#// especially once she's deserted from soldier

[frangiturastrum]

FF7 Compilation Verses Info - Kayden

Name: Kayden Undāre

Birthday & Age: October 18th, 1981. 21 (crisis core) / 28 (FF7) / 30 (AC) / 31 (DoC)

About:

Born in Junon Harbor to loving but busy parents, Kayden was no strange to the influence of Shinra, especially with her father working with the branch of Shinra in Junon. While her childhood was rather common, she grew up around many who wished to join the new SOLDIER program once it became known, and even was encouraged by her father to find a job with Shinra when she got older. Though, how she would eventually work for Shinra for a time would lead to her cutting off all contact with her parents, a tumultuous choice, but one she felt she had to do.

With many of her friends and classmates excited to work for Shinra, with the boys in particular wanting to join SOLDIER, she eventually felt similarly and decided that she would join the company. However, she wasn't interested in working for Shinra as a fighter initially. At 16, she joined Shinra to be an on field medic, wanting rather to help heal and keep others alive than take lives herself. Rather good at keeping up with infantry, once her training was (mostly) complete, she soon was deployed as a field medic during the War with Wutai. Any thoughts and feelings she had on Shinra would, over time, grow sour as she watched the destruction they caused, along with the mental turmoil and pain that those she called friends suffered due to being thrust into war so young.

On one mission through Wutai territory, she was sent along with the troops, including a few SOLDIER 3rds, as well as trio of researchers. The goal was, of course, to find mako rich territory that Shinra could possibly start using, even as the war continued. However, 3/4ths of the way through the trip to the first site, they stumbled into an ambush. The troops, particularly the SOLDIERS, made a formidable defense for Kayden and the researchers to hide behind, with Kayden casting Cures and Restores anytime someone suffered damaged. However, so focused on keeping her allies alive, she missed the bomb that was thrown their way, from behind, until the last moment.

As the SOLDIERS won the fight, the bomb from behind them destroyed Kaydens' legs with shrapnel embedding into her back and tearing open the skin when she collapsed. As the only dedicated medic in the group, the infantrymen held a perimeter while one of the SOLDIERS and the three researchers did what they could to keep her alive through materia use, a somewhat hastily done cauterization to one leg, emergency surgery and removal of shrapnel, one of the researchers eventually fell onto their last resort - mako injections. With the unit having worked together to keep her stable, multiple mako injections were given in quick succession before they were met up by another unit that took her back to the base camp. Not knowing if she would survive but not having the ability to return her to Shinra headquarters for nearly a week, the researcher continued to give her mako injections, which were supposed to be given to the SOLDIER 3rds as part of one of Hojo's many experiments, in an attempt to keep her alive.

When she was returned to Shinra headquarters, she was moved from Medical to Science, and joined, subtly, and without her knowledge, into a separate test. While she did not official join SOLDIER, Science continued to give her injections, enough to the point where she contained a similar concentration of mako to SOLDIER 2nds, but without the combat training. That wouldn't last long though, as, once her injuries were healed and two prosthetic legs were attached, she stayed in her role as field medic. This, too, changed rapidly, as a sudden order from the Turks removed her from her position and she, again without knowledge being shared to her initially, became something of a Turk. While she was not fully on theirs, she was also not SOLDIER, and tended to stay out of the light as a result.

During the events of SOLDIER 1st Class Genesis Rhapsodos' desertion, she took advantage of the focus remaining on his actions, and used that as her chance to escape from her own predicament. Disappearing into the wind, she left one last message with her family before dropping all contact with them and doing everything she could to try and stay away from Shinra. Whether it was through their resources becoming more strained as more things started to fall apart in SOLDIER, or whether it was luck, she managed to find a place for herself in the Sector 5 Slums while waiting for the storm to blow over.

Over time, she stayed in the slums, figuring that if the Turks didn't come looking for her, she was alright to stay hidden under the plate. Though she preferred to stay in the Sector 5, she found work in all of the sectors' slums, particularly with the neighborhood watch as she used the chance to fight monsters as a way to keep herself trained with the skills she learned while fighting for Shinra and with the Turks. That, and she was able to help the doctor in making medicines for the kids, which is how she became acquainted with Aerith. She also, on occasion, would take a gig or two for the Honey Bee Inn.

When Avalanche made itself known through the reactor bombings, she decided to try and find them, hoping to join their cause. Being a known fighter in the Sector 5 slums, she was able to get into contact with Cloud, Tifa, and Barrett after the Sector 7 plate dropped. Joining them on their search for Aerith, she joined Avalanche unofficially in the process and aligned her goals with theirs, including in their plan to defy destiny's course for them.

Years later, when Geostigma started to show, she went back to the Sector 5 slums in the hopes of finding some way to help the kids who were sick. Relying on her own medical knowledge could only get her so far of course, and so, when the Remnants showed and Avalanche once again pulled together she joined in their cause. However, she knew at the time that degradation was starting to take root in her body, and though she did all she could to help, she knew she couldn't fight like she used to, and thus lended more support through materia than before. When the waters from the church came forth, she was cured of her degradation, and then went back to work, both as a merc, and as medic.

#about kayden undare. #soldier at the ready. leviathan hear my rage. crisis core verse. #lance at the ready. this world will not fall to the dark. ff7 / ff7 remake / advent children verse. #// as always when it comes to writing an oc's backstory and mentioning canon characters #// i am totally down for changing things up if that is preferred #// please feel free to let me know. I am very chill on this tbh #// this is her baseline story but im always for changes if rp partners are much more comfortable with creating our own meetings between #the characters #out of order || ooc #// also apologies on the lack of DoC info #// I am still in the process of researching that story and trying to figure out what she's doing during it #long post #// i did however want to still put her in contact / communication with avalanche as that funnels into her character #// especially once she's deserted from soldier #// but yeah. tried to keep the possible pre-established connections pretty vague to leave more room for rp options and plotting

[nightfall-1409]

like its ok to wish that hunter did more to get crosshair out but i will say PLEASE stop saying that rescuing the literal helpless child from the child murdering fascists was somehow wrong of Hunter.

also like. can we stop undermining the very clear and obvious way that crosshair liked the power that he was given in the empire, especially over others, he was radicalized. he convinced himself that the war crimes were justified in the name of power. that is a far bigger problem and something that is going to haunt him far longer and requires a lot more to undo and forgive (and some people will never and should never do that, and others can't bc they are Dead)

to say it was all the effects of the chips, at this point in the series, its just not true. the events of aftermath specifically are 100% the chip. Everything after that is up for debate. We don't know when it was taken out, but at some point it was, and crosshair's pov is that it doesn't matter when, bc he likes where he's at. Had he not been abandoned by the empire on Kamino for so long, I doubt he would have ever changed, had Cody not deserted after confronting him about what it was the clones were doing, I doubt he would have ever changed. Had he not been forced to see Mayday's struggle and fight to bring him home and still after everything they both gave after everything suffered mayday died not in battle but because someone couldn't be bothered to even try to help him, I don't think he would have changed. I don't think Hunter could talk him out of it, and maybe he didn't try hard enough, or really, at all. Crosshair's version of loyalty, though, is blind, unquestioning, a soldiers loyalty. Obeying what they were doing, things that Hunter couldn't obey, and would have made him a monster to do.

But I can't imagine the disgust I would be forced to contend with if like, my family member came forward like "oh yes we're built to be soldiers, that doesn't mean preserving or protecting innocents, It means power and killing those who get in my way. its my purpose in life and i think you're stupid for not getting over the moral objections" like what do you even say to that. Hunter at that point had SEEN what the empire was doing. They both had, their home planet, (and head canons aside, all clones did in fact, in canon, see it as their home.) orbitally bombarded to secure power. How do you talk someone out of that, if fundamentally what your disagreement is on the value of life. You don't. Hence Hunter's demands in S3E5 to know what changed. What finally made Crosshair realize what he believed, about power and his purpose, was wrong.

Crosshair didn't want out. Crosshair was upset they didn't stay. He saw their purpose as being with the Empire. They escaped and ran and deserted. If they weren't with him, in the Empire, then they should die, like the Jedi, and Crosshair did absolutely believe that.

So this is all to say that. they are not equally responsible for what happened to their squad. Crosshair didn't have a choice at first— but once he did keep running right over that line. And a lot of us hoped that he was lying about the chip, that he wasn't entirely responsible for all that he did. But he was. That's clear at this point.

Even the whole chip matter— it's prolly really hard for Hunter to separate it. logically, he knows it was partially the chip at this point. But at that point in the story he watched someone he was incredibly close to nearly kill them all and at the time he had no idea why. If Hunter'd not grabbed Omega by the leg and tripped her she would be shot dead. If omega hadn't surprised Crosshair by shooting his gun out of his hand he would have killed Hunter. He shot wrecker, to use him as bait against the rest of them? Like, again, we all knew about the chip, but I can understand the emotional toll of such a thing bc he DIDNT at the time. The betrayal in that moment? How do you let it go?

But thats all fine! its interesting its character development and its the story they were determined to tell. But like. we can be honest.

Now if someone thinks that im wrong i'd love to know what exactly hunter needs to be sorry about, and why he's equally responsible that doesn't like either downplay the war crimes and murder and doesn't throw Omega like directly into harms way and under the bus.

#im still seeing variations on he CHOSE a GIRL HE DIDNT KNOW over his BROTHER #yes. bc crosshair is a grown man who can kill people whom for reasons unknown to hunter At The Time was trying to kill them. and almost did #even not knowing her. omegas a fucking innocent child. yes most sane people with an ounce of compassion will prioritize making sure shes ok #they're prolly never gonna have a blowout argument where hunter grovels guys and its bc. what would he be groveling for. #im sorry i didn't do the war crimes with you they looked fun? please be real #the bad batch #the bad batch spoilers

[ririya-translates]

Domina

For Neji's birthday (a day late), Ishida posted a backstory for Domina on Twitter. It comes with a drawing and a BGM link as usual. The BGM song this time has English lyrics too. I'd really recommend checking it out, especially for those familiar with Neji's backstory.

This is also the only story we've gotten so far that requires reading the one prior for more context so please read Jire's story before this one. No winter play spoilers. I've done my best to keep formatting consistent with the original. Thanks to @himehikoshrine for looking over this for me.

While there was no status of nobility in Havenna, After forceful seizure Of the former Vena family territory, The rebel clan who overthrew them were the closest to this title.

The ones who stole away the Vena family lands, Welcomed in those with hidden wounds of guilt. They attacked merchants and settlements in the area, amassing considerable wealth.

Among them, were deserting soldiers who fled from the southern country.

After suffering defeat by the northern country, Some remnants of the southern army arrived on Havenna's shores. As a part of the rebel clan, they gained power and influence.

These army remnants gave themselves the name of Quatle. They gained power then fought relentlessly against the other clan members. In the end, both sides inflicted wounds on each other to the point of self-destruction.

***

The Quatle Litus family, descendants of the Quatle line, Was the one family in particular That was unable to maintain their wealth and influence through the conflicts.

After being burdened with a tremendous sum of debt, The head of the household sold all 13 children And used the money to flee Havenna, Disappearing far into the southern lands.

Liz, youngest child of the Quatle Litus family, was sold to a struggling mugwort den. She readily tossed aside family pride and lived the life of a Havenna woman.

Years later, the owner of Pontartia fell for her on sight. She flattered him, started using the name Domina, And eventually took over the greatest mugwort den in Havenna.

I don't get Domina. (From the notebook of Kokuto Neji "Liz Quatle Litus")

Ishida's note: This is fanfiction by an original creator. What is written in the game itself is always canon. Towada reblogged the post as well.

(TL note: It once again uses the idiom 'wounds on one's shins'/すねに傷のある which typically means a guilty conscience but also might reference Sissia.)

#jack jeanne #jackjeanne #kokuto neji #jjwinterplay #translation #otome game #otome

[josefavomjaaga]

Ida meets Ney in Russia

I dimly remember that somebody (Cadmus?) mentioned they wanted to read more from Ida. So here���s a brief snippet of Ida – for once – getting in trouble with her hero, of Ney scolding her and … being jealous of Eugène?

The meeting takes place somewhen in late 1812 or early 1813, as much as it’s possible to tell from Ida’s chronological rollercoaster ride. In any case, after or at the end of the Russian retreat. Because of course Ida had joined the Russian campaign as well.

And not only she. If any tumblerinas here plan on learning how to time travel and want to go back to see the Grande Armée march towards Moscow, they don’t need to worry about incognitos. Most likely they would barely be noticed, as apparently there were wagonloads of groupies following their heroes around.

Okay: four. But that’s only those ladies Ida travelled with. Plus, two of them died on the way back.

Ida was particularly fond of a Polish-Lithuanian girl named Nidia, as madly in love with general Montbrun as Ida was in love with Ney. Not that either of the two got to see their idol much during the march. As a matter of fact, the first thing Nidia learned before entering Moscow was that Montbrun had been killed at the battle of Borodino. Other than that, Ida claims to have had a bad feeling about this city from the start:

As we entered Moscow, occupied at last by our troops, this immense city seemed to us like a vast tomb; its empty streets, deserted buildings and solemnity of destruction were heartbreaking. Despite the pomp of victory, I felt struck by I don't know what new kind of melancholy when I saw it; the flags seemed to me gloomy and almost surrounded by funeral crêpes and black forebodings. We were staying in Rue Saint-Pétersbourg, near the Miomonoff palace, which was soon occupied by Prince Eugène. The sight of this young hero and the cheers of the soldiers, who adored him, gave us back all the illusions of victory.

Okay, so I just added this because it’s so rare to see Eugène receive some praise. (I should also mention that the adored young hero was growing bald at an alarming rate and that his bad teeth were killing him.)

As a matter of fact, Ida claims that Nidia was especially interested in Eugène because he was rumoured to maybe become king of Poland (yes, another candidate). These rumours did really exist, Eugène mentions them in a letter to his wife before the campaign started. (And he also makes it pretty clear that these are just rumours and that he has not the slightest ambition to stay in this country. He may have used different vocabulary than Lannes but he didn’t like the region any better.)

The following night, Ida and Nidia wake up to a burning Moscow and are saved by soldiers of 4th corps. On the retreat, they seem to have followed headquarters as closely as possible, which was their safest bet to stay alive (because where the emperor is, there’s food and firewood and a resemblance of order) but still witness horrible tragedies. After the crossing of the Berezina, they apparently followed the remnants of Eugène’s 4th corps to Marienwerder, before Nidia says goodbye and goes back to defending Poland.

But before, on the way, at Valutina (?), Ida finally sees Ney again

At this point, after the retreat, Ida at least starts to question her decision to follow the Grande Armée around. Or something like that.

I have just recounted my fatigue, my difficulties and my perils in a war beyond human endurance, because of the new aspects it seemed to give to destruction and death. A powerful feeling made me undertake everything and endure everything. Why was I going to face the hazards of a campaign? Why was I going to expose the weakness of a woman to the rigours of a climate of iron? In order to obtain yet another glance from the one whose smile had always paid me for my military errands. This look was always like a world offered to my hopes; the dream alone of this reward had made possible all the impossibilities of time, distance, sex and fortune. My life was thus burnt for a few hours, still uncertain. I was giving up everything for a moment in space. Alas! this time, how I was going to regret this moment that had cost me so much to conquer! I had just gambled my existence for a flash of happiness, and this flash, the quickest of my life, became the cruelest.

I had to spend three fatal hours in a miserable shack on the outskirts of Volutina. My dress was so horrible that it was a real disguise. In a person dressed like that, one could hardly suspect a woman. Ney, however, only had to look my way to recognise me. To have been seen was enough to have been discovered. I was about to rush to the front of this first happiness; I was about to testify to the soul of my life how proud I was of this divination of friendship, of this perspicacity of memory, when words of an energy which was far from that of the feeling of which I was possessed, intimated to me the order of the most positive dismissal: "What are you doing here? What do you want? Go away quickly." With this address and a few short, curt rebukes about my reckless rage and my fury at following him everywhere, I only had the strength to reply: "It is a rage, indeed, but it is not at least the rage of pleasure or vanity," pointing to my coarse clothes and my face burnt by the sun and faded by fatigue. He took no notice of either the harangue or the costume. He was off and running. His displeasure at seeing me there was so great; he let it out so vividly that I thought he was going to push me back to the opposite bank of the Dniéper in his anger. Stunned by the reception, struck by lightning, I remained motionless for more than an hour, staring at him, thinking I saw him; he had disappeared without paying any more attention to me or worrying about me.

From which we can deduct that Ney was not a reader of Jane Austen novels. Otherwise he would have known that whenever you have behaved in a way that made a woman fall in love with you that’s f-ing your fault, monsieur!

In 1813, when I recalled to Marshal Ney this scene of such violent fury, followed by such cruel silence and abandonment, he told me that he had been so mortally frightened by the extravagance which had pushed me into the midst of so many perils and the licentiousness of an army, that he had even been tempted to beat me. Truth requires me to admit that the temptation had been so strong that he had, I believe, yielded to it a little; it was without his knowing it, for the great passions know neither all they want nor all they do. Anger is therefore still love, since it is as blind as fury.

Girl, get help. Seriously.

When we crossed the Dniéper at Serokodia, I could have had another word with him. A new laurel had just hidden his wrongs and healed my wound. I could have, I wanted to say to him: You have just added to your immortal glory here; you alone have just saved Frenchmen lost in deserts of ice; I would have liked to express to him what all parties repeat today, what posterity will proclaim on the ashes of the brave... But I stuck to the joy of hearing the distant cheers. There was then a little fear in my delirium for him, and I almost have the idea that I idolised him even more by fearing him in that way…

Did I mention the thing about getting help?

