aegon’s arrival.

His footsteps were weary, despite being at the hut for a third time, though the weight with each carefully placed step had an adjustment to its cadence that piqued your interest. Blood curses with transformative properties were cruel and unusual on the body and the mind, the ebbings of change often appearing in those infected a few days before and after the Full Moon. It was already taking a toll on him.

You opened the door at the moment he raised his fist to knock, startling him slightly though you don’t notice behind how disheveled and unwell he looked, “little lordling.”

Through his tired eyes rimmed with red from exhaustion, he narrowed them, “stop calling me that.”

“Would you prefer Moon Servant? Wolf Pup?” You are hardly smiling or even joking for that matter, as you stepped aside and waved him through.

”Just Aegon is fine,” he grumbled, compared to last time his anger was at a low level — still foreign on him but low nonetheless. His face was more sunken in, hollowing at the cheeks and under eyes as if he were more skeleton than flesh. One of many unfortunate side effects he was about to endure and he was none the wiser about how awful it was about to get for him.

By the hearth you boil water and whisk around your cupboards for the right ingredients when the question in your mind suddenly fell past your lips, “how are you feeling?” It felt like a mistake to ask such a question, as it often is only asked when endearing someone, “the pain, I mean. Fevers? Anything out of the ordinary?” You quickly add, while fussing about the pot of boiling water and various ingredients swirling in a maroon brine.

”I feel…” He had to think about it, eyes lifted to inspect the ceiling while thinking, “I feel like I’ve been hung, drawn and quartered. Though I s’pose that is meant to be normal right, witch?” His tone laced in a particular type of venom, calling you a witch as if it were derogatory but it was nothing except a label of what you are. Sorceress, Enchantress, Hag, Witch — they all meant the same thing; Heretic.

You remind yourself that as far as he was aware, he was not here of his own free will which was far removed from the truth. The lapse in your wrath the night you had crossed paths with him had you wavering conviction and offering mercy. That mercy being that he would not have to face the Moon’s Curse alone and could do it in a place that concealed him far from the eyes of the many zealots within the walls of Oldtown.

Extending a clawed hand out, you gesture for him, “show me your fingernails.”

”Why?”

”If I wished ill fortune on you or even death, I’d have done it by now, no? Show me your fingernails.” You grew impatient.

He reluctantly holds out a hand for you to grab. Unexpectedly, they were red raw around the nail but not because of the impending transformation, this was purely habitual, a very human trait that indicated he was nervous and anxious often. The nails themselves though, were beginning to blacken at the nail bed and were more hardened than what was normal.

Holding one of his hands steady, you manifest a small jar of medicinal salve and begin to lightly swipe it over the affected areas. It wasn’t going to lessen the pain of his impending transformation, but it would help stave off infection. You feel his gaze on you, not hard or weary, rather just inspecting carefully as you silently tend to his fingers.

”Erm — I’ve had joint aches and mood swings. I haven’t eaten either.” He admits shrewdly, the violet in his eyes washing away from colour in his iris slowly. It felt rather ludicrous, hearing his ailments like he was a patient and you were a healer. Though to a degree you may have been just that, even if the circumstances were very different.

You don’t answer him, merely nodding and turning back to your boiling concoction, opting to add a touch more Docrut ash before scooping a cup full of brine into an aged bowl. It is not grand nor lavish like what Aegon may be used to, but you didn’t care, offering it to him, “drink. It will help with the pain.”

Lifting the bowl to his lips, he grimaced with flared nostrils and took a gulp only to immediately splutter it back out and cough it all over you. Unsure if he was being overdramatic or he simply wished to indignify you for his shortcomings, nevertheless, you wiped your face of his spit silently.

”That tastes like piss,” he gagged, covering his face and mouth as though it would shield him from the steaming brew in his hands.

”I never said it would taste nice,” you smile with slight amusement, “though if you forgo what is helpful simply because of its taste, I can assure you, you will regret it come morning.” He was an interesting individual, thrust into a circumstance out of his control and yet finding ways to nitpick it like the true highborn soul he was.

“Perhaps if you hold your nose and drink it won’t taste so bitter,” you offer, remembering when as a child how much you despised the mushroom bark stew Auntie made. She would tell you the same thing, because out in the Swamp you either ate what was given to you or went hungry. Choice was not a luxury you grew up having.

He seemed taken aback by how childish you sounded, or, you thought, it was because you had said something that wasn’t inherently monsterous in his eyes. So you decide to bite a little, a smile curling at your lips, “what? Even us Hags have to eat disgusting things despite ourselves… I’ll drink some with you, if it helps.”

You scoop yourself a bowl, holding it up as if mocking a ‘cheers’ and bringing it to your lips. He wasn’t wrong at all, it smelt awful, eye wateringly awful and as pungent as the acrid scent of the swamp outside. Gods, don’t think about the swamp water. Yet, with a pinch of the nose to seal your nostrils shut, you tilt the bowl up and begin to drink. Eyes flicking over to Aegon who is dutifully following despite the exaggerated expression of disgust.

”See,” you cough and wince as the brew burned your throat and assaulted the senses, “it wasn’t so —,” an onslaught of coughs prevent you from finishing the sentence, though when you came too it wasn’t the fact that he had finished his bowl that came as a surprise. It was the simple and disturbingly pleasant fact that he was actually laughing - at you, yes - but laughing nonetheless.

The feeling of delight, something as plain as hearing him laugh sent troubling waves of nausea within you. Stop that, you insisted to yourself for thinking too long on such a factor but unfortunately for you it seemed to imbue you with a sense of being.

“I’m pleased to know it isn’t poison at least,” he jests half heartedly, setting the bowl down on the table beside him. His moment of weakness, laughter, subsided and his walls were back up, though as you look out the window you are reminded that he will very much be a very different kind of man soon, and even more come the morning.

There was still some time left before a long night began, a question that had been plaguing you since that night a month ago and had never found a suitable answer by speculating, “why did your brother get attacked that night? The Lycanthropes in the swamp… They are usually docile because of Ornmir.”

He looked over at you, brow raised in confusion that was met with your annoyed sigh, “right of course — The Swamp Spirit, she has domain over this area, nurtures the land and watches over the creatures.” You explain as if it were the most obvious answer, but recognise you were being unfair on someone who most likely had no idea there was a spirit of the swamp.

There’s a moment of slight humour back in his eyes, a scornful snort exhales from his nose as he laughs dryly, “I suppose then this fabled ‘spirit’ is responsible for the attacks on the nearby village then? A beast descends on a village to kill their livestock, that feels rather opposite to being watched over and docile, like you said?”

”hm,” you hum momentarily, letting his words settle, “perhaps it’s God’s will then?” You weren’t mocking him specifically, rather his family and those who sought to eradicate the magic in the world. The surrounding village’s littered on the outskirts of the swamp were often benevolent in the few times you had passed through to get seeds or fruit, yet the cathedral spires of Oldtown were a beacon that infected many people with prejudice and it reached as far as the closest Village.

Ornmir’s domain was relatively benign despite the creatures that reside, so it did strike you as odd that something had been thought to attack the villages, just like it struck you as odd that an attack happened to Aegon and his brother. Though, your question would remain unanswered for a while longer with the light fading to blackness settling outside of the hut’s windows.

It was always darker in the marsh long before the Sun had fully set, which was natural given the thick cover provided by trees taller than Oldtown's giant Cathedral. Though nightfall would turn within mere minutes, and with that, Aegon would be more monster than man. With great haste you beckon him outside of your hut and take him behind the Elder Tree. A lantern in one hand to illuminate the way and an old dagger in the other.

The humming that vibrated throughout the swamp seemed to permeate from the very roots of the Elder Tree; it was the largest and most intricate looking tree in comparison, even shrouded in darkness. Around it, the ground littered with moss and deceptively hidden soft mud that would encase your foot had you taken a wrong step.

You close your eyes and listen softly, to the wind and its direction, to the symphony of creatures and bugs that coexist within the heart of the marshy swamplands, the humming that never ceased. The moon was on the rise. You felt it, like a presence that made the hair on the back of your neck stand, like a feeling deep within the pit of your stomach. Many serve the Moon, but all life somehow feels its pull.

