Tumgik
#But '...was there an original knight?' and 'unlike the King and Queen these two are referred to talking to one individual
starryknight-tarot · 8 months
Text
𝓦𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓪𝓫𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓯𝓾𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓮 𝓼𝓹𝓸𝓾𝓼𝓮
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
pile 1 -- > pile 2 pile 3 -- > pile 4
my masterlist<3 . paid readings
Hello beautiful souls✨ Today we will be looking into what you will love about your future spouse! I know this is really late but I have been a busy bee recently and trying to set up paid personal readings for yall. Remember to meditate, take a deep breath and pick whatever pile calls to you the most. My readings are meant for everyone, no matter what sexuality or identity you are. Since this is a general reading, make sure to take what resonates and leave what doesn't. The artist for pictures is @tnk_gr on instagram.
Tumblr media
Pile 1
Cards: Ten of Swords, Strength, The Tower, Eight of Swords rx, Two of Wands, Fours of Wands, Eight of Pentacles, Ten of Cups Back of the Deck: Knight of Wands
Pile 1, you will love your fs's vunerablity. You may have been surrounded by a lot of people that don't like to express themselves and share their emotions. These people have even encouraged you to be emotionally closed off as well. But your fs is the complete opposite. A very emotional individual, they know they can rely on you when they are struggling and it will be refreshing to see someone be so open and honest about how they are feeling. I am getting that for some of you, you may originally be uncomfortable about how they express themselves because you were taught to hold back your feelings and keep them locked up. But your fs will teach you that it is healthy and normal to express your feelings when you are having a hard time, and to share your feelings and opinions. You will see your fs as a strong and brave person for being able to express themselves the way they do since it can be really hard to admit when you are struggling. I see this connection as a very healing and healthy connection. Your fs is like a beaming beautiful light in the darkness for you Pile 1. I am getting that they will have a shining smile and a very contagious energy. You will love how your fs will encourage you to do things you never thought you could do. The things that used to scare and intimidate you suddenly don't feel so scary when they are around. Scared of rocking climbing? When your fs is cheering you on like your own personal cheerleader, you feel like you can achieve anything. But I don't feel like this courage will be only when they are around. They just help you realize that you are strong, powerful, and can do anything you put your mind to. Ugh so cute Pile 1. I am also hearing that they won't push you to do anything you aren't comfortable with and will take their time with you when you may not be ready to tackle certain things. Overall Pile 1, you will love how fun and silly and encouraging your fs is. I also feel like they will give the best hugs and will know just how to seduce you. Last tiny note spirit left with me is that you may love their fat wallet LMAO (also heard some 18+ messages but it ain't that kind of reading (,,>﹏<,,)
Advice Cards:
A change in attitude towards the greater good could be beneficial Your guides and teachers are telling you that they hear you and are helping You are wiser than you think You are greater than your story Learn through reversals. Hold the opposing viewpoint for insight Release what you do not need. Let go of some extraneous aspect of your life
Channeled Songs:
Tumblr media
Pile 2 Cards: The World, Ten of Wands, Five of Wands, The Magician, King of Swords rx, Three of Cups, Four of Wands, Queen of Pentacles Back of the Deck: Knight of Wands
Ngl I am getting that some of yall are thinking of your celebrity crush when you read these tarot readings and I ain't gonna confirm or deny that your fs is your celebrity crush, but I am saying it ain't unlikely with this pile. Of course this is only for a very small amount of you, but I felt it strong enough to mention. If not a literal celebrity, your fs feels like a celebrity to you. They may be really popular or have a lot of friends. I heard frat boy but that isn't for everyone. For you Pile 2, I feel like you will love how your fs treats you. I feel like your fs will act a certain way around other people and try to be chill and cool but as soon they see you they just melt and just act like a lost puppy. You bring out a side of them that not a lot of people get to see and you love that. I also feel like your fs will do big gestures for you like a big bouquet of your favorite flowers or write you love songs. It's giving Jackson from Sex Education vibes, especially when he asked out Maeve (sorry if you haven't watched it). Spirit keeps telling that they are really attractive and that you will find them very attractive. I am hearing some of yall will wanna draw them. I feel like yall will have a really close connection, you will probably be really good friends before dating, maybe even childhood friends. You will love the hard work and enthusiasm they put into the things they are passionate about. Your fs may be really artistic and talented, they have a lot of potential to achieve great things. I am also hearing that they are really compassionate and caring, especially about the people around them. They wanna make a difference in the world and help people that need help and help deal with problems that we have struggled. They really care about the Earth, they may even own a few plants and take care of the regularly. They are very ambitious and thoughtful and you absolutely swoon over it. But I also feel like they are just a really charming person, it's almost hard not to love them.
Advice Cards:
Ask and you shall receive Act on what you know It's time to try something new! Give yourself your own approval Be alert for your opportunity Keep the faith. Stay intentioned. Your perseverance will pay off
Channeled Songs:
(specifically at 2:47 lol)
Tumblr media
Pile 3 Cards: Page of Cups, Eight of Wands rx, Judgement rx, The Star, Three of Swords rx, The Sun, Ten of Wands, Knight of Cups Back of the Deck: Ten of Swords
Pile 3, for your fs, I am hearing that you will be in love with their whole personality overall. In your eyes, they are just such a beautiful individual, someone that shines brighter than the Sun and radiates the energy of the most beautiful star in the solar system. You can tell how important your relationship will be for them and they are just the most loyal puppy. They are the kind of partner you make videos of, showing how you know they won't ever cheat on you. I really think you are the only person on your fs's mind, running around rent free and they never try to hide it. Your fs gives off such cute introvert vibes, like you wanna squish their cheeks cute. They seem really shy and quiet but I feel like you may wanna take them places, I am seeing specifically clubs or just places with bright colors. But I feel like your fs will let themselves go and feel free around you. They may be a little squishy in the face or just a very squishy person lol. You will also really love their body, spirit keeps showing me flashs of someone's body, specially their arms. They seem very muscular and veiny. I am getting such gentle giant energy from your fs. I keep seeing Superman from the show My Adventures with Superman. You might also really like their chest, they may have a big chest area. The conversations you and your fs will have are gonna flow so well, like you've never met someone that has connected with you on this level. You will have a lot in common. I feel like you have interests that you think a lot of people will judge you for but your fs will never judge your interests and always show so much interest in the things you wanna say. You may be a talker and I feel like they are a listener, always wanted to hear what's happening next in your life. You will love how they take the time to get to know you, they don't wanna rush things with you, they just want things to move at their own pace and let your relationship flow naturally. I am also getting you will love how close they are with your family and friends, everyone loves them and loves you guys together. (my goodness I also got 18+ message for this pile but it ain't that kinda reading (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄) )
Advice Cards:
You are divinely protected. Remind yourself how safe you are It's time to challenge old beliefs Keep the faith. Stay intentioned. Your perseverance will pay off Seek to understand from a place of connection rather than separation You are intuitively gifted. Trust your guidance Your child self needs your attention
Channeled Songs:
Tumblr media
Pile 4 Cards: Ten of Swords rx, Ten of Pentacles, Five of Cups, The Chariot, Seven of Pentacles, Seven of Pentacles rx, The Devil rx, Knight of Pentacles Back of the Deck: The Moon
Honestly Pile 4, I feel like you are the type of person to prefer someone "bad" over someone who is "good" cause you want adventure or something, and then get your heart broken by a real bad boy/girl. Well I feel like your fs will actually fulfill your bad boy/girl craving without breaking your heart. Like your fs is like your exact type but almost even better cause you realize they are better for you then what you usually like. Your fs is giving strong Alhaitham from Genshin Impact vibes. They are really smart and studious. You will really like how their brain works and how they seem to know everything, like they could talk about things you don't understand all day and you would still find it the most interesting thing ever. This connection is giving such Y/N in a fan fiction vibes my goodness. They are also probably pretty well off or make really good money and they like to gift you expensive things. Your fs seems really mysterious but I feel like they are caring in their own way. Like one day you think they are upset but they were actually just feeling shy that day or worried that you saw their their plans for a date. Which leads me to my next point which is that I feel like you will love how your fs shows their love for you. I don't think they will express themselves very much but they will surprise you with the cutest little date ever or get you something you were talking about to show that they listen. Like, I keep seeing the cutest picnic in the most aesthetically beautiful place and it's all so cute and you just melt like knees are BUCKLED. I also feel like they will have the CUTEST flustered face that only you ever see and have that effect on them. They are a secret simp and you eat it up. Your fs is also an amazing cook, they make the most delicious food you have ever seen and it tastes even better. Your fs is someone you can see yourself growing old with, starting a beautiful family, and settling down somewhere quiet. I heard "I feel like anything is possible with you by my side.". You guys will compliment each other really well and I am honestly living for this connection. You have strong sun and moon vibes. I see yall bickering playful but it's never in a mean way, your words are always filled with pure love.
Advice Cards:
No better time exists than right now Relax and feel good. You deserve more joy! It is important to ask for help Complete the project or task. Something is calling for closure You need to make the first move Give up resistance in your current situation Awareness opens a field of possibility in your life
Channeled Songs:
Thanks for tuning in₊‧.°.⋆🫧•˚₊‧⋆.
I also wanna thank yall so much for the messages you leave on my readings. I tear up all the time from the things yall write. It means so much that these messages reach you well and resonate with you! I hope this reading resonates well with you!
(っ◔◡◔)っ ❤
1K notes · View notes
atamascolily · 7 months
Text
Tarot and Symbolism in the Walpurgis no Kaiten trailer
The most interesting moments in the Walpurgis no Kaiten trailer are unlikely to be in the final film. There are three of them, all in quick succession during the grayscale "flashback" sequence explaining How We Got Here.
Tumblr media
At first glance, this is fairly straightforward--a clip from the original series, with the characters for "calamity" (災厄) reflected backwards. I don't know if this phrase ever comes up in the original series, but in at least one interview, Gen Urobuchi says Walpurgisnacht is "perceived as a calamity", which I have always thought was a striking way of putting it. (Is it possible to perceive her in ways that are not a calamity??)
Tumblr media
Screenshot of the interview in question from the 2011-05 issue of Megami Magazine on the Puella Magi Wiki, which I am reposting here because Tumblr hates links.
Note that Urobuchi uses "災害" for "calamity" instead of "災厄" - both phrases mean the same thing, but my dictionary tells me that not only can 災厄 also be written 厄災, but that 厄 can mean either misfortune or an especially unlucky year. So that got my attention.
Even if I hadn't seen the key visual with two Homuras (or Homura and someone else wearing her face), it's abundantly clear from this shot alone that mirrors, reflections, and reversals are going to be a major theme.
The next shot follows immediately on the heels of the first, showing a clip of Homura from Rebellion:
Tumblr media
Once again, we have the backwards text, this time reading 回い続ける, or "to spin in a circle". This is appropriate, given the nature of Homura's loops, but the same phrase also appears in the text of Walpurgisnacht's witch card, where she is "the fool that spins in a circle" -- 回い続ける愚者. And speaking of 愚者...
Tumblr media
.... gues which character is plastered across Devil!Homura's face--not only backwards, but upside down??
This, to me, is the most important shot in the trailer, the one where SHAFT is tipping their hand, but to explain why, we need to talk about the meaning of 愚者. It doesn't simply mean "fool" as in a person of little intelligence--it also means the archetypal Fool, i.e., the Tarot card The Fool.
For those unfamiliar with Tarot, it is one of the ancestors of modern European playing cards--versions of it are still used in Europe for gaming, but it is most famous as tool for divination. Like a modern deck, the Tarot has 4 suits from 1-10 (wands/staves, cups, swords, and pentacles/coins) as well as face cards (page, knight, queen, king), but it also has a series of cards known collectively as the Major Arcana, which run in a series with higher cards taking lower cards in a game.
The Fool is the first card of the Major Arcana, although typically it is not assigned a number (and if it is, the number is zero). Depending on how you play, it is either the lowest or highest card in the Major Arcana, just like the modern Joker, with which it shares a common ancestor. It's literally a wild card.
From an esoteric standpoint, the Major Arcana is seen as an allegorical quest known as the Fool's Journey, an endless cycle of self-discovery culminating in the Last Judgement and the perfection of The World, before starting over anew… all of which fits with Homura's arc. In divination, The Fool represents starting out on a journey, a carefree and simplistic innocence, and is depicted as a handsome young man on the road, blissfully ignorant as he strolls right off the edge of a cliff.
However, the meaning of Tarot cards changes depending on their orientation in space--a process known as "reversal," as this upside-down meaning is usually the exact opposite of their normal "upright" reading. So the Fool reversed is carelessness, vanity, over-the-top dramatics--a perfect description of Walpurgisnacht (who, as I've said, has earlier been described as The Fool) as well as Devil!Homura.
(As a bonus, Walpurgisnacht as The Fool also helps to explain her circus/performance motif, as fools were historically bards, entertainers… or clowns.)
All three of these shots are literally "blink and you'll miss 'em" fast--the only reason I picked up on them was because I was taking screenshots. However, as I've said before, I think they go a long way towards explaining the overall themes and symbolism of the movie despite likely not appearing in the film itself.
That is, of course, not the only Tarot reference in the trailer: "The Moon" also makes an overt appearance in Homura's sanctum early on.
Tumblr media
The moon itself is a source of constant change, so the fact that Homura has placed a pin in it--literally stopping time--is unsurprising. Given that butterflies represent souls in Japanese culture, the pinned butterflies in the background are also evocative, especially if Homura has taken on Kyubey's role as a contractor, as seems likely from context.
Meanwhile, The Moon card in Tarot represents the deep unconscious and secrets brought to light. Things are not what they appear to be, and you must trust your instincts to see past the illusion. But is Homura really listening, or will her overconfidence cause her to misstep at a critical moment?
Given these Tarot references in the trailer, I expect we will see more in the full movie. The most obvious, of course, is The Devil, but I am more interested in the card the card immediately AFTER The Devil--The Tower, which depicts a tower being struck by lightning, and represents sudden calamity and irrevocable change. And guess what we see in the final shots of the trailer?
Tumblr media
…let's just say I will be very surprised if Homura's tower survives the film intact.
53 notes · View notes
nightshadedawn · 1 year
Text
Non-Binary Glossary
As someone who is non-binary myself, I felt it important to include lots of non-binary characters in my fantasy novel that does not give a SHIT about what you present as, thus I needed to come up with titles for various things, and I thought I'd share what's so far in my glossary, with perhaps a smidgen of hope it'll get a bit of recognition.