Yes, even the reproach was appreciated by my heart, and still seemed to me a tender interest. I found I don't know what pleasure in hearing myself scolded later for my association with Nidia, my marches and counter-marches with the Viceroy's troops. No matter how many times I told the Marshal that Eugène's protection had been focused exclusively on the young Lithuanian girl, and that I had slipped unnoticed into this benevolence, he took it into his head to believe nothing of these sincere protestations. To make him reconsider such a strongly conceived idea would have meant exposing myself to a repeat of the Dniéper order and military correction. I had no intention of trying the same pleasure twice. Finally, he saw the evidence of my attachment, and he found the generosity to prove this belated but strong conviction to me [...]

By calling her his brother-in-arms, by the way. And this, I believe, really meant a lot to Ida.

#napoleon's marshals #michel ney #ida saint-elme #memoirs #napoleon's family #eugene de beauharnais #russian retreat #russian campaign #russia 1812 #also #we have a phone call by a certain vice-queen interested in the exact definition of the word “protection” in this particular context

[raspberryfingers]

A Lion in the Garden -Tywin Lannister x Reader- (Part 22)

WARNING: Battle, blood, NSFW

—————

The ride to Winterfell had been long and tiring, especially as we had forgone a carriage and I’d been riding right beside Tywin the entire time. The Lannister men had proved decent, though I suspected most of their respect toward me was because of what had happened to the last Lannister soldiers that had spoken poorly of me. 

When we arrived at Winterfell, several camps were already set up by other northerners, though it seemed most people were within the castle’s walls. 

Tywin had already sent a raven ahead to Robb Stark, and as we approached the gates, he met us there with his family. 

“Lord Tywin, Lady (Y/N),” Robb greeted us, some stable hands taking our horses away once we had dismounted. The Lannister troops were already setting up their tents outside. Tywin shook Robb’s hand, yet when Robb approached me, he smiled and wrapped me into his arms. 

“It’s good to see you again, Lady (Y/N).”

“And you, Lord Stark.” 

I saw a hint of possessiveness in Tywin’s eyes as Robb embraced me, but it left once we had broken apart. We were all standing just within the large gates of Winterfell, and nearby I found several of the Starks lined up waiting to greet us. 

“Come, I’ll introduce you to my family,” Robb said with a smile, showing us over. His wife and baby waited excitedly, though I could tell Robb was still somehow nervous. I expected he didn’t entirely trust Tywin after learning what might’ve happened. I gave Robb a gentle nod to tell him all was well. 

“My wife, Lady Talisa, and our boy, Eddard,” Robb introduced. Tywin bowed his head, and she gave a decent curtsy. As decent as one can manage with a baby on their hips, anyways. I curtsied back to her, removing the gloves from my hands and smiling as I ran my hand over the boy’s head. He already had dark, curled hair like his father. 

“My mother, of course,” he continued, and I watched both Tywin reach out to kiss Catelyn’s hand. It was the respect she had earned, especially after sending Jaime back to him. Her and I nodded at each other, both smiling appropriately.

“And my younger siblings, Arya and Rickon.”

As Robb said it, Tywin froze like a deer, and I gave him a curious look as he made eye contact with the young girl. Arya, as Robb had said. Something felt tense, and then all of a sudden, Tywin smiled at her. 

“Too smart for your own good, hm?” He mumbled, raising an eyebrow at her. She smiled up at him, with a sort of knowing look in her eyes. She’d met him before, it seemed. I had not a clue how.

“Yes, m’lord.”

Everyone else looked beyond confused, especially as Tywin began to laugh. What in the seven hells was going on? He moved on then, nodding at the boy beside her before stepping back and looking at Robb again before questions could be asked.

“I’ll show you all to your chambers. You must be exhausted,” Robb said, motioning for us to follow him. It was somewhat awkward, though, as if he was still recovering from what we’d just witnessed.

“It was a long ride. We were worried we might not make it in time,” I noted as we walked with him. Robb’s family had mostly dispersed, but I saw Catelyn questioning Arya with a look of mortification. 

Odd.

“Well, we appreciate you coming. Seems we’ve gotten lucky, I imagine the battle will be over in less than 30 minutes. A great deal of Stannis’ troops have deserted him. He’s down to 4,000 men,” Robb informed us. Tywin and I looked at each other, a certain smugness on our faces. This wasn’t going to be difficult at all. 

“I hope you can forgive it, but I’ve put the two of you in a single room together. We’re rather short on extra rooms at the moment,” Robb said, leading us down another hallway.

“Of course, Robb. It’s not a problem at all,” I said, giving Tywin a cheeky grin. He only shook his head at me, and I had to resist the urge to laugh. 

“The two of you are to be married soon, aren’t you?” Robb asked, looking back at us and smiling. 

“Yes, in about a month or so. I hoped to invite you and your family in person,” Tywin said as we all stopped before a door. Our room, I presumed.

“It would do us a great honor, Lord Tywin,” he said, opening our door now. We nodded at him, and I placed a hand on his shoulder before entering the room.

When the door was shut, Tywin instantly relaxed. He let out a sigh as I came up behind him, glad to be alone now. 

“Let me help you out of your armor,” I said softly, hands moving onto his back for a moment. He nodded, and I began working on helping him out of it. The sash came off first, as beautiful as it looked on him.

“Have you seen the Stark girl before? Arya, I believe. You seemed awfully amused by her,” I questioned, setting his breastplate down and continuing to work away at it. 

“She was my cupbearer at Harrenhal. She was disguised as a boy, and none of the bloody fools there even realized she wasn’t one. I took her on while I was there. Pleasant girl, rather sharp. I figured out that she was highborn rather quickly, though I never would’ve realized she was a Stark,” he explained, to which I raised my eyebrows in surprise. Who would have thought?

“A lion and his pup,” I teased, to which he gave me a reprimanding look. It only served to make me laugh harder as I finished removing his armor. He shook off his shoulders once he was free, turning around to kiss me. He had the lustful look in his eyes that appeared whenever he was exhausted and in need of relaxation. 

“I ought to help you out of that dress, as pretty as it is,” he mumbled against my lips, his hands on my waist. I wrapped my arms around his neck. The dress I was wearing was rather pretty, a deep red and quite warm. 

“After the battle, Tywin. You need some incentive to stay alive,” I jested, pulling away and heading toward the dresser to undo my hair. He chuckled at that, and came up behind me now. I felt his stubble and gentle lips vaguely press against my neck.

“It seems Robb Stark won’t need our troops after all.”

“He never did. It’s a symbol of alliance, not of genuine help. Plus, you and I will help make it a much shorter battle. Mostly me,” I joked, grinning at him in the mirror. He made a sarcastic hum of agreement before walking over to warm himself by the fire.

“I’m surprised you’re inviting Robb Stark to our wedding,” I said then, wanting to dig a little deeper on what he had said so casually. 

“I felt I ought to. Wedding invitations always strengthen alliances,” he reasoned.

“Who else are you inviting?”

“The guest list is mostly up to your grandmother, despite my protests. The only House I’ve explicitly asked her not to invite is the Freys. Walder Frey is going to realize very quickly that I’m the reason you didn’t end up marrying his son,” he said, pulling a chair closer to the hearth and sitting down. 

“Don’t you think it’ll be more obvious if you don’t invite him?” I pointed out, though I was certain Tywin had some reason or another for it. 

“Yes, it will be. I want him to know. I want him to know that you’re mine. No fool son of his could ever stand a chance,” he scowled, gazing into the flames. I could see the fire reflected in his own eyes. I feared he was being too prideful.

“You’re creating an enemy and completely discarding the significance of Tyrion’s marriage to Roslin.”

“So be it.”

I stood from the dresser, making my way over to him and taking his face in my hands. He looked up at me with those intense eyes, and I knew every word he’d said he meant.

“Wouldn’t you rather parade me? Invite Walder Frey to the wedding, Tywin. I want him to see me kissing you at the altar, to see me smiling at you. That way, as far as anyone else is concerned nothing is wrong. If he tries to claim you thwarted that arrangement, nobody will believe it,” I suggested, stroking his stubble with the back of my fingers. He closed his eyes as he leaned into my touch.

“Have it your way then, woman. You always do,” he whispered, grabbing my hand and holding it near his face so he could kiss it. I smiled, leaning down to press my own lips to his forehead. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask, Tywin, whether or not you’d like us to have a bedding ceremony,” I mentioned, moving away from him to pour two glasses of wine. He turned and looked over at me.

“Why? Do you have a preference?” He questioned, accepting the cup that I brought him and drinking, presumably to warm himself up. 

“I thought you would, given well… you know,” I said, pulling up another chair to sit beside him in front of the fire. He adjusted himself in the seat, clearly uncomfortable at the mention of what had happened with Aerys. 

“I don’t have any worries, as far as I’m concerned there aren’t any other men vying for your affections. Well, there are, but none bold enough to do what Aerys did. Or stupid enough, for that matter. What are your thoughts on the matter?” He reasoned, tilting his head and squinting inquisitively. 

“I wouldn’t mind having one. A harmless tradition, and it puts people in good spirits. Plus, I’ll enjoy watching you get all jealous when all the other men begin to undress me,” I teased, laughing when he rolled his eyes. 

“And you won’t mind watching the other ladies undressing me?” 

“Oh, I will, but I’ll make you moan loud enough that they know who you belong to,” I said confidently, making him look at me with a subtle pride.

“You become more like a lion everyday,” he commented, sipping his wine and moving his feet a bit closer to the fire. 

“Is that so? I hope you realize, Tywin, I don’t intend to be referred to as Lady Lannister. Even as your wife, I don’t care to give part of myself up. I’ve always been a Tyrell and I always will be,” I advocated, not wanting him to be under the impression that I would sacrifice my identity the moment I became his wife. 

“I’m aware. I’ve never expected you to take my name, especially since you are going to continue to be the head of the Tyrell army. It would hardly be appropriate for you to go by anything else but Tyrell,” he said, nodding in agreement. It made me feel at ease, and I was glad he didn’t have any problems with my sentiment.

“Loras wrote back, he was quite happy to hear about the marriage. He’s been expecting it, I would assume. He was the first person I told about my feelings towards you,” I informed, making Tywin raise his eyebrows in surprise.

“Loras? I’m surprised you told him before Margaery.”

“As much as I love Margaery, she never keeps a thing from our grandmother. Loras and I have always looked after one another. I trust him to keep things private,” I explained to him. 

“His wife will be happy to see her family at the wedding.”

“Yes, I’m certain she will. I also believe she may be with child, as Loras explained he had some news of his own that he would tell me in person,” I said, smiling. I knew Loras had never wanted to marry a woman, but I felt confident that he would love his children. He had always been so sweet with Margaery, and I had no doubt in my mind he and Sansa would raise a compassionate young lord or lady. 

“It seems you’ve upheld your part of the bargain. Now Tyrion must uphold my part,” he scoffed, a sharp annoyance in his voice. 

“It’s of no consequence to me if he doesn’t. You’d better pray for it, though,” I smiled, laughing at him because he was so utterly annoyed. 

“Praying is no use. The gods never give, they only take,” he muttered sourly. 

“All will be well, Tywin. Tyrion and Lady Roslin got along at the wedding by all accounts. Give them some time,” I said, reaching out to place my hand on top of his. He said nothing, but gave my hand a gentle squeeze. 

“We ought to get some rest. Stannis marches tomorrow,” he said after a moment. I nodded in agreement, though I seriously doubted we would need rest. 

For the Gods sake, it was only 4,000 men. We would crush them.

—————

Tywin was helping me into my armor, and I couldn’t help but smile at myself in the mirror. It was such a beautiful set, and I still remembered the day he’d given it to me in perfect detail. Plus, I was more than just a little excited to go to battle. 

“Will you help me with my sash?” Tywin asked once he’d finished with my armor. I turned around to face him, and I nodded quickly. I reached for the red cloth laid out on the bed, draping it over Tywin’s shoulder and adjusting the length. After that, I looped his belt around his waist and fixed everything to make it look nice. Lord Tywin Lannister had suddenly emerged, it seemed. 

“You look so handsome in your armor, Tywin,” I complimented, observing just how powerful he became. It made him look larger than he was, and I couldn’t deny finding it erotic. 

“Does it intimidate you?” He said quietly, which served to make his voice deeper than usual. I felt heat rushing to my cheeks as our eyes met.

“Yes.”

“And you like that, don’t you?”

I found myself unable to do anything but nod, and his hand came to my chin. He scanned my face with a smug look in his eyes. 

“Don’t you?”

“Y-Yes, Tywin.”

He gave a satisfied smile, removing his hand from my face.

“You look like quite the image in your armor, too. An angel of death,” he muttered, tucking a loose stand back. My hair was done up so it wouldn’t interfere underneath my helmet, and I gathered that Tywin liked the look of it. 

“Do you think men are grateful to see my face as they die?” I wondered smugly, letting myself be a bit cocky. There was no fun in being unusually humble. I’d worked hard for my abilities. 

“I certainly would be.”

Just then, a knock at the door. Tywin moved away and opened it, finding one of his guards there.

“Is it time?”

“It is, my lord.”

Tywin nodded, turning to me to see if I was reading. Sheathing my sword and daggers, I followed the two men outside eagerly. Gods, there was nothing like the feeling before a battle. 

We made our way outside, observing the sun quite high in the sky, and additionally finding our horses saddled up and waiting for us. I could hear the Rains of Castamere being played nearby, and it made me smile. Our troops represented the smallest portion of the men fighting today, yet I had no doubt we’d fight with pride. 

I mounted my own horse, watching Tywin do the same. It seemed Robb had already ordered the troops to assemble, for as we exited the gates, we found thousands of men already prepared, and ours were among them. 

“4,000 men… they don’t stand a chance, no matter how well they attempt to build their trenches,” I whispered, to which Tywin gave a sinister grin. He always had that look on his face when he was about to crush someone. 

“No, they don’t.”

We watched Robb Stark emerge followed by some of his closest men, along with Brienne of Tarth, and we all gave him respectful nods. He approached us, helmet under his arm. 

“Are you all ready?”

“Yes, Lord Stark,” Tywin affirmed. 

“Good. We’ll let the archers start, then we’ll charge,” Robb informed, to which the two of us nodded in agreement. There was no need to charge unnecessarily if Stannis was in a secure position. It made more sense to kill off his men first. 

He left us then, going to command his own men to the right of us. Tywin did not waste any time before motioning for the archers to move up.

They did so in perfect formation, taking a step forward and reaching for their arrows. Tywin looked over at Robb Stark, and once all the archers were in position, they lifted their hands. 

“Knock!” Tywin shouted, each man pulling his arrow into place and preparing to let their arrows rain down upon Stannis’ army. Courtesy of me, all the Lannister archers had arrows covered in poison. Any arrows that didn’t kill immediately would kill eventually, rest assured. 

The Old Lion and the Young Wolf brought their hands down together, both yelling for a release, and I watched what must’ve been a thousand arrows shoot through the sky. 

They found their way into Stannis’ trenches, and the screaming began. Again, the archers were ordered to knock, and did so. They released once more, and this time there were considerably less shouts. The men were getting into safe positions, it seemed. 

“Has Lord Stark instructed us on what to do should Stannis refuse to emerge?” I asked, looking over at him curiously. 

“Yes. We wait.”

I raised my eyebrows, surprised by that. 

“How long?”

“Hours, days, weeks if need be. Stannis will have no choice eventually.”

The choice didn’t sit right with me, especially as I looked around. We had over 10,000 men, and hundreds of horses, which they had none of. Why would we ever wait? 

“We’re going to use up our stored food rather quickly if we wait that long,” I said, knowing exactly just how much food armies required.

“So will Stannis, and he’s got far less than we do,” Tywin noted. 

“Yes, except he’s also got less men, and they’ve become accustomed to starving by now,” I muttered, shaking my head and reaching for my reins. The archers fired again, but there were hardly any men being killed. 

I pulled the reins right, spurring my horse and riding over to Robb. I saw Tywin give me a quizzical look, but he didn’t follow. He trusted me, I presumed. 

I approached Robb, and he raised an eyebrow when he saw me.

“Lady (Y/N), is everything alright?”

“You told Tywin you wanted to wait Stannis out?” I questioned, making certain that was the exact plan.

“Yes, my lady. Do you oppose it?” He responded, adjusting his grip on the horn of his saddle. 

“We have too many men here to wait him out. I know Stannis doesn't have food stores to begin with, but if we wait too long for him, ours will dry up just as fast. His men are accustomed to starving, but ours aren’t. I know that waiting him out and meeting him on the open field will reduce casualties, but it only reduces casualties on the battlefield. If we wait weeks for him, we’re going to waste a lot of good food over Stannis Baratheon. That’s good food your people will need during the coming winter, lest they starve,” I explained, watching him nod and process what I was saying. He knew I was right.

“So what do you recommend, Lady (Y/N)?”

“We give Stannis an hour. If he refuses to meet us on the open field, I say we spread out and circle the trenches. It’ll make our lines thin, but the closer we get the thicker they can become. Trap them against, or rather in, the trench. Position our archers above them,” I suggested, looking over at the space he’d built. It was a long trench, but not so long we couldn’t completely cover a side and a half, which was all we needed if the archers could sneak through the stakes. 

“Very well. Inform Lord Tywin, we’ll wait an hour. If he sends up archers before the hour’s done, we go through with that plan anyways. We’ve enough shields to make it effective. If they decide to meet us on the field, then so be it.”

I nodded at him, riding back over to Tywin, who raised his eyebrows at me.

“Well?”