“Aegon,” you address with a softer tone than necessary, “this may very well be the worst thing you will ever go through. It’s excruciating. It’s difficult. You will begin to recede back, as though no longer in control because you won’t be in control yet will feel, see, taste everything. You’re a shattered soul belonging to two now. A man and a beast.”

A Primal beast that will exist on urges that would make men weep at the thought.

”We are going to have quite the night together I believe,” you smile wearily, bringing the obsidian dagger to the palm of your hand and cutting deeply into it. He grimaced at the sight of crimson dribbling down your forearm, but in the macabre lighting of the lone lantern and a cluster of fireflies you watch his eyes wash away all violet colouring.

Black consuming even the whites of his eyes, you gave him a playful smile, one that certainly wasn’t appropriate for the situation at hand and darted off through the swamp

***

Lycanthropy is one of the few curses that shattered both body and soul, and contrary to what is believed that the only instance of change occurs under the full moon, the blight is a month long ailment. To have bones, tendons and muscle rip, warp and rearrange to a completely different structure was harrowing enough to watch, though scholars tend to only source that this happened one night per month.

Mending bones and muscle was no easy feat, nor was it something that could be done in a mere day. Especially under someone’s first transformation. Aegon had slept for a day and a half before awakening to what you could only assume was the worst pain ever to be put through.

He complained, immensely, but you took that as a sign of him feeling better than anything to be annoyed about. Two days after the full moon his fingernails had finally regressed to their normal sizing, and both his hair and eyes had a semblance of life brought back into them.

You had forgotten how nice it was simply having another person around, not even just to talk too, but another presence that made the hut feel less lonely. Though, you remind yourself that much like your Mother, Auntie and Yurisa — loneliness appeared to be your curse to bear.

”I promise this tastes better than it looks,” you hand over a bowl of seemingly beige modge podge that looks less than enticing and more like vomit. Aegon immediately grimaced but seemed to have caught himself and shook it off, probably in hopes that you didn’t notice. But you did.

His eyes widened in surprise when he shoveled a tentative mouthful of the unappealing looking soup, “this is delicious, what’s in it?”

Snake and Eel. Against your better judgment you decide to refrain from telling him, lest he lose his appetite, “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.” A sly smile pulling at the corner of your lips as you tend to the daily chores around your abode. His watchful gaze never felt intrusive or rude, it was your understanding that he merely enjoyed people watching though he hadn’t said it, it was your own reticent observation that led to that deduction.

“You are strange, witch.” Without a hint of malice in his voice, it may have been the first compliment you received from him, one that you gladly took on. Invigorating you in a way that was unexpected and worrisome. Auntie had warned you that you had a tendency to grow attached too easily, a facet that rang true for all the creatures you helped mend themselves when they were injured or the travelers that passed through that you assisted her with helping them.

“Strange is good,” you smile earnestly at him, and though your mind was yelling for you not too, your mouth opened on its own accord, “Bramble… Auntie called me Bramble because that's where she found me.” Though you refused to elaborate when he gave you an inquisitive glance. The memory of Auntie was somewhat sacred, that was something you wished to keep to yourself above all.

”An even stranger name…” he murmured, as though in his thoughts and you weren’t supposed to hear that.

The remainder of the morning went as such, light chatter that felt more akin to a strategic game of droughts learning a small thing about the other as the morning progressed. He was a first born of four, wildly incapable of the pressures and responsibility of a first born, liked to drink his body weight in Ale and Fine Wine and was horrid at day to day tasks as you came to learn when he attempted to help you with something as mundane as hanging freshly washed linen out.

”Good lord what the fuck is that?” His exasperated tone caused you to turn, his eyes fixated in the distance and a finger pointed at the flying abomination in the air near a cluster of identical looking creatures. Features that looked not of this world, making it appear as though it was the gruesome victim of alchemistic cross breeding, beady eyes and a rat like face of a bat but its body looked like a giant mosquito.

You looked at it, unfazed and turned back to what you were doing, “Stirges, awful creatures…” While the flying monstrosity didn’t worry you, its presence did unsettle you greatly, having not seen a nest of them so close by before. Something strange was happening and it had started from before the night of the lycanthrope attack. You wished to know what events occurred that caused such a chain reaction. An attack on a human, an attack on the village and now an incursion of horrible blights that aren’t native to the lands.

“Aegon,” you slowly lifted your head to meet his gaze which was already fixed on you, “why were you in the swamp the night your brother was attacked?” It felt as though you asked this question several times before and never got a real answer out of him or the conversation naturally diverted elsewhere.

While he was mostly open about his admissions already, you could sense him hesitate to answer this question. Perhaps he was gifted at deflecting and that was why you hadn’t received an answer for your question yet. Though the trepidation was not for lack of honesty or a need to conceal the truth, his eyes glassy and a slight tremble in his lip indicated guilt more than anything.

“Whatever is eating away at you, is not my concern. The reason is all I care for. Something isn’t right.” You hum, the nagging feeling eating away your insides like a looming sense of dread that was hard to pinpoint and it alarmed you grately that it took this long to figure out something strange was afoot. The humming of the Swamp droned gently, undisturbed and constant and yet there was a disturbance, over by the reedy shallows where the Stirges set their nest up. It was as though they came undetected, unseen.

He sighed, drawing your gaze to him, a look of shame and guilt marred his face, “I want not for ownership of the land, nor title or to become a Lord… but such is duty,” he was resentful and cutthroat, as if the word duty was an unholy word to be spit out. “Yet my father forces upon me what I push away — it’s my fault Aemond was hurt, he should never have been out there.”

Aemond, you repeat in your head, finally putting a name to the younger brother you healed a month ago.

“The village, Watercroft, asked my father to rid them of the beast that started killing their livestock and I was supposed to lead the hunting party. I would not do as he said, I cannot,” he looked away, gritted teeth as he spoke about his father like poison to the tongue. You couldn’t blame him, since you’ve lived in the Swamps his father has ruled Oldtown and whilst the locals revered him for peace, you had vehemently disagreed.

“So I drank, complained and let Aemond take the lead — he’s the one who deserves the power, the title, everything. And we’ve heard stories about beasts within the swamplands from travelers and locals, but this was different. A monstrous scourge that devoured six of our men whole before I sobered up enough to realize what was going on. Aemond.. he… he grabbed me and we ran… right into a den of Direwolves.”

You shake your head correcting him, “not Direwolves.”

“Right.” He agreed quietly.

His story, while jagged and a mess to make sense of slowly began to click into place for you. It was unsettling at best and at worst borderline apocalyptic for the ecosystem within the Swamp and all the land around. There was only one beast in the Swamp capable of doing what he had described and that was Ornmir herself, in her natural corporeal form as a Swamp Drake. But this revelation only offered more questions than answers, the biggest one more alarming than any other speculation you had gone through prior to this.