Baba/Babby/Bather/Grandbather - The non-binary word for parents and grandparents.
I imagine the 'papa' or 'granny' equivalent of this one would be 'tata' or 'batty'.
Why, yes, this word was built off of 'baba' which it to my understanding, a word for 'father' in many cultures. But did you know it's meaning differs in many different cultures? And, also, it's catching on as the 'parent' word, and if I ever become a parent (highly unlikely) I want to be called Baba, if not just by my name because I absolutely can't picture being called by a title of any sort.
Crown - The non-binary word used used for someone of the status of queen or king.
This idea I obtained from an interactive fiction I read, where your character was referred to as 'Crown [Insert Name]' no matter what gender you made your character. It flowed well, so I decided I'd use the thematics of it in my own works going forward.
Emperus - A non-binary title used for someone of the status of empress or emperor.
I had a bit of trouble coming up with this one. But seeing as both emperor and empress both started with that 'emp' I knew I had to keep that, and from there, I played around with multiple second-halves, ending on the 'erus' because I'm a simple creature and it combined the 'er' and 'ess' of the other two, so it didn't feel entirely out of place.
Enna - The non-binary word for your parent’s sibling. 
I fucking hate pibling. I don't know why, but it makes my skin CRAWL. I'd rather the niblings just call me by my name than have pibling anywhere in the conversation. Specifics wise, both 'aunt' and 'uncle' begin with vowels, but end differently. So I knew I wanted the word to begin with a vowel, and one different than the ones already used. I also knew it couldn't end with the hard 't' sound or the drawling 'el'. So I came up with a few options, and landed on enna because it was four letters like aunt, but two syllables like uncle, and began with the letter 'e' which is the most common letter in the alphabet. It's probably my favorite word on this list.
Laus - A non-binary word for someone of the status of Lord or Lady.
Ah, probably my second favorite word. Like for emperus and enna, I looked at the original words to find what they had in common. Only the 'L' followed by a vowel, which meant my word had to end different than both lord and lady. Well, it did have that pesky d in there, which proved a problem when I was trying to come up with words. I didn't like any of the other words I came up with, and landed on laus because it was the least miserable. The only other memorable ones were 'lent', 'lurt', and 'ludt' which all look terrible. Laus may stand out next to lord and lady, but at least it looks nice.
Princer/Prinx/Prinxer - A non-binary word for a royal heir. The ‘x’ is pronounced with a ‘zz’ sound.
Enby equivalents tends to have the 'x' at the end of their words, for whatever reason, since there's so many other things we could have done, but that's not the point. The point is both princess and prince begin with the 'princ'. I just needed to fluff up the end. In the end, I came up with these three, which I have not actually decided which one I'm going to use in my book. Pincer and prinxer are pronounced similarly, being 'prin-sehr' and 'prin-zer'. Phonetically, they don't sound similar to prince or princess, but at least one of them looks similar.
Ser/Sur - Honorifics used for knights in a similar vein to ‘Sir’. Sur is used for women, while ser is used for nonbinary, and sir remains for men. All are pronounced similarly.
I thought I was brilliant when I came up with this one. Originally, it was going to be 'sar' for women, and 'sur' for non-binary, but when I realized how similar 'sur' sounded in my head to 'sir' my brain went 'ser too' and thus, here we are. Because am I the only one who thinks it's dumb how men have all these titles and women keep having to use the same one over and over and over again? It's always "lady this" and "lady that". Well, no longer for the knights, as they will be referred to with Sur. Ser will be used for enbys due to so many of my other words containing the e. E for enby, everyone.
Words I am currently working on:
Madam/master
Duke/duchess
Baron/baroness
Countess/count
Earl - Will be looking for both an enby and women word, because currently, it's just countess here again.
Going down this route will be pretty easy, except for the madam/master one. Once I decide on the princess/prince word, the rest of these will just follow those rules, as princess just added 'ess' onto the end of 'prince' after all.
66 notes · View notes
anya-snow · 1 year
Photo
Tumblr media
THE KINGDOM OF THE NORTH & THE GOLDEN EMPIRE: A list of wanted connections for people of YiTish origin in the North
The Golden Empire of Yi Ti is currently broken into eight major regions and the island of Leng, which is why some have looked outside their own borders for opportunities to grow and thrive. For many generations, YiTish people have travelled to other nations, with a particularly tight bond having formed with the Westerosi kingdom of the North.
For many years the kingdom of the North has embraced YiTish nobles, merchants, artisans and sages. The North’s visionary king, Owen Stark, has been working on creating a new realm unlike that of his predecessors, expanding on and strengthening bonds that have existed for so long. In recent time, this has fostered trade as well as cultural and intellectual exchange between the two nations.
NOTE: Houses, characters, plots, etc. are open to change and discussion. What is non-negotiable is the heritage of these characters, please note the FCs for these roles must have East Asian or Southeast Asian heritage.
WANTED CONNECTIONS listed below
Tumblr media
HOUSE GREENLEAF Many generations ago, this house was founded by a YiTish immigrant who was later knighted and titled for his loyalty and service to the North. The YiTish lord changed his surname (Luye, YiTish for “green leaves”) to the common tongue “Greenleaf”. The late Rhydian Mormont was married to Yanlin, a daughter of House Greenleaf, also deceased along with thier daughters Leyana and Olira.
Open roles:
One to two Greenleaf knights
One lady appointed as one of Queen Rosalyn’s ladies-in-waiting
Open to more suggestions!
Tumblr media
FROM THE REGION OF WAN This is one of the regions that have broken fully with the rule of the God-Emperor in Yin, although they aren’t officially an independent region like the island of Leng just yet. Their dedication to commerce with other lands and their amicable bond with their neighboring region of Shizi has enabled them to be as self-sufficient as they wish and not be forced to rely on the God-Emperor’s support. They have a strong bond with the regions of Ren and Xing as well, supporting them in their trade routes. This region isn’t ruled by a feudal lord but by a system of guilds, with each electing a member to represente them (merchants, sailors, tailors, healers, etc.) in periodic gatherings. People who have travelled to the Westerosi kingdom of the North have done so to escape the tensions in Yi Ti, encouraged by the promise of a better life in a kingdom that has welcomed them for many years.
Open roles:
One to two members of the merchant Yuan family (connection to Yuan Anya)
One to three members of the ruling guilds (artisans, tailors, healers, etc)
Open to more suggestions!
Tumblr media
FROM THE REGION OF XING It is often said that the people of Yi Ti learned how to decipher the language of the stars from the Lion of Night and the Maiden-Made-of-Light, who taught them how to interpret both light and darkness, and who communicated their will through constellations as well as the rest of the secrets of the night sky. A colossal astronomy tower was built and a city began to grow around it, which is today known as the city of Xing, one of the oldest populated regions in all of Yi Ti. In time, more seekers of knowledge and wisdom were drawn to the region of Xing to learn the secrets of the universe. With time, and with people from other places travelling there, the exchange of knowledge was immense, culminating in a variety of schools being built all across the region for students to learn astronomy, engineering, botany, amongst many other branches of study. Nowadays the city of Xing in particular is considered a hub for sages (the equivalent of Westerosi maesters) as well as scholars, and it welcomes people from foreign lands to learn there.
Open roles:
One Xingese sage, part of the council as Archmaester of the North
One to two scholars who play a role in King Owen’s development plans for the North
Open to more suggestions!
Tumblr media
FROM THE REGION OF SHIZI This region of Yi Ti mostly consists of forests and farmlands, which is why the Shizii people have developed most efficient and ingenious methods for agriculture. They have particularly good ties to the region of Wan and have a fruitful trading relationship with its people as well as with the regions of Xing and Ren. They are ruled by a feudal lord of the Qian family that resides in Shizi, which is often called the Jade City due to its lush vegetation and vast flora as well as the characteristic green clothing of their ruling family, who are called the start of the Jade dynasty by those who reject the God-Emperor’s rule. The ruling lord of Shizi represents the biggest threat to the God-Emperor’s rule, since they descend from the same bloodline and too many people believe he is rightfully descended from the Lion of Night and the Maiden-Made-of-Light, as all past YiTish emperors, thus it is believed he has a rightful claim to become the new God-Emperor. Assassination attempts from the lord in Shizi to the God-Emperor and vice versa have taken place a number of times. However, rather than overthrowing the current God-Emperor, the Qian family aims to break from Yi Ti and begin a new empire along with the people of Wan.
Open roles:
One member of the Qian family (a child of the feudal Qian lord)
One noble loyal to the Qian family
One to two refugees who were displaced from Ludi after its destruction
Open to more suggestions!
Tumblr media
For any questions and more details about the North, please reach out to @owenstark​
For any questions and more details about Yi Ti, please reach out to @anya-snow​ 
15 notes · View notes
minecraft-llama · 11 months
Text
Chess Blog Day #1 - The Guys
There are six types of chess men. Five types of piece, and then pawns. Pawns aren't called pieces because they're more like the landscape of the battle.
The king
This guy has historically always been a king. he's not such a powerful piece, and needs to be kept safe for most of the game. Despite his weakness, he's the centre of everything. Checkmating the king is the aim of the game! Originally he was just a guy, but he got simplified to a cylinder with a crown with a cross when people decided to make chess sets that don't make your brain hurt trying to figure out what piece was which. On a computer, he's just his crown.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
The Queen
Originally she was a male advisor that couldn’t move much but in the 1400s the woke mob came along and not only genderflipped the character, they girlbossed her up, too.
Seriously though, it’s likely that the reason the queen in chess is so powerful is because of inspiration from a real life “girlboss” (lets say strong but complex character), Isabella I of Spain.
Nowadays she has a bumpy crown unlike the king’s smooth one, and a bobble instead of a cross. I guess she’s just not as religious as her husband. Online, she’s just a spiky crown.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
The Rook
In a predecessor of chess, shatranj, the rook was a chariot (“rukh” in Persian). In Europe this piece was replaced by a castle tower, and most European countries call it a tower. In English people still call it a rook, and will look at you funny if you call it a castle, even though it looks like one. However, in the classic Lewis Island chess set the piece is neither a chariot nor a tower, but rather a berserker, and is a this crazy-looking but endearing little guy biting on his shield. Rooks nowadays just look like towers, although how brick towers are supposed to move around a battlefield I have no idea.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
The Bishop
This guy used to be an elephant, and is now called a runner in most languages. In English and Icelandic though, he’s a religious figure. Apparently the piece was simplified to have two prongs to represent an elephants tusks, and some people thought it looked like a bishop’s hat. The French interpreted it as a hat too, just of a different profession, and call this piece the jester. Online he’s just the hat.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
The Knight
The knight has always been a man on a horse, and has always moved the way it does today. All of the other pieces used to move differently, but not this guy. Obviously knights used to be represented by a man on horseback, but this got simplified to just a horse. In some languages this piece is called a horse, and in many others a jumper.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
The Pawn
The word “pawn” comes from the Latin for foot soldier, and unlike most of the other chess men different languages actually seem to agree that this guy is, in fact, a soldier. In medieval times, each of the eight pawns was named after a specific job from messenger to farmer (check out pawn on Wikipedia if you’re curious), because apparently people decided having eight identical chess men was boring. Any fans of grandmaster Simon Williams will know that naming pawns is a time-honoured tradition.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
And that’s it! Now you’re familiar with your army, it’s time to learn how to command them.
Tomorrow: The basic movements.
11 notes · View notes
flare-dragon · 3 years
Text
Deltarune Thoughts (feat. Chapter 2)
A few assorted thoughts/notes:
-Save points don’t exist in the light world, only in the dark world -Ralsei could be based on Kris’ memories/impressions of Asriel
More complex thoughts:
What if Kris did create the dark fountain of Chapter 2? The usual evidence against it is “When could they have done it? They had no time to disappear and make it during gameplay” but I propose one other possible time: Between Chapter 1 and 2. We see the knife at the end of Ch. 1 and think “Oh no! What’s Kris gonna do?” and then it’s revealed we were baited, with Toriel showing us that Kris ate the whole pie and left the knife in the tin. Our thoughts are pretty much “Oh, that Toby Fox! Baiting us with the knife!”, but what if...it wasn’t a bait, and it connects to Ch. 2′s ending, of Kris using the knife to create a new fountain?
The only major points against it would be: -Kris would have to break and enter the Librarby without leaving a trace -No monster would have to have noticed the weirdness coming from the Computer Lab door for most of the day/raised no fuss over seeing it The second one’s not a big issue; the door’s closed when Susie and Kris find it and we only know of Noelle and Berdly going there, who both wind up in the dark world The first one’s a little less easy, but considering Kris was willing to slash Toriel’s tires (likely to keep Susie at home, but that’s just thoughts), I could see them at being willing to try.
I guess the next thought would be “Why? Are they actually The Knight?”, but that’s a different thought~
What if, like how Ch. 1′s dark world seemed tailored to Susie and the playroom, and Ch. 2′s dark world tailored to Noelle and the computer lab, the secret bosses are based off of Kris?
Admittedly a thought I’m still working on, but there were points on how Queen seemed to almost represent Noelle’s image of her mother, overbearing and a little domineering but trying to do what she believes is best for her daughter (and even trying to make sure all the personalised rooms were personalised to what the characters wanted).
Some of that would be related to how social media sites these days really try to show you stuff based on what they know of your searches and such (spooky), but the points on Queen and Noelle’s relationship to her mother leads to thoughts of Susie and her relationship with friendships. It’s unknown what kind of friendships she could have had in the past, but Kris and Lancer were her first friends that we know of. This world ler her be scary and frightening, and “the bad guy”, but she eventually started to veer towards kindness and good, things she really did want.
But one thing that differs so differently from the tales of either chapter are their secret bosses (or, I guess, ‘chaos bosses’?). They speak of darkness and freedom/lack thereof, Jevil believing himself free on his side of the door, and Spamton being willing to go as far as exploit Kris and try to steal their soul just to be free of his ‘strings’. Jevil is effectively playing and being played with, and Spamton wants so badly to be free and absolutely laments that the strings still tie him down to the darkness, with cutting them only leading to shutting down.
If there’s one thing shared between them and Kris, it’s freedom/lack thereof. We, the player/soul, seem to control their actions and life (at least, with the choices we ourselves are given), and Kris seems to resent it (though it’s...hard to say?), having times where they throw out their soul/us just to have their own agency. It’s...unknown if that’s an outside force or is Kris themself though.
Each of the bosses are still rooted in the worlds they come in, hence their theming (Jevil as a Joker card, Spamton as...well, spam), but it makes me wonder~
What if Kris, Asriel, Noelle, and Dess/December used to go to the dark world?