“Lord Stark has said we’ll wait an hour for Stannis at most. Then we’re to spread out and circle the trench. Archers will position themselves above, the spikes are small enough for it,” I explained, to which Tywin gave a single nod. 

“It didn’t take much for you to convince him,” he remarked, not bothering to look over. I wasn’t looking at him either.

“It doesn’t take much when you’re in the right. Though, I hope he comes out before the hour’s done. An open field battle would be more fun,” I said in response. 

Just then, almost as if an immediate answer, we saw men emerging from the trenches. Archers. 200 or so, and I watched as they began to knock their bows. I quickly put on my helmet, and I watched Tywin do the same. 

Their arrows went over us, and we watched the men raise their shields, only a few being hit at all. Stannis’ archers began to move forward, and more men began to emerge from the trenches, Stannis faithfully in front of them all with his sword raised. 

I smiled, knowing that Stannis was a principled man before all else. Better to die bravely than die stuck in a trench. 

I drew my sword, and I heard the metal clinking of the Lannister army closing their eye flaps. I looked over at Tywin, and reminded myself I’d have to keep my eyes on his red sash, otherwise I’d lose him among the others. Should his horse fall, at least. 

Our entire army began walking toward Stannis’ and there was not a sound besides that of feet hitting the earth. The ground was shaking, and it reminded me of Blackwater. The ground shook then, too. 

The closer we got, the faster the pace became, and eventually everyone was running toward each other. Toward death, really. 

Tywin was riding right beside me the whole time, even as we plowed into Stannis’ men and began to cut them down. Many clawed at us, trying to hit us, but it was no use. Those that weren’t trampled found their heads detached from their bodies. Valyrian steel, indeed. 

My horse was cut down before Tywin’s, and as I fell to the ground I heard him yelling my name. Thankfully, I had not been hurt and was able to pull my legs out with ease, getting up just as quickly as I’d fallen and beginning to fight off the men around me. 

A decent sense of dread filled me, as I couldn’t see Tywin from my position. I was in the thickest part of the battle, and all around me men were yelling and crashing into each other. 

I did, however, enjoy plunging my sword into man after man. Each of them seemed to realize I was a woman just as I killed them, and it always gave me such a great satisfaction to witness. 

“(Y/N)!”

I heard my name being called from somewhere in front of me, and I realized Tywin must’ve been cut down as well. 

“Tywin!” I yelled back, more to let him know I was alright then anything. I plugged straight through a man’s throat, and slit two more before I could see the bright red sash. I still found myself killing two more men before I was beside Tywin, and when he spotted my bright, colorful armor, he seemed relieved. 

Both of our swords were covered in blood, and continued to be as we moved through all the bodies around us. One man around us appeared to be quite skilled, which was unfortunate given that he was one of Stannis’ men. 

I locked eyes with him, and we rushed toward each other, swords clashing as we met. He stepped back, spinning his sword before swinging it at me again. I smiled, blocking him before lifting my sword and bringing it down on him. He managed to stop me from splitting his skull, however, and we continued to have a bit of a fight for a few minutes. 

That was until I saw the red sash fall to the ground, and I realized a man had tackled Tywin down somehow. 

Needing to go help him, I blocked the man’s sword and removed one of my daggers, stabbing him directly in the side of his head and removing it before rushing away. Most of the time, the way I fought was for fun, not because I couldn’t kill the man. 

I found Tywin with another, rather large man on top of him, swords pressed against each other, and it appeared that Tywin was about to get his throat slit with his own sword. 

I scowled, running and plunging my sword through the man’s face just as Tywin had done for me at the battle of Blackwater. When he collapsed on the ground next to Tywin and Tywin gasped out, I fell to my knees beside him.

“Tywin! Are you alright? Are you hurt?” I asked in a panic, observing him for anything that might be wrong. His helmet had come off in the fight, and he had a cut along his left cheek, and it made me worried something else might’ve happened. I had one hand pressed to his cheek, and he sat up, not wanting to be trampled.

“I’m fine, (Y/N), I’m fine. Come on.”

I helped him up, and he looked down at me with a certain fondness. I wondered what he was thinking, just for a moment. 

We pressed our backs together now, killing any men that were stupid enough to try and approach us, especially as the fighting had begun to thin out. The sight of our armor alone must’ve possessed them to try it. 

Ah, yes, the thought of killing (Y/N) Tyrell and Tywin Lannister must’ve sparkled in their heads when they saw us. It was unfortunate none of them were talented enough to do it. 

Eventually, it was announced that Stannis had fallen. Brienne of Tarth had killed him, apparently. Upon learning this, his men began to flee, and we all cheered. The battle had been won, and it had seemingly taken less than an hour. 

I turned to Tywin, and he reached for my helmet, pulling it off my head and letting it drop to the ground. He grabbed the neckline of my armor and pulled me toward him, kissing me passionately. I reached for the back of his head then, kissing back despite my surprise. I would not have expected him to make such a public display, but I wasn’t upset in the slightest. 

“Tywin…” I whispered when we broke apart, sheathing my sword and looking up at him. There was something ruggedly handsome about the cut along his cheek. It wasn’t deep, so I doubted he would end up with something that looked anything like Tyrion’s, but it was still attractive. It cut through a bit of his stubble, and I knew the hairless patch would remain as evidence after he was healed. 

“You saved my life,” he muttered, sheathing his own sword and then cupping my face. I smiled up at him.

“I was merely paying the debt, Tywin,” I joked, reaching up to kiss his sweaty cheek. I was admittedly also sweating and out of breath. It had been an intense fight. 

“Come, we’ll head back. I expect the feast tonight will be quite the event,” he reasoned, both of us making our way through the battlefield with the rest of the men. I laughed and nodded.

“I ought to bathe and change beforehand. I can clean that cut up too, if you come with me,” I offered, motioning to his face. 

“I’m lucky it’s taken me this long to acquire a scar,” he noted, stepping over the bodies beneath our feet. 

“It’ll just make you more handsome.”

He laughed at that, smiling over at me. I couldn’t deny feeling especially attracted to him right now, all bloodied and messy. It was a primal feeling. 

Eventually, we found ourselves back in our chambers, and it didn’t take the maids long to bring a tub with hot water.

Tywin helped me out of my armor, and I stayed in my coat and pants as I helped him with his own cut. 

“Here, sit down in the chair, Tywin,” I said, motioning for him as I dipped a cloth into the hot water. He obeyed, and I raised it to his face, gently cleaning up the small cut. He looked as if there was no pain at all, and the entire time all he did was stare into my eyes. He looked beautiful. 

“I’m sorry if it hurts,” I said, finally managing to clean up all the dried blood. He made a noise of disagreement.

“No, it’s fine. Thank you,” he said as I wiped down the rest of his face and fixed his messy hair. I nodded, pressing a kiss to his forehead. 

“Now, go join the feast. I’ll be with you momentarily,” I said, beginning to undo my coat. He raised an eyebrow, but I shooed him out. I was enjoying testing his patience, and truthfully I was starving. If I’d let him stay, we definitely would not have joined the feast. 

—————

After the feast, it was quite late, and both Tywin and I had drinken a fair share of several different kinds of alcohol. He was inclined towards wine, though. Neither of us were drunk, but we were in quite the adventurous mood when we returned to our chambers. 

Tywin slammed the door shut behind us, and I was laughing lightly as he reached for me and began to kiss me. I could taste the wine he’d drinken, and it made me eager for more as I pressed myself against his armor. 

“I believe you promised me something after the battle,” he muttered against my lips, one hand groping my ass and the other groping one of my breasts. There was an unmistakable fire in his eyes. Not to mention, the warmth and light from the hearth gave the room a particularly nice feeling, and the furs along the bed looked just as appealing. 

“Did I? And what did I promise you?” I questioned innocently, batting my eyelashes up at him. He scowled, grabbing at the back of my dress. 

“That you’d let me take your dress off. Don’t you remember?” He whispered in my ear, beginning to undo it. I held his neck, closing my eyes because I felt such a nervous excitement. Sex with Tywin always made me feel nervous excitement, it seemed. It was never dull, after all. 

“Oh, perhaps you’re right. I seem to remember something along those lines,” I gasped as he began to kiss my neck. I tried to reach around him so I could help him out of his armor, but he made a noise of protest and turned me around. 

Gently, he pushed me onto the bed and continued undoing my dress. I looked over my shoulder with surprise as he began to pull it off of me. 

“You’re not going to remove your armor?”

“No.”

I shivered in the cold air as he removed all my undergarments, leaving me bare against the furs. I heard him shuffling around behind me, and I assumed he was freeing himself from his coat and pants. 

I felt his hands against my back, and I let out a soft sigh as I gazed at the fire. There was something rhythmic about the way his hands moved against my skin, and I felt myself growing needier with every passing second that he wasn’t inside me. 

“Tywin… please,” I whined, shutting my eyes and gasping as he gave my ass a hard smack. 

“Quiet. You’ve been testing my patience, now I’m going to test yours,” he muttered, stepping closer. I gave a squeak as the cold metal of his armor pressed against the back of my thighs, and he chuckled lowly. 

I felt his cock rubbing against me, and I moaned out as he pressed against my clit, the friction making me want even more. Gods, the man was going to drive me insane. 

“My lord…” I said subconsciously, probably as a result of the armor, and not expecting him to have any reaction to it. I couldn’t have been less wrong though, as he flipped me onto my back and looked down at me. He looked like a man possessed. 

“Say that again.”

I looked at him quizzically, his hands between my legs, holding them open as he continued to rub his cock against me. I shuddered, biting my lip.

“M-My lord,” I whispered, back arching as he slowly began to push inside of me. I was usually not so submissive in bed with Tywin, and it seemed to be doing something to him. 

As he pushed all the way inside me, I was unable to hold back a moan, and neither was he.

“Gods… so wet,” he mumbled, slowly beginning to thrust into me. His armor slapped against my skin, and it was rather erotic for me. His hands were holding my hips up closer to him, fingers digging into my waist. 

“Tywin… I need more,” I whined out, being tormented by his slow pace. He normally liked to tease, but I had a feeling he was just as eager as I was, and so he began to move his hips with a bit more force. I cried out, gripping the furs underneath me in pleasure. 

He was so full inside of me, so satisfying. 

“Do you see me, (Y/N)? Do you see me inside you? Filling you up like a whore,” Tywin snarled, picking up his pace even more and practically pounding into me. When I looked down, I realized I could see him, or rather the motion of him as my stomach rose and fell with his thrusts. The visual made me whine out his name, and he merely groaned in response. 

Tywin began to press down on my lower stomach, and it brought even more pleasure somehow. He’d never done it before, and I was currently discovering that it was extremely pleasant.

“Yes… yes Tywin! I’m your little whore,” I mumbled absentmindedly, only half processing what was really coming out of my mouth. Tywin gave a deep, sinister chuckle as he continued to fuck me, hips snapping against mine in an overwhelming manner. 

“Does it turn you on? Being fucked by me while I’m in my armor, still covered in the blood of our enemies?” He groaned, reaching down with one hand to rub my clit. I whined out again, nodding my head vigorously. 

“Gods, you’re desperate,” he hissed, pounding into me with even more force. I couldn’t deny the loud moan that came from my throat.

“T-Tywin! Someone’s… someone’s going to hear,” I choked out, knowing I was only going to get louder. The unfortunate thing about the tower of the hand was that I’d become so accustomed to moaning as loud as I wanted that it was now a struggle to contain myself. 

“The walls are stone, sweet girl. And if someone does hear you, then let them,” he responded, smiling as he began to hit my g-spot. I cried out in turn, reaching out for him. I grabbed his forearms, trying to steady myself. I was thrashing beneath him, and I felt myself lifting from the blankets over and over again. 

“T-Too much… too much, Tywin,” I cried, trying to escape him almost. His face was blank as he watched me squirm.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asked, voice even. I shook my head vehemently, and even through my hazy vision I saw him smirk. 

There was pressure building in my abdomen, not so much that of an orgasm, but that of a physical release. 

“Tywin… Tywin I’m going to…” I attempted to express myself, but in all honesty I had no idea how to say it. 

“Are you going to cum?”

I shook my head, and he nodded in understanding, continuing his vigorous pace to help me along.

“Go on then, be a good girl- and wet my cock for me,” he said through his teeth, exhaling with his pleasure.

Before I knew it, I felt myself squirting all over him, and we both let out rather loud cries of ecstasy. He threw his head back, chuckling slightly as he moaned. 

“The most dangerous woman in Westeros… they ought to see you like this,” Tywin muttered, applying a bit more pressure to my clit and enjoying the way I sang for him in response.

“Fuck! Fuck… fuck, Tywin,” I gasped, not caring at all that my vulgarity wasn’t ‘ladylike.’ It was odd, because I found myself hesitant to curse but very inclined towards killing. I guessed that it was because I knew how to keep the political and the military sides of me separate. 

These thoughts were half stringed together, though, because the only thing I could focus on was the way Tywin was driving his hips into mine. There were four distinct sounds in the room: the fire cracking, the creaking of the bed, our skin slapping together, and my desperate whines.

Tywin gave the occasional groan, of course, but he was far more restrained than I was. 

This was especially true as I felt my orgasm approaching and I began to shake beneath him.

“Don’t stop… don’t stop, Tywin,” I gasped, pleasure shooting through me as his hand continued its motions and his cock persisted in filling me up. Gods, he was so big. 

“You’re going to cum, aren’t you?” He teased, watching me throw my head back and cry out. 

“Yes! Yes… I’m going to cum!” I whined, feeling closer and closer to finishing with every second that passed. 

“Cum for me, sweet girl. Cum for me and let me hear you scream.”

Hearing his commands, and being instilled with a deep feeling of pleasure alone simply by the nature of his words, I felt myself being sent over the edge. I came hard on his cock, practically screaming his name as I shook so passionately beneath him. 

I felt as if lightning was coursing through my body, and Tywin groaned as I began to pulse and squeeze around his cock. 

As I came down from my own orgasm, he chased his own, and it wasn’t long before he pulled out and finished on my stomach. I watched—and felt—his cum spill onto my skin, and I intertwined my hands with his as I watched him catch his breath and shut his eyes. 

“(Y/N)… (Y/N)…” he whispered, a few spurts of his seed still releasing onto my skin. I found myself sitting up to undo his armor, and I pulled it off to set aside. 

I stripped him of the rest of his clothes, and he pressed his forehead to mine once I’d done so. We were both sticky, sweaty, and tired, and I was grateful when he reached for a cloth and began to clean me up. 

“Get in bed, sweet girl, I’ll clean up and then I’ll join you,” Tywin muttered, kissing my forehead and cupping my cheek. I nodded, scooting back and burying myself under the blankets and furs. I pulled some of them back, though, as it was hotter in the room now. 

Tywin cleaned himself up too before dropping the cloth to the floor and joining me in bed. 

“I pity whatever maid is cleaning this room tomorrow,” I mumbled as he pulled me close. 

“Well, it’s your fault, not mine.”

I laughed softly, nuzzling my head into his chest and propping my knee up on his thigh. The fire’s noise was quite soothing, and as Tywin began to stroke my hair, I felt myself being slowly lulled to sleep. 

In my dreams, Tywin and I were back in the forest near Kings Landing. I saw him armed with a crossbow, and carefully we snuck up on and shot a rather large stag. In the morning, I would reflect that I was glad to be rid of Stannis Baratheon. We’d taken out another ‘claim’ to the throne, and had strengthened our position in turn. 

Our position.

It was an odd thing that I’d noticed recently. I had begun to say our when it came to anything in relation to House Lannister. I’d begun associating the interests of Tywin’s house with my own. 

It made me also reflect that in a way, I was grateful for Stannis Baratheon. He was responsible for uniting House Tyrell and House Lannister, and if not for the threat he posed, Tywin and I never would’ve become familiar. 

I found that in a way, I was even grateful for the man who had nearly killed me. It was all these things, all these small little pieces on a giant chessboard.

Somehow, they’d all led me to Tywin. 

And now here I was, laying naked in bed beside him, content and happier than I’d ever been in my life, waiting for the day I could genuinely pledge my love to him in sight of the gods. 

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#tywin lannister #tywin lannister x reader #game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #house lannister #charles dance #tywin x reader #tywin imagine #asoiaf #a lion in the garden

[helix-studios117]

Halo Reloaded: Stay Put

The streets of the Forerunner city on Alpha Halo were deserted, a silent testament to a civilization that had vanished eons ago. These pathways, once bustling with life, now played host to only whispers of the past and the occasional footfalls from John.

The Master Chief moved with a deliberate pace, his towering figure cutting through the eerie stillness. There was no need for weapons in hand; the man was a walking arsenal, a fact well known across the galaxy.

Trailing behind him, a sight that would baffle any onlooker—a young Sangheili. This child, swathed in robes rather than armor, seemed out of place following a human, especially one as formidable as the Master Chief. Yet, here he was, tailing John like a lost puppy, albeit one that could potentially rip your arm off if provoked. His movements were hesitant, betraying a mix of reverence and fear that one might reserve for a deity or, in this case, a heavily armored super-soldier.

Cortana's holographic form flickers into existence. She looked like she'd walked straight out of ancient Athens, though the furrow of her digital brow suggested she was more concerned with the present than the philosophies of the past. "John, you've got a tail. And I'm not talking about our little friend here," she said, her voice carrying a hint of snark that belied her skittish posture.

Almost on cue, a squad of Covenant enforcers rounded a corner, their presence an instant threat in the quiet of the abandoned city. They were a small group, but they packed enough firepower to make a dent. Their armor glinted under the artificial light of the Halo, a silent challenge to any who dared stand in their path.