Why was the spirit of the Swamp so angry?

~~~~~

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transthadymacdermot · 2 months

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Left image my art of Thompsons; right image a detail from "The Prince of Orange landing at Torbay" by Jan Hoynck van Papendrecht

Wip intro: Fire, Famine, & Slaughter

Genre: steampunk? kind of? but make it 17th century instead. also kind of similar to asoiaf in that it's spec fic but based heavily on a real historical event. oh and they have ice age fauna in this world too also

Progress: 1st draft

Content warnings: it's a story abt religious wars and all that implies. lots of death and gore and people being horrible to each other over pointless doctrinal disputes. etc

Ten years ago the citizens of the Commonwealth, a world power in a a seventeenth century-inspired steampunk (ish) alternate universe, rose up under the leadership of a rogue politician to kill their king. What followed was over half a decade of brutal military dictatorship, civil war, famine, plague, and general unhappiness for the population. Now the king has been secure in his restoration -- a move which has proved more popular in some sectors than others -- for four years, but lies on his deathbed, and his only successor is a cousin who worships an outlawed god and seems, to many, on the verge of plunging the country back into the chaos it fought so hard to escape.

When a former regicide hellbent on toppling the current regime accuses one of this new king's most controversial advisors of murdering a well-liked lord, war seems closer than ever. Republicans in the shadows, royalists ready to go to war, the aristocracy pulling knives over land, but the Commonwealth's parliament consoles itself with the fact that, after all, this tyrannical heretic of a king and his horrible advisors are but an anomaly -- the crown prince, who is a bit odd but who they all know and love, is nothing like that. Right?

Will shamelessly admit that this story is an attempt to write something which is to the glorious revolution as asoiaf is to the wars of the roses 👍 narrators under the cut; complete character list yet to come. title a placeholder I pilfered from a Coleridge poem ☝️

Marcus "Marc" Waring, Earl of Talbott -- (he/him) a dispossessed and very angry aristocrat from the Commonwealth's colony-member of Hieburne, who quite literally lost an arm and a leg in the civil war. A master swordsman and known manipulator.

John Thompsons -- (he/him) a regicide, pamphleteer, and vicious sectarian only alive for his intimate knowledge of and groundbreaking research on the mysterious ancient tech which keeps the Commonwealth's capital running. #1 hobby is destablising the monarchy; #2 hobby is psychologically tormenting Talbott.

Elizabeth Knox-Clifford, Duchess of Danforth -- (she/her) one of the most powerful aristocrats in the Commonwealth, first woman to be a member of the King's Closet (group of his closest advisors), dedicated to the stability of the country no matter what that requires.

Eleanor "Ellie" Foxe -- (she/her) a mildly unwilling member of a plot to systemically kill the entirety of Parliament in order to restore the absolute monarchy of the Commonwealth's past. Fanatically devoted to her cause and rather cutthroat, but more willing to negotiate than other members of the plot.

Joffre van Andrey -- (he/him) a visitor from the Commonwealth's ally the Risckan Confederacy, and advisor to the the king there, who just so happens to be the brother-in-law of the Commonwealth's own king. A very serious man who tries to do the right thing but usually has his schemes blow up in his face </3

#wip: untitled steampunk project #wip intro #writeblr #spec fic #jory.txt

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vigilskeep · 8 months

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how open were Eleanor and Tristan with their magic at Castle Cousland? I think you said pretty much everyone knows, but in that case how did they arrive at that level of trust ?

not open to the point of foolishness. the staff knowing is part of that secrecy, i think; everyone in important positions has been kept on since tristan’s childhood, to maintain that loyalty and insularity. it’s a weird kind of open secret. it’s like... if you’ve seen house of the dragon, it’s like how everyone knows rhaenyra’s sons are bastards, just by looking at them, but if anyone says it that person has to face savage consequences because it’s the saying of it that threatens everything.

the mac eanraigs have always been rumoured to have magery in their blood, and eleanor as the sea wolf used her magic as a storm witch archetype sinking orlesian ships. people know that or suspect it, they just don’t say it. especially not after she married a political titan like the young reigning cousland who could have been king. (though i doubt he could have been king and faced that scrutiny with such a wife, which is super interesting, as a choice bryce made that might affect his very public very firm loyalty to cailan, and tristan’s opinions on the succession.) as for tristan, it’s hard to hide a young mage, they’re explosive, and young noblemen have so much contact and so many teachers. that secret could not be contained. the couslands are relying on what’s obviously the incredibly strong culture of local loyalty that they especially foster among their servants

nan, brother aldous, mother mallol, ser gilmore—they all know tristan is a mage. i think they also draw a distinction between their teyrna and young lord and those Other Terrible Mages. mother mallol in particular i think is doing some truly incredible theological acrobatics to have raised this one, but since she belongs to the couslands’ private chapel and would have been personally selected by them, i would love to get into regional variants in fereldan andrastianism especially in terms of ferelden being relatively pro-mage. i mean, i could totally see them keeping an andraste-was-a-mage style heretic on the payroll to suit their interests, and that would fucking rule. the couslands and mac eanraigs being ancient fereldan families who are perfectly good andrastians i’m sure but also might keep to some of their old ways and traditions is also very, very fun. i’m interested in the, i assume alamarri, styling of the story told by nan: when our fathers’ fathers came down from the mountains... maintaining those traditions and hiring from among those shared belief would again make it much easier to maintain insularity against any threat from the orlesian chantry, even easier than it would be considering the fereldan mistrust of the outsider and the well-earned hatred of the orlesian interloper in our business

with eleanor, i use her lines about abandoning her shieldmaiden era for the “softer arts” to interpret her as being very glad to abandon her magic. eleanor keeps her skills sharp in extreme privacy but otherwise uses it as little as possible, and if it wasn’t for tristan she’d be able to maintain her fantasy of normality almost completely

tristan himself was trained as a warrior alongside his brother, in order to maintain visuals, and also because i’m not sure bryce would know what the hell else to do with him lmao. he carries a sword in the castle, but does own a stave, which is kept in his chambers for use in study. (rigid training is still demanded to protect himself in the fade, eleanor’s not stupid.) he might be willing to do spells behind closed doors; he fired a few at the rats in the larder, for example, because it was just gilmore and they’d shut the door to the kitchen and nobody minds spells when it keeps you from getting bitten by giant rats. he’s not going to be stupid about it, but he’s not worried about it day to day either. at the same time, pre-joining tristan is a bored tiger in too small a cage with magic roiling up inside of his chest who thinks he will never get to use it and takes whatever little opportunity he can get

howe would know, i think, which is fascinating, by the by

#tristan cousland #the mechanics of this are soooo fun to work through

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gabityaby · 1 year

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An Act whereby the Queen's Highness Elizabeth is restored in Blood to the late Queen Anne Boleyn, her Highness's Mother, 1558

In her first parliament on the 5th of December, 1558, Queen Elizabeth I restored The Act of Supremacy declaring her as Supreme Governor of the Church of England which brought some doubts into the spotlight, especially regarding her rights to the throne.

Now, the matter of her legitimacy was and always remained unclarified since her mother, Anne Boleyn, was found guilty and executed. The Church of England and an act of Parliament declared her marriage to Henry VIII null and void in 1536 the night before her execution, so she died a marchioness [of Pembroke]. Henry VIII, all his life after May 1536, declared his marriage to Anne was invalid, and when Queen Kateryn Parr convinced Henry to add Mary and Elizabeth to the succession it was with the condition that they marry someone vetoed by the majority of Prince Edward's appointed Privy Council, and as we know, after Edward died and the Earl of Northumberland's rebellion was put down Queen Mary rose to the throne and the conditions of said will was unattainable (referring as to the support of the majority of the PC), all that was left was a clear line of succession:

"As to the succession of the Crown, it shall go to Prince Edward and the heirs of his body. In default, to Henry's children by his present wife, Queen Catharine, or any future wife. In default, to his daughter Mary and the heirs of her body, upon condition that she shall not marry without the written and sealed consent of a majority of the surviving members of the Privy Council appointed by him to his son Prince Edward. In default, to his daughter Elizabeth upon like condition. In default, to the heirs of the body of Lady Frances, eldest daughter of his late sister the French Queen. In default, to those of Lady Elyanore, second daughter of the said French Queen. And in default, to his right heirs. Either Mary or Elizabeth, failing to observe the conditions aforesaid, shall forfeit all right to the succession."