This one’s still half-baked and more crack than genuine theory, but we know that the four of them used to hang out when they were younger, when both Asriel and Dess were around. We’re told Asriel’s gone to college, but we’re given very little information on Dess, aside from the fact that she’s not at home with Noelle and their mum. It could be that Dess is just with Asriel at college or out travelling the world, but it’s also often theorised that something happened to her.
It’s often thought that the hill below town has something to do with it (there was one or two posts connecting it to Mt. Ebott, which was interesting), though there’s not a lot of connection yet (there’s bound to be. The idea there isn’t would be...strange). It could be that the four of them wandered here at one point, but only three returned (you could say Asgore was supposed to be watching them if you wanna use it as the reason he was kicked off of/left the police force)
Makes me wonder if their adventures were actually adventures into the dark world, which would even tie in to the previous point, the idea that the worlds are tailored to those experiencing it. The idea that the darkners had been abandoned by the lightners until The Knight came and gave them a new purpose. It could be the ‘lightners’ were just the four of them having adventures in the dark worlds until Dess disappeared, then they stopped.
Doesn’t explain why now, of all times, the fountains are being opened up again (though one thought is maybe Kris is trying to find Dess before Asriel comes back, but that’s even more out-there), but it’s an interesting thought~
25 notes · View notes
pabsterthelobster · 2 years
Text
The Forgotten Champions of the 77 Rings
Tumblr media
The first two parts of JoJo don't get as much attention as the latter parts do, especially the first part, Phantom Blood.
As you know, Bruford and Tarkus were two knights who were resurrected by Dio to serve as his zombie minions when he took over Windknight's Lot. In life, they served as retainers for Queen Mary Stuart of Scotland until Queen Elizabeth II of England had her kidnapped. The two knights would fight Elizabeth's armies until she offered them Mary's safety in exchange for their surrender. As they were to be excuted, they were told of how their mistress had already been killed before them.
However, what you may not know, as this was cut from the anime version, was that before their execution, the two had once accomplished a challenge known as the 77 Rings, where warriors would traverse a 10-kilometer mountain range near the Lot. As said warriors traversed the harsh environment, they would each fight 77 soldiers positioned on said mountain range to the death. For each battle they won, they would wear a bracelet or anklet (the "Rings" in question), which when worn all at once, had a total weight of 100 kilograms (that's over two hundred pounds if you don't do metric).
Both Bruford and Tarkus accomplished the challenge together in the year 1563, with Bruford using his Danse Macabre Hair to compensate for the extra weight, but they weren't the only ones to have accomplished this grueling trek. There were three others that succeeded in the challenge in the centuries beforehand; they were just the only ones "lucky" enough in canon to be resurrected by Dio.
For the video game adaptation for PS2, you fight these three other warriors as zombie warriors in a mode based on the 77 Rings challenge. You could also fight them in an unlockable alternate final boss battle, where they would fight against Jonathan on the burning ship alongside Wang Chan, per Dio's orders.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Winzaleo, the Lion King
Year of completion: 1327
Winzaleo was a proud and boisterous warrior who was the first to accomplish the challenge. He was proficient in the use of axes and his strength was so impressive that when he struck the ground with his axe, it would generate seismic waves.
Eijkman, the Lightning Knight
Year of completion: 1389
Wielding a halberd that could somehow generate wind and lightning, Eijkman was known in life for his quick fighting style. It is likely that he was extremely loyal to whomever he served in life, as after his resurrection, he would speak nothing but praise towards his new master Dio.
Caineghis, the One-Eyed Man
Year of completion: 1408
Despite his position as a noble knight, Caineghis was a sadistic man who fought with little honor, and fought his opponents with a sense of perverse pleasure. This is notable with his choice of weapon, being a scimitar laced with poisonous fluids.
Trivia
Similar to Part 3 antagonist Midler, these three characters originally lacked distinct designs in the original manga, only appearing in in one panel as generic looking knights. Unlike Midler, their designs weren't created by Araki for the game, but rather by the development team. Araki would then look over these designs and provide his own little touches after the initial designs were presented to him.
In order to access the alternate final battle, one must attain an S rank in the previous chapter. Otherwise, the final chapter will consist of Jonathan fighting Dio (being carried by Wang Chan) and a bunch of zombies.
The reason behind the existence of an alternate final battle is because the developers of the PS2 game felt that the original ending of Part 1 wouldn't really translate into a good final boss fight, and so they consulted with Araki for ideas.
Another change made to the final battle was that Dio would not only kill the drunk Father Styx as he did in canon, but would also take his body for a short while before beheading himself once again.
To my greater knowledge, none of these three's names are musical references, unlike Bruford and Tarkus, who are named after a drummer and album respectively.
66 notes · View notes
dennou-translations · 3 years
Photo
Tumblr media
Violet Evergarden: Booklet 3
Please feel free to message me about possible corrections. If you can, consider supporting the creators by purchasing the official releases. If anyone is feeling generous: Ko-fi | PayPal. ( ╹◡╹)っ’・*
← Previous || Index || Next →
At that moment, I found myself thinking, “Aah, maybe if I disappeared, if I vanished right now, nobody would notice.”
Once I thought this, I could no longer think of anything else.
Before I realized, my hands and feet had moved. I slowly moved my whole body and left that place behind.
Nobody called for. Nobody tried to stop me.
Which was why I was now hiding. I was in a corner of a maze of roses in the royal palace of this forest kingdom.
I looked up at the sky. It was overcast. The air was a little heavy, so there was a chance of rain.
Was anyone looking for me by now? No, they might not have noticed. I could bet a hundred of Drossel’s white camellias that they hadn’t. “That wouldn’t be a bet,” someone said from within my mind.
——What will happen to me if I just stay here like this?
I tried to think calmly. Firstly, I would get hungry. My body would get bitten by insects. The sky was looking shady, so rain might come pouring down on me. I would get a fever from the cold, and then... and then... and then...
The power of my imagination was scarce, so the scenario ended there.
Stretching out my dress’s sleeves and removing my long gloves, I plucked the grass with a bare hand. Picking up some rose petals that had fallen to the ground, I threw them into the air even though they would not fly too far. I looked almost like a child trying to contain her bad mood. Most likely, if anyone saw me, they would wonder what on earth the queen of Fluegel was doing.
Why had I grown up to be like this? All I ever did was think big of small matters and be in a state of chaos. It was such a weak mindset, which people most likely wouldn’t expect to come from someone born in a family that was meant to rule a country.
“Members of the royal family are actually not supposed to expose their original selves. Under no circumstance should you forget that you must act with dignity and be a role model to your subjects.”
Even though I had already become a wife, I behaved like a little girl.
“However...”
I had experienced a romance like the ones that young girls dream with.
“...from my long time working in the court...”
I fell in love and won my beloved lord over.
“...these have been the most memorable Public Love Letters. Yes... in a good sense.”
After running and running, I was now living the aftermath of that.
My name is Charlotte Abelfreya Fluegel. Already a year had passed ever since I married off to Fluegel.
   Charlotte Abelfreya Fluegel and the Forest Kingdom
   Drossel and Fluegel – no matter what could happen to these two nations in the future, they had me as their intermediary princess. If I happened to die in this rose labyrinth without anybody ever finding me, I wanted someone to remember that.
As to why things had turned out like this, I’d have to rewind my life a little to explain. I had to mix up the cauldron of time that made the hours pass.
How far back was I supposed to go?
That beautiful golden-haired girl. My favorite. The ghostwriter who had become a mediator for my romance.
Rewinding to the times of Violet Evergarden’s Public Love Letters would be going back too far. It should be a bit later. Perhaps the appropriate would be around the time when I, who was once the third princess of Drossel – that beautiful country where white camellias bloomed in copious amounts –, went away and changed my surname. Yes, right, that was adequate enough.
Fluegel was a neighboring country of prosperous forestry. I was married to the man who had the priority rights to succeeding its throne. Letting go of everything that I had cherished until then, I married off.
I had transformed from a girl into an adult. Although my appearance hadn’t changed much, that was my status.
My husband was Damian Baldur Fluegel. He was the person who possessed the rights of succession as the next monarch at the beginning of our marriage, but a few days ago, he had inherited the throne from his father and become a king both in name and reality. In other words, I had become the queen as well.
Probably the worst queen in history. After all, I had run away.
   Let me try to trace the rewound time with exact precision.
Fluegel’s capital was a city of fresh greenery, which had a castle erected in the depths of a forest. Said royal palace couldn’t be considered sturdy or showy, but it was in perfect harmony with the nature, endowed with a calculated beauty. Unlike Drossel, a country that maintained itself through the tourism industry, Fluegel had much of its national interest shouldered by its forestry. Drossel’s national flower was the white camellia, while Fluegel’s was the red rose.
The two countries were separated by a large river, but one would be tempted to wonder how they could be so different.
Differences were by no means a bad thing. After all, Lord Damian and I had met because we had been raised in such different cultures. That was exactly why I became attracted to Lord Damian’s… albeit artless, uninhibited personality, which was so unlike that of the royals from Drossel and other nations...
Yes, “differences” were not bad. But the so-called “differences”... how should I put it? When they weren’t tolerated, instead viewed as an absence of profits and effort, they would turn into a really bad thing.
Most likely, that was what made me the way I was now.
Was this an excuse? It might be. But that was how it was. That was it.
At first, my life in Fluegel didn’t go well.
Becoming used to even small differences in habit was extremely difficult for me, which caused the chamberlain to sigh often. He was someone who deserved respect for having taken care of Lord Damian’s personal matters for quite a long time.
There was no mistaking that I was in a position higher than his, but I soon understood that he looked down on me. One could tell as much by things such as the movements of the other’s eyes and their attitude.
The chamberlain would tell me: “That is not the way we do it in Fluegel”, “This is for your protection. You will be criticized otherwise. Now, fix yourself up”, “I have said this several times, but...”
I didn’t think I was some idiot. I believed myself to be the kind of girl who could do well if I put my mind into it. But I had to admit that I was a very unstable crybaby.
The differences such as the ones that the chamberlain talked about were, for example, the order in which people were seated at meals, how to lift my dress when hopping into a carriage, and other minute details like that. If I were told such things back in Drossel, I was positive that I could internalize it in the first try. After that, I definitely wouldn’t repeat the mistake. But the moment I tried to do it in this foreign country that I wasn’t familiar with, being watched by the monitoring eyes of someone that didn’t have me in his favor, I ended up failing. It was almost as if I were inducing the failure on my own. What was this phenomenon?
The chamberlain most likely knew this as well. He knew it, and even then he would sigh and speak in a detached manner while watching me go pale. There was nothing good in it for either of us, yet we would find ourselves repeating this vicious cycle.
To be honest, we were so incapable of getting along that the desire to jump off from one of the Fluegel castle’s windows as retaliation surged from within me. However, I had no choice but to keep going. Because I was a newcomer and that person was an elder.
If I didn’t get used to this, it would be the end of me.
Right, and there was also the tea party. The flow of the Cauldron of Time had finally returned to the present.
It all had begun… from the chamberlain suggesting that if I, who had become the queen, held a tea party, I would certainly make myself known as someone who shines like the stars in the night sky. He gave a long speech about my authority as a queen being this and that. That detestable chamberlain.
I did like tea parties, but even after being in Fluegel for a year, I wasn’t able to find myself anyone that I could consider close to me, so I frankly didn’t like the idea. I hadn’t gotten myself anyone to be on friendly terms with, so rather than a display of my power, wouldn’t this be deemed as more of a public execution for me?
Ever since I had arrived here, I was in the position of a foreign princess who had a political marriage with Lord Damian, so both the royal family that I had joined and the people who took care of me were somewhat distant… To make things worse, I was the very person who had tainted the traditional event of the Public Love Letters. People were wary of me as an unprecedented princess.
I had seen that Fluegel had a liberal aspect to it and wasn’t too bound by formalities in comparison to Drossel, but when it came to the royal family, that was a different story.
Whenever I passed the corridors of the royal palace, I could hear one name being whispered. Everyone would have faint smiles on their faces. “Baby Princess” was what they called me.
The one who came up with it was Lord Damian’s younger sister or something. Indeed, I had childish facial features and I was the girl who had married for love, so there was no helping that I would be mocked like this.
Receiving a nickname and having it made into a title meant that it was ingrained in people. Once a knight earned himself an alias, others would expect him to have a conduct that was worthy of it. In that same manner, no matter what I, Charlotte Abelfreya Fluegel, might say… I lived in Fluegel as the princess whom everyone would giggle at.
Whenever I made a mistake, “it’s because she’s a child”. If I happened to rush towards Lord Damian, “it’s because she’s a child”. Whenever I said anything, “it’s because she’s a child”.
If there was some magic spell that could turn me into a twenty-year-old right now, I would have taken it. It’d be great if I could instantly grab ahold of my dignity in a way that nobody would complain. But that was something that people had to be awarded to through the years, along with their efforts...
I might have been the Baby Princess today as well – the day of the tea party.
The chamberlain was in awfully high spirits, which one way or another was an omen for misfortune. I was watching from my bedroom as the elderly man briskly instructed the people around him.
From the room where I stayed with Lord Damian, I could see the castle’s garden, the rose maze that started from the garden’s entrance veering to the side, and the castle town. Back when we had just married, we used to often gaze outside the window together, but now we couldn’t even talk for more than five minutes.
Ever since succeeding the throne, Lord Damian was truly busy. He would be working while I waited for him in our room; by the time that I woke up, he would be by my side without me having realized it; as I stretched the creases that formed between his eyebrows while he was dreaming, he would wake up all of a sudden and then head off to the royal office again.
I was depressed since morning, because why did I have to hold a tea party while my husband was working so indiscriminately? But, well, this was also part of my duties. It was important for me to mingle with other women from a social status similar to mine. The trust earned from them would help not just me but also Lord Damian.
Those who controlled factions also had control of politics. Yes, yes, I knew that much. I had to do this exactly because things weren’t going well. In order to level up my speech skills, I had to start from taking up a stance. As my position was becoming worse, if I could get around here well, I would increase my authority in the royal territory without having to recreate myself.
I understood the reasoning behind this. What the chamberlain said was correct. He was implicitly telling me to do right, and I was the one at fault for not managing it...
The tea party was held in the garden outside at the arranged time.
There were people that I hadn’t seen ever since my wedding ceremony, whom I greeted while turning my head around at an incredible speed. Whenever someone sprinkled the subject of political affairs here and there, I’d throw it back at them with a smile, literally tearing apart and flinging away whatever came at me on repeat. Although the scene actually looked like a peaceful conversation, under the surface, I, the queen, was being evaluated, so this was a battle.