Without missing a beat, John scooped up the Sangheili child, a move so swift it was almost casual. "Hang on, kid," he muttered, an odd note of tenderness in his voice that contrasted sharply with his next actions.

Ducking into an alleyway, he set the child down with surprising gentleness. "Kee'rah here, gah'nu? Nu'keh vo'rah, kee'lah so'ko." (Stay here, got it? Don't come out until I say so) he instructed in Sangheili, a language he spoke with the ease of a native.

The kid nodded, his eyes wide behind his mask. The fear was palpable, but so was the trust. "Vah'ruum kee'na." (I will wait) he said, the words heavy with an accent but clear in intention.

John nodded once, then turned to face the emerging threat, his figure a stark silhouette against the dim light filtering into the alley. Cortana's form hovered near him, her earlier apprehension replaced by a focused concern. "Don't get too cocky, John. Remember, pride comes before a fall, and I'm not equipped with a broom to sweep up your ego."

The Spartan couldn't help but crack a small smile, barely perceptible beneath his helmet. "Keep an eye on our six, Cortana. I'll handle the front."

As he stepped back into the fray, the alleyway behind him became a temporary sanctuary for the young Sangheili, a silent witness to the unlikely alliances formed in the shadow of war...

John burst from the alleyway, his eyes quickly scanning the scene before him. The air was charged with anticipation, the quiet before the storm. Ahead, a Wraith tank, menacing and bristling with firepower, was flanked by two Ghosts, their drivers cackling with glee. A squad of Zealot Elites, their energy swords humming with deadly intent, completed the deadly entourage. The battlefield was set for a clash of titans.

Without a moment's hesitation, John charged forward, his Spartan armor enhancing his speed to a blur. The ground beneath his feet seemed to quake with each step, a testament to the impending showdown. WHOOOSH! The first Ghost lunged at him, its plasma cannons blazing. John leapt into the air, a twist of his body turning his momentum into a devastating kick that sent the Ghost spiraling into a nearby ruin, exploding in a ball of fire and smoke. BOOM! Landing gracefully, John didn't pause.

The second Ghost zoomed towards him, cannons firing wildly. ZZZZAP! ZZZZAP! With an agile roll, John dodged the plasma bolts and, in one fluid motion, ripped the plasma cannon from the Ghost. Turning it on the vehicle, he unleashed a torrent of energy that shredded the Ghost apart.

KA-BLAM! Now, the Wraith tank took aim, its main cannon charging with a deep, ominous hum. The air vibrated with the power of the impending shot. John, eyeing the massive tank, sprinted towards it, the plasma cannon still in hand. As the Wraith fired, John leapt, using the cannon as a shield. The plasma bolt hit the cannon, engulfing John in a blinding light, but when it cleared, there he stood, unscathed, the cannon obliterated.

With a roar, the Brutes driving the Wraith emerged, brandishing gravity hammers. John dashed forward, meeting the first Brute with a powerful punch that sent it flying back into the tank with a CRUNCH. The second Brute swung its hammer in a wide arc, WHOOSH, but John ducked under the swing, then uppercut the Brute into the air, following up with a swift jump and a mid-air tackle that crashed them both into the tank, denting its armor.

As the tank reeled from the impact, the Zealot Elites charged, energy swords drawn. John landed, facing the onslaught. The first Elite swung its sword in a deadly arc, but John parried with a stolen energy dagger, the clash of energy creating a dazzling display of sparks. CLANG! He spun, delivering a roundhouse kick to another Elite, sending it crashing into a third.

THWACK! The battle was a whirlwind of motion. John moved like a specter among the Elites, dodging, parrying, and striking with precision. Each move was a dance of death, a testament to his unmatched skill and the power of the Spartan program.

Finally, as the last Elite fell, John stood alone amidst the wreckage of his foes, breathing heavily but victorious. The silence that followed was a stark contrast to the chaos that had just ensued...

In the aftermath of what could only be described as a one-man demolition derby—courtesy of John himself—the battlefield was a sight to behold. Wreckage strewn about like confetti after a particularly rowdy party, courtesy of our favorite Spartan and his less-than-gentle touch. John stood amidst the chaos, taking a moment to breathe in the... well, not fresh air. More like the smoky, charged scent of victory and plasma burns.

"Kee'lah so'ko!" he bellowed into the alleyway, the Sangheili equivalent of (Time to come out, kiddo!) His voice carried the kind of authority that even the most disobedient pet would think twice about ignoring. The young Sangheili, whose idea of a good time probably didn't include cowering in alleyways during explosive battles, peeked out. Seeing John, who was remarkably not on fire or dismembered (a common outcome for most after such a scuffle), he scampered over. With a move that was part relief, part "you're-my-hero," the kid gave John a hug around his waist. It was a touching scene, if you ignored the backdrop of fiery destruction.

"Kee'va tu'rah vah. Vo'kehm nu'keh vo'gah, gah'nu?" John said, his voice finding that gentle timbre that he rarely used, probably because it was hard to sound gentle when you're a human tank. (You did well to stay put. But let's not make a habit of this, okay?)

The kid, still clinging like a limpet, mumbled something that sounded like awe and agreement all mashed into one. "Vah... vah kee'nu'rah vah'rom. Kee'ah... kee'ah vum'rahr, thum'keeva vah'ree." (You... you took them all down. Like a... like a really angry, heavily armored bear)

John couldn't help but chuckle—a sound as rare as a polite discussion between a Grunt and a Marine. "Gah, kee'ah vum'ko. Vo'kehm, thum'keeva vah'ree kee'va so'rah vum'kah veerah, gah'nu?" (Yeah, something like that. But hey, angry bears have to make sure everyone gets home safe, right?)

As they resumed their trek through the city's ruins, the child's curiosity bubbled over like a pot left unattended. "Vah'keem kee'va nu'kuh thum'keeva vah'ree tu'rah?" (Are we going to see more...angry bear stuff?) The question was earnest, a mix of dread and excitement at the prospect of more explosions and heroic deeds.

John, casting a sidelong glance at his small companion, shrugged. "Vah'keem. Vah'zum kee'ah thum'roh, vum'la tu'keeva. Vo'kehm nu'vah, kee'na thum'keeva vah'rah tu'keeva vum." (Probably. The galaxy's a big place, filled with all sorts of trouble. But don't worry, I've got enough bear rage for all of it)

The conversation took a turn for the philosophical—or as philosophical as one can get when discussing intergalactic conflict and angry bears. "Vo'kehm vah'ruum? Kee'rah nu'kuh tu'keeva?" (And after? When there's no more trouble?)

Looking ahead, John's gaze softened, a rare moment of introspection for the Spartan. "Vah'ruum kee'va so'rah vum'kah. Vum'la kee'zum, vum'nu vah'haus... Vah'keem, vum'nu kee'na vah'bakeery." (Then we make sure it stays that way. Maybe plant a garden, build a house... Who knows, maybe even open a bakery)

"Vah'bakeery?" (A bakery?) The kid's tone was incredulous, as if the idea of the Master Chief swapping his rifle for a rolling pin was more far-fetched than any alien race.

"Gah, vo'kehm nu'kuh? Vah'zum kee'love cookies. Nu'keh kee'va intergalactic vah'rahs kee'rah vah'la eating cookies." (Yeah, why not? Everyone loves cookies. Can't start intergalactic wars if you're busy eating cookies)

Their laughter echoed through the ruins, a light moment that bridged the gap between species and circumstances. With every step, they moved not just toward their next destination, but toward a future where the absurdity of baking cookies could stand as a beacon of hope in a war-torn galaxy.

@jellotherelol, @empresskadia, @authortobenamedlater, @ageless-aislynn, @ionlymadethissoicouldleaveanask, @makowrites.

#halo #halo fanfic #halo fanfiction #master chief #john 117 #master chief fanfiction #master chief fanfic #halo headcanon #halo au #halo reloaded #ultimate universe #Ultimate Halo

[five-rivers]

Rumors of the Woods of the Kingdom of Amity

@modordracena @gamma-radio

AO3

.

There were rumors about the woods of the kingdom of Amity.  You could hear them at any inn or tavern you went to in any town within a hundred miles of Amity’s border.  You could hear them from storytellers and mendicants begging for their meals.  You could hear them whispered between children trying to scare one another, or old women doing the same.  

They went like this:  

The woods were home to bandits, displaced and deserting soldiers from beyond the southern sea.  Hungry people, some of them, desperate for money and not seeing any other way to it.  Well fed brigands, by other accounts, gone fat off the misfortune of others.  

There was a horrid beast in the woods, a chimera or dragon the likes of which had rarely been seen outside of ancient heroic legend.  It stalked anyone who entered the woods, and if you were unfortunate enough to be selected as its prey, you would never be seen again.  

The trees moved on their own, others said.  They whispered to one another.  They had eyes.  Sometimes, they had teeth.  They would lead you astray, if they could.  Move while you weren’t watching.  Confuse your path.

Or, perhaps, it was the ghost fire that danced between the trees that misdirected travelers and led them to uncertain dooms.  They were more common in swampier lands, marshes, bogs, and the like, but who knew the preferences of ghosts except for ghosts themselves?

But, no.  The woods were haunted, yes, but by the pale ghost of a child, murdered before his time.  Or was it the ghost of a young man?  If you were polite, he would lead you to safety.  But if you asked too many questions…

But they also went like this:

Once, the Conqueror King swept across the land with his thrall armies, seeking to make all the kingdoms of the world his own.  He marched into the woods of Amity.  He did not march out.

The woods were large enough not only to lose armies in, but towns, cities, kingdoms.  And, for those brave enough to dare them and the kinds of risks always associated with ruins, kingdoms’ ransoms.  Assuming, of course, that those kingdoms did not still live, in one fashion or another…

The princess would disappear into the woods for days on end, not to be found unless she wished it.  She would return with flowers in her hair and fruit in hand, no matter the season, her secrets kept tight behind smiling lips.  

Some said there were elves and goblins in the woods.  Small, clever folk who would trade the fantastic for the mundane, blessings for curses, memories for skills, truth for lies, and other, stranger things besides.  

Other rumors spoke of the oldest tree in the forest, and how it had been grown from a cutting of the tree of life itself.  They said the waters of the pool it grew by could take you to strange lands, body and soul together.  

And, as with any rumors, many of them were false.  Much… but in this case, not all.  

.

“Hey, Tucker.”  

The felter’s apprentice jumped about a foot, then craned his neck to look up and backward at the branch Danny was currently lounging on.  “I hate it when you do that.”

Danny grinned and propped his chin up on his hand, clearly displaying his unnaturally white teeth.  Especially the canines.  “Really?  I love when you do that?”

“What?  Jump out of my skin.”

“Maybe,” said Danny, his smile inching just a little wider, until it was at the edge of what was possible for a human face.  He could take it wider, if he wanted.  He didn’t. “Aren’t you going to ask me how I am?  Aren’t you going to ask me what I’ve been up to?” 

“I know what you’ve been up to, you menace.  It’s not like the bounty hunters you’ve been tormenting have been quiet.”

“Aw, you love me.  It’s Walker’s fault anyway, not mine.  Nothing’s making him send anyone.”

“Isn’t he, like, your grandfather or something?”

Danny shrugged and stretched languidly, like a cat, and reversed himself on the branch, fingers growing into claws so he could climb his way down the tree until he was sitting on a particularly prominent root.  Not the ground.  He tried to avoid that, when at all possible.  His tail lashed back and forth.  

“But that’s not all that’s been happening.”

“Oh, gods, please tell me you haven’t started another bizarre rumor.”

“Are they really rumors if they’re true?” asked Danny.  

“Ninety percent of them are crap.  There aren’t any elves in here, or magic immortality trees.”

“Well, I suppose that’s a matter of opinion,” said Danny, tilting his head to one side.  

“Your curse doesn’t count.”

Danny made an offended noise in the back of his throat.  

Tucker sighed.  “Is this something we’ll need Sam to fix?”

“Why do you assume there’s something to fix?  Why do we need Sam to fix it?  She’s the one who broke things in the first place.”  Danny tsked, then put on a disturbingly accurate impression of Princess Samantha of Amity, “Why don’t you look in the mysterious pool, Danny?  Why don’t you try out the red vial, Danny?  I want to see what will happen, Danny.”

“She didn’t say that.”

“That’s not what I remember,” huffed Danny, turning around. “Maybe I should just do this by myself.”

“Okay, okay, I give up.  What have you been up to?”

“The tops of the trees!”  Danny burst out laughing.  

“Wow… it’s just like the same joke you’ve told a thousand times,” said Tucker.  “But, seriously.”

“Seriously,” repeated Danny, “I found the Labyrinth!”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah!  The part of the Deep Woods it was in finally opened–  Hey, where are you going?”

“I’ve got to get Sam,” said Tucker, walking quickly the way he’d come.  

“Well, yeah,” said Danny, crawling back up into the trees and bounding along tree branch by tree branch, “I want her to come, too, exploring weird ruins is kind of her thing, but you don’t have to–  Tucker!”  The plaintive cry was more of a shriek than anything else.  Tucker skidded to a stop.  “You know I can’t leave the woods.  Don’t you at least want to know where the Labyrinth is first?”  

Tucker skidded to a stop.  “Yeah, sorry, buddy.  But I just realized–  The reason for all the weird cursed weather lately.  The frogs and toads and all that.  There was something in the Labyrinth that could do that, I remember reading about it.  If someone got into the Labyrinth before you…”

“They could have gotten it,” concluded Danny. 

“Sam needs to know.”

Danny clacked his claws against the branch he was sitting on.  “Alright,” he said.  “I guess I’ll need to go into the Labyrinth to talk to the spirits there.”  They’d be old ones, slow with age and memory, bound to tree and stone and the ancient meanings carved into once-worshiped rock.  

“Yeah?  But you were going to, anyway, weren’t you?”

“With you guys,” said Danny, “and it’s no fun if it’s work.”

“Yeah… sorry about that.  Look, how about after all of this, we go chase down the river-spire and see if we can’t find those ice sprites again?”

Danny’s ears pricked forward, fur shivering out of his skin at the remembered winter-chill.  He soothed them away.  Stupid shape shifting not working right.  

“Promise?”

Tucker hunched his shoulders slightly.  “Well, we’ll try, anyway.”

A little too wise to the ways of creatures like Danny to trust even Danny with a promise.  Too bad.  Danny chittered, then shrugged.

“I’ll take it.  You know how to call me once you get Sam.”

“You say that like I didn’t just do it ten minutes ago.”

Danny shrugged.  “Hey, you never know.  Humans have bad memories.  That’s why there are all those rumors.”

#danny phantom #phic phight #phic phight 2023

[oswinpond]

My Clara Rewatch, Episode 1: Asylum of the Daleks

I'm going to ignore the silliness in this episode in favour of focusing on Oswin. Fabulous Oswin.

(But for one second, can I just say about how truly silly it is that the Daleks have a parliament? They're Daleks, they have nothing resembling a democracy. Are we supposed to believe they held a Dalek election? And why do they have an asylum when they exterminate anyone, including other Daleks, who show the slightest sign of imperfection by their standards?)

Anyway...

(Also I hate that Amy and Rory have this divorce plot offscreen, and the minisodes don't count. Springing this on us and then resolving it in one single episode was unnecessary. I love getting to watch Amy prove her love for Rory, but we've had plenty of that in s6 and s7a to come.)

Okay now to the good stuff: Oswin.

"Day 363. The terror continues."

Oswin has been on a Dalek planet for nearly a year and is still holding strong. It really speaks to the strength of her character. (Especially when you know...)

I love that Oswin is boarding up her little hiding hole with planks of wood, as if those will keep out Daleks. Bless.

We're first introduced to Oswin with the song "Habanera" from Carmen, the opera. Now I'm no opera connoisseur so I'm pulling from wikipedia here, like a proper English major: "It is set in southern Spain and tells the story of the downfall of Don José, a naïve soldier who is seduced by the wiles of the fiery gypsy Carmen. José abandons his childhood sweetheart and deserts from his military duties, yet loses Carmen's love to the glamorous torero Escamillo, after which José kills her in a jealous rage. The depictions of proletarian life, immorality, and lawlessness, and the tragic death of the main character on stage, broke new ground in French opera and were highly controversial."

I don't want to stretch too hard, but I think there are some obvious parallels to Clara's story in there, intentional or not. But I do think there's something to be said about how Oswin is dressed in that bright red and at one point has a red rose in her hair (oh hey the inspiration for my username!) in that classic spanish tango style. Maybe that was intentional. I mean, Eleven does call her Carmen at one point.

If Clara were on GBBO, she'd lose in the first round.

But is it not absolutely precious that she finds a way to spin everything in a positive light? "Made another soufflé... very nearly." That wasn't even close, my dear. "They came again last night. Still always at night. Maybe they're vampires." She finds a way to turn the trauma of her life, barricading herself from the universe's most deadly killing machines, into a little fantasy (a fantasy within a fantasy, you might say). "Happy birthday, mum. I did make you a soufflé, but it was too beautiful to live." Does it need saying?

The connection to her mom is already being established. Is Oswin's mother still alive, and this version of Clara got to have more time with her? Or did she lose her mother young, too, and is celebrating her birthday as one other way to stay connected to her humanity, her home?

Anyway, she sleeps in a hammock like a pirate. Hot. (And Oswin, like Prime Clara, likes to wear rings. Details.)

Carmen. Oswin. Roses.

I think this is the first time we hear the start of Clara's theme.