-https://www.tudorsociety.com/30-december-1546-henry-viiis-will/

So, after attaining her crown through the strength of arms and said will, Queen Mary undid the Act of Supremacy of 1534, brought back the powers of Rome, and with their support made the marriage of her father and Katharine of Aragon legal and the Church of England heretical, thus Elizabeth was doubly the bastard.

After Queen Mary's death and Queen Elizabeth's accession, following the order of the will, the binds with Rome were severed this time and the laws and acts passed by Queen Mary regarding this were repelled, thus leaving Katharine of Aragon again with the title of Dowager Princess of Wales (as to her marriage to Prince Arthur, Henry VIII's older brother) and the Church of England reinstated, which came with the mere fact that twenty-one years ago it declared the marriage of her parents null and void. But she couldn't simply overturn a decision made by the King, her sire which gave her the claim to the throne without undermining the power of kings, and there was also the fact that her mother was a convicted felon for which by the relation of blood in the English law of yore made one unfit to receive high titles, but of course, the majority of people, protestants and such, wanted her and thought her fit.

So Queen Elizabeth can't openly make the marriage of her parents legal without undermining the CoE nor make the charges against her mother be posthumously dropped without undermining her new office and late father, but what she can do is make herself the daughter of a true Queen of England which had her name marred unjustly, she can't change the law and edicts but she can change the people's perception of who is right, so thus:

"Elizabeth I reinstated her mother Anne Boleyn as a Queen, as Anne had been stripped of her titles during her trial. This would have reinforced Elizabeth's right to the throne and perhaps been important to the new queen privately"

-https://ukparliament.shorthandstories.com/succession/

As the head of the protestants in the nation, the idea that she was the daughter of a martyr of religious freedom was spread and made her a beacon of hope, the way people viewed Queen Anne back then would have been of a woman wronged who's favor and righteousness God showed by the daughter that would save them from the inquisition. Excellent PR if you ask me.

Parliamentary Archives, an edict that restores the title of Queen to Anne Boleyn (if anyone can read and make a transcript it would be amazing) HL/PO/PU/1/1558/1Eliz1n21

#history #anne boleyn #elizabeth i #elizabeth tudor #england #mary i #katherine of aragon #henry viii #tudor dynasty #tudor period #tudor history #catherine parr #accession #parliament #church of england #edward vi

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vellatra · 3 months

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Fire Emblem - Three Houses - A Dumb Summary

I was challenged to summarize 3H. I know very little about the game. You've been warned!

Once upon a time there was this guy Billy. Or this girl Billie. Actually you get to pick so we’ll just pick one now… wait and there are also several stories to pick. Shoot. Well we’ll just have to have several summaries then, won’t we? Nyeh!

Story One - Azure… Something

Once upon a time there was this girl Billie who taught battle strategy or something at the Mach 10 Monastery. She was very confusing to everyone, ‘cause she was the same age as the students but also teaching them, but also not the same age and like a super old goddess or dragon or something and also might’ve been possessed by the demigod descendent of Sothe and Yune? Look I don’t know and neither do you. Anyway, so she’s teaching and they’ve got this system like Hogwarts where everybody picks a sports mascot to rally behind, and the teachers also get to pick favorites. She picks Gryffindor because she has a major crush on this dude in the house who wants to KILL EVERY LAST ONE OF THEM. Who are “them”, you ask? Yes. It’s a wonder anybody survived going to school with him okay? Super bloodthirsty dude. Dunno why either, something to do with working for the Holy Faerghan Empire and the Spanish Inquisition I think? And also he talks to ghosts? Yeah that sounds right. Eventually somebody got annoyed with his serial slaughtering because at some point he lost an eye, but we’ll get to that later.

Mr. Inquisitor’s classmates (who will probably never show their faces in this story again) consist of a bottle of Felix Felicis, Ash from Pokemon, Miklan’s Brother, a car, the mailwoman from Rune Factory Frontier, and a d-dude (people always stutter when they talk about him so his title is canonically “d-dude”).

There are also some other teachers, but most of them are boring. Except of course for Mole Lady, and the Phantom of the Opera who’s trained to become a ninja.

So Billie taught the Inquisitor and his cronies all there is to know about combat and strategy and whatnot, until one day when she decided to go on a years-long vacation to “find herself” or something. Everything blew up without Billie there to stop it! But you play as Billie so it all just kinda happens without you and she comes back like “Oh crud what’d I miss?” and she just joins in the war that’s started, on the side of her teacher’s pets of course because they’re her most favoritest and are absolutely in the right in this war, right? Turns out they’re fighting against the other two houses, who are also fighting each other. It’s just a total mess. Also there’s this group of sewer rats who come out of the gutter and say they’re the totally legit and super awesome FOURTH HOUSE DUN DUN DUN! Led by somebody named Japanese Lesbian even though he’s a dude? Whatever, anyway he says they want to join Billie’s side because… I dunno she’s cool I guess? So off they go to fight everybody else, and of course, to KILL EVERY LAST ONE OF THEM! Especially the leader of Ravenclaw, Edelwiess, because she’s definitely a heretic who wants to be a normal Fire Emblem lord and fight the church and defeat god like everybody else. Ew! The horror! She’s definitely evil! So um… yeah that’s basically what they do I guess? Just whoop up on everybody and take over the continent? Oh and also they make a detour to Miklan’s Brother’s Brother’s house and smite him in particular because nobody likes him. He liked to be mean to his brother when they were little because his brother had a fancy hat or something that meant he’d get to be king after their father? I think? Or something? Anyway Miklan’s Brother’s Brother was super jealous of the fancy hat and made sure it was everybody’s problem so they all went to his house to smite him before continuing on their journey to KILL EVERY LAST ONE OF THEM. Which they did. Then if you play your cards right Billie marries the Inquisitor and they live murderously ever after! Yay!

Story Two - Crimson Flour (What the heck is that made of? Red 40? Ew!)

Billy decided to teach Ravenclaw because he thinks their albino leader Edelwiess is cute, but then he discovers that she has this menacing bodyguard who never eats, never sleeps, and follows her everywhere, and he thinks “ya know what, I should’ve picked another house”, but then it’s too late. Ravenclaw consists of Edelwiess, Scary Hubert, a nerd, a ghost, Sonic’s mom, a modern girl cameoing, and Cool Fiona.

So anyway, like Billie, he teaches the kiddos and then leaves for a well-undeserved vacation while the war starts. When he comes back, he’s like “well obviously my faves are the good guys” so he joins the Ravenclaws on their quest to defy the Holy Faerghan Empire and the Church of Kronos’ Wife and to slay god or something. This means they also run afoul of Mr. Inquisitor, but they slay him too and put an end to his bloodbath… while they go off and do basically the same thing I think? Starting to think there are no good guys actually. Oh dear. Anyway at one point things get so evil and wrong that Billy gets to choose whether to stick with Edelwiess or to backstab her. If he sticks with her, they smite their foes and probably live happily ever after (but they don’t get married because Hubert is too scary and Billy doesn’t want to get poisoned on a date). If he betrays her, I have no idea. All I know is that the story turns into Story Three - White… Fluffy Clouds… or something…. And he probably teams up with the aforementioned sewer rats, because they think he’s cool. I’m sure he wins but how in the world does he defeat Hubert? That man is an all-powerful menace. Somebody fill me in? Haha

Story Four - Fear the Deer

Billie joins Hufflepuff, mostly because she sees it’s led by fellow Star Wars enthusiast Claude von Beethoven. He’s so committed to the bit that he even has a little padawan braid and everything! So cool! Anyway so she teaches him and his buddies: a dude obsessed with roses, an artist self-insert, a Micaiah wannabe, Amy Rose with an axe, and some girl who’s obsessed with The Witcher. They’re all a bunch of nerds and we love them for it. I have no idea what these guys want when the war breaks out - they’re probably just excited to be in a Fire Emblem game honestly! - but obviously, since Billie’s with them in this version of the story, those crazy sewer rats join them and they mop the floor with everybody else and, uh, they live happily ever after I guess! Except for Miklan of course. ;P

There’s also Story Five - Whiskered Eggplant, but we’re not getting into that today ;) XD

THE END.

#fire emblem #3h #three houses #dimitri #byleth #edelgard #claude von riegan #dumb summary #fear the deer

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catofadifferentcolor · 1 year