I thought I had done a really strenuous effort up until the middle of it. Instilling the impression that “My, so maybe the Baby Princess isn’t a bad person and is surprisingly smart when she talks?” was quite a success. The signs that I could make them deem me as worthy of standing by Lord Damian’s side were becoming visible. However, the very moment that Her Highness, the King’s young her sister, appeared in the tea party, everything I had set up crumbled down at once.
She was pretty late from the scheduled time – rather, she suddenly showed up when it was already ending.
Although she was close to me in age, she had a very adult appearance and was an awfully beautiful person. Renowned as one of Fluegel’s talented women, she was also involved with the National Assembly, and told us that she had rushed over because the meeting had ended just now. I had not yet been allowed to attend the meetings even though I was the queen, so I was terribly jealous... and a little miserable.
Of course, whatever had been discussed there became the topic, which Her Highness told the women present, explaining in a simplified manner. What a wonderful person she was.
Regardless, it felt like this was going to end as Her Highness’s tea party, even though it was mine. Well, that was okay too. Rather, it might be easier if there was someone to take the initiative to talk like this. I had a bug where I couldn’t speak very well to people whom I wasn’t close to, so I decided to leave it to her.
Despite this being a tea party, I hadn’t eaten anything, so I had the feeling that I would get hungry in the evening. I wondered what we would have for dinner.
Just like that, half of my soul disappeared somewhere else, so I didn’t notice that the subject had changed from state affairs to the next successor to the throne.
“Queen, are you listening? If things continue the way they are, there will be no helping it if a concubine is appointed.”
Since I hadn’t noticed it, I couldn’t react right away, even as I took the tremendous brutality of those words to the face. This had happened just a moment ago, so I didn’t remember very well what kind of reaction I’d had. I had the feeling that I had responded with a somewhat sluggish reply such as “aah” or “eeh”... much like the way that living creatures cried for the first time upon being born.
I could immediately tell that Her Highness wasn’t satisfied with my answer.
“It is because you are so laidback like this that the King has to fight the national affairs alone. You still intend to be here as a guest, not doing what you have to do, so everyone has to hold back and nobody can speak up their opinions. Talk more. Be more useful to the country. Most important of all, it has already been a year, yet nothing has been reported to us. Are you seriously discussing the succession with the King? If this goes on, someone will suggest a concubine for him.”
With such words thrown at me in sequence, I—I had... I had a thought. That perhaps she was trying to make me lose heart. Wasn’t I being attacked right now?
I looked around. Nobody attempted to open their mouths in order to defend me. There was no one. I had no one.
All of them were waiting for my reaction.
I knew this situation. I knew it very well. I wasn’t being treated as a person at the moment. My personality was being denied as well. The dignity that should be granted to the human being named Charlotte wasn’t being taken into account.
However, I didn’t break. Why?
Because I was used to being neglected.
“Yes, I am truly doing a poor job. I believe it is as you say.”
I was smiling.
“However, it has not yet been decided what will be my part of the work and what will be the King’s, as we are in the process of deciding on it as a couple.”
I was smiling mockingly.
“Now that I have talked to all of you like this, I have concluded I should propose my thoughts to the parliament slowly, little by little.”
I was... smiling.
“I was the princess of my country. But now, I am the queen of Fluegel. I did not intend to be here in the position of guest, but it is true that I was restraining myself. But is that not the same for all of you? I am aware. Everyone has been... well, surrounding me from a distance and looking after me. I was fretting, as it would have been better for you to tell me more directly if there was anything wrong... By all means, I would like to have a frank exchange of opinions with you in the future... and I hope that we can help each other... as fellow women.”
This was laughable.
Her Highness was appalled. So was everyone else. She must have spoken so conflictingly due to thinking that it was sure to make me start crying.
I wanted her to stop saying such stupid things. I was the former third princess of Drossel. Did she know what kind of country that was? It was a country where it was okay for women to become political tools. We were by no means granted the position to act freely like she did. As the shadows so-called “women”, we had no choice but earnestly do whatever we could.
I was born in a country were women were consumed and worn down. To top it off, I had been raised mostly by courtiers, away from my biological parents. I hadn’t seen my mother in forever.
Exhausted as a result of her marriage of convenience, Mother had Father build her a palace and secluded herself in it all day long every day. She did show up at the wedding ceremony, but she hadn’t even sent me a single letter after I had married off. She had probably already forgotten that she had given birth to me.
But that was the country I had been born in. I had been raised by one of this country’s strong women – a carefully selected, tough woman. This person patiently educated me, even though my aptitude wasn’t good. She explained things to me over and over again. She scolded me a lot. She taught me so that I would be able to marry anyone and live anywhere. She had also predicted that a situation like this might happen. So she told me how to act during a quarrel with other women.
That was why I smiled at times like these.
My looks weren’t bad. I was no idiot. I knew what effects I would bring about if I smiled. There was little that I could do, but I was going to be the one firing the best shot here.
I was a crybaby. I was a weakling. I was lonely.
However, I had been taught well. No matter what, I couldn’t lose in times like these. I knew that much.
I had been protected through the erasure of my personality.
   That day’s tea party was over right then, and thanks to the chamberlain saying that it would soon be time to bring it to a close, it ended well.
At a later date, my feud or whatever with Her Highness would become a rumor around the royal palace, but that was a story of the future. In any case, it was over for now. Therefore, I was extremely relieved.
The chamberlain let me return to my room unusually early and consoled me with a “you must be tired”. “You were excellent today,” he told me. Enveloping my shaky palms in his hands, which had wrinkles just like Alberta’s, he warmed them up. “No matter what happens, do not forget that you have one ally,” he said.
From that, I understood a little something. That he, indeed, worried about me in his own way. I wasn’t fond of his way of doing things, but he had struggled as much as he could in order to do something to improve my position.
He had seen what I had gone through today, so he was commending my brave fight. I had been subjected to violence today. I had been told such terrible things. Even though I—I...
I was in love with Lord Damian.
Both Drossel and Fluegel were aware of this. The citizens of both kingdoms knew it. And yet, aah, how embarrassing. But everyone knew.
I was in love with that person. I was in love.
“You have not sired a child after a year, so there might be need for a concubine. Therefore, if such a woman appears, you should accept it,” she said, despite knowing how much it would hurt me.
I was told off. I was told off by the younger sister of the object of my affections. That was what she said to me.
“Thank you, but please, let me be alone.”
I still managed to keep my smile up, but as soon as I drove the chamberlain out of the room, the tears overflowed torrentially and I couldn’t stop them.
There should be things more painful than that out there in the world. I looked like a fool for crying because of something like this. But right now, I was feeling like the most pitiful person in the world. I wanted to return to Drossel. I wanted to go home to Drossel.
No, that wasn’t it. No, that wasn’t it. No, that wasn’t it.
I wanted to go back to the person who would always allowed me to cry, no matter how much I did so. The person who would stay by my side.
“Alberta...”
I wanted to go back to Alberta.
I knew it was stupid of me. But when I thought that a day might come when Lord Damian, my husband – the object of my affections –, would take another woman aside from me, it was so painful. My chest hurt – it hurt so much that it was hard to breathe. So I couldn’t contain my cries.
I wondered what had gone wrong.
Was it because I had started clamming up, since the chamberlain would always hammer me down by saying, “That kind of unheard-of behavior is not allowed here”, so I couldn’t speak the way I wanted to? Or was it because I was late to find out that not assertively addressing the royal family was bad manners, since I was in a position where I had to wait for people to talk to me first back in Drossel?
Perhaps it was everything.
Apparently, Fluegel hadn’t taken in a princess from abroad in the last sixty years, so maybe it was already difficult for them to accept a foreign object like me in the first place. Things would probably have been different if I were a great woman – yes, a woman like Her Highness –, yet I had nothing but tears. Still, was I such a horrible person that I had to be told such things?
Aah, nothing – just nothing. Nothing was working out. It might be that nothing would go well from now on too.
This thought swiftly made its way into my heart.
All of a sudden, I was able to clearly hear the sounds around me. The noises of someone walking, the whistling of the wind outside, my own breathing. The way that the tears fell down as they dripped from my eyelashes, the way that I was suddenly looking at myself in a holistic manner.
Yes, perhaps things would never work out from now onward. If so, then...
Then, shouldn’t I run away?
Several questions – such as to where, with whom and to do what – came to me, but I ignored them. I had probably broken down at that point.
I dropped my own heart, which I had been cherishing as much as possible in order for it not to break, onto my feet. I had the feeling that I heard a clank when doing so.
——Maybe nothing would ever go well in the future.
If so, then no matter how much I exerted myself, it would be useless.
——Maybe nothing would ever go well in the future.
I had to run off to somewhere.
——Maybe nothing would ever go well in the future.
Nobody was going to protect me.
——Maybe nothing would ever go well in the future.
After all, this was a foreign country and Alberta wasn’t here. The only one who could protect me was...
——Maybe nothing would ever go well in the future.
The only one who could protect me was myself.
——Maybe nothing would ever go well in the future.
I had to run away.
——Maybe nothing would ever go well in the future.
I had to run.
——Maybe nothing would ever go well in the future.
If I stayed here like this, I... I might seriously jump off the window.
Once I thought this, I somehow felt like I couldn’t breathe anymore. When I came to my senses, I had left the room.
The courtiers were busy cleaning up the tea party in the garden. The chamberlain had also gone outside in order to instruct them. If I came out of the room without making any sounds, nobody would chase after me right away. When I went into the corridor, there was a soldier, but he was only meant to see whoever entered and exited the place and wouldn’t follow me since he wasn’t my bodyguard.
If it was now, perhaps no one would notice if I disappeared – if I happened to vanish. Once I thought this, I could no longer think of anything else.
Before I realized, my hands and feet had moved. I slowly moved my whole body and left that place behind.
I continued down the stairs and trotted through a passage that relatively few people used. Even then, I did pass by some people, but they didn’t seem to pay any mind to me. To begin with, they might not even have the conceptualization that the queen was running through the halls alone.
It wasn’t like I wanted someone to call for me. However, no one did. No one tried to stop me.
Which was why I was now hiding. I was in a corner of a maze of roses in the royal palace of this forest kingdom.
I looked up at the sky. It was overcast. The air was a little heavy, so there was a chance of rain.
Was anyone looking for me by now? No, they might not have noticed. I could bet a hundred of Drossel’s white camellias that they hadn’t. “That wouldn’t be a bet,” someone said from within my mind.
——What will happen to me if I just stay here like this?
I tried to think calmly. Firstly, I would get hungry. My body would get bitten by insects. The sky was looking shady, so rain might come pouring down on me. I would get a fever from the cold, and then... and then... and then...
The power of my imagination was scarce, so the scenario ended there.
Stretching out my dress’s sleeves and removing my long gloves, I plucked the grass with a bare hand. Picking up some rose petals that had fallen to the ground, I threw them into the air even though they would not fly too far. I looked almost like a child trying to contain her bad mood. Most likely, if anyone saw me, they would wonder what on earth the queen of Fluegel was doing.
Why had I grown up to be like this? All I ever did was think big of small matters and be in a state of chaos.
This wasn’t the married life I had envisioned. I did think there would be hardships, but – how should I put it? – I thought they would be rather different. I thought they would be something easier to grasp.
I honestly didn’t know what I was fighting against. Her Highness probably hated my guts, but if I were asked whether she was my enemy, I would say she wasn’t, and I wasn’t mistaken about that. I did think she was cruel, though.
What was I fighting against? What was I scared of? I kept on being intimidated by vague things that I didn’t understand very well and shutting off my typical behavior, and while I was so frightened, my evaluation from the people around me declined, thus I had come to the point of fleeing.
What was I fighting against? Why was I fighting? Why was I...
Why?
Why was I all by myself right now?
   After that, I cried myself to exhaustion and fell asleep. Perhaps it was an extremely deep sleep, as I didn’t wake up even when night fell. Nobody realized that I was gone, so there was no ruckus over it.
Therefore, I was able to stay asleep forever.
While sleeping, I had a dream. I dreamed with the people of Drossel. Also, Violet – she appeared in it too. My favorite girl.
She looked at me as I cried and said, just like before, “You are such a crybaby.” She also said, “I would like to cease your tears, but I do not have a handkerchief with me.”
I told her that I didn’t need one and hugged her, asking her to stay by my side instead.
I realized that, while I was crying on Violet’s chest, she had turned into Alberta. When I thought, “It’s Alberta”, the tears overflowed even harder.
I appealed to Alberta. No matter what I said, no one listened to it seriously. No matter what I said, people would make faces, as if poking fun at me. No matter what I said, my situation never improved. No matter who I looked at, nobody would help me. No matter who I looked at, nobody was my ally. No matter where I searched, you wouldn’t be there. No matter where I searched, you wouldn’t be there. No matter where I searched, you... you... you...
“It’s because you’re not here, Alberta, that I’m so very weak.”
Even a crybaby like me would be able to act high and mighty if you were there. I would’ve been able to maintain my dignity as a princess. But now I was everyone’s bootlicker. This wasn’t me.
That was why my heart broke and, yes, I dropped it on the floor.
“Alberta, did you not see my heart somewhere around here? I need it... I need it...”
If I didn’t have it with me, Lord Damian would—
   “Were you waiting for me to search for you?” a husky voice whispered.
That was when I woke up.
Just like that one time, the Full Moon was looming over the night sky. The stars and moon were so beautiful in the blooming season of roses.
In a dreamy state of mind, I blinked. The tears spilled again. When my husband saw me weeping, he embraced me as if to hide me from the night sky.
“I will report to the soldiers that she has been found.”
“I don’t want any fuss. Leave us for a while.”
When I heard the voice of the chamberlain as well, my consciousness finally returned to reality. He had said “soldiers”. This might have turned into a big deal. But right now, I didn’t think it would be too scary even if my heart were destroyed. “Is that so,” was all I thought.
This marriage might really be done for now.
Once Lord Damian shooed him, he put his coat over me and crouched down. He gripped my hand, guiding me and carrying me in bridal style.
“This makes me look like a child.”
“No. You’re my wife, aren’t you? And a princess.”
There wasn’t anything else I wanted to do, so I just nodded and did as I was told.
The two of us went through the maze of roses. There was probably someone watching over us. The light of a lantern swayed in the distance as a guide.
“Do you want to divorce from me?” Lord Damian muttered out of the blue with a quivering voice, leaving me in shock. I didn’t understand very well what he was saying.