"I know a Dalek when I hear one, yeah." So Oswin Oswald, junior entertainment officer of the starship Alaska, has encountered Daleks before. She's seen things, she's done things. Even if this is her first trip out on this starship, somehow she's encountered Daleks. That's pretty cool. Why has Big Finish never done a story about Oswin? Get on that, BF. Phone Jenna.

There's a flavour of Everything Everywhere All at Once with this intro to Clara, this idea of what other versions of yourself would have done in different lives, with different choices and opportunities. Prime Clara was an unofficial nanny who always dreamed of travelling, and then became an English teacher while getting to travel the universe with the Doctor. Oswin became an entertainment officer on a starship, in order to travel the universe. Victorian Clara was both a barmaid and a governess, and immediately jumped at the chance to travel with the Doctor. Common threads between our Claras are very obvious: she's a people-pleaser, she likes to take care of others and make them happy, and she wants to see the world, the universe.

(Tangent: Is "Oswin Oswald" her full name from birth? Or was she also a Clara Oswin Oswald who ditched the "Clara" and started going by her middle name?)

-

DOCTOR: How can you hack into everything? It should be impossible. You're in a crashed ship! OSWIN: Long story. Is there a word for total screaming genius that sounds modest and a tiny bit sexy? DOCTOR: Doctor. You can call me the Doctor. OSWIN: I see what you did there.

The shameless Doctor/Clara flirting has officially started.

Side note, I love how Oswin's hacking genius is explained in The Bells of Saint John soon after this. It's not just Oswin being an entertainment officer who also just happens to be a tech genius. There's a specific plot reason for it, and now I wonder if Victorian Clara ever demonstrated any uncanny abilities with early technology...

-

Oswin saving Rory and interacting with the Ponds is very important to me, seeing as they're my three favourite companions of the show. (Plus, the fact that she flirts with Rory shows she has good taste. That said, if she had flirted with Amy I think the fandom would have combusted on the spot. Speaking for myself, at least.)

Now I totally hate the "I was going through a phase" line because come on we're past the point of describing bisexuality as a phase but thankfully they later fixed this, to some extent, by making it hard canon that Clara is bisexual and identifies as such.

-

Unrelated to Clara, but I adore how when Amy is hallucinating the people-Daleks, she hears a jazzy version of "Together or Not at All". Murray Gold strikes again with the genius.

-

OSWIN: Do you know how you make someone into a Dalek? Subtract love, add anger. Doesn't she seem a bit too angry to you? AMY: Well, somebody's never been to Scotland.

Aside from how funny I find this exchange, I just love how the one emotion we definitely haven't seen Oswin express the entire time is anger. She's shown us plenty of other regular emotions (and in fact, love–when talking about her mother) but we haven't seen a shred of anger from her.

Which is really important for what comes next... the big reveal that Oswin has been fully converted–at least physically–into a Dalek.

Part of me wishes she hadn't been converted. Imagine if we'd gotten Oswin escaping with Amy, Rory, and the Doctor? I would've had my three favourite companions (at least, a version of Clara) interacting as a trio. She could've stuck around for a few episodes before dying in time for the exit of the Ponds and the intro of Victorian Clara. I would've loved to see Jenna play off Karen and Arthur face to face.

But I have to come back to the fact that it's so perfectly set up. Right off the bat, Oswin's situation doesn't make sense. The lone survivor of the Daleks, alone for a whole year, baricading herself from them with planks of wood and surviving off soufflés that aren't edible and we never see her eating them, with ingredients she doesn't have. Every time we see her interact with the Doctor, it's through a very Dalek-like lens:

And of course, we can write that off the whole episode as this just being Dalek technology so of course it looks Dalek-like. But after the reveal, you realize that of course, this is her actual POV.

And most importantly, we need the Doctor to never know what Oswin looks like so that Victorian Clara's death, her repeating the iconic line, and the Doctor finding out her middle name all create that big gut punch moment for him. We as the audience know both characters are played by Jenna Coleman, but the Doctor isn't supposed to know. And when I do the next Clara episode I have a whole thing about why this is so important.

This just about breaks my heart. She finally sees the Doctor has arrived and she immediately runs to pack her suitcase. She's so committed to her self-imposed delusion that she still, to this moment, believes she's about to escape.

"Rescue me chin boy and show me the stars."

It's absolutely heartbreaking hearing her say "I'm hu–" and hearing the Dalek voice finish "–man". Genius, though. And then you hear a Dalek cry for the first time ever and it's so incredibly unsettling because they're the embodiment of evil, of hate, and crying is not Dalek. Sadness and heartbreak are not Dalek.

Oswin has been depicted as the exact opposite of Dalek. When she starts crying, it's the one time she says "exterminate", when she lets it in for the first time, and it's because she's angry about what they did to her. She spent a whole year hiding from the truth of the unbelievable trauma she's been put through, partly because it's too much to deal with, but also because if she lets herself face it she will feel that anger, and they'll start to win over her mind. Oswin lives in delusion to protect herself and her humanity.

"Eggs... stir... minate..." isn't just a fun twist. She turned "exterminate" into something as harmless as a soufflé recipe. Oswin took the one word Daleks use the most, the one that, on Doctor Who, is the epitome of evil, and turned it into something human, something positive, something creative (even if she sucked at it) and that she associated with the love for her mother.

Oswin spent a whole year fighting a full Dalek conversion, while the rest of her crew couldn't fight off a partial one, and she refused to let them turn her into a killer. The pure strength of her will is incredible.

I just adore these shots of Oswin crying, finally accepting the truth of what happened to her. Jenna knocked this out of the park.

As I said, crying is not Dalek.

And then she decides that no, she won't let in the anger, she won't let them win, ever. She'll save the Doctor, the biggest enemy of the Daleks, and die as Oswin, a human.

Then she says her iconic line, "Run you clever boy, and remember." She breaks the fourth wall which, correct me if I'm wrong, is the first time it's happened on the show, until Twelve comes in to make that one of his rare quirks.

That's my girl.

#clara oswald #elevenclara #doctor x clara #dw meta #sort of meta??? it's mostly rambling but I dunno #asylum of the daleks #allywatchesclarawho

[calico-heart]

And how about something for Nahte and Naago, because she seems to be a new addition to the polycule? "In joy", please!

Thanks so much for the request! :3 I really enjoyed writing it! Sorry this took so long! 🙏

(Ask me for a kiss! Help me get all 50!)

---

Nahte came in on a midnight wind – and that might have been very romantic anywhere but Gyr Abania, where the sand stirred into desert blizzards, blotting out the moon and stars, and even the keenest dryland hunters took shelter to wait out the storm. 

The stablemaster dared not berate a Warrior of Light, but Nahte saved them the trouble of stewing on it and apologized nonetheless once he’d tucked into the relative safety of Rhalgr’s Reach. “It was a foolish risk. I’ll take the aetheryte next time.”

“Would be an unfortunate way to lose you, Master Vhia.” They replied, “Especially after what all else tried and failed.”

He smiled and nodded. Grani nudged him, and Nahte gave its plated hide an absent pat. A Familiar spun from the fabric of an old reality needn’t fear the desert like mortals, and there’d been no real danger astride such a fearsome beast not bound to the laws that governed spoken races. But that, like many other things, had become difficult to talk about of late. 

“Do you think she’ll be happy to see us?” He asked. 

Grani blinked. 

Nahte shrugged, and started walking. “I have time to think of what to say.” As if he hadn’t spent the entire ride out rehearsing. “She’ll be well asleep at this bell.”

Tail twitching, he kicked at a stone. Wind whistled through the rocks high above, scattering the waterfall before it made landing in the oasis at the center of the camp. Now so close to his nebulous goal, he felt the weight of it too keenly. “I should have written ahead. This was a silly impulse. She might feel pressured, she could be busy." A grimace. "She’ll definitely be busy.”

Grani snorted, eerie gaze following a few soldiers as they trotted in a line on the opposite shore. The clink of its metal claws rattled softly on the stone beneath its feet.

“I could leave. Save us both the trouble.”

“Grnnnn…”

“You’re right. The scouts will mention I came by, and she’ll know I was here. It’d be worse not to say hello. I’m sure I can find some excuse, something – that won’t look desperate. We saved the world, didn’t we? And all the Reflections. What have we got to be insecure about?” A scoff.

Grani blinked twice. 

“I just – I don’t want her to feel like an afterthought.” Nahte sighed, a slow sound against the race of his thoughts that darted like dragonflies between a myriad of half-baked potential failures, each at odds with the last. “But I’m a damn Warrior of Light, aren’t I?” A smile that showed teeth, as the Moonkeeper rolled his shoulders and scoffed. “Disbanding the Scions won’t make me stand out any less. I’ll never just be an Adventurer again. The others – even her – all have homes, callings, to return to, or chase, and I’m…”

Nahte drug a palm across his face, growling quietly deep in his throat. “What am I without all the rest of it?” 

He stopped, and Grani stopped with him. 

The pit in Nahte’s stomach grew cold. He had saved the world. He was supposed to be strong, stable, proud of his success and confident in his own future. The people who stopped him in the streets wanted inspiration. Something to look up to. A man to live up to his own legend. She deserved at least as much as them – more, even.

And here he was pacing himself into a nervous wreck, there would be no hiding it from the keenness of her gaze. “No, this was a mistake. She won’t want to see me like this. I’ll tell the gatekeeper something came up, apologize, and – OW!”

With a hiss, Grani coiled back its head, prepared to nip him again. 

Nahte checked his shoulder for blood. “Do you have any idea what a hassle that jacket is to stitch?”

Snort.

“Well, it would be, if I couldn’t weave with aether. So.”

Huff.

Splatters of light gathered around Nahte’s palm as he lifted the savaged elbow to mend torn fabric. “What’s gotten into yo–”

Hissing, Nahte jumped back in time to avoid another wardrobe-dismantling strike from his steed. “Hey!”

Grani galloped forward, and, not entirely sure how to counteract it without causing more of a scene, Nahte pitched backward to stay out of reach of the metallic fangs so suddenly eager to change his wardrobe. And possibly eat him. 

“Willyoustopit”, he scolded, ears pinned as they danced like matador and bull. 

Grani did not ‘stopit’, and instead lunged with sudden swiftness. Jaws clamped down on Nahte’s cape as it trailed behind and yanked him, hard. 

“Ghuck!”

The beast sat, just as suddenly immobile, while its master struggled in vain to pull free.

“Did Emet let you get away with this?” Nahte snarked, tail lashing as he tugged the thick wool. He ears flicked against his skull, “Did Azem teach you how to do it?”

Snort.

Grani lifted its head, attention shifting to something behind Nahte.

“Oh no, I’m not falling for that one.” He growled, releasing his hold to put both hands on his hips. 

“Domestic squabble?” Teased a familiar voice at his back.

Nahte turned, too fast because his cape was still taut in Grani’s mouth, and staggered ungracefully into the realization that M’naago had waylaid them. 

Grani released him, and no amount of Miqo’te grace could spare the Warrior of Light an accelerated meeting with the ground at her feet. “Shit.”

She giggled, squatting down to pull his hood up and see his face. “I thought the scouts were mistaken. Why didn’t you write ahead?”

Pushing up on his knees, Nahte met her gaze and smiled weakly, ears drooping. “Naago.” He purred, reaching for a hand to hold in his lap. “You’re up late. Or – early?”

She indulged him, eyes wide and pupils round in the gathered dark. “Lucky for me. It’s not every day you get to see someone best the fabled Crimson Liberator. They’ll write songs about this, I’ll make sure of it.”

“Anything’s better than the one about the gigantoads.” He threw a scathing glower of mock-scorn in Grani’s direction. “I thought I might trade him in for a griffin.”

“They’re no better.” She lamented. “At least Grani doesn’t leave smelly little gifts on your bags when its cross about something.”

“Eugh. Don’t give him ideas.” Nahte rolled his eyes, smiling a little softer. Then, “...I’m sorry I didn’t give you fair warning. I’m sure you’re busy, I won't waylay your time. It was… I’m glad I got to see you, at least.”

“Fair warning?” M’naago’s ears flicked with amusement, but something went taut in her smile. A little crease appeared between her brows. Nahte felt suddenly very conscious of the sleepless lines beneath his eyes, and the fact he hadn’t had a chance to groom properly before facing her.

She chuffed. “I ask for warning regarding storms, bandits, and sisters. You are always a welcome surprise.”

Something jagged in his heart clenched, and Nahte turned his gaze to the side to hide the tears welling there so inappropriately. He only needed some seconds to blink them back, and come up with a clever retort. 

M’naago tugged him to his feet, and her free hand put affectionate, insistent pressure at his jaw, urging him to look at her. “It’s good to see you, Nahte. We have a lot to catch up on, eh? But first – and foremost,” her nose pressed gently to his and she purred, eyes half lidded. “Can I kiss you?”

He staggered out a quiet laugh. “I’d like tha–mngh–”

A soft mouth pressed to his, tugging at a lip before he could shut his mouth and dragging a reciprocal purr out of him, as she ran calloused fingers through dusty hair. 

Grani had the decency to cover its eyes with a tassel of barding. But truthfully Nahte didn’t care who watched. He was just happy to be held.

#ffxiv #m'naago #grani #wolnaago #wol x m'naago #fanfic #my fanfic #silver linings #nate #nate ffxiv #endwalker spoilers #50 kisses

[drakeheart]

GW2 CHARACTER DIRECTORY

A master list of my active GW2 characters, complete with small summaries of who they are and what they do. Expect mostly charr, with a handful of asura and the very occasional sylvari. Enjoy!

This list is a WIP, and will be gradually updated to include my full roster as I have the time and energy to write stuff down.

---CHARR---

AMARA DRAKEHEART // Ranger - Soulbeast // [tag]

Centurion of the Iron Legion, Warmaster of the Vigil, Commander of the Pact, and founder of Dragon's Watch. The main story gal, and surprisingly normal despite all that. Kind, strong-willed, and a lover of all animals, but especially her smokescale, Snips. Firmly retired after the events of EoD, and enjoying a long and well-earned vacation.

GAVROS SCROLLSEEKER // Guardian - Firebrand // [tag]

Esteemed Magister of the Durmand Priory. Once a fearless explorer, delving the unknown in pursuit of magical artifacts, he now prefers the comfortable life of the research division. An avid scholar, he's never found without a book (or three) in hand. Despite his years, he's still quite the sharp combatant, happy to dole out his finely-aged wisdom at the end of a mace.

FELIX LIGHTFORGE // Engineer - Holosmith // [tag]

A misfit soldier of the Blood Legion, and later the Pact. Born with physical defects that would have seen him cast aside if not for the support of his warband. To overcome his perceived weakness, he devoted himself to studying holosmithing techniques, building his own Photon Forge as well as a set of light-powered mobility aids.

SOREX GRAVEWHISPER // Necromancer - Reaper // [tag]

A grousy old necromancer. After losing her warband to a ghost ambush, she became fixated on harnessing the Foefire for herself, and was banished from the Legions for unapproved tampering with spectral magic. She now spends her days hunting down ghosts and exploring ancient ruins with her soulmate, Vitalis.

VEDRIX RUINWRAITH // Thief - Deadeye // [tag]

Ex-Ash Legion. Part of a special warband tasked with hunting down and eliminating Legion traitors, deserters, and other undesirables on the quiet. Eventually he found himself on the wrong side of a job, and rather than become hunted himself, went into hiding. He ended up in Elona, where he took up a living as a freelance bounty hunter. Years later, he still has a massive chip on his shoulder regarding his former bosses.

DECIMA SPIRESOUL // Revenant - Renegade // [tag]

Once a disabled gladium, discarded by the Legions after nearly-fatal battle injuries left her no longer fit to serve their purposes. Her scrape with death caused her to develop strange magics, driving her into seclusion for many years. Now, she serves the Dominion as a formidable Centurion of the Frost Legion. Eager to enact retribution on those who cast her aside, her heart is as cold as the frigid magic that suffuses her body.

LIFEBINDER RANUK // Ranger - Druid // [tag]

A wandering Olmakhan healer, with a special interest in rare plants. He is extremely adverse to combat, relying on the strength of his pets and defensive nature magic to escape dangerous situations. Despite this, he is often found deep in the wilds of Tyria, braving the unknown to get even a glimpse at a unique specimen.

SANDSHAPER URIAH // Necromancer - Scourge // [tag]

An elderly Olmakhan shaman, one of many charr killed in an Awakened attack on Althoma. His body was taken and later raised as a part of Joko's army, made to fight against his own kin in the Battle of Gandara. Now free of the lich's influence, he lives as a lonely hermit in the Kournan desert, too tormented by the guilt of what he'd done to return home.

---

[More TBA later.]

#character directory #gw2 #guild wars 2

[imaginarianisms]

“   Even in the darkest night, if you strike a match, the shadows will flee. This is a law of nature; the darkness yields to the light, no matter how small the flame. ”- Shaera to Dany

Daenerys looks at the Lady Velaryon from behind her shoulder as she turns to face her, with the green dragon Rhaegal snorting smoke and staring directly at Shaera. The Queen of Meereen slowly nods in agreement shuddering as she recalls the House of the Undying in Qarth, the way shadows grasped and clawed at her. It was only through Drogon that she was able to escape that place alive, leaving it a ruin. Clad in the colors of House Targaryen and a crown of amethyst and three dragons upon her silver gold hair with bells interlaced with them, Dany sits on her pillows. It was an exhausting law of nature, truth be told. Soon, House Targaryen was leaving Meereen and Dragon's Bay behind to begin her conquest of Essos... then Westeros.