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Terrible Fic Ideas #42: Game of Thrones, but make it Catelyn Tully

Let's be honest: there are a lot of terrible people in Game of Thrones. As someone once said, it's less pick your favorite character than pick your favorite war criminal. Yet the one character I can usually find few redeeming qualities for is, by comparison, one whose wickedness is most tame - Catelyn Tully. I just can't forgive her cruelty to Jon for the "crime" of being born someone else's son.

So I thought: what would it take for me to like Catelyn Tully as a person? Or: What would a Jon Snow raised by a loving stepmother look like?

Aka: The Rhaegar the Righteous Fic

Just imagine it:

Everything through Robert's Rebellion happens just as in canon, but with one exception: when Lysa Tully became pregnant by Petyr Baelish, her father did not force her to drink moon tea. As lowly as Hoster Tully thought Baelish is, he believes there is more shame in forcing his daughter to end her pregnancy than in allowing her to marry the father of her child.

But Baelish, still licking his wounds from Brandon Stark, refuses to marry Lysa - he still wants Catelyn's hand. So Catelyn is forced to watch her younger sister rage and then despair over Petyr's betrayal while still very much desiring her bastard child. This causes Catelyn's position on baseborn children to soften.

Lysa dies in childbed. Her child follows soon after. Catelyn is distraught.

When Ned returns from war with his own bastard, Catelyn resolves to treat Jon with all the love she would have given Lysa's son - though she still feels rather put out towards Ned about it.

Jon grows up loved by his stepmother - and this changes everything, for Catelyn is a Southron, Andal influence. Like Bran, Jon grows up wanting to be a Southron knight, and, like Sansa, is more faithful to the Seven than the Old Gods.

Ned, though leery of anything Southron - particularly where Jon is concerned - eventually consents to Jon earning his knighthood. Jon is sent to squire for Baelor Hightower, heir of Oldtown and eldest brother of Jorah Mormont's wife, Lynesse.

Jon's Southron knighthood should collide with his Northern ethics and morality in all the best ways - he should be the most honorable and chivalrous knight since Arthur Dayne, whom many assume to be his uncle.

The events of canon proceed apace. Robert dies, Ned is beheaded, and war breaks out.

Rather than rejoin his family, Jon stays with the Hightowers - Jon's position is that while it makes sense to rise against Joffrey for his actions, breaking away from the Seven Kingdoms makes them oathbreakers. He distinguishes himself in skirmishes with Lannister forces on the Westerlands borders for which he is knighted.

After Renly's death, Jon comes to the attention of Olenna Tyrell when, during discussions regarding which of the remaining factions to back, Jon argues for finding the nearest person of Targaryen blood and installing them on the throne rather than dealing with a heretic like Stannis or a madman like Joffrey.

Olenna has always had the vague suspicion that there was more to Ned Stark's bastard than meets the eye and something about this interaction causes her to look at Jon and go Targaryen - or at least plausibly Targaryen - and all of a sudden the Reach and half of the Stormlands is rising in the name of Rhaegar's posthumous son.

Eventually proof comes from the Citadel and the Neck that Jon is Rhaegar's son - also named Rhaegar - but at the time Jon is highly uncomfortable with what he sees as deception. He only agrees to go along with it because 1) Olenna manages to convince him it's the truth and 2) it's the only way he gets to marry Baelor's oldest daughter, Elinor Hightower, with whom he is in love.

Without the Tyrells backing the Lannisters, nearly all the Seven Kingdoms - minus Dorne and King's Landing - fall to Reacher forces. The Red Wedding happens before Jon is forced to deal with Robb's own kingship and Jon retakes the North before turning his forces against Joffrey and his Essosi mercenaries.

Jon is crowned King Rhaegar the Righteous and marries his beloved, Elinor Hightower, in a brilliant dual ceremony in the Sept of Baelor. His reign is always known as a period of prosperity in Westeros during which the Seven come to dominate the Seven Kingdoms. There's a decidedly Camelot bent to later histories of this period.

Daenerys never tries to retake Westeros, but instead builds a - slave free - Valyrian empire in Essos. This eventually comes to be Westeros' great rival and many wars are fought between them over control of the Stepstones and the Narrow Sea, but in its early years both branches of House Targaryen intermarry frequently.

Bonuses include: 1) Jon and Elinor falling in love while he squires for her father, but realizing nothing can ever come from it and having a very UST-filled courtly romance until they're finally given leave to marry after he's named king; 2) Jon and Elinor's first daughter being named Catelyn, after his beloved stepmother; 3) Heavy overtones of Arthurian myth, with the faith of the Seven taking the place of Christianity, up to and including the King in the Mountain following Jon's death; and 4) no one being more surprised than Olenna Tyrell when it turns out Jon really is a Targaryen.

And that's all I have. As always, feel free to adopt, just link back if you ever do anything with this bun.

More Terrible Fic Ideas

#plot bunny #fic ideas #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #got #asoiaf #jon snow #jon snow is a targaryen #faith of the seven #catelyn stark #catelyn tully

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nellygwyn · 7 months

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Do you know what Charles II thought of Louis XIV, and vice versa? Like did they have any opinions about each other?

Antonia Fraser kind of frames their relationship as Charles being Louis's poor relation (they were first cousins), and I'm sure Charles felt that way. Charles was at Louis's court during his exile from England, before he was restored as monarch, desperately attempting to rally support for his claim. Louis had Charles & his wider family at court and looked after him, as was his familial and royal obligation, but he wasn't very helpful. We know that Louis was very openly unimpressed with the shabbiness of Charles's youngest sister, Minette, when she was quite young - although Louis did fall in love with her later (when she married Louis's brother) and they became lovers. Even when Charles became king, there always seems to be an air of snobbiness surrounding Louis's attitude towards Charles, and resentment surrounding Charles's attitude towards Louis. Louis thought Charles was the cash-strapped monarch of a tiny heretic kingdom, muzzled by his parliament, and Charles saw Louis as the absolute monarch with absolute power that he could only dream of being.

But Louis very deeply believed in the divine right of kings, which is why he was so keen on making the secret Treaty of Dover with Charles. No matter what, he wanted England to have a king, especially if that King was Catholic and/or autocratic.

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natequarter · 5 months

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the use of piety and perceived 'zealotry' in anglophone (typically renaissance) historical fiction is to me a transparent projection of modern protestant values onto the past. protestants are devout and wish to restore the church to its full glory so that people may know the love of christ, but catholics are greedy backwards hypocrites and fanatical in their beliefs. it's particularly odd given how piety can be transformed into fanaticism - in one scenario we may perceive a king's piety as a defence of his moral character, in another we may perceive a bishop's ardent devotion as evidence of his corruption. it's a double standard which varies depending on whether a particular person was protestant or catholic (or sometimes puritan, bringing us back to the same stereotypes about catholics), but it's also a modern belief. no fifteenth century person would have seen a devout catholic as fanatical in their beliefs; they would have seen it as a mark of morality and something to respect. it's only in a significantly more secularised age that we tend to interpret piety as fanaticism - even though the difference between the two seems to come down, essentially, to 'do we like this person or not?' if we do, it's piety; if we don't, it's fanaticism.

it particularly seems to shape how we see historical figures - most famously mary i for her burnings of heretics. this is understandably seen as extreme - cool it, mary - but we routinely forget to mention that burning at the stake was the standard punishment for heretics and would have been viewed as acceptable in early modern england. mary was cruel and vicious towards protestants who preached what had only a few years ago been moderate and acceptable views - i don't think this is unfair to say - but was she any more fanatical than her brother, who also doggedly pursued religious reforms, or her father, who oversaw the destruction of monastic life in its entirety and, funnily enough, also burnt people at the stake?

i don't know. fortunately, tudor media can answer this for you: henry was an unscrupulous brute with no manners who used religion to get his own way. never mind his desire to be perceived as pious - we like to think of henry viii as uncultured to uphold our pop culture view of him, so unreligious it is! not that henry's religious views made any sense, but that's not what i'm interested in. we can again see the influence of anti-catholic stereotypes of zealotry and persecution (with a healthy dose of misogyny and stereotypes around overbearing mothers) in the characterisation of margaret beaufort. never mind that being a devout catholic was expected and indeed normal for her time, she was religious and a supporter of The Evil Tudor Usurper (who is apparently not henry viii, which sounds fake, but okay), and also have i mentioned that she was a mother-in-law from hell and do you see what i mean about misogyny? god forbid she care about her son. that would just be weird for a catholic bigot who doesn't care about anything except superstition and prayer. good thing that we have katherine of aragon to show us how to be obsessive about catholicism in a good way!