“Lord Damian, if you want to do so...”
“That’s not it, Charlotte. I don’t want to break up with you... but I was wondering... if you might be thinking of doing that, right now...”
I wasn’t sure what he was talking about.
“Ralph, the chamberlain... has been telling me all this time. That if I were to take the hand of a princess from another country for the first time in sixty years, there would definitely be criticism. He told me to make sure to protect you when the time came.”
What was he saying?
“At first, I thought I was nailing it. I stayed by your side, so that no one could even try to say anything inappropriate to you...”
What was he... saying?
“But then I had to succeed the throne... there were tons of responsibilities stacked up in front of me, and I started looking only at those stacks... I didn’t even realize that you were in such a painful spot. It’s not your fault. I’m the one who isn’t ruling the country right, and for some reason, that’s being taken out on you. Stupid, isn’t it? It’s ridiculous. Everyone thinks it’s okay to do this to you just because you’re an outsider.”
——You’re not the one to blame. I’m aware of my own defects too.
“I also heard about what happened today. It seems you acted dauntless, even though my sister said something truly foolish to you...”
——You’re not the one to blame. Lord Damian. I know it. I know that you look sour every night when you sleep. You’re doing your very best. You’re doing your best every day – every single day. I know that. You may be ten years older than me, but you’re also...
“I’m... I’m pathetic. It’s fine if you complain. Yet you haven’t uttered a single grumble to me until now. Not to Ralph, either. We basked in the fact that you were holding back and nobody took notice of it. And so, we cornered you. Until you ran away, just like that.”
——You’re also still so young.
“I’m... pathetic... I cornered my own wife...”
——So lost, so scared.
“...to the point that she ran away... barefoot.”
——And shaking.
“Charlotte, have you come to hate me already?”
——Aah, Lord Damian. So you cry too, huh. For some reason, I used to think that you didn’t shed tears. I wonder why. You were a moonlit prince for me, so I thought you didn’t cry. But I see. That’s right, even you...
“I like you. I want to stop your tears.”
——Even you have a crybaby side.
Tumblr media
After Lord Damian had said so, I realized for the first time that I was barefoot. I had the feeling that I was wearing shoes when I left the room – I wondered what had happened. He told me that someone had looked for and retrieved them. For how long had they been searching for me? If it was enough to make this man cry, then they must have searched everywhere.
Needless to say, I was such a handful of a woman. However, my heart, which had broken apart and scattered away, began setting itself in motion little by little. I could feel it regaining its warmth.
The reason might be that, for the first time ever since I had married him, we had now finally become a couple.
He asked me if I had anything that I wanted to do or that I wanted him to do. I told him that I wanted to see Alberta. He told me that he understood. He then asked if there was anything else, and so, I told him something that everyone had laughed at. We were had gone through a lot to be married, so I wanted to do something for both of our countries. I proposed that we build an orphanage near the national borders. Lord Damian didn’t laugh. He told me it would be great.
“Let’s think things out together. I regret not talking about this before because I thought it might be a burden to you. From now on, let’s have proper talks, the two of us. About happy things, sad things, painful things. I want you to talk to me. And I also want you to listen to me,” he said. He then kept on asking if there was anything else...
Lastly, I asked him to lock me up in the palace if he ever found himself a concubine. He got angry, saying he would never have one. We couldn’t be sure. It seemed we had no knack for child making. A concubine might be necessary. Lord Damian said that even then, he didn’t want one.
And then... And then... And then... What was it again?
I buried my face into Lord Damian’s neck. It had his scent, which always made my heart race whenever I sensed it.
“Hey, maybe I want to kiss you right now. My face is a mess because I cried a lot, though. Would you do it even with a wife like this?” I asked.
Lord Damian laughed while crying. “Even if you cry, you’re my lovely wife. Of course I’d do it.”
Overjoyed at these words, I shed warm tears.
When we kissed, as expected, it was a bit salty. My heart throbbed.
“I’m still in love with you, but what about you?” I asked, making sure to sound as if any answer would be fine.
Unsurprisingly, Lord Damian continued making a tearful face. “I actually only fell for you after we got married. So my heart’s beating really fast right now.”
“I see. So our feelings are mutual. That’s amazing,” I said, impressed.
“Then, what did you think it was until now?” he asked.
“A one-sided love,” I answered sincerely.
“Don’t you hear when I tell you that I love you every morning before I leave our room?”
“I do, but I thought it was some sort of flattery...”
“I’m not such a pro at that. When I like something, all I can say is that I like it. I’m very honest. You found that out on your tenth birthday, right?”
“How nostalgic... I’ve been in love with you all this time since then.”
I was living the aftermath of that story. I didn’t know whether it was a happy or sad one. But I would live, live and live. And this would probably go on forever. I was on my own in this royal palace.
But I wasn’t all alone.
“Damian, do you love me?”
“I do, Charlotte.”
I was living here, in this forest kingdom.
188 notes · View notes
Text
A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes - Arya Stark and her Cinderella Motifs
In A Song of Ice and Fire, GRRM often uses fairy tale motifs to help tell a character’s story.  Sometimes this motif spans all throughout the characters arc while other times it will only be used for one or two scenes, or anywhere in between.  And often one character can have several fairy tale motifs at different times in their arcs or even running concurrently.  For Arya, she has quite a few fairy tale motifs in her arc, but for now I’m going to focus on her Cinderella motifs that are mainly prevalent in A Clash of Kings but do show up at other times all throughout her arc as well. I’m going to focus primarily on Arya’s A Clash of Kings arc, but we will be stopping by A Storm of Swords and A Feast for Crows a few times too.  And I am going to use several versions of the retellings of Cinderella, including the Disney version, but only the 1950 original and none of its sequels.  I also want to note that not all the parallels are obvious due to things being more metaphorical or symbolic, while other times being whatever subversion that tickled GRRM’s fancy at the time.
There are many common aspects across the board when it comes to Cinderella retellings.  Often it entails the heroine losing one or both of her parents, being oppressed by her abusive stepmother and stepsisters and being forced into menial, backbreaking labor that leaves the heroine dirty and often covered in ashes.  It usually entails a magical guardian who helps the heroine, magical transformations, ballgowns and a ball where she falls in love with either a Prince or a King. An identifying item is also involved, usually a slipper made of gold or glass, where one of the pair is lost when the heroine is running from her beloved.  And the Prince/King almost always searches the realm for the woman that identifying item belongs to, and when he finds the heroine they usually marry.
Written out like that it’s hard to believe that this is a motif used for Arya.  After all she’s not in the position to be going to balls and she’s just a child so it seems unlikely at the time she’s at Harrenhal she’s going to fall in love.  However, this motif appears all throughout her arc in various and creative and subversive and repetitive ways, and motifs don’t have to be all or none and they don’t have to be in the order the original stories were laid out.  A lot of people also don’t like the idea that Arya has an actual Disney Princess motif in her story because she’s a “tomboy”, but the fact is that Arya is a Princess at the time she’s at Harrenhal, it’s even explicitly stated in Arya X ACOK, whether people acknowledge it or not, where a lot of these motifs take place.  I know some people will be dismissive of this and think I’m reaching, but I hope upon reading this I’ll have convinced you of this motif being present. :)
Step-Mother and Step-Sisters
Some of the two most common features in any variant of Cinderella is the “Persecuted Heroine” and the “Female Persecutor”.  Often this manifests as the wicked stepmother and the evil step-sisters, but in some versions a stepmother does not appear, and it’s the heroine’s older sisters who confine her to the kitchens instead.  In the opera, La Cenerentola, Gioachino Rossini inverted the gender roles where the heroine Cenerentola is oppressed by her stepfather.  And in some retellings at least one of the step siblings is somewhat kind to the heroine even.  We symbolically see these archetypes many times in Arya’s narrative with various types of inversions.
When we enter ACOK, we find a dirty and disguised Arya traveling with Yoren and the Night’s Watch recruits, having just lost her father (a subversion of the prevalent theme of Cinderella losing her mother very young).  She is also being bullied by two older boys, Lommy and Hot Pie:
At Winterfell they [Sansa and Jeyne] had called her “Arya Horseface” and she’d thought nothing could be worse, but that was before the orphan boy Lommy Greenhands had named her “Lumpyhead.” - Arya I ACOK
That wasn’t the hardest part at all; Lommy Greenhands and Hot Pie were the hardest part. - Arya I ACOK
“Look at that sword Lumpyhead’s got there,” Lommy said one morning […] “Where’s a gutter rat like Lumpyhead get him a sword?”
[. . .]
“Maybe he’s a little squire,” Hot Pie put in. […] “Some lordy lord’s little squire boy, that’s it.”
“He ain’t no squire, look at him.  I bet that’s not even a real sword.  I bet it’s just some play sword made of tin.”
Arya hated them making fun of Needle.  “It’s castle-forged steel, you stupid,” she snapped, turning in the saddle to glare at them, “and you better shut your mouth.”
The orphan boys hooted.  “Where’d you get a blade like that, Lumpyface?” Hot Pie wanted to know.
“Lumpyhead,” corrected Lommy.  He prob’ly stole it.”
“I did not!” she shouted.  Jon Snow had given her Needle.  Maybe she had to let them call her Lumpyhead, but she wasn’t going to let them call Jon a thief.
“If he stole it, we could take it off him,” said Hot Pie.  “It’s not his anyhow.  I could use me a sword like that.”
Lommy egged him on.  “Go on, take it off him, I dare you.”
Hot Pie kicked his donkey, riding closer.  “Hey, Lumpyface, you gimme that sword.” […] “You don’t know how to use it.”
[. . .]
“Look at him,” brayed Lommy Greenhands.  “I bet he’s going to cry now.  You want to cry, Lumpyhead?” – Arya I ACOK
In the first two quotes we have Arya likening the behavior of Hot Pie and Lommy to that of Jeyne Poole and Sansa. In AGOT, Sansa and Jeyne took on the “evil step-sister” archetype (and before anybody attacks me, I don’t think these two are actually “evil”, just children who think it’s okay to bully someone who is different from them), but now we are shown that this archetype has temporarily shifted onto Lommy and Hot Pie, with some subversions.  These two are now male and they aren’t related to Arya in any way.  Some variants of the Cinderella story do portray male siblings mistreating the younger “Cinderella” sibling though.  One of the stories in One Thousand and One Nights depict a story called “Judar and his Brethren”, in which the main character is poisoned by his biological brothers in the end, depicting a rare tragic ending for this retelling. However, these subversions are completely fine because either way, they took on the role of the “bully” to Arya’s Cinderella archetype currently in the narrative.  
Furthermore, while Septa Mordane was the obvious “wicked stepmother” archetype to Arya’s Cinderella archetype in AGOT, I think arguably this has fallen to Cersei now (and the Lannister’s as a whole).  Cersei may not be present, but she is the reason why Arya is in the situation she is in right now.  After all, Cersei takes on the role of “Evil Queen” for Sansa and Jon (they both share Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs motifs) so I do think she is the metaphorical “wicked stepmother” in this equation regardless of the fact that Cersei isn’t anything remotely close to a stepmother to Arya in the narrative, but she fits the general archetype of “female persecutor” the most in the current situation.  For the case about Septa Mordane being a “wicked stepmother” archetype, I want to point to Cenerentola by Basile, in which the “wicked stepmother” started out as being the heroine’s governess, and Septa’s are the closest substitute to a governess in the universe of ASOIAF.
This isn’t the end to these archetypes being in play.  As the early chapters of ACOK go on we see the animosity between Lommy, Hot Pie, and Arya disappear to the point where they become allies and then friends. With this shift in dynamic we see the archetypes disappearing with some of these same characters taking on entirely new Cinderella archetypes, while the “wicked stepmother” and “evil step-sibling” archetypes move onto other characters as well.
At Harrenhal we are introduced to two wicked women who next take on the “evil step-sibling” archetype, Goodwife Harra and Goodwife Amabel.  These two even comment on Arya’s feet:
When Arya's turn came round, Goodwife Amabel clucked in dismay at the sight of her feet, while Goodwife Harra felt the callus on her fingers that long hours of practice with Needle had earned her. "Got those churning butter, I'll wager," she said. "Some farmer's whelp, are you? Well, never you mind, girl, you have a chance to win a higher place in this world if you work hard. If you won't work hard, you'll be beaten. And what do they call you?"
Arya dared not say her true name, but Arry was no good either, it was a boy’s name and they could see she was no boy.  “Weasel,” she said, naming the first girl she could think of.  “Lommy called me Weasel.”
“I can see why,” sniffed Goodwife Amabel.  “That hair is a fright and a nest for lice as well. We’ll have it off, and then you’re for the kitchens.”
“I’d sooner tend the horses.”  Arya liked horses, and maybe if she was in the stables she’d be able to steal one and escape.
Goodwife Harra slapped her so hard that her swollen lip broke open all over again.  “And keep that tongue to yourself or you’ll get worse.  No one asked your views.”
The blood in her mouth had a salty metal tang to it. Arya dropped her gaze and said nothing. If I still had Needle, she wouldn’t dare hit me, she thought sullenly.
“Lord Tywin and his knights have grooms and squires to tend their horses, they don’t need the likes of you,” Goodwife Amabel said. “The kitchens are snug and clean, and there’s always a warm fire to sleep by and plenty to eat.  You might have done well there, but I can see you’re not a clever girl.  Harra, I believe we should give this one to Weese.”
“If you think so, Amabel.”  They gave her a shift of grey roughspun wool and a pair of ill-fitting shoes and sent her off. – Arya VI ACOK
Later Goodwife Amabel even threatens to rape Arya:
Three Frey men-at-arms were using them that morning as Arya went to the well. She tried not to look, but she could hear the men laughing. The pail was very heavy once full. She was turning to bring it back to Kingspyre when Goodwife Amabel seized her arm. The water went sloshing over the side onto Amabel's legs. "You did that on purpose," the woman screeched.
"What do you want?" Arya squirmed in her grasp. Amabel had been half-crazed since they'd cut Harra's head off.
"See there?" Amabel pointed across the yard at Pia. "When this northman falls you'll be where she is."
"Let me go." She tried to wrench free, but Amabel only tightened her fingers.