After the rest of the slavers were crushed by Ser Barristan Selmy, the Unsullied and her supporters while she was away in the Dothraki Sea, the siege had been lifted momentarily but only enough for them to buy some time with the slavers' remaining soldiers establishing themselves further down the Ghiscari coastal roads. Victarion Greyjoy's Iron Fleet and the magic of the red priests of Rh'llor utterly crushed the Volantene fleet capturing hundreds of ships in the process and Tolos quickly being defeated by Victarion and the Meereenese fleet in Yaros and the Battle of Fire took longer than expected, that is, until Daenerys rode forth to Meereen with all the might of her now united khalasar, sworn to her under Vaes Dothrak. The arrival of the dragon queen and her horselords in such sheer numbers sent many of the slavers' armies into a frenzied panic, with many sellsword companies either deserting or turning their cloaks for her and the masters were forced to return to their walls. The Dothraki considered such a thing a sign of cowardice and they had been proven right.

She had just returned from making quick work of razing Yunkai to the ground and burning Astapor for their insolence leaving Ghiscar and the Skahazadhan open again. Elyria surrendered willingly by sending tribute; Tolos resisted and sent a pitiful excuse of an army up the demon road to blockade the Painted Mountains only to be taken quickly by storm by Victarion and the combined Meereenese fleet and later Yaros while the army was away. Qarth had been a short, bloodless siege for the city of merchants were meek, especially when she flew over the three walls of Qarth on Drogon. She had rejected all peace proposals to execute those who betrayed her including the Pureborn, and the Ancient Guild of Spicers, both of whom wished for her death, and Xaro Xhoan Daxos for the Qartheen had scorned her most when they betrayed her. Xaro, the thief so sick with greed, had told her that the Qartheen loved the clink of gold most of all so after she had her bloodriders drag him out of his palace she gave him all the gold he could ask for by pouring molten gold into his eyes, ears and mouth just as Khal Drogo gave her brother Viserys so many years ago, his face seared inward and spilling at her feet. She would have their complete submission and nothing else. She decreed that the Tourmaline Brotherhood give portions of their wealth to the common people, that all the thrones made of great woods, gold, amber, onyx, lapis and jade be destroyed so that the gemstones and woods be used for her supplies, trade routes and house the poor and seven of the Thirteen must be chosen by freedmen henceforth forevermore and left with several chests of riches, precious jewels and spices, treasure ships, eight hundred ships from the Tourmaline Brotherhood, all thirteen hundred ships from the Ancient Guild of Spicers that she'd taken after executing every single member in the guild, a thousand ships from the Thirteen and camelry, all the things that the Qartheen once denied her she took it herself. New Ghis surrendered shortly afterward and sent an elephant cavalry as tribute; it was wise to do so after all they'd heard. Qarth and her colonies Qarkash, Port Yhos and the island of Qal followed suit. The Jade Gates were hers. Daenerys then used a glass candle to gaze upon Asshai beneath the Shadow and touched the dragonhorn Dragonbinder gifted to her by Victarion Greyjoy after he had told her the dangers of King Euron I Greyjoy, how he'd traveled to Valyria, taken Valyrian armor and glories and riches beyond imagining and his intentions for the kraken to marry the dragon much to her horror, and read books on dragonlore and sorcery given to her by Marwyn the Mage of the Citadel. With every passing day, Daenerys Targaryen felt more like a dragonlord sorceress.

Now she has finally returned to Meereen to consolidate her forces and has destroyed the Sons of the Harpy once and for all and executing her royal husband Hizdahr zo Loraq for conspiracy and treason, sending ravens to every daughter of Valyria save Braavos, proclaiming herself as the successor to the Freehold, and all must submit or be brought fire and blood. She would leave Meereen to bring her enemies to heel. She would fight so that no child would ever know what it meant to be bought or sold, and she had every intention of continuing that fight here and beyond. She intended to marry off the sisters, daughters and cousins of previous khals still fiercely loyal to Khal Drogo's cause to her vassals so they could rule those cities in their husbands' names then have them killed in the frontlines of war, reward those loyal to her and place them in high positions in her armies and households, highborn or lowborn, and forbade the selling of slaves, theft, fighting among the Dothraki, hunting of animals during the breeding season, and exempted the poor and the clergy from taxation.

Daenerys' next destination was westward henceforth to Mantarys then Volantis where she intended to throw the masters she'd spared into moats by catapults before crushing them with siege weapons, use her elephantry to charge her enemies, break their ranks instilling fear and terror in them, fly over the Black Walls and set the Old City aflame and let the slaves revolt against their masters like the red priests preached. Most of the work would be done for her, really. Volantis likely didn't require much of a siege or a battle at all, it was simply set up for failure. High Priest Benerro had made certain of that, the red priest Moqorro had reported, with the way thousands of slaves and freedmen gathered in the temple plaza every night to listen to him scream of bleeding stars, a sword of fire that will cleanse the world, that Daenerys Stormborn was the one who was promised, from the fire of Khal Drogo's pyre she was reborn to remake the world, breaking the chains and liberating the slaves, crucifying the masters for their sins and her dragons were firemade flesh. With the Volantene fleet destroyed in Meereen, they would be unable to defeat her armada at sea and lost any advantage they had, the most prominent sellsword companies were either in Westeros as the Golden Company were currently fighting in Westeros for Aegon VI Targaryen, changed their cloaks to Daenerys or destroyed in Meereen, and the majority of the tiger cloaks followed the Lord of Light Rh'llor, and not to mention the popular support she already had amongst the followers of the red god. The siege would be short. Who knows, perhaps the grand revolution would already begin before she even arrived. The true doom of Volantis was its slaves, for it had more slaves than anywhere else in the known world outside of the recently liberated Slaver's Bay, and with the Masters utterly destroyed, Volantis was now the last major practitioner of slavery from the Bones Mountains to the Sunset Sea. Most of the slaves would know this. The rest would be left unsaid. Volantis and all her holdings along the Rhoyne would fall to Daenerys, with many of the city's elites slain.

After Volantis falls, she would reach a zenith, for there would be no one left on the continent of Essos to put up significant resistance to her after she brought the entire coalition of slavers and the most powerful of the Free Cities to heel. With the common people behind her, a few Westerosi knights, several sellsword companies, the Unsullied, a united Dothraki horde at her back, an elephantry, a camelry, large siege weapons taken from Dragon's Bay and some bought from Yi Ti, her armada, and three massive firebreathing dragons, no one in Essos could stop her. With Volantis and her holdings upon the Rhoyne defeated, she would claim the Rhoyne and sail up the river to capture the northern Free Cities of Qohor and Norvos after the others—the Quarreling Daughters Lys, Myr and Tyrosh—would wisely submit, end slavery and welcome her as House Hightower of Oldtown once welcomed Aegon the Conqueror.

Perhaps there was some level of merit to being raised in the Free Cities with Viserys. Dany had loved seeing the ships that came in and out of Braavos as a child so when she asked a sailor from the Summer Isles if she could have a ride on one, the man kindly agreed, and it was one of the most lovely experiences in her life but when she came back to port, Viserys was furious and she'd woken the dragon as he pulled on her hair, screaming that that man could have been one of Robert Baratheon's assassins and he'd kept a closer eye on her ever since, and she'd been grounded in the Sealord's palace for a month. The girl didn't necessarily mind, however, because she could play with the animals in the Sealord's menagerie. She remembered begging Viserys to attend the Festival of the Unmasking and he accepted once they'd received Ser Willem Darry's permission. Dany had worn a dragon mask of crimson and ebony fabric and purple silks that night while she had fun amongst the common people. That was one of the rare times that she enjoyed her girlhood. She'd loved to sit under the cherry blossom trees in Illyrio's manse in Pentos, where it was said that he'd gotten them from the fabled lands of Yi Ti. Dany recalled absolutely adoring the painted glass artisanry, the Myrish lace dresses but most importantly how she desperately wanted to attend academy to learn more about the world, but Viserys thought it would be too great a risk, but in subtle rebellion, she would sit closely nearby when a class was taken outside and listen very carefully. She remembered Viserys having them dye their hair with Tyroshi dyes in multiple different colors in shades of blue, red, green, indigo and even purple to always be one step ahead of Robert Baratheon's assassins. It'd taken his pride but it was better than having their throats slit; she'd wondered if the Tyroshi would make an intricate set of armor for him one day. She barely remembered Lorath and Norvos save for the freezing temperature, mazes created by the mazemakers and the three beautiful bells. Dany recalled having watched a ritual sacrifice to the Black Goat in Qohor in horror and fascination. She used to play in the Rhoyne in on one very long and hot summer day with other children while remembering being absolutely in awe with the Long Bridge and the Black Walls of Volantis while they were under the protection of a noble Volantene family known as the Qoheros, who were heavily involved with the gold and spice trade in the Far East and having three separate manses, one within the Black Walls, one in the city of Volon Therys and the last in the city of Valysar. She remembered playing on the beaches in Lys, running for hours along the sand under the palm trees and into the clear blue waters, and on the rare occasion, she'd managed to get Viserys to make castles of sand where they'd make their ancestral homelands in the sand and to come play with her in the water as she laughed when he'd carry her on his shoulders pretending she was the Queens Rhaenys or Visenya on dragonback; it had been one of their only fleeting happiest moments.

Using her knowledge of the cities and the magisters, archons, and merchant princes who once welcomed the last Targaryens in their homes (only for them to shut them out the longer Robert Baratheon the Usurper reigned) to her advantage, she intended on splitting her forces into two to strike northern and southern Essos at once before the rest of the smaller slaver cities formed another alliance against her. While Daenerys and her main host took Volantis, the Dothraki horde would ideally take both Qohor and Norvos. Daenerys had need for the beautiful colorful armor for her Westerosi knights and sellswords said to be superior to the armor made in Westeros and unrivalled Valyrian steel forges of the Qohorik, for they were the only ones in the world to this day who still possessed the knowledge on how to rework Valyrian steel. Archibald Yronwood had told her that the late Quentyn Martell's mother was Mellario of Norvos and she'd intended on sending Gerris Drinkwater home to Dorne with Quentyn Martell's bones while Archibald Yronwood stayed behind with her to give the Norvoshi noblewoman the news of her son's death intent on winning her and her ex husband Prince Doran Martell of Dorne's allegiances after explaining everything that had happened with Yronwood as her personal witness. Lorath did not practice slavery so she had no need to march further north, the Lorathi along with Saath the last city of the Sarnori people would submit to her rule without any complaints nor objections; she'd intended to use the famed scythed chariots pulled by teams of bloodred horses and driven by both men and women of Sarnor for it was custom for men and women to make war together; the kingdoms of Sarnor and the Valyrian Freehold were once allies, perhaps a renewal would be beneficial. Pentos had no army. It would offer no contest, though she had every intention of paying Magister Illyrio Mopatis a visit after the words that Tyrion Lannister had told her about his treachery. She would give Pentos to the Tattered Prince and ideally Tyrosh to Daario Naharis. The Three Quarreling Daughters would likely have little if any sellsword forces left to defend them and if she played her cards right, she would make the Lyseni family of Rogare powerful both in Lys and in Westeros as they had been centuries ago in the Lyseni Spring after the Dance of the Dragons, for her ancestor was no other than Larra Rogare. It was wise to have more than one financial center for a country as the Rogare Bank and Iron Bank were long ago, too. King's Landing prospered due to the Rogare Bank and increased trade with the Free Cities of Braavos, Lys, Myr, Pentos, and Tyrosh, and other cities and towns of the Seven Kingdoms greatly benefited as well, including Duskendale, Gulltown, Hull, Lannisport, Maidenpool, Oldtown, and White Harbor, and with the financial debt caused by the Baratheon Dynasty, it would be wise to bring more trade back to Westeros. After her conquest of Westeros was over, she had every intention of making trade in Westeros flourish once more. Perhaps she would begin her network of spies in Lys with the help of Daella Velaryon. Myrish lenses would be critical for her armies and scouts, too. Braavos was her final destination in Essos. House Targaryen owed a great deal of gratitude for the Braavosi, particularly the ailing Sealord of Braavos, and she'd have need of the Iron Bank; perhaps she could hire a faceless man or two. She had no intentions of using her armies nor her dragons on Braavos. Most of all, though, Daenerys Targaryen wanted to see her childhood home, that house with the red door and the lemon tree one last time before sailing for Westeros.

She'd already had plans for Victarion, the Iron Fleet and her armada to sail around Valyria while having already sent one of her bloodriders Aggo with a large section of her khalasar to threaten Qohor in the north while her main host of sellswords, her legions of Unsullied and freedmen, her two other bloodriders Jhogo and Rakharo and the vast majority of her khalasar and her dragons crossed the demon road she'd intended on renaming to the dragon road by right of conquest. With Yunkai and Qarth defeated, Daenerys intended to march across the dragonroad to defeat the last of the slavers' coalition. The Mantaryan army would be crushed and the city would fall soon after; she would punish the leaders of Mantarys for executing her envoys, leaving Volantis open. The Dosh Khaleen already called her The Stallion That Mounts The World whom her son Rhaego would have been before the Mother of Mountains and the Womb of the World after slaying her rivals Khal Jhaqo and Khal Moro with dragonfire avenging Eroeh and showing the Dothraki that she indeed was the Unburnt and uniting those who gathered in the Khalar Vezhven all into one khalasar.

She would never abandon her quest to end slavery in favor of the Seven Kingdoms, the slavers' vile retribution had done nothing but harden her resolve and Daenerys realized upon the Dothraki Sea that slavery must be ended everywhere root and stem before sailing for Westeros. Upon the Dothraki Sea, she knew that she was above all else a dragon, not meant to rule Dragon's Bay nor Westeros, but all of it, she was Valyrian and of the blood of Old Valyria and as such she would claim all of the realms of the old Valyrian Freehold and then Westeros like her ancestors Aegon, Rhaenys and Visenya Targaryen the Conquerors. This time, however, it was for a much nobler cause.

Daenerys was finally ready to leave Meereen and Dragon's Bay behind with a set of instructions for Skahaz mo Kandaq the Shavepate who she'd commanded to stay behind with her trusted Meereenese officials Galazza Galare the Green Grace of Meereen and several of her Brazen Beasts in the city after sending her cupbearers home to their families and pyramids. The Ghiscari and the Qartheen were now her vassals and Volantis was next. Dany had taken both Daario Naharis whom she'd recently freed in Yunkai and Irri into her bed that night to relish in their victory.

The armor and saddles she'd commissioned Tyrion for her dragons were just about complete and she'd need to talk about breeding them with him at some point. The ships in her armada were unlike any other, built like swan ships and a combination of techniques of both the Velaryons from their Summer Islands heritage, the fastest ships in the known world and the Greyjoys from the Ironborn reavers. Incredibly quick upon the open seas, it would greatly benefit her and her armies.

Dany would miss these gardens, her persimmon tree and the view of Meereen. The Red Keep of King's Landing was her true home, however. Drogon and Viserion flew above the Great Pyramid and over the armada that had recently just been completed, the red three headed dragons on black sails accompanied by ships of the silver Velaryon seahorse on teal, great ships of red Celtigar crabs on white, ships of the Greyjoy kraken on black, ships of the golden Tyrell rose on green and ships of the red and yellow Martell sun and spear on orange making her heart swell with proud joy.

She'd invited Shaera Velaryon who'd been the closest thing she ever had to a mother and one of her fiercest supporters since the beginning to her gardens in the queens' apartments to discuss important matters before they set sail westward to Volantis.

❝I have decided that as a reward for your loyalty to House Targaryen, I will grant House Velaryon and House Celtigar access and a base of its own in the Jade Gates as your ancestor Corlys Velaryon the Sea Snake and their ancestors sailed past them centuries before to contact Yi Ti, Leng and beyond to bring eastern trade back to Westeros. Now... Lady Shaera, do you perchance recall the House of the Undying in Qarth?❞ the Khaleesi asks, hoping that the other woman did, because it left bitter memories. The Warlocks were not forgiving, yet while she was in Qarth they were no more. ❝The warlocks were trying to consume me... but in that house of dust I received many visions. One of them... I recall discussing it with Ser Jorah. My brother Rhaegar stood with the Princess Elia Martell with my nephew nursing. He said that his son Aegon was 'the prince that was promised and his is a song of ice and fire' and 'there must be one more, the dragon has three heads'...❞ Rhaegal crawls forward, neck lowering slightly, bronze eyes changing from contracted slits to dilated slits and gives a friendly chirps as a greeting, almost as if asking for pets should Shaera be bold enough as the sun's rays illuminate his scales an emerald sheen, tail lashing. Daenerys looked visibly confused, her brows furrowed. Quaithe's visitations didn't help matters either.

❝I've half a mind to bring it up to Marwyn the Mage of the Citadel but I ask you first. You once told me you served my mother the Queen Rhaella Targaryen. You knew my brother well. Did Rhaegar ever speak to you of such things when he was alive? Lord Tyrion tells me that there is a pretender waiting to take my throne in Westeros as we speak. According to him the exile Griffin Lord Jon Connington assists him and Magister Illyrio Mopatis of Pentos has manipulated and lied to me, raising this pretender in secrecy and safety while he sold me to Khal Drogo. He claims to be my nephew Aegon VI Targaryen from the grave.❞ Her voice wavered with pain and venom. She had always wanted a family for so long she would've done anything for it. Was this truly her nephew back from the grave? Rhaegal screeched, several rows of teeth peeking out from his gumline as he growled, taking to the sky to join his brothers, ❝I believe that Rhaegar was right. The dragon has three heads. Three riders for three dragons. Two husbands, perhaps. Long ago, as I'm sure you know, Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen and the Blacks called for dragonseeds, Targaryen bastards and descendants to ride other dragons to war promising knighthood, lands and wealth to anyone who would master a dragon. I intend to do the same. I may be their mother, but there has never been a rider who mounts more than one dragon; I will require control over the other two dragons if my conquest of Westeros is ever going to succeed like Aegon and his sisters have before me. Lady Shaera, whom would you suggest be capable of riding Rhaegal and Viserion? Whom would you suggest would be capable of such a task? I am the last trueborn Targaryen.❞

@velcryons || some meme idr

#answered. #velcryons #daenerys targaryen. || ic. #interactions; shaera velaryon. #dynamic; daenerys & shaera. #v; the winds of winter. #/ slavery mention #/ long post #i spent days on this mf & debated on whether or not to put this under a readmore for length but lemme know if you want me to SDFFGHLITDDFG

[lelanida]

Happy 1st anniversary to my favorite sad grown-ups of all the time!