my point is, modern british and american historical fiction uses anti-catholic prejudice as a way to make caricatures out of what was for the medieval and early modern period a fairly normal part of life - religious devotion. nobody would have told a medieval catholic, well, you're being too catholic. in fact, the church tends to like it when you're very catholic! of course, there are always some good catholics in historical fiction - like everyone's beloved more versus the evil protestant cromwell. i suppose you have to mix things up every so often. regardless of the people involved, it's very annoying, so please stop.

#🗡️

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whiterosebrian · 11 months

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Doctor King

One of the chapters within that anthology of Romantic poetry that I’m currently going through discusses poetic odes. Naturally, I would write an exercise in the form of an ode. The odes within that chapter tended to shift in structure and rhythm, so of course I did the same for this exercise. I already decided to work on an ode to Martin Luther King—though in light of an ostensibly a “colorblind” ruling from the SCOTUS (discussing the problems with it is well beyond the scope of this commentary), gesturing his full thought would be appropriate.

Doctor Martin Luther King

Was, of course, a vital leader.

He gave a speech as justly famous as it is stirring.

He spoke of the promise of freedom awaited in fevers.

He longed for sons of slavers

To finally join the sons of the enslaved as brothers

And for white boys and girls to join their darker peers,

Making the nation a greater

Reflection of founding ideals for which people suffer

Up to this present year.

Never forget, ladies and gentlemen,

The full truth of his life’s work.

He demanded radical change without asking when.

He demanded that authorities attend to the rioting voice of the unheard.

Enemies vilified Doctor King

As a Christ denying heretic,

As a gruesome enabler of rapists,

As an agitator destroying everything,

And a conspiring subversive Bolshevik.

Enemies still vilify him in hopes of compelling us to submit!

Doctor Martin Luther King feared

Integrating into a wildly burning house.

We must accept the dismantling and rebuilding of society as a frontier.

Renewed must crises should dispel every doubt.

Let the lowly be no longer downcast—

Instead free at last, free at last.

#poetry #poem #original poetry #martin luther king jr #mlk jr #mlk #martin luther king #black lives matter #social justice #freedom #verse #original poem #ode

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devoutpriest · 3 months

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;jorepagon | rhaegar and athelstan

ultimumdraco:

Religion had always been something that fascinated him. As a little boy he has sat wide eyed and listen to the High Septon talk about the Seven, making notes of his own, reading holy texts. Then as he matured, he had gained a strong interest in R'hllor, even visiting a temple of the Red God to find out more. she was the goddess of fire, the fire in which the dragons breathed, cleansing and fierce. The Kingdom of New Valyria certainly showcased his interest in the many religions, and his reluctance to simply pick one for himself. The lower city was full of temples, where citizens could speak to whatever God they pleased. It caused a lot of problems, trying to create such an integrated society, but Rhaegar strived to encourage free-thinking, instead of forcing one on the masses. He was a new revolutionary, he also in tourneys to ride on horses and swordfight, he seeing a beautiful woman smiling sweetly and he giving her a blue rose. The travelling priest had caught his attention, stories of him preaching all over Essos, speaking of his one true God. He was surprised he hadn’t been branded a heretic, hadn’t lost his tongue in Astapor. That city had many slave masters, bricks built Astapor and its people. He had been surprisingly easy to find, and easier still to get to travel to New Valyria, to the Andesite Palace where Rhaegar and the royal family resided. There was a brochure advertising the beauty of New Valyria for tourists, a couple of a man and woman with beautiful golden hair, drifting radiantly in the sky, standing with a dragon. Built into the side of a volcano, the palace was large and forboding; and perfect for a Dragon King. He greets the man near the great stone steps, eagerness and enthusiasm showing on his face. He knew very little about the mans preachings, and found himself more than eager to learn something new. “Greetings priest. I hope New Valyria has treated you well,” He tells him, clapping his hands together. “Do you wish to rest a while before we speak? I am sure you have much to tell me about your preachings.”

The people in Essos hadn’t all reacted well to his preachings, some of them interrupting him mid-sentence when he started speaking stories about God’s greatness. "Lift up your eyes to the heavens, my brothers and sisters, and look at the earth beneath." He had travelled very far, rowing the boat across the seas to travel and preach among cities. Amongst these interrupters, he had even heard one shout, “R’hllor is the true God, to lead us away from darkness!”

He had faith, however that God would see him to no true harm, and He had, except for a few rotten vegetables & fruits thrown at him -- well, more than a few, and hostile looks especially in Astapor. He had to take cover -- "shield wall!" he hears in his head -- with his wooden shield ( brown timber with grey metal in border ) he got from...somewhere, yet he couldn't remember ; there were interesting markings on it though. It was remarkably like he was at the stockades, when he visited Camelot, an English kingdom, when he spoke to King Uther. A girl with brown hair and a flower within there had been kind to him, as he stares a little astounded at the fruits and vegetables thrown at a boy with a red scarf on his collar. However, SOME citizens seemed to actually listen to him, although he could not discern whether they may have started to believe in the faith of the one REAL God or were merely humouring him.

New Valyria was different from the rest of Essos, however, he deciding to staying longer as he rowed in the Summer Seas to there, and it seemed more open to trying new Religions. It was a bit more pleasant there, although most of the people were still misguided, in his opinion. He likes the prominence of the Essos mountains in New Valyria, they wondrous in their white and blue mountains ; snow drifting there, of Krazaaj Zasqa.

Now, nearing the stone steps of the Andesite Palace, Athelstan sees a man with purple eyes and silver-gold hair, realizing he must be the ruler here.

“Thank you, Your Grace. It has…treated me well enough.” “Yes, I would, but just for a little while. It is a great honour to be invited here, in the presence of royals, and I would be all too glad to talk to you about my God.”

#rp partner | ultimumdraco #ic

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leam1983 · 4 months

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"The Super Mario Bros. Movie" - Thoughts

When it first came out, you might remember that the Gamers (TM) had a bit of a moment based around the fact that Anya Taylor-Joy's portrayal of Princess Peach wasn't demure enough for their tastes. They'd grown up to Leslie Swann's high-pitched calls for the defacto beau of the ruler of the Mushroom Kingdom and to game after game more or less relegating her as a support character. 1992 more or less served as her first year in the canon spent as something other than a damsel in distress, as she had her own kart and threw shells around with the rest of the gang. In 1988, she joined Mario, got all Freudian and joined him on a quest to free Subcon from the evil Wart, as part of an extensive reskin of an earlier game known as Doki-Doki Panic. From then on, you'd have subtle context cues in several games suggesting that while Peach was typically overpowered by Bowser or the Villain of the Moment, she wasn't in any way powerless.

A lot of the griping probably is rooted in nostagia. Gamers around my age are used to swooping in and saving the day, and, well, Peach and the later stable's lot of princesses aren't exactly the type to need to be saved. If anything, Peach is depicted as quite proactive in her own right in the later games - the catch being that as she's attuned to her own feelings, she's not adverse to the occasional good cry. There's a balancing act in effect here, between the first-hour fans who either got started with Donkey Kong abducting Pauline or with Peach being stuck in yet another goddamn castle, and the fans who might know her better from Super Mario RPG or the New Super Mario Bros. series - where she served as a player-controlled character showing as much drive and agency as the two Brooklyn plumbers.

Of particular note is the criticism that Illumination removed Peach's dress for the final third of the movie, replacing it with what the pundits called a "battle uniform" to put forward the image that she's strong and independent and whatnot. That... got a bit of an eyeroll out of me.

Watch the movie, and you realize that her supposedly heretical wardrobe change references her Mario Kart 8 outfit. There's an extended sequence that sees Cranky Kong loan his army of Kongs to Peach in order to defeat Bowser, and it's used to reference the later game's kart design - and character models. And, well, that's Peach's entirely canonical outfit.