"He will fall too, Harrenhal pulls them all down in the end. Lord Tywin's won now, he'll be marching back with all his power, and then it will be his turn to punish the disloyal. And don't think he won't know what you did!" The old woman laughed. "I may have a turn at you myself. Harra had an old broom, I'll save it for you. The handle's cracked and splintery—" - Arya X ACOK
Menial, Backbreaking Labor
When Arya is enslaved and forced into the oppressive walls of Harrenhal, she is forced to scrub floors and do other menial, backbreaking work from sunrise to sunset, just like Cinderella:
Weese used Arya to run messages, draw water, and fetch food, and sometimes to serve at table in the Barracks Hall above the armory, where the men-at-arms took their meals. But most of her work was cleaning. The ground floor of the Wailing Tower was given over to storerooms and granaries, and two floors above housed part of the garrison, but the upper stories had not been occupied for eighty years. Now Lord Tywin had commanded that they be made fit for habitation again. There were floors to be scrubbed, grime to be washed off windows, broken chairs and rotted beds to be carried off. The topmost story was infested with nests of the huge black bats that House Whent had used for its sigil, and there were rats in the cellars as well . . . and ghosts, some said, the spirits of Harren the Black and his sons. – Arya VII ACOK
She spent the rest of that day scrubbing steps inside the Wailing Tower. By evenfall her hands were raw and bleeding and her arms so sore they trembled when she lugged the pail back to the cellar. Too tired even for food, Arya begged Weese's pardons and crawled into her straw to sleep. – Arya VII ACOK
Magical Transformations and Mice
In Disney’s Cinderella, the fairy godmother transforms mice into different creatures.  On the road to Harrenhal, Arya not only likens herself to a sheep, but a mouse and continues her time at Harrenhal referring to herself as a “mouse”.  This is also a subversion, while Cinderella in the Disney incarnation befriends mice, in our story Arya becomes the meek mouse:
On the road Arya had felt like a sheep, but Harrenhal turned her into a mouse.  She was grey as a mouse in her scratchy wool shift, and like a mouse she kept to the crannies and crevices and dark holes of the castle, scurrying out of the way of the mighty. – Arya VII ACOK
He does not know me, she thought.  Arry was a fierce little boy with a sword, and I’m just a grey mouse girl with a pail. – Arya VII ACOK
She was very small and Harrenhal was very large, full of places where a mouse could hide. – Arya VII ACOK
Even Jaqen calls Arya a mouse:
She crept up quiet as a shadow, but he opened his eyes all the same.  “She steals in on little mice feet, but a man hears,” he said.  How could he hear me? She wondered, and it seemed as if he heard that as well.  “The scuff of leather on stone sings loud as warhorns to a man with open ears.  Clever girls go barefoot.” – Arya VIII ACOK
However, through Jaqen, Arya begins to feel more in control of her situation, stronger and is transformed, if only for a short time.
“…Some are saying it was Harren’s ghost flung him down.” He snorted to show what he thought of such notions.
It wasn’t Harren, Arya wanted to say, it was me. She has killed Chiswyck with a whisper, and she would kill two more before she was through.  I’m the ghost in Harrenhal, she thought.  And that night, there was one less name to hate. – Arya VII ACOK
I was a sheep, and then I was a mouse, I couldn’t do anything but hide.  Arya chewed her lip and tried to think when her courage had come back.  Jaqen made me brave again.  He made me a ghost instead of a mouse. – Arya IX ACOK
Lucifer the Cat
In Disney’s Cinderella, Lucifer is Lady Tremaine’s cat who is described as being a sly, wicked, and manipulative mouse consumer.  He spends the whole film trying to torment and catch the mice.  I feel that Weese takes on aspects of this feline character, and I think this because of certain descriptors that are given to Weese to make him appear almost catlike:
“Weasel,” Weese purred, “next time I see that mouth droop open, I’ll pull out your tongue and feed it to my bitch.” – Arya VII ACOK
In his own small strutting way, Weese was nearly as scary as Ser Gregor.  The Mountain swatted men like flies, but most of the time he did not even seem to know the fly was there.  Weese always knew you were there, and what you were doing, and sometimes what you were thinking.  He would hit at the slightest provocation, and he had a dog who was near as bad as he was, an ugly spotted bitch that smelled worse than any dog Arya had ever known. Once she saw him set the dog on a latrine boy who’d annoyed him.  She tore a big chunk out of the boy’s calf while Weese laughed. – Arya VII ACOK
So here we have Weese purring, strutting, being compared to the Mountain who swats at peoples, and being watchful and observant, very much like a cat.  And like in the movie, a dog attacks him.  Now Weese didn’t fall from a tower window, but Chiswyck fell/was pushed. Considering these two are the two people Arya had Jaqen kill, I wouldn’t be surprised if they are meant to make up two halves of a whole in this regard.  After all, they are both wicked creatures who prey upon the weak, just like Lucifer and they both got their just desserts for it.
Jaq the Mouse
In Disney’s Cinderella, Cinderella rescues mice from traps, as well as from Lucifer, and dresses and feeds them.  They perform favors in return.  At the beginning of the film, a mouse named Gus is trapped in a cage, and the leader of the mice finds him and retrieves Cinderella to free him.  The leader of the mice is a mouse named Jaq, and he was also a mouse that was saved by Cinderella from a cage.  This sounds awfully familiar…
Rushing through the barn doors was like running into a furnace.  The air was swirling with smoke, the back wall a sheet of fire ground to roof. Their horses and donkeys were kicking and rearing and screaming.  The poor animals, Arya thought.  Then she saw the wagon, and the three men manacled to its bed.  Biter was flinging himself against the chains, blood running down his arms from where the iron clasped his wrists.  Rorge screamed curses, kicking at the wood.  “Boy!” called Jaqen H’ghar.  “Sweet boy!”
[. . .]
“Good boys, kind boys,” called Jaqen H’ghar, coughing.
“Get these fucking chains off!” Rorge screamed.
[. . .]
Going back into that barn was the hardest thing she ever did.  Smoke was pouring out the open door like a writhing black snake, and she could hear the screams of the poor animals inside, donkeys and horses and men.  She chewed her lip, and darted through the doors, crouched low where the smoke wasn’t quite so thick.
A donkey was caught in a ring of fire, shrieking in terror and pain.  She could smell the stench of burning hair.  The roof was gone up too, and things were falling down, pieces of flaming wood and bits of straw and hay.  Arya put a hand over her mouth and nose.  She couldn’t see the wagon for the smoke, but she could still hear Biter screaming.  She crawled toward the sound.
And then a wheel was looming over her.  The wagon jumped and moved a half foot when Biter threw himself against his chains again.  Jaqen saw her, but it was too hard to breathe, let alone talk.  She threw the axe into the wagon.  Rorge caught it and lifted it over his head, rivers of sooty sweat pouring down his noseless face.  Arya was running, coughing.  She heard the steel crash through the old wood, and again, again. An instant later came a crack as loud as thunder, and the bottom of the wagon came ripping loose in an explosion of splinters. – Arya IV ACOK
So here we have Jaq who is leader of the mice, who also helps Cinderella by doing her favors.  Then we have Jaqen H’ghar who is the leader of Rorge and Biter (this name seems even more fitting now) and who is performing favors for Arya, which leads me to Jaqen’s dual Cinderella archetype: Fairy Godmother.
Magical Helpers
Some versions of Magical Helpers come from fairy godmothers or talking animals or genies.  In other versions this help comes to the heroine through her dead mother, often manifesting through animal aid.  In One Thousand and One Nights, in the story of “Judar and his Brethren” Judar is our Cinderella figure, whose own brothers betray and poison him, but before that he was gifted a genie named Al-Ra’ad al-Kasif who granted Judar’s wishes.  In the passage below Jaqen grants Arya three “wishes” which is typical for genies to grant in our popular consciousness:
She remembered that she hated him.  “You scared me.  You’re one of them now, I should have let you burn.  What are you doing here?  Go away or I’ll yell for Weese.”
“A man pays his debts.  A man owes three.”
“Three?”
“The Red God has his due, sweet girl, and only death may pay for life.  This girl took three that were his.  This girl must give three in their places.  Speak the names, and a man will do the rest.”
He wants to help me, Arya realized with a rush of hope that made her dizzy.  “Take me to Riverrun, it’s not far, if we stole some horses we could—”
He laid a finger on her lips.  “Three lives you shall have of me.  No more, no less.  Three and we are done.  So a girl must ponder.”  He kissed her hair softly.  “But not too long.” – Arya VII ACOK
Later, we also see that “wishes” have consequences, which is also prevalent when genies are concerned.  GRRM himself is a big fan of consequences and unintended side effects.  
Jaqen is not Arya’s only form of Magical Help at Harrenhal however.  Jaqen may take on the role of Fairy Godmother/Genie, but we also see Arya experiencing the help of not only an animal aid, but from a dead parent.  For instance, the heroine in Aschenputtel, by the Brother’s Grimm, is given a hazel twig by her father that she plants over her mother’s grave.  She waters it with tears and over the years it grows into a glowing hazel tree.  The girl prays under it three times a day, chanting, and a bird emerges from it that grants her wishes.  There are two instances of something similar happening in the books:
In the godswood she found her broomstick sword where she had left it, and carried it to the heart tree.  There she knelt.  Red leaves rustled.  Red eyes peered inside her.  The eyes of the gods.  “Tell me what to do, you gods,” she prayed.
For a long moment there was no sound but the wind and the water and the creak of leaf and limb.  And then, far far off, beyond the godswood and the haunted towers and the immense stone walls of Harrenhal, from somewhere out in the world, came the long lonely howl of a wolf.  Gooseprickles rose on Arya’s skin, and for an instant she felt dizzy.  Then, so faintly, it seemed as if she heard her father’s voice.  “When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives,” he said.
“But there is no pack,” she whispered to the weirwood.  Bran and Rickon were dead, the Lannisters had Sansa, Jon had gone to the Wall.  “I’m not even me now, I’m Nan.”
“You are Arya of Winterfell, daughter of the north. You told me you could be strong.  You have the wolf blood in you.”
“The wolf blood.”  Arya remembered now.  “I’ll be as strong as Robb.  I said I would.”  She took a deep breath, then lifted the broomstick in both hands and brought it down across her knee.  It broke with a loud crack, and she threw the pieces aside.  I am a direwolf, and done with wooden teeth. – Arya X ACOK
Here we see an inversion. Arya’s mother isn’t dead at this time, but her father, Ned is.  He is who we hear through the heart tree giving Arya this empowering “Mufasa” moment that gives way to Arya’s true transformation in this arc, she reclaims her identity.  And as soon as Arya asks the old gods for aid, a wolf howls in the distance as if in answer.  It’s not confirmed but I do truly believe that this howl came from Nymeria, by way of the Old Gods/Greenseers, who somehow helped strengthen their bond.  It is after this moment that Arya starts having full on wolf dreams in earnest and it’s through her first wolf dream that we see that Nymeria may have become Arya’s animal aid:
Her dreams were red and savage.  The Mummers were in them, four at least, a pale Lyseni and a dark brutal axeman from Ib, the scarred Dothraki horse lord called Iggo and a Dornishman whose name she never knew.  On and on they came, riding through the rain in rusting mail and wet leather, swords and axe clanking against their saddles.  They thought they were hunting her, she knew with all the strange sharp certainty of dreams, but they were wrong.  She was hunting them.
She was no little girl in the dream; she was a wolf, huge and powerful, and when she emerged from beneath the trees in front of them and bared her teeth in a low rumbling growl, she could small the rank stench of fear from horse and man alike.  The Lyseni’s mount reared and screamed in terror, and the others shouted at one another in mantalk, but before they could act the other wolves came hurtling from the darkness and the rain, a great pack of them, gaunt and wet and silent.
The fight was short but bloody.  The hairy man went down as he unslung his axe, the dark one died stringing an arrow, and the pale man from Lys tried to bolt.  Her brothers and sisters ran him down, turning him again and again, coming at him from all sides, snapping at the legs of his horse and tearing the throat from the rider when he came crashing to the earth. – Arya I ASOS
We see here that Nymeria and her pack protected Arya, Gendry, and Hot Pie against their pursuers after their escape from Harrenhal.
Here is another instance of Arya praying under the heart tree:
Arya went to her knees.  She wasn’t sure how she should begin.  She clasped her hands together.  Help me, you old gods, she prayed silently.  Help me get those men out of the dungeon so we can kill Ser Amory, and bring me home to Winterfell.  Make me a water dancer and a wolf and not afraid again, ever.
Was that enough?  Maybe she should pray aloud if she wanted the old gods to hear.  Maybe she should pray longer.  Sometimes her father had prayed a long time, she remembered. But the old gods had never helped him. Remembering that made her angry. “You should have saved him,” she scolded the tree.  “He prayed to you all the time.  I don’t care if you help me or not.  I don’t think you could even if you wanted to.”
“Gods are not mocked, girl.”
The voice startled her.  She leapt to her feet and drew her wooden sword.  Jaqen H’ghar stood so still in the darkness that he seemed one of the trees.  “A man comes to hear a name.  One and two and then comes three.  A man would have done.”
Arya lowered the splintery point toward the ground. “How did you know I was here?”
“A man sees.  A mean hears.  A man knows.”
She regarded him suspiciously.  Had the gods sent him?  “How’d you make the dog kill Weese?  Did you call Rorge and Biter up from hell?  Is Jaqen H’ghar your true name?
“Some men have many names.  Weasel.  Arry. Arya.”
She backed away from him, until she was pressed against the heart tree.  “Did Gendry tell?”
“A man knows,” he said again.  “My lady of Stark.”
Maybe the gods had sent him in answer to her prayers. – Arya IX ACOK
In Cenerentola, the heroine’s (Zezolla) father is given a date seedling by a fairy and he gives it to his daughter.  Zezolla cultivates the tree in which a fairy lives.  This fairy gives Zezolla magical aid.  When Arya prayed beneath the heart tree in the above quote it almost seems like Jaqen appeared from the trees, leaving Arya to question if the old gods sent him.
And like in Aschenputtel and Disney’s Cinderella, Arya spends time at Harrenhal singing/chanting to herself as well:
Barefoot surefoot lightfoot, she sang under her breath. I am the ghost in Harrenhal. – Arya IX ACOK
This is very strange for a couple of reasons.  When we first meet Arya she claims not to like songs and doesn’t sing.  She continues this up until she goes to Braavos. There she discovers that she likes the bawdy songs when she is using the name, Cat of the Canals.  The only exception to this is when Arya is at Harrenhal. Another reason this is odd is because of where Arya is at physically and mentally.  So either Arya was always lying about not liking songs, or Arya singing here is supposed to tell us something.