To celebrate such date I decided to redraw one of my first sky fanarts I ever made. The fanart that literally breathed live into this blog. But this time I used all headcanons I made about them and my human Rose design.

Do you wanna see my headcanons.

Of course you do :) (Long post under the cut)

🌹 Rose

You have already seen how a man beaten by life takes care of an innocent child dynamically. But are you ready for the fact that a child will take care of six men beaten by life?

So basically all the human Rose lore is: "The Rose appeared as a human in the Starlight Desert because the Little Prince treated her like a human."

She has a difficult character. Once she argued with Narcissist for so long that it ended in both of them being hoarse.

Has problems with her new body. Especially with walking. That’s why, Soldier usually carries her on his shoulders

Likes to write small poems in her free time.

💡 Lamplighter

Lamplighter used to be a very popular profession. There were a lot of lanterns and a lot of lamplighters around. But with the beginning of the storm, their number began to decrease.

It's safe to say that our Lamplighter is like a unicorn. The last of its kind.

He was the last thing left of the old Golden Wasteland. People saw him as a light of hope. He was under a lot of pressure.

He didn't fell. He jumped.

In the Starlight Desert, he still feels the importance of his work. But he is not quite sure why.

🏏 Gloat

Becoming a Valley champion was their childhood dream.

Even if they say they’re fond of more elegant activities, like skating or performing they’re a genius hockey player

Seriously, when this mx gets on ice they’re ready to KILL

Narci is really competitive.

Unlike any other champion in Valley Narci lived really far from colosseum. It was hard for him to get on trainings.

✨Star collector

Timid Bookworm’s cousin. But they aren’t really close. The only thing that united them was summer vacation at the Sanctuary Islands.

His business was really successful! Collector traveled across entire sky world selling stars to people.

Considers himself as №1 enemy of Forgotten Ark.

🍵Soldier

I think @ slink-a-dink already told us everything we need to know about this man.

🕊 Ruler

First one to get to the Starlight Desert. Owns reputation of everyone’s grandpa.

All living things like him for some reason. Even desert’s space manta likes to rest under his island.

Atheistic. GOD CANNOT BE A BIRD.

Ah yes. He has a favorite bird. Their name is Hamlet. Don’t tell the others.

📖Geographer

Has an ADHD. That’s the reason why it was extremely hard for him to concentrate on his work in the Vault.

Easily gains new interests and hobbies.

Daydreams about traveling across the sky world A LOT.

Keeper of all table games the gang plays.

#sky children of the light #thatskygame #sky cotl #season of the little prince #tlp season beloved

[autumnslance]

Prompt #6: Onerous

(Cut for death content; early A Realm Reborn, right after Ifrit...)

Thancred wondered where East Thanalan’s infamous storms were now, with the sun beating on his head, sweat sliding down the back of his neck as he watched the grim proceedings. Rain coming from the Shroud would not only be cooler, but far more appropriate.

Aeryn rested in Camp Drybone after her ordeal. He wanted to ensure her burns were tended and other wounds healed at least in part, before subjecting her to teleportation and chocobo rides. He hoped her expressive eyes returned to their clear gray, not the muddled, confused slushy color he had seen as she swayed in the heat of Ifrit’s aftermath, clutching crystallized fire to her chest.

And Thancred needed to be here for this duty. He had failed this mission—failed her—in every other way. This was the very least he could do, and gods damn him it would never be enough.

She was not even aware—yet, she would have to be told this wretched truth at some point, sooner rather than later—of what was happening in this hidden little gully in the midst of the desert. Her Blessing had protected her, more than Thancred had, certainly, thanks to allowing himself momentary distraction, less haste than he ought to have found.

The officer’s axe thunked solidly against the wooden block, a head dropping into the basket. A lament to Thal rose from the handful of Immortal Flames, a plea to the Twelve to reclaim the lost man’s soul and see him safely to their halls.

The next tempered soldier—gods, she couldn’t have even seen her twentieth summer yet—was brought up by two guards with tears cutting through the dirt and sweat on their faces. She was drugged, as were all the victims, insensible to what was happening.

It was better this way, Thancred reminded himself. They didn’t need to know what was coming. And practically, it prevented them from calling out to their new deity.

At least that was the justification. No one wanted to deal with their thrashing and scheming, their screaming and pleading. This task was onerous enough.

“You needn’t be here, Archon,” the medic said quietly as he stepped next to Thancred.

The axe thunked again. The lament filled their ears. The scent of blood and offal was becoming unbearable and they were barely through a quarter of the lost squad, the heat and buzzing vilekin making it worse.

Thancred shrugged. If Minfilia or Y’shtola found out, he’d get an earful. They could trust the Flames to this. “How fares Aeryn?”

“Well enough,” the medic sighed. “Exhausted and a tad dehydrated mainly, but she’s bouncing back quickly. She’ll be able to travel by morning, but for now she’s sleeping easily.”

“Good,” Thancred said. “She’ll need that rest, especially once word of her victory spreads.”

The medic nodded, his gaze far away as the next lost soul was dragged to the block. “So long as that’s all that spreads.”

The axe thunked again.

#FFXIVWrite2022 #Final Fantasy XIV #Lyn Writing #A Realm Reborn #Thancred Waters #Immortal Flames #Aeryn Striker #Execution #The horror of tempering

[sombersummerskies]

A Champion's Love: Chapter 20

Chapter 20: The Gerudo Desert Word Count: 3695 CW: Minor violence

Want all the chapters? -> Masterlist

~~~ <> ~~~

“I have fought in hundreds of battles, I have defeated countless amounts of monsters, I battled a horrifying beast from the depths of my nightmares known as Calamity Ganon and won, but this heat is going to be the death of me.”

Sandy dunes were all your eyes could see for miles upon miles. You’d only just left Kara Kara Bazaar, but the heat of the desert made every second within it feel like an eon. Lifting your hand, you flick sweat off of your forehead and grunt as you trudge through the sand.

If horses were fit to travel in such conditions, you’d be on Persephone’s back right this instant, but sand was not something you were keen to torture your horse with. Instead, you’d left her and Storm in the care of the canyon stable.

“I can see Gerudo Town in the distance, it won’t be long now,” Zelda replies, but you can tell the heat is getting to her as well.

Back in Kakariko village, you’d left your Zora armor in the safe hands of Impa, exchanging it for your trusty Champion tunic. You’d assumed it’d be light enough for the desert, but you’d forgotten exactly how humid it could be during the day, and even your airy tunic wasn’t enough to stay cool.

“I’m going to have to buy some of that vai clothing they sell in town,” you grumble, tugging at your collar and grimacing at how the cloth fabric stuck to your body, “anyways, what’s the plan once we arrive?”

“Well, I’ve scheduled a meeting with Chief Riju, once inside town we’ll have to wait until we’ve been presented to her to propose her training in becoming a pilot,” the princess begins to explain as she marches along side you, “I do predict a handful of complications that may arise however. First of all, Riju is still quite young, and I’m unsure if she or her guardians will be comfortable with her assuming this position. Second, it may be harder for us to strike a deal with the Gerudo than it was one hundred years ago. Urbosa was a dear friend to my mother and treated me as if I were her own kin, but Riju is not a descendent of Urbosa. Urbosa had no heirs when she passed away, from what Impa explained to me Riju is the great-granddaughter of a relative Urbosa. I believe they were cousins? This relative was made chief after Urbosa’s sudden passing at the height of the calamity.”

You nod along as you listen, “her guards are very protective of her, especially Buliara, that’s the one who accompanies her most. Ever since her mother passed she’s been under pretty much constant supervision.”

The two of you discuss strategy as you walk through the dunes, planning various ways to suggest the position of pilot to Riju and ways to convince her guardians as well. The sight of the entrance to Gerudo Town is a welcome one, and you wave at the two guards who stand to protect it.

One of them waves back, the other simply stands with both her hands on her spear, not even bothering to look at you or the princess.

‘Strange…’ you wonder, an uneasy feeling bubbling in the back of your mind.

As you near the town, you can already hear the lively sounds of the market, and the scent of food begins to waft towards you. Feet away from the entrance, though, you jut your arm out in front of the princess to stop her.

“Whatever is the matter?” she asks, clearly anxious to get within the perimeter of the town.

“Something feels wrong…” you mutter, “something’s off.”

The guard who didn’t wave tightens her grip on her spear.

There’s a flurry of action in a matter of a second. You lunge in front of Zelda and reach behind yourself to pull out your shield and the Master Sword as the guard bounds forward as well. With a grunt, you deflect the end of her spear and kick your foot out, your heel making direct contact with her side.

You hear her laugh as she snaps her fingers and reveals her true form to you: a Yiga foot soldier. 

Wide eyed, you hear the thudding of feet against sand and turn around, seeing half a dozen other Yiga clan members sprinting towards you and Zelda.

“Get inside the town, it’s an ambush-” you instruct her, “I’ll handle this, let Riju and Buliara know there’s been a breach in security.”

She attempts to argue back but you harden your gaze, and she nods before running into the town and calling out for help.

You lock eyes with the second guard who’d been standing at the entrance. “You’re not one of them, are you?” you ask hastily, the other foot soldiers approaching quickly.

She shakes her head no, lifting her spear into a defensive position.

“Make sure the princess is safe, I can hold my own,” you continue.

She dashes off, and you can’t help but smirk as you turn back to the Yiga who are running towards you, curved swords and bows drawn.

“You all have given me the perfect chance to practice an ability I’ve yet to perfect,” you say loudly, tossing your shield aside.

Grinning wickedly, you lift your hand into the sky and press your fingers together, before snapping. Loudly snapping.

Immediately, there are simultaneous strikes of lightning feet before you, filling the air with an electric crackle and making contact with the foot soldiers who were now stopped in their tracks. They double over, groaning as the effects of electrocution course through their bodies.

“Urbosa’s Fury. Deadly effective, must be used carefully,” you muse, “run back to that little hideout of your’s, Calamity Ganon is dead and there’s no reason for you all to kill me anymore.”

“You killed our master!” one of them hisses at you, unable to stand.

“Ah, there is that…” “We’ve been watching you, feeble champion,” another sneers behind the mask, the one that’d attempted to attack you in the first place, “you and that fish prince make a rather sorry couple.”

Your shoulders tense as you turn to look back at them, still kneeling in the sand after your kick to their torso. Frowning, you reach down and grasp them by the tuft of hair that sticks out on the back of their mask, tugging them up by it.

“What did you just say?” you question, staring at the inverted-eye mask.

They laugh weakly, wincing from the way you’re holding them, “we’ve been watching you. Even though Master Kogha is gone, we will continue his life’s work. You’ve not seen the last of the Yiga Clan.”

You roll your eyes, “yes, I know that much, but the prince- you’ve been watching me and the prince-”

Before you can continue to question them they clap their hands, causing a cloud of smoke to appear. You cough and wave the smoke away, but the foot soldiers are all gone by the time your visibility is cleared.

You look all around, but you’re left alone out in the sand, the sun still looming over you.

“_____!”

Looking back to the town entrance, Zelda comes running out, a squadron of Gerudo guards following closely behind her. “_____, are you alright?”

Frowning, you stare at the spot of sand where the foot soldier had been so intensely that you very well could’ve set it on fire with just your gaze. With a clearing of your throat, however, you nod your head and turn towards the princess.

“Yeah… yeah, I’m fine, I’ll tell you about it later, let’s just go meet with Riju.” you reply gently, sheathing the Master Sword and walking through the entrance of the town.

…

“So… you’d like to select a new representative of the Gerudo to pilot Naboris. You have an ideal member of each society in mind, for example the prince of the Zora who you have already trained before arriving here. And the candidate who you have selected to pilot the Divine Beast is… me?”

Both you and the princess stand before Riju, and have just explained your past week of progress and plans to the young Gerudo girl. 

“That is correct, Chief Riju,” Zelda replies, “it is a part of my plan to rebuild Hyrule now that the calamity is over. I’d like to hire architects and workers from all parts of Hyrule to aid in the rebuilding of the castle, and the first event I’d like to hold once the center of the castle has been built is my coronation, and I’d like to have four new pilots there to bestow the title of Champion upon to represent the four corners of Hyrule alongside me.”

Riju nods approvingly, “that’s very ambitious.”

The princess smiles, “that’s the same thing King Dorephan of the Zora said.”

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t intrigued,” the chief muses, leaning her head against her hand as she relaxes back into her seat, “however, I am very curious about the process of becoming a pilot. And what being a pilot would entail. Not to mention, I’m sure my guards will have their own concerns.”

Besides her, Riju’s head guard Buliara nods her head, a frown deep-set on her painted lips. “Yes. I’m unsure if I would approve of our chief taking on such an endeavor. I’ve sworn an oath to keep her safe, and if her safety cannot be ensured while inside of the Divine Beast, we will simply have to refuse.”

You swallow nervously as Zelda begins to explain how one becomes a pilot, based mostly on the trials you’d gone through with Sidon.

“It began with us finding a pedestal, and if you allow me to show you on the slate there’s already a marked point within the East Gerudo Mesa that I believe will start us with these trials. At this pedestal we will be shown three locations, and at each of these locations is a challenge similar to one Chief Urbosa would’ve faced one hundred years ago. After completing all three…” the princess pauses, and you can tell she’s bracing herself for the final part of the explanation. 

“After the three trials, if the same applies here as it did to Ruta with Prince Sidon’s trials, you will be summoned to the Divine Beast Vah Naboris and will be brought inside of it, in the form of a memory. It’s hard to explain, but these machines are alive in a way. When the prince of the Zora was brought inside of Ruta… he faced the blight of Ganon from one hundred years ago that Champion Mipha had faced. In order to become the pilot of the Divine Beast, he had to defeat the blight in battle.”

Buliara’s grip on her claymor tightens, and your shoulders tense as she speaks.

“Pardon me, princess, but are you suggesting that we may have to send Chief Riju into battle?” she asks, her tone sharp and challenging.

“If she accepts, then yes, this may be the case,” Zelda replies, using the tone that she reserved for her most diplomatic of talks.

The head guard scoffs at this, and you frown.

“Well if Riju won’t become a pilot, then who would you suggest?” you interject, challenging Buliara with a semi-sarcastic voice. 

This was a mistake.

In a flash of movement, you suddenly find yourself at the business end of her golden claymore. Towering over you, Buliara glares as she tips her weapon up, the end of the blade a mere inch from your face.

“You will speak to me with respect, vai. I care not that you are a Champion. You are in the presence of the Gerudo Chief and the best warrior the Gerudo have had since Lady Urbosa herself. So I suggest you hold your tongue,” she announces, her gaze boring into you.

Beside you Zelda stares wide eyed.

You, however, are unimpressed. You flex your fingers before lifting your arm, about to wrap your hand around the handle of the Master Sword, being interrupted at just the last second.

“Stop,” Riju commands, her voice loud and clear despite her small figure, “Hylian Champion, you will refrain from drawing any kind of weaponry while you are a guest in my throne room. And Buliara, stand back, put the claymore away please.”

The guard sneers, before dropping her arm and bringing the claymore to her side, the blade’s tip clanking loudly against the stone floor.

“I will have to consider your proposition, and discuss it with my guards. It’s a tall task to ask of a leader, especially since I am so young,” the chief explains, leaning forward in her seat, “I am intrigued by it though. It would be an honor for me to follow in the footsteps of Lady Urbosa. Perhaps I’ll need some training first before fully considering this.”

“But Riju-” Buliara begins, but the young chief holds up her hand to silence the guard.

“We’ll discuss this later,” Riju replies, “for now, please have someone prepare lodging for Princess Zelda and Champion _____. You both may stay here in Gerudo Town as we deliberate and decide on what to do with the piloting expedition you’ve brought forth for us.”

Zelda nods, bowing her head, “thank you very much, Riju. Whatever you decide to do in regards to the Divine Beast, I support you. I would never force the job of pilot upon you, I’m leaving the choice up to you.”

After a few more moments of deliberation, and some very icy glares shared between you and Buliara, another guard by the name of Bertri steps into the room and at the request of Chief Riju she’s the one to escort you and the princess to your guest room. It’s another room within the Gerudo palace, on a lower floor than where Riju stays. You’re thankful for the architecture, the adobe clay walls helping to fend off the heat of the outdoors.

The room itself is outfitted with two beds, soft mattresses with intricately decorated bedding and pillows atop them.  A plush rug covers part of the clay flooring and an arched window has been carved out of the wall which gives you a view of the marketplace, but there are curtains that can be drawn for privacy. To the side is a separate room with a wash basin and a shallow tub for bathing.

As you set your bag down on the bed Zelda speaks up behind you.

“Why is it so hard for you to be diplomatic?”

You snort, turning to look at her with a raised brow, “I am very diplomatic, I’ll have you know. I get along well with everyone… it’s just Buliara.”

The princess crosses her arms, “if I remember correctly I don’t recall you getting along very well with Revali, either.”

You roll your eyes, “Revali takes his problems out on me and everyone else around him. He is- … was… a piece of work.”

Your voice falters when you correct the tense you’d been speaking in. Zelda’s eyes soften and she lowers her arms.

“I miss them too, you know,” she murmurs, “but they’re at peace now.”

The corner of your lips quirks up into a smile. “Oh… speaking of peace.”

“Oh?” she replies, sitting down on her and untying the laces of her boots.

“Those Yiga soldiers said something odd after I beat them in battle,” you answer, flopping backwards onto your own bed.

“Oh dear,” the princess sighs, “what is it that they want now?”

Your smile quickly turns downward into a frown, “they said something about Sidon. They claim to have been watching me- watching us.”

Zelda’s brow furrows, “do you perhaps think they were bluffing? To get your guard down.”

You shake your head, “no… they mentioned… they mentioned us being a ‘couple’. Neither of us have made any public comment on the state of our relationship. So… someone had to have been watching to know.”

The princess gasps, practically jumping off of the bed, “if they’ve been watching us then- then that means they know of our efforts to train new Champions. You don’t think that… well, you don’t think they’d attempt to interfere in any way, do you?”

You mull this over in your head. On the one hand, with their leader Kohga disposed of it would be easy to believe that the Yiga are currently lost. Without a leader to give instructions they’d experience a vacuum of power and potentially become scattered as disagreements arrive. On the other hand, they were still intact enough to potentially be spying upon you and attempting to ambush both you and Zelda at the entrance of town.

“... I don’t know,” you sigh, throwing your head back onto one of the pillows.

“... perhaps we ask Riju and Buliara what their thoughts on the matter are. The Gerudo would know best whenever it comes to issues of the Yiga, after all,” Zelda suggests.

You let out a deep sigh.

“... _____?” Zelda asks.

“Yes?” you reply. 

“There’s a bird in the window.”

Your head springs up and you look in the same direction as she is. Perched in the window was a large pale blue bird adorned in silver jewelry. A letter bag was strapped securely to its body and it chirped happily at you.

“Archimedo!” you gasped, bounding off of the bed and running over to him.

“Isn’t this the message carrier you and Sidon used to communicate?” Zelda asks as you take the letter out of his bag. 

You nod as you unfurl the parchment.

My dearest, _____

I know it wasn’t all too long ago when we exchanged our goodbyes, but I must admit that I am struggling greatly to have you leave my mind. It seems as though from dawn when I awake to the eve when I lay to rest it is you who remains at the forefront of my thoughts.

It’s been rather inconvenient for those around me, I must admit. Muzu has had to chastise me twice this week for becoming distracted during our council meetings. Father has been testing my ability to oversee a meeting on my own as he has been in talks with architects for the last few days. Perhaps it is a test of my ability to lead, as well. If Muzu had any say I suppose he’d give me a failing grade.

Just yesterday I had sparring practice with Bazz, who being a childhood friend could easily tell that something was rather ‘off’ with me. Since Bazz is also aware of the situation we find ourselves in, he humored himself by mocking and teasing me during the duration of our practice, much to my chagrin.

Regardless, I don’t mind their attempts to embarrass me. I mind not that memories of you distract me, or that visions of your smile and echoes of your laughter flood my thoughts all day. It’s a rather pleasant predicament I find myself in, actually. I can’t recall that I’ve ever been this smitten before. Though I think that father may be catching on as he’s made a few passing comments about you.

I hope you and Zelda are faring well on your travels and that the heat of the desert hasn’t been too unkind. I also hope that your discussions with their chief don’t go south. Should they need a second opinion, perhaps let them know that I would give a shining review of both you and the princess.

Nonetheless, this is where I’ll leave you for now. If you receive this letter in the morning then I hope you’re blessed with a wondrous day. If this reaches you in dusk I hope that your night is peaceful and you rest well.

Sincerely yours,

Sidon

You trace your fingers over the blue ink at the bottom of the page. ‘Sincerely yours’. The prince had signed his letters in a similar fashion before, but this time it felt different. As if it had taken on a new meaning.

“Wellll,” Zelda said in a sing-songy voice, clearly expecting the details.

You roll your eyes at her and fold the letter, “he said he wishes us well on our expedition and that our talks with Riju go as planned.”

She purses her lips, “oh come now, I know there was more in that parchment than just that. Won’t you regale your best friend with all the details of your love?”

“Oh you are just so dramatic,” you tease her, playfully slapping her arm with the letter, “alright. He also said… that he’s been thinking of me. So much so that it distracts him from his meetings with council and from his sparring.”

“How scandalous,” she giggles, “oh. I wish I had someone like that in my life.”

“There’s plenty of people who love you, Zelda,” you reply, but she shakes her head.

“You know what I mean. Romantic love, but not just someone who says they love me. Someone who sees me beyond the crown or my sacred powers or my position of power. Someone who loves me for me,” she sighs, wrapping her arms around herself, “you know how it was before the calamity. I was too busy with my studies and focusing on my powers to bother with something as silly as dating. Other teenage girls could. But not me. Not us.”

“It’s different now, though,” you say as you sit beside her, “the calamity is over. Everyone has a someone, we’ve just got to find you yours.”

She gives you a sideways smile, “I suppose. But I think you’ve taken all of the charming princes Hyrule has to offer.”

“You don’t have to marry a prince. You could do something scandalous. Like marry a soldier,” you laugh.

The princess laughs in return, opening her mouth to reply before being swiftly interrupted. There’s a knock at the door.

You stand and open it, being greeting by a tall Gerudo soldier who bows her head at both you and Zelda.

“Sav’aaq. Chief Riju has invited you to dinner. She says that a decision has been made.”