Of course, there's also the question of what Peach does in the movie; which is initiate Mario to the specifics of the Mushroom Kingdom and serve as an ally - as opposed to a love interest. She's not showing concern for Mario because he's her beau and he's putting himself in danger, she's showing concern for him out of base decency.

Again, the first-hour fans expect Peach to just - sit there, squandering her animation budget, maybe fidgeting in abject terror or spending a few frames to cutely gasp in horror or concern. I get that it's a sudden change if you haven't paid attention to other princesses in the canon, like Daisy or Rosalina - but I'll also remind them that in the epilogue for Super Mario Bros. Odyssey, Peach chooses neither Mario or Bowser as her consort. She, at the end of it all, chooses to go at it alone, perhaps rightfully ticked off by the men's posturing.

It's not a relationship that's meant to be consumed. Mario isn't Aragorn, he isn't King Arthur. He's just a helping hand Peach comes to implicitly trust and care for as a friend.

And Bowser? The movie does a lot to humanize him, and it only makes his ploy worse. That leaves you with an ordinary Brooklyn schmuck and his brother, a capable leader forced to request their assistance, and a toxic acquaintance that hasn't caught on to the fact that he doesn't even know who Peach actually is. He has this image of her in mind - see Jack Black's to-be-expected Rock Ballad moments - but it never coalesces; and he's enabled by a version of Kamek voiced by Kevin Michael Richardson pulling something of a Peter Lorre impression. For all of his arcane know-how, Kamek (or Magikoopa, for the oldies like myself) feels like a spineless wimp with his own barrage of fetishes. See the gag that has him serve as a Peach stand-in while Bowser rehearses his confession.

The short of it is Bowser's a big, domineering, dangerous and controlling wet fart. And, well, that's usually how it goes with abusers.

My only real gripe with Peach in the movie has to do with her design, in that I get the sense that only her resting face really aligns with Nintendo's renders. The moment she moves, she starts to look like a recast from a cancelled Despicable Me sequel, with a ton of squash-and-stretch involved. I would've expected a movement range going on the more subtle end of things, personally - like Mario's, ironically enough.

As for the supposedly godawful Chris Pratt take? He ain't actually that bad. Making Mario feel like a Brooklyn native would've obviously meant stripping the Charles Martinet-ness for his first ever full-on speaking role, while referencing it as Mario deliberately channelling the hokey "First-Generation Sicilian American" accent that unfortunately still sells, today - for video ads for his plumbing business. That means very little "It's-a me"'s are on offer, which is honestly kind of refreshing.

I liked it. It was a little short and a little shallow, but it packed plenty of moments worthy of pulling out the "I understood that reference" meme.

#the super mario bros. movie #thoughts

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icefrye19 · 10 months

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Chapter Six : The God Of Time

━━━━━━━༺ - ༻━━━━━━━

Co writer @bellarkeselection

Ken led the young Saltzman in the throne room gripping her arm tightly. Lizzie lowered her gaze to the floor not wanting to meet his eyes.

A figure stood at the far end of the room. He was tall and majestic, with silver hair cascading down his shoulders and a lovely yet serious face. The seconds and millennia reflected in his eyes gleamed with the constant ticking of time. His aura was timeless, wonderful, and alarming all at the same time. Cronus the God of Time.

“ Brother.” Cronus greeted, glancing at his older brother.

“ Brother, the heretic as you requested,” Ken said, pushing Lizzie forward. Make it quick

Cronus stepped toward the young witch glancing at her curiously. “ Lizzie Saltzman.”

Lizzie glanced up at him confidently. “ Yes, who else would I be?”

An amused smile formed on his face. “ She is quite the firecracker isn't she, brother.”

Ken nodded. “ Yes, she is.”

"I understand you are a witch, Lizzie," Cronus continued, his eyes piercing hers with an odd intensity. " Kindly tell me about your magic. "Which kind of witch are you?"

Lizzie raised her chin, ignoring the uneasy flutter in her tummy. She wasn't just any witch; she was a Gemini witch, a natural siphoner.

"I am a siphoner," she said calmly. "I am a member of the Gemini Coven." I don't have any magic of my own, but I can absorb it from other beings and sources."

Cronus' eyes glowed with curiosity. "Interesting, a siphoner. Even among witches, your type is uncommon. And this capacity - to absorb another's magic - bestows upon you a unique power that could be viewed as a blessing or a curse."

Lizzie nodded, her fingers at her sides twitching. She was all too aware of the impacts of her power. "Yes, it can be both," she conceded, "but it's what I am, and I've learned to live with it."

Cronus leaned back, his gaze fixed on her. "Fascinating, you have a special ability within you. You have the potential to be a strong opponent or ally."

She locked her attention on him. "That depends on who's asking, Cronus," she said, a glint of defiance in her eyes.

His chuckle was as timeless as the ticking of the clock. "Yes, Lizzie. Indeed." His expression stiffened somewhat. "Remember, time sees everything, and even the smallest decisions can have massive consequences."

Cronus gazed at the girl deeply impressed by how she remained confident. Most of the time when mortals or other beings spoke with him they would be shaking in their boots, but the girl was unamused by his presence.

He continued to stare at her until noticing a bruise on her neck. A frown formed on his face at that, glancing at his brother he shook his in disappointment. “ Did you put your hands on her, brother?”

The King of Gods glared at his brother. “ That is none of your concern, brother.”

“ Brother, you need to work on your anger.” The God of Time said. You can't just be taking it out on this poor child.

Cronus turned his gaze on the witch. “ Are you alright?”

Lizzie nodded. “ I'm fine, my lord.”

As Ken was about to tug her towards him, she jumped back in fear at his touch stepping towards the God of time not wanting to be near him.

“ You look frightened, child,” Cronus said, glancing at the girl in concern. “ What did you do to her, brother?”

He eyed his brother coldly. “ I merely taught her a lesson about respecting gods.” She thinks she can run her mouth off as she pleases and there won't be repercussions for it.

The God of Time scoffed at his brother’s words.” What is wrong with you? She's just a child you can't be treating her like dirt.

“ I will treat her however I see fit, brother.” Ken hissed. And no one, not even you, will tell me what to do.

Lizzie glanced at the two brothers noticing the tension between them was beginning to rise up. She cleared her throat and spoke. “ Can you please take me back to my cell now, I wish to rest your grace if that's okay with you.”

He nodded. “ Excuse us, brother.” We have some business to attend to.

With that, Ken walked out of the throne room dragging her by the arm and leading her to the dungeon. He opened the cell door and pushed her inside. He locked the cell door with a key.

Lizzie turned around and took a seat, facing the wall. She closed her eyes and began to meditate.

“ You know it didn't have to be like this,” The God said, interrupting him. We could've had a good day together, have dinner or stay in bed if you prefer. But, instead of giving me a chance you decided to disrespect me.

“ Honestly, I don't know what I saw in you. My brother was right, you're just a child.” I should cast you away and find a real woman to attend to my needs perhaps I will. “ He added. Would you like that, little witch watching me bedding another woman and casting you away like dirt?

Lizzie opened her eyes, clearing her throat she said “ You should do whatever makes you happy.” Hopefully, you’ll be able to find some happiness with her.

Ken scoffed at her words. “ Is that what you really want?”

“Yes, I do.” She mumbled. "You should be with someone that fits your needs, I'm not that someone."

Ken shut the door leaving her alone where she just stared at the wall for hours until she was sure she must be going crazy with no interaction. Especially when she could have sworn she was seeing Josie standing in front of her. But she had left Mystic Falls so it shouldn't be possible. "Josie…is it really you or is my mind playing tricks on me?"

"Lizzie, you’re not crazy. I came home after Hope told me and mom what happened." She explains standing in front of her twin sister.

Lizzie so badly wanted to hug her and just be out of this horrible cell. But Astral protection would have to do for now. "I have missed you so much…and I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was going to kill Hope. I didn't think that she would actually kill me."

"I'm not upset about that. I'm just worried about you. I mean what does he do keeping you locked up like this?" Josie looks around the dirty cell.

Lizzie slumped her shoulders. "I wasn't here a few days ago. But things have changed."

"Changed how. What exactly happened between you and Ken. Did he hurt you?" The Saltzman twin asked nervously in her tone.

Lizzie glanced at her twin unsure how to tell her this. “ Um, well I made a deal with him in order to get out of this cell.”

“ What kind of deal?” Josie asked.

The heretic signed. “ I agree to be his lover.” I slept with him, Jo twice.

Josie’s eyes widened at her sister’s words. “ What in the hell were you thinking of jumping into bed with him?” You have a boyfriend, how could you do this to MG.”