And while this might not mean anything, I found it interesting that Arya spends a lot of her time in ACOK barefoot.  Now Cinderella isn’t really said to be barefoot in the stories, but she did usually lose a shoe when running away from the Prince/King, hence making her barefoot. When Arya decides to escape Harrenhal, she does don a pair of shoes again and from then on out she mostly wears them.  This also leads to a fun bit of subversion.  In the originals tales it’s always the Prince/King saving Cinderella from further oppression.  But in Arya X ACOK, not only did she (a princess) plan the escape, but she saves Gendry, a lost (albeit bastard) prince, along with Hot Pie, from further oppression (and torture and death) by their slavers in their prison camp.  (Hot Pie definitely reminds me of Gus Gus as well by the way :D)
From Rags to Riches
In many versions of Cinderella, we also see the heroine become physically transformed.  The heroine is usually dirty, covered in ashes, and wearing “rags” before they are made over.  In the most popular version, Disney’s Cinderella, the Fairy Godmother magically turns her from dirty household servant to highborn lady, adorning her in a silver ballgown and glass slippers.  In Ye Xian, magical fish bones, help the heroine dress appropriately for a local Festival, including a light, golden shoe.  And in Aschenputtel, the doves that emerge from her hazel tree, that grant the heroine wishes, drop a gold and silver gown and silk shoes down to her to wear to the ball.  Also, noticeably, this is the time the Prince/King notices Cinderella and finally “sees” her.
While we didn’t get anything like that in ACOK, we don’t have to look much farther than ASOS, when Arya goes to Acorn Hall and meets Lady Smallwood, who puts her in two different dresses:
And afterward, they insisted she dress herself in girl’s things, brown woolen stockings and a light linen shift, and over that a light green gown with acorns embroidered all over the bodice in brown thread, and more acorns bordering the hem. – Arya IV ASOS
It was even worse than before; Lady Smallwood insisted that Arya take another bath, and cut and comb her hair besides; the dress she put her in this time was sort of lilac-colored, and decorated with little baby pearls.  The only good thing about it was that it was so delicate that no one could expect her to ride in it. – Arya IV ASOS
And while there is no ball, Arya and Gendry spend their time in the forge together.  This is the very first time Gendry has seen Arya look like a proper lady.  Cinderella and Arya are no longer dirty and in rags and they are now in gowns looking their place in society, despite Arya’s dress not being nearly as grand.  However, it’s enough of a change for Gendry to finally realize just who Arya truly is when it comes to her place in the world.  And judging by his behavior after this event, he also begins to acknowledge that if he continues to stay by her side he could potentially love her romantically in the future as well:  
Gendry reached out with the tongs as if to pinch her face, but Arya swatted them away.
[. . .]
Gendry put the hammer down and looked at her.  “You look different now.  Like a proper little girl.”
“I look like an oak tree, with all these stupid acorns.”
“Nice, though.  A nice oak tree.”  He stepped closer, and sniffed at her.  “You even smell nice for a change.” – Arya IV ASOS
Runaway Princess
Now we may not have had a ball, but while taking shelter in a stone stable with the Brotherhood Without Banners, Arya does run outside, trying to get away from everyone:
His words beat at her ears like the pounding of a drum, and suddenly it was more than Arya could stand.  She wanted Riverrun, not Acorn Hall; she wanted her mother and her brother Robb, not Lady Smallwood or some uncle she never knew.  Whirling, she broke for the door, and when Harwin tried to grab her arm she spun away from him quick as a snake.
Outside the stables the rain was still falling, and distant lightning flashed in the west.  Arya ran as fast as she could.  She did not know where she was going, only that she wanted to be alone, away from all the voices, away from their hollow words and broken promises.  All I wanted was to go to Riverrun.  It was her own fault, for taking Gendry and Hot Pie with her when she left Harrenhal.  She would have been better alone.  If she had been alone, the outlaws would never have caught her, and she’d be with Robb and her mother by now.  They were never my pack.  If they had been, they wouldn’t leave me.  She splashed through a puddle of muddy water.  Someone was shouting her name, Harwin probably, or Gendry, but the thunder drowned them out as it rolled across the hills half a heartbeat behind the lightning.  The lightning lord, she thought angrily.  Maybe he couldn’t die, but he could lie. – Arya VIII ASOS
Now it’s not explicitly clear that it was Gendry who ran after Arya, calling her name, but due to the possible symbolism in the scene, and also his behavior in AFFC, it makes me think it was him.  But whether he was or not I believe just Arya believing it might be him makes this applicable enough as a loose parallel for the Prince chasing after Cinderella, only for Cinderella to disappear like in many of the Cinderella retellings.  
Searching the Realm
At the end of ASOS in the epilogue we learn that Lady Stoneheart and the Brotherhood Without Banners, who Gendry is a part of is actively searching for Arya:
The outlaw gave him (Merrett Frey) an encouraging smile. “Well, as it happens, we’re looking for a dog that ran away.”
“A dog?” Merrett was lost.  “What kind of dog?”
“He answers to the name Sandor Clegane […] Did you see him at the wedding, perchance?”
[. . .]
“He would have had a child with him,” said the singer.  “A skinny girl, about ten.  Or perhaps a boy the same age.”
“I don’t think so,” said Merrett.  “Not that I knew.” – Epilogue ASOS
In many retellings of the Cinderella story, the Prince/King searches the realm looking for the heroine with an identifying item, and typically that item is a shoe of some sort.  Once the shoe is placed on the heroine’s foot it symbolically means the heroine is reclaiming her identity.  Arya, however, didn’t lose a shoe, and I’d argue that when Ned/the Old Gods/the Greenseers spoke to Arya through the heart tree, empowering Arya, that’s when Arya reclaimed her identity, at least for that time as Arya must reclaim her identity multiple times in her arc.  I’d argue that Arya’s connection to the North and her family is her overall identifying item. But I fully believe Gendry himself might be another “identifying item,” along with him still taking on the archetypal role of “prince”.
Why do I say this? Because in AFFC Gendry is stationed at one of the last known places Arya was sighted at with the Hound, the Crossroads Inn, where he is blacksmithing while also helping to look after orphans. He was likely stationed there by Lady Stoneheart and the Brotherhood Without Banners because he knew Arya the best out of everyone (remember LSH would probably have a hard time recognizing Arya after two plus years and a resurrection).  So if she returned, he would not only have a better chance at recognizing her, but also possibly a better chance at keeping her there compared to anyone else.  If people are doubting that this is Gendry’s role, just remember that the BWB is actively looking for Arya, and also note Gendry’s personality shift post-ASOS. Gendry has always been rude and moody, but in AFFC it has been taken to the extreme.  He is absolutely furious and instead of being just plain rude, he’s actually become mean and more violent.  He also seems to have something against the Hound now, someone who he previously had nothing against during the Hound’s trial by combat earlier in ASOS:
…The boy came and stood beside her, his hammer in his hand.
Lightning cracked to the south as the riders swung down off their horses.  For half a heartbeat darkness turned to day.  An axe gleamed silvery blue, light shimmered off mail and plate, and beneath the dark hood of the lead rider Brienne glimpsed an iron snout and rows of steel teeth, snarling.
Gendry saw it too.  “Him.”
“Not him.  His helm.” Brienne tried to keep the fear from her voice, but her mouth was dry as dust. – Brienne VII AFFC
That “him” was very pointed and because of the symbolism in the scene surrounding that “him” and the overall change in Gendry’s behavior I definitely take it to mean Gendry does have a problem with the Hound now.  So what changed?  The Hound kidnapped Arya.  I think it’s safe to say that Gendry is just as invested as the rest of the BWB, if not more so, to finding Arya again, hence making him the “prince” searching the realm for his lost Cinderella.
A Dream Is a Wish Your Heart Makes
In Disney’s Cinderella, songs like “Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo”, “So This Is Love”, “Cinderella”, “A Dream Is a Wish Your Heart Makes”, “Oh, Sing Sweet Nightingale”, and “The Work Song” are included into the film.  This isn’t the first time we’ve seen something like this in the previous retellings however.  Like I mentioned earlier the Brother’s Grimm, Aschenputtel, features this as well to some extant.  In Aschenputtel, the heroine would “sing a chant” to call upon the white doves that came from her glowing hazel tree.  These birds would help her grant wishes and help her complete tasks, and it was most likely the inspiration for why birds were included in the Disney version, although birds have featured in more than just Aschenputtel.  I mention this because GRRM wrote Arya a song in the novels:
“My featherbed is deep and soft,
and there I'll lay you down,
I'll dress you all in yellow silk,
and on your head a crown.
For you shall be my lady love,
and I shall be your lord.
I'll always keep you warm and safe,
and guard you with my sword.
 “And how she smiled and how she laughed,
the maiden of the tree.
She spun away and said to him,
no featherbed for me.
I'll wear a gown of golden leaves,
and bind my hair with grass,
But you can be my forest love,
and me your forest lass.”
This is very clearly a love song also and we know it’s most likely about Arya and her foreshadowing a possible future relationship with Gendry.  And it’s very clearly about them as Gendry is a bastard Baratheon “prince”, hence the mentions of “yellow silk” and a “crown”, and also because Arya quite literally is dressed as an oak tree at this time and almost a maiden and will be a maiden when they reunite later in the series.  We also know the song is meant to foreshadow them because of the context.  Tom O’Seven’s specifically winked at Arya as he sang this song, and after the song was sung Lady Smallwood, when taking Arya to get changed into a different dress, said to Arya, “I have no gowns of leaves,” which further tells the readers that this song is Arya’s song, her future love song.
A Mother’s Legacy
In the Magical Helpers section above I mentioned that a dead parent may be the one to help the heroine instead of the typical fairy godmother, by either sending an animal to aid the heroine and/or granting wishes, or by the heroine’s mother transforming into an animal.  In some Greek versions, in “the Balkan-Slavonic tradition of the tale”, and in some Central Asian variants, the heroine’s mother comes back as a cow who is then killed by the heroine’s sisters.  The heroine eventually gathers the bones and from her mother’s grave the heroine is gifted wonderful dresses.  In other variants, the heroine’s dead mother comes back as a fish or a female dog. These animals represent the heroine’s mother’s legacy.
Jon chuckled. “Perhaps you should do the same thing, little sister.  Wed Tully to Stark in your arms.”
“A wolf with a fish in its mouth?” It made her laugh.  “That would look silly…” – Arya I AGOT
That night she went to sleep thinking of her mother, and wondering if she should kill the Hound in his sleep and rescue Lady Catelyn herself.  When she closed her eyes she saw her mother’s face against the back of her eyelids.  She’s so close I could almost smell her…
…and then she could smell her.  The scent was faint beneath the other smells, beneath moss and mud and water, and the stench of rotting reeds and rotting men.  She padded slowly through the soft ground to the river’s edge, lapped up a drink, then lifted her head to sniff.  The sky was grey and thick with cloud, the river green and full of floating things.  Dead men clogged the shallows, some still moving as the water pushed them, others washed up on the banks.  Her brothers and sisters swarmed around them, tearing at the rich ripe flesh.
[. . .]
The scent was stronger now [. . .] Only the scent mattered.  She sniffed the air again.  There it was, and now she saw it too, something pale and white drifting down the river, turning where it brushed against a snag.  The reeds bowed down before it.
She splashed noisily through the shallows and threw herself into the deeper water, her legs churning.  The current was strong but she was stronger.  She swam, following her nose.  The river smells were rich and wet, but those were not the smells that pulled her.  She paddled after the sharp red whisper of cold blood, the sweet cloying stench of death.  She chased them as she had often chased a red deer through the trees, and in the end she ran them down, and her jaw closed around a pale white arm.  She shook it to make it move, but there was only death and blood in her mouth.  By now she was tiring, and it was all she could do to pull the body back to shore. As she dragged it up the muddy bank, one of her little brothers came prowling, his tongue lolling from his mouth. She had to snarl to drive him off, or else he would have fed.  Only then did she stop to shake the water from her fur.  The white thing lay facedown in the mud, her dead flesh wrinkled and pale, cold blood trickling from her throat.  Rise, she thought.  Rise and eat and run with us. – Arya XII ASOS
“So you sewed his head on Robb Stark’s neck after both o’ them were dead,” said yellow cloak.
“My [Merrett Frey] father did that [. . .] I only drank some wine…you have no witness.”
“As it happens, you’re wrong there.”  The singer turned to the hooded woman.  “Milady?”
The outlaws parted as she came forward, saying no word.  When she lowered her hood, something tightened inside Merrett’s chest, and for a moment he could not breathe.  No.  No, I saw her die.  She was dead for a day and night before they stripped her naked and threw her body in the river.  Raymund opened her throat from ear to ear.  She was dead.
Her cloak and collar hid the gash his brother’s blade had made, but her face was even worse than he remembered.  The flesh had gone pudding soft in the water and turned the color of curdled milk. Half her hair was gone and the rest had turned as white and brittle as a crone’s.  Beneath her ravaged scalp, her face was shredded skin and black blood where she had raked herself with her nails.  But her eyes were the most terrible thing.  Her eyes saw him, and they hated.
“She don’t speak,” said the big man in the yellow cloak.  “You bloody bastards cut her throat too deep for that.  But she remembers.”  He turned to the dead woman and said, “What do you say, m’lady?  Was he part of it?”
Lady Catelyn’s eyes never left him.  She nodded. – Epilogue ASOS
In the Chinese retelling of Cinderella, Ye Xian, the heroine befriends a fish, which is the reincarnation of her deceased mother.  In The Story of Tam and Cam, a Vietnamese version, the heroine Tam also had a fish which was killed by the stepmother and the half-sister, and its bones also give her clothes.  And a typical scene in Kapmalaien tales is the mother becoming a fish, being eaten in fish form, the daughter burying her bones and a tree sprouting from her grave.
So not only is Lady Catelyn a symbolic fish, a daughter of House Tully, but she’s also been resurrected (reincarnated), and is looking specifically for our heroine, Arya, who I believe will be gifted several various things (both good and bad) by this incarnation of her mother, but we shall see if the parallel continues when TWOW and ADOS come out.
Conclusion
I really hope that after you read this monster you were as convinced as I am that Arya indeed has Cinderella motifs, and an extensive amount of them as well. Whatever it may mean I don’t rightly know, but what I do know is that at the end of the day, the many stories of Cinderella are an analogy.  An analogy about someone “who unexpectedly achieves recognition or success after a period of obscurity and neglect”.  Of someone whose attributes were unrecognized in their society, only for them to be recognized.  And I don’t know about you, but that sounds pretty hand in hand with one of her other biggest fairy tale motifs as well that runs concurrently with the Cinderella motif, and that is the story of “The Ugly Duckling”, who after years of neglect, finds acceptance within society, as well as self-acceptance within themselves. :)
168 notes · View notes
dwellordream · 3 years
Text
“...As well as considerable numbers of women among the poor pilgrims following the crusaders, there were always some working women following medieval armies, some doing laundry and kitchen work or nursing the wounded and others providing sexual services. When fighting broke out, women contributed by carrying drinking water and comforting the wounded. A number of aristocratic ladies in addition to Eleanor followed their crusader husbands, and they brought along servant girls and ladies in waiting, swelling the total number of women. 
Eleanor’s own personal entourage must have been quite large but the legend that she recruited a band of armed and mounted “Amazons” to ride with her alongside the crusading knights can be set aside. This improbable story apparently originated with a Greek chronicler’s description of the crusaders’ entry into Constantinople, written at least a generation after the event. The legend was taken up enthusiastically by nineteenth-century writers and is repeated in widely read twentieth-century books on Eleanor. 
The vast army made its way to Metz after a four-or five-day march from Paris and then marched on to Worms, where it crossed the Rhine. A traveler on horseback could average thirty-five miles a day, but Louis’s host was slowed by many persons on foot, slow-moving packhorses, and cumbersome two- and four-horse baggage carts and wagons clogging the roads. At Regensburg in Germany, baggage was loaded on barges to be sent down the Danube as far as Bulgaria, relieving the army of the carts that had “afforded more hope than usefulness” and raised much complaint from military men for holding up their progress on land.
A great deal of the supplies belonged to Eleanor, and her bulky baggage would cause criticism later. Even with her more than ample supplies, she could not have found travel conditions comfortable. A medieval road “hardly existed as a physical object,” being little more than a track connecting towns and villages, often containing impassable mudholes in wet weather. If Eleanor chose not to ride a horse, she could have had herself carried between two horses on a litter, as was common for noble ladies. She and other aristocratic ladies may have ridden part of the way in “chariots,” uncomfortable but highly decorated carts. Wheeled vehicles were not equipped with springs, and nobles usually disdained carts for their rough ride and also for their demeaning associations with peasants and laborers.
…On 4 October 1147, after a five-month journey, Louis and Eleanor arrived before the walls of Constantinople with the crusading army and its accompanying pilgrims. From the first sight of the massive Theodosian walls protecting the western approach, the great city made a powerful impression on Eleanor and her companions, even though at the time of the Second Crusade it was past its prime, the capital of a shrunken and weakened empire. Its great churches and palaces constructed under Constantine and Justinian were still standing and in daily use, unlike in Rome, where the Roman imperial monuments had fallen into ruin long ago. 
The “Great” or “Sacred Palace” overlooking the sea had periodically been enlarged and renovated and had grown into a city within a city. Connected to the palace complex were the nearby Hippodrome and the church of Hagia Sophia, illustrating the links between the emperor, his people, and the Church. Since the eleventh century, the imperial family had abandoned the Great Palace, favoring the Blachernae Palace built next to the city wall at the western landward edge of the city near the Golden Horn. 
It was to Blachernae that Louis was led for his first meeting with the emperor Manuel Komnenos. Odo of Deuil describes the palace: “Its exterior is of almost matchless beauty, but its interior surpasses anything that I can say about it. Throughout it is decorated elaborately with gold and a great variety of colors, and the floor is marble, paved with cunning workmanship; and I do not know whether the exquisite art or the exceedingly valuable stuffs endows it with the more beauty or value.”
At the gates of the city, Louis and his queen were met by a delegation from the city’s nobles and prominent citizens who welcomed them and invited them to meet their emperor. Odo of Deuil, observing the meeting, left a description: “When we approached the city, lo, all its nobles and wealthy men, clerics as well as lay people, trooped out to meet the king and received him with due honor, humbly asking him to appear before the emperor and to fulfill the emperor’s desire to see and talk with him.” Louis, “taking pity on the emperor’s fear,” agreed, and his first encounter with the Eastern emperor at the Blachernae Palace was cordial. 
Byzantine court etiquette with its obsequious obeisance to the emperor scandalized the French, but a concession was made to Louis, allowing him to sit in the emperor’s presence. The chronicler notes, “The two sovereigns were almost identical in age and stature, unlike only in dress and manners.” Eleanor is not mentioned in the account, but it is probable that she was anxious to accompany Louis on his first meeting with the Byzantine ruler to see him and his court for herself.
Manuel Komnenos made available to the French king and queen the Philopatium, a hunting lodge outside the city wall near the Blachernae Palace, and the army and the many servants and pilgrims following it camped nearby. The French crusading army spent about three weeks at Constantinople, crossing over to the Asian side of the Bosporus on 26 October. The emperor took Louis on sightseeing tours, showing him the many churches and their collections of holy relics, and after their tours he invited Louis to dine with him. The banquets at the emperor’s palace “afforded pleasure to ear, mouth, and eye with pomp as marvelous, viands as delicate, and pastimes as pleasant as the guests were illustrious.”
Meanwhile Eleanor and the empress were exchanging letters and becoming acquainted. The wife of Manuel Komnenos was German, the sister-in-law of the emperor Conrad, Bertha of Sulzbach. She had received a new name, Irene, after her marriage and conversion to the Eastern Orthodox religion in 1146. In theory, respectable Byzantine ladies were expected to be seldom seen and never heard in public. The empress’s quarters in the palace were under her sole control, guarded by eunuchs, and men were never supposed to enter—not even the emperor, unless with her permission. 
Yet in the twelfth century, Byzantine women, except for unmarried girls, were no longer so secluded as in earlier centuries, and the empress and her ladies attended receptions and banquets. Empress Irene and her guest Eleanor likely joined their husbands in the evening to dine with them in the emperor’s quarters. Louis, “a simple man who made a duty of simplicity,” soon found the excessive ceremonial and the extravagant titles of the many Byzantine court officials exasperating. His growing distaste for Constantinople was shared by his men as friction arose with the city’s money changers and merchants, whom the French suspected of price-gouging and of disdaining them. 
Eleanor’s impression of the Byzantine capital and the imperial court, however, was not likely to have been as negative as that of her husband and her countrymen. Perhaps Byzantium evoked memories of the sensuality and luxury of life at the Poitevin court, and she savored the contrast between the gorgeous spectacle of the imperial court’s ceremonies and the dull and drab Capetian royal court that she had left behind. Constantinople’s glories opened Eleanor’s eyes to “vast, lofty, undreamed-of possibilities for majesty.”
…In the half-century since the First Crusade, bitterness between crusaders and Eastern Christians had accumulated, building “a wall of incomprehension.” Crusading westerners visiting Constantinople felt inferior to the Byzantines, and they compensated by condemning the Greeks as over-civilized, too soft, effeminate, and degenerate for their tastes. Furthermore, western Christians condemned Eastern Orthodox Christians as heretics, and the chronicler Odo of Deuil reveals the ferocity of their hatred of Orthodox doctrinal errors. 
He writes, “Because of this they were judged not to be Christians, and the Franks considered killing them a matter of no importance and hence could with the more difficulty be restrained from pillage and plundering.” Greeks regarded westerners as coarse and crude barbarians, as shown by Anna Komnena’s account of the conduct of those passing through Constantinople on the First Crusade. 
She wrote, “Now the Frankish counts are naturally shameless and violent, naturally greedy of money too, and immoderate in everything they wish, and possess a flow of language greater than any other human race.” The behavior of the armies of the Second Crusade did nothing to change attitudes at the imperial court or among the people. Complaints about merchants and money changers’ cheating roused the crusaders to violence: they took with force what they could not buy, and they spoke openly of conquering Constantinople.”
- Ralph V. Turner, “Adventures and Misadventures on the Second Crusade, 1145–1149.” in Eleanor of Aquitaine: Queen of France, Queen of England
45 notes · View notes
nyaagolor · 3 years
Note
may we please get the mirror world headcanons?
heck yes u may
Most of it will be under the cut bc I talk a lot
I like to think the Mirror World is a reflection of the regular world (I call it Prime World for convenience's sake), and by reflection I mean opposite. It's not opposite in a "good v evil" way, just in the sense that a mirror world counterpart is the inverse of their prime world self, for better or for worse. For example, Noddies in Prime World sleep for most of their lives, while Mirror Noddies barely ever sleep and are constantly alert. Instead of a Sleep Ability, they give Panic, aka the Kirby equivalent of slurping down 15 espresso shots in a row. The mirror world counterparts are no better or worse than the prime world, just different!
Headcanons for all the mirror world counterparts of the Star Allies (or at least the ones I've thought abt) are under the cut :3c
Shadow Kirby (Skirby): Where Prime Kirby is reckless, bold, and overconfident, Skirby is reserved, cautious, and kinda pessimistic. They're no weaker or meaner than Prime Kirby, but seem a bit shy and non-confrontational because they always want to scope out the scene before they launch into anything. Some might call it cowardly, but Skirby thinks it's pragmatic. Much like prime Kirby, though, he's the hero of Popstar and is usually the planet's last defense against whatever eldritch horror comes their way. He deserves a break, though, since unlike Prime Kirby he's not surrounded by friends to help him out
Shadow Dedede (SDDD): He started off as a good king, always being diligent, professional, and responsible in contrast to Prime DDD's self-serving, goofy ways. He wanted what was best for the mirror world, but life didn’t make it easy. The mirror dees, rather than the loyal helpers we know from the prime world, were backstabbing jerks who were loyal to no one but themselves. SDDD tried so hard to be a good king, but had no one to help, no one to pull him out of a slump, so he just slipped through the cracks and got worse. Bitterness and anger consumed him until he started looking out for himself and himself only. He became a tyrant, turning into an iron-fisted, merciless ruler whose laws were enforced through violence. DDD got better with the help of his friends, but SDDD got much, MUCH worse as a result of his isolation and loneliness. Also he has a battle axe instead of a hammer bc I think it's cool
Dark Meta Knight (DMK): He's basically the antithesis of a knight: he's willing to work for anyone no matter how rotten they are; he always plans on backstabbing them later, cares about no one but himself, never plays fair, and is a lazy, rude jerk. He likes spicy foods instead of sweets, challenges children to duels WITHOUT offering them a sword first, and is deathly afraid of heights, despite having wings. He was in the process of creating a land-razing tank called the Halberd, but his crew betrayed him and cut up his wings and mask so now he isolates himself out of anger and fear. After being with the Star Allies, he's made some friends and realized the value of teamwork-- also he likes teaching Adeleine swears. With Dark Mind gone and the Mirror World still a bit of a dump, DMK would much rather hang out in the prime world and get on Meta Knight's nerves. He tries his best to protect the two (2) people in the mirror world he does tolerate, though (it's skirby and sddd).
Mirror Bandee: Hates SDDD with a passion. In fact, he's attempted to assassinate the king at least 26 times, but fails both because SDDD is way smarter than him and also Mirror Bandee is a sniveling coward who runs at the first sign of danger. His repeated failures have made him more of a scaredy cat, so no one takes him seriously anymore. He has a knife and ties his bandana around his "mouth" like a scarf, but it doesn't help to make him more intimidating. His repeated attempts to kill the king (and more recently Skirby and DMK, who hang out with SDDD) have become a constant in their lives and weirdly enough they don't mind his company.
Mirror Marx: I always assumed that Prime Marx was a noddy with Mirror instead of sleep. Well Mirror Marx is the opposite-- instead of having Panic like the regular hyperactive Mirror Noddies, he has sleep. He didn't show up for the events of Amazing Mirror bc he was snoozin. Because of this, he never got the Nova's powers, never tricked skirby, and never did anything evil. In fact, unlike Prime Marx, Mirror Marx cares too much about everyone's feelings, is always kind, and doesn't have a mean bone in his body. He's the glue holding the mirror world together bc not even the worst of villains want to hurt him. He's just so darn CUTE
Mirror Animal Friends: Imagine the animal friends. Give them angry expressions and sunglasses. Now make them part of a gang. Yeah that's it. The Animals are no friend of skirby's and would sooner maul the poor kid than ever lend him a paw (or flipper or wing). The forest bows to their whims and they rule it like your typical mafia boss. They're jerks.
Mirror Daroach: See these posts.
Dark Taranza: Hoo BOY he's bad. He's real bad. He rules over Mirror Floralia (Sporalia?) which is underground and filled with nasty creepy crawlies. He hates getting his hands dirty and will do anything it takes to get more power and luxury so long as he doesn't have to put himself in danger. He only cares about one thing, and that's himself. What about Queen Sectonia, you ask? She was the original queen of Mirror Floralia, but Dark Taranza mind-controlled her into his puppet to do his bidding. When the people finally snapped and declared war on the tyrannical queen, it was her they shattered, being none the wiser that Dark Taranza was the one pulling the strings. He still has a box of her shards in his castle, just in case he needs a new puppet to play with. He loves jewels and machines, all things inorganic. The imperfections of flowers? Not his style.
Mirror Magolor: Quick tangent here: Mirror Lor Starcutter, rather than being a ship to BRING people to paradise, is a sort of pocket paradise, a little virtual reality magic... thing. It can also be easily modified to only open from the outside. That's important for later. Anyway, Mirror Magolor is brutally honest, but also rude, unfriendly, impulsive, and incredibly violent. He hates machines and will start punching a lamppost if he accidentally walks into it. Scrappy little dude. He would actually rather claw his ears off than be friends with another living being. He just likes brawling and destroying ancient artifacts and that's it. Well one day he tells the mirror crew he wants to go get this thing called the Master Crown so he can destroy it. SDDD, Skirby, Mirror Bandee and DMK realize hey, that'd be nice for us to have, let's join him and then betray him at the last minute. As soon as they get there, though, the crown ends up choosing Mirror Mags as a host before anyone can do anything. Oops! The others manage to shatter him... but then the crown pulls his shards back together and attacks them again. Realizing he's both totally lost it and also immortal, the others lock Mirror Mags inside the Lor as the crown erodes the last of his humanity. Consumed by blind rage and the crown's power, Mirror Magolor just lashes out at anything that moves, biting and clawing at whatever he can reach like a feral cat. There's like a 80% chance he has rabies.
Sorry to Susie, Gooey, Adeleine, and all the non-Star Allies crew, I haven't thought abt them yet
83 notes · View notes
jimlingss · 3 years
Text
Moirai [7]
Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 [Finale]
➜ Words: 6.6k
➜ Genres: 60% Fluff, 40% Angst, Isekai!AU
➜ Summary: Death is supposed to be the end. Or at least that's what you assumed when you're hit by a TRUCK. But the moment you open your eyes again, instead of being sent to