~~~ <> ~~~

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#botw #breath of the wild #totk #tears of the kingdom #loz #fanfic #x reader #reader insert #female reader #prince sidon #prince sidon x reader #sidon x reader

[blackestnight]

3: conditioned

Prompt: Temper

Word count: 1605

(a state of emotion; a process of heating and cooling, of teaching a weapon to bend so it does not break)

Hanami’s a bit of a hardass.

The sand outside of Mord Souq was almost as merciless as the sun, and still not quite as merciless as Hanami.

It was good practice. Ryne had a measure of experience with combat, but the style of knife-fighting she’d learned from Thancred—prioritizing speed over strength—had very little to do with what Hanami would call proper swordplay, even if she wouldn’t call his gunblade a proper sword, either. And Gaia, regardless of whatever knowledge of magic or weapons she could drudge up from her subconscious, had the body of a socialite: wholly unused to fighting, particularly with a weapon as heavy as her hammer. The sand, which shifted under every step, gave them both an extra challenge, requiring more endurance and more careful movements than practicing on the stones of Fort Jobb.

At least it made for a softer landing than the fort’s cobbles would have when, once again, Ryne tried to check her swing and twist away from a blow she should have parried, tripped over her own feet and fell ass-over-elbows down the dune. Gaia, unprepared for her own momentum, lost her grip and sent her hammer skidding away across the sand and herself falling down on her forearm.

Hanami, from the relative shade of the base of the wall, sighed. Ryne at least had the sense to fling her sword away when she realized she was going down, and Gaia had opted for a sore elbow rather than a sprained wrist.

Gaia sat up, but rather than go after her weapon she picked up a loose fistful of sand and flung it down toward Ryne with a shout. “Will you stop that!” she said, struggling to her feet so she could give a suitably imperious cross of her arms. “I might as well be sparring with a ghilman for all the good you are.”

“I’m sorry,” Ryne said, sitting up in turn and rubbing her calves. “I’m trying! You don’t have to yell at me, especially since you keep swinging too hard. Hanami said—”

“I don’t care what Hanami said,” Gaia declared. “Since all she’s doing is sitting on her arse and drinking harcot juice!”

It was water, actually, but Hanami didn’t move to defend herself. Instead she watched the progressive tightening of Ryne’s jaw, and the flush that was working its way up Gaia’s neck, and the sheen of sweat that had plastered their hair to both of their foreheads, leaving salt crusted on their collars.

“Well at least she isn’t trying to knock my head off just to feel better about herself!” Ryne snapped, scrambling to her feet with her little fists clenched, and Hanami heaved another sigh.

“Stop,” she said—not a shout. It didn’t have to be. Her voice carried when she wanted it to, cutting through the desert air like cold steel, and both Ryne and Gaia froze. “Come here.”

They trudged back across the sand with heavy feet and hunched shoulders, detouring to retrieve their respective weapons and lining up before her like recruits before the guard captains, pointedly looking in opposite directions. Gaia was visibly fuming, and Ryne’s eyes looked bloodshot, her cheeks pink enough to match her hair with sun and fury.

Hanami set down her waterskin, straightened up from her lean against the wall, and held out her hands. “Weapons. You are done with them for today.”

Gaia’s lip curled but it was Ryne who protested, stricken. “What? No!” she said, clutching the gunblade in two trembling hands. “You promised you’d teach us, we’ll do better—”

“Oh please,” Gaia said. “Just because she can’t mold us into perfect little soldiers, she’s going to, what, ground us? Slap us on the wrists? Whatever.” She let her hammer drop to the sand with a thud and sniffed, tossing her bangs from her eyes. “Like I care.”

In counterpoint to Gaia’s upturned nose, Ryne bowed her head, and slowly held out the gunblade, balanced in both hands. Hanami took it from her, scooped up Gaia’s hammer by the handle, and laid them both out by her pack before digging a pair of glass bottles from the bag where she’d left them to cool.

“Drink,” Hanami said, holding a bottle out to each of them.

Ryne, still with her jaw clenched and her lip trembling, took her bottle with all the enthusiasm of a kicked puppy, but Gaia rolled her eyes. “I don’t want whatever gods-awful potion you’ve put in there,” she said.

“That was an order, not an offer.” Hanami tapped the bottle against Gaia’s forearm—the one she’d fallen on—and Gaia winced and glowered fit to frighten a cyclops, but she snatched the bottle and popped the cap.

Ryne, who had already opened hers, took a tentative sip and squeaked in surprise. “Harcot juice!” she said.

Gaia’s eyes widened, but she otherwise disguised her shock with a scoff and somehow managed to drink while pouting. “Ugh,” she said, and stomped toward the steps where Hanami had been leaning.

“Did I tell you that you could sit down?” Hanami said. “Uh-uh. Walk. Laps. Go.”

Ryne went obediently, if unhappily, while Gaia stared in plain indignance for a moment until Hanami raised her eyebrow in challenge and pointed.

While the girls walked, still carefully avoiding each others’ eyes, Hanami retook her perch at the wall and closed her eyes. If she didn’t look at the desert of Amh Araeng the wind and the heat reminded her of Thanalan; for a heartbeat she imagined herself back in Fesca’s Wash, along the creek that ran north of the city gates, scraping sand out of her shoes and getting her ass kicked by other gladiators eager for a challenge, or a sparring partner, or a victim.

Some days she felt very old, compared to that version of herself.

She let Ryne and Gaia walk for several minutes, enough time for the both of them to drain their bottles, and then held her hand up; they both stopped, staring at her and shifting their weight back and forth.

“Drop those,” she said. “Hands behind your backs.”

Gaia tossed her empty bottle in the direction of their bags. Ryne crouched down to wedge hers into the sand. When they both straightened, hands clasped behind their backs—ironically enough, like perfect little soldiers—Hanami noted that the flush was beginning to drain from Ryne’s face, but she still didn’t seem willing to meet Hanami’s eyes, choosing instead to stare at her own feet; Gaia on the other hand stood with her chin high and her expression tight with annoyance, but with the way she’d angled her shoulders, she stood very clearly between Hanami and Ryne.

Hanami fought down a hum of approval.

“You both need practice with footwork,” she said. The sand tumbled under her feet when she walked, but long years of experience kept her steady as she moved, striding purposefully toward Gaia, her own hands at her sides.

It was admittedly funny to see Gaia’s eyes widen as Hanami kept walking, moving much closer than she usually stood, but at the last second she backed up in answer, her left foot sliding back in answer to Hanami’s right to avoid getting crushed, and on Hanami’s next step, rather than back up further, she slid her right foot behind her left and pivoted to keep herself between Hanami and Ryne, a smooth motion almost like a dancer. Ryne finally looked up, mouth slightly open, and peered at Hanami over the barrier of Gaia’s shoulder.

Hanami finally allowed herself half a smile. “Good,” she said. “Keep doing that. No weapons, no strikes. Just back-and-forth. Watch your opponent—know where she is, and where you are, and where you want to be. Ryne, I do not want you to give too much ground to Gaia, you need to learn to stay put if you want to play defender. Gaia, try to stay in your proper stance, you need to stay low and steady.”

Gaia turned her head to glance back at Ryne, who met her with equal bafflement.

“Did I stutter,” Hanami said, and to their credit, the girls snapped to it, moving back into the sunlight and the open ground.

It was a slow start—Gaia clearly felt ridiculous, crouched like a wrestler with her hands at her back, and Ryne kept visibly overthinking her every step, stuttering up and down the dune—but their focus seemed sharpened, now, and their shoulders lighter; they were both clearly hot and tired from hard work in the sun but with the sugar in their bloodstreams the uptick in their moods was plainly visible. As the pinched sets of their brows eased up they grew more aggressive, lunging back and forth at each other like fencers, until Gaia charged up at Ryne, who sidestepped and—in a motion that seemed more instinctive than deliberate—stuck her foot out to trip Gaia into the sand.

Ryne immediately abandoned her stance to clasp her hands over her mouth. “Oh, gods, I’m sorry,” she said, but Gaia rolled to her feet with her teeth bared and her eyes bright.

“You got sand down my shirt, dummy!” she said, and reached out to grasp Ryne by the shoulders and tackle her in turn.

“Hey!” Ryne said, but she was giggling as she slipped free of Gaia’s hold. “Don’t call me a dummy, dummy!”

Hanami retook her spot sitting by the stairs, water skin in hand, as they abandoned the exercise altogether and started chasing each other across the dunes, twin sets of laughter echoing up into the sky. They would still be sore and tired tonight, but exhaustion was always better faced with a warm bath and a good mood.

#ffxivwrite 2022 #oc: hanami hagane #final fantasy xiv #ryne #gaia #ft an Actual Drill a local HEMA instructor taught me #writing - mine

[galactic-pirates]

Ok so it’s a day ending in Y and so I am thinking about Star Trek.

What keeps echoing in my head right now is the “all men are born equal but some are more equal than others.”

I’m newly pissed because at its core Trek is that frustrating, maddening dichotomy of hope for the future vs. the reality and inability to really break away or imagine something truly different.

The thought of a post-scarcity sort of utopia especially given the current political hellscape is such a comfort. The future can be better if we let it.

Where the maddening dichotomy comes in is something that has always threaded through Trek. In that people are people, they are imperfect and so while they always try, they sometimes fail. But the characters we root for, they are ultimately supposed to be the good guys. The Federation might make a misstep, but our hero, is supposed to call them on it or wryly accept the hypocrisy and that they still have work to do, or something along that lines. That doesn’t always happen obviously because people are writing the show, and those people have biases and prejudices and those blinkers come through. There have been some damn uncomfortable Trek episodes that went wide of the mark.

I’m rambling and I’m not sure I’m making my point. Narrative framing. Once Upon a Time was absolutely awful for this. The objective facts of the events said one thing like a certain character was a bad guy, but the writers made the characters say what a hero he was. Evidence didn’t match. There was a real dissonance. It made for bizarre viewing.

Picard has the same kind of shit going on. Jack Crusher got upset, and threw one hell of a tantrum. Hours went by in which he stole a shuttle and of his own free will went to the Borg cube. Yes he was then assimilated, and yes I would usually argue that the assimilated are the Borgs first victims and are not responsible for what they do as drones. They aren’t in control of their own actions. Except Jack broke his own link to the collective so how deeply assimilated was he? Seems like a lot of free choice here. And his “fire fire fire, kill the unassimilated” killed a lot of people. They aren’t specific how many but with 50 ships, and space dock, and planetary defense etc. I’m thinking a few hundred bare minimum, probably more like a few thousand.

What happened next? Was there any justice? No. Daddy is a human Admiral. So fast-tracked through StarFleet, assigned to the Flagship as a special officer.

Brings back an old sore point of Picard and his legacy vineyard estate. The events of Romulus happened, Picard was on the right side of history in terms of wanting to help the Romulans but when he failed to convince StarFleet he just fucked off to his large country estate, and what was sad? 15 years, nice comfortable life, staff to take care of everything. Raffi had a small broken down trailer in the desert. Maybe that was partly her choice, maybe she could have had an apartment in the city or whatever, but not everyone can have huge legacy country estates.

So much privilege and yeah that’s the unfortunate nature of reality. But it makes me so damn frustrated. The Federation is an ideal, principles and hope, and the best of Trek shows how they try but people are flawed, so they make their best effort. Power corrupts and institutions can be rotten but our heroes are supposed to be better. To try.

The changelings might have infiltrated StarFleet but they wouldn’t have replaced all the top brass. Some but not all. Which even if I am generous and say the changelings suggested some things, the rest of them agreed. It’s like The Winter Soldier where Hydra won because Shield sleep walked down the road to trading freedom for security. Our heroes are supposed to call that out but Picard at least is leveraging his position of privilege and benefiting from it. If the narrative framed that as a mistake, I would find it compelling, but that’s not what’s happening, and it feels bad.

I’m all for the struggle that Trek embodies of reality vs dreams of something better but the narrative needs to frame it that way. And it’s not.

#Star Trek #star trek: picard #thinky thoughts