"I was trying to protect our friends, Jo. He would have killed everyone including Hope. For all I knew he would wipe out the whole world!" She snapped showing her fangs.

Her twin sighed in defeat. "Mom is worrying about you. Dad is too. What should I tell them exactly?"

“ Tell them that I'm okay and to not worry about me .” She said.

Josie nodded. “ Please tell me you use protection with Ken.”

The young Saltzman eyes widened in horror at your sister’s words realizing that God never pulled out of her. “ No, we didn't.” But, Ken said he was powerful enough to stop that from happening.

“ And you believe him?.” The siphoner said, with a scoff.. “ Godsare very fertile and can reproduce very much quickly. What if you become pregnant?

Lizzie throws her hands up starting to panic. "I don't know, Jo. At this point I pray that I'm not carrying any children for him. He is a terrible father from what I have been told!"

Josie gazed at her sister in pity. “ Let’s pray that you're not.” And, if you are then it'll be okay I'll be right here by your side.

“ I don't want a baby, Jo.” The heretic cried out. “ I'm not ready for that type of commitment."

Josie remained silent for a brief moment until it came to her where she snapped her fingers. "In the history books I have been reading about God's I think it mentions something about tea that keeps women from getting pregnant."

"What's it called?" Lizzie perked up.

Her sister said back. "Moon tea I believe. But how are you going to find it while stuck in here and without Ken finding out?"

"His daughter Jen sort of likes me. Maybe I can convince him to let her come visit me." She hoped that she could

manage something like that.

Josie signed. “ How are you going to convince Ken that when he's mad at you?” You’re going to have to win his trust back and do whatever he asks you to do.

The heretic shook her head. “ I don't think I can.” I really made him upset today and he wants nothing to do with me anymore.

“ He says he wants to replace me with another woman claiming I'm some child.” She added. I told him he should see that I can't satisfy him or make him happy."

Josie dropped her gaze. "Well I could ask his son to see if he has any ideas that might help. But until then just don't get yourself in more trouble than you already have."

Lizzie nodded. “ Maybe, I could apologize to him and beg him to let me back into his bed.” Be his good mistress that he wants me to be.

"Elizabeth Saltzman!" Josie gasped, never calling her by her full name.

“ I can't take being here another second. “ She said. I would rather be in his bed than in this cell anymore at least it's warm and comforting."

Her twin nodded before she disappeared hearing footsteps coming towards the cell. "Be safe and just know I love you."

The door creaked open where she glanced over her shoulders seeing Ken had come back to her cell. "What do you want now, my king?" She asked him with a stern voice trying to sound like she hadn't been crying.

"Come with me. I'm going to show you something." He responded without another word turning away from her leaving the cell door opened and she didn’t waste a second for him to close it back.

She glanced at him confused. “ May, I ask where we are going, your grace.”

The God didn't answer instead grabbed her arm leading her outside of the dungeon and towards the east wing of the castle.

He stopped outside a locked room, gazing over at the witch deeply.” This is what I wanted to show you.” Ken opened the door leading her inside a luxurious room filled with endless piles of gold, jewels, and dresses.

She looked around in awe at the room. “ What is this place?”

“ The Queen’s chambers.” He replied. "My wife’s old chambers."

“ It's beautiful, your grace .” She said, "But, why are you showing me this?"

Ken put his hands together behind his sending the siphon witch the best genuine smile he could. "I was thinking this room could be yours. It's a bit dusty but much better than that cell. So it could be yours…if you'll be by my side that is."

"Why do you think I deserve it after what I said earlier?" She asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

The king of gods gave her slight puppy dog eyes. "I don't quite understand it. But I am enjoying you being here, Elizabeth."

"I wish I could say the feeling is mutual." She mumbled.

He said back. "I can try and fix what is bothering you."

Lizzie gazed at him deeply. “ I'm scared that if I open myself up to you, you'll hurt me again.”

Ken returned her gaze. “ I didn't mean to hurt you,Elizabeth.” I just don't know how to control my rage sometimes and I let it cloud over me.

“ But, I'll work on it.” He added. Please just give me a chance to show you the real me.

The young Saltzman shook her head. “ I don't know.”

He walked towards her grabbing her hand with his, linking their fingers with one another. “ Please.”

She glanced up at him staring deeply into his beautiful green eyes, beginning to get memorized by them, unable to turn away from the sight. “ Okay, I guess we could give it a try.”

Ken stared at her in relief. “Thank you, Elizabeth."

“ If we're going to do this, will you promise not to put me back in that cell again?” She said,

He nodded, squeezing her hands in his. "I will…there's just one more thing I want you to do to know you're serious."

"What's that?" She asked, already knowing the answer.

He simply responded with nothing more then. "Break up with MG."

Lizzie nodded. “ Alright, I'll do it.” But, I have to do it in person.”

Ken pondered for a second before reluctantly nodding. "I suppose I can make that happen. But keep in mind, Elizabeth, I won't put up with you trying to flee or misusing my trust.

Lizzie swallowed hard and replied, "Understood. Her stomach turned at the thought of hurting MG's feelings, but she knew that it was important. She had to follow Ken's rules if she wanted to keep her friends safe.

He lifted her into his arms walking outside of the room onto the balcony before launching them in the sky. Lizzie wrapped her arms around his neck gently holding on to him.

Within minutes, Ken landed outside the front entrance of the school. He placed her down onto the ground gently and suddenly snapped his fingers changing the young herteic’s clothes into a beautiful gold dress.

Lizzie rolled her eyes at his action. “ As much as I appreciate the gesture, what I was wearing was fine.”

The God smirked at her. “ You’re my queen now you have to dress the part.” What kind of King would I be if I let you walk around in old rags?

“ Thank you.” She said, glancing up at him.

He nodded. “ I'll be right outside waiting for you.” Don't take took long.

Lizzie took a deep breath as she headed inside the school, she closed the door behind her gently. She quietly made her way towards MG’s room, her heart pounding in her chest with every step she took.

She soon stood outside his room staring at the door unsure what to say to him. The young Saltzman remembered why she was doing this to keep her friends and family safe from Ken and the rest of his family.

“ Better I break his heart than him being dead.” She thought.

She took a deep breath and opened the door, stepping inside the room she saw MG laying down on the bed lost in his own thoughts.

She closed the door behind her alerting his attention,MG rose from the bed his face liting up at the sight of her, making the words she had to say even harder.

“ Lizzie, is that really you?” MG asked,standing up from the bed walking towards her his voice cracking with emotion.

Lizzie nodded. “ Yes, I'm here.”

MG pulled her into his arms hugging her tightly.

Lizzie felt a sting in her heart as she wrapped her arms around him, knowing she was about to break his heart. She inhaled his familiar aroma, which reminded her of the security and safety she felt in his presence. She pushed

herself away, peering up into his eyes.

"MG, we need to talk," she began, her voice firm despite her heart trembling.

MG's smile faded significantly, replaced by a worried expression. "What's wrong, Lizzie?"

Lizzie inhaled deeply, summoning her courage. "I... I have something to tell you. It's about Ken.

When the god was spoken, MG's expression clouded and his grip on her hands tightened. He growled, "What did he do?"

Lizzie hurriedly shook her head. "No, MG. He didn't do anything. I ma.. made a deal with him to be his prisoner in order to keep you and everyone here safe.

MG stared at her, shock and disbelief clear in his eyes. "What? Are you crazy, Lizzie? Why would you do such a stupid thing?

“ I'm doing what I must to keep you all safe.” Lizzie said.

"But Lizzie, you don't have to sacrifice yourself for us," MG insisted. "There must be another way." We'll figure out how to beat Ken and the other gods.

Lizzie shook her head, tears in her eyes welling up. "There isn't." And I need you to understand… please forgive me.

MG locked his gaze on her for a long minute, his gaze scanning hers. Finally, he let out a big sigh and released her hands. "I... I can't. stop you, can I?"

"No, MG," Lizzie said, her voice brimming with emotion. "You can't."

The Vampire stared at her blankly unsure what to say, tears began to well in his eyes.

The Heretic gazed back at him tearfully. “ I love you, MG I will never forget that.” Let me go, move on, be happy, just forget about me.

MG shook his head. “ No, I won't.” This can't end like this not after all we’ve been through.

Lizzie didn't respond, she turned and left the room, leaving a distraught MG behind. She made her way back outside where she found Ken waiting for her. He gazed at her questiongly, and she nodded at him giving him confirmation she'd done what he asked.

"Let's go," she murmured, her voice firm.

They vanished into the night, leaving the school and MG behind.

#legacies #lizzie saltzman #legacies ken #legaciesben #legaciesjen #josie saltzman #hope mikaelson #cronus #legacies fanfiction #jenny boyd #enemies to lovers #miltiongreasley #alaric saltzman #caroline forbes #bonnie bennett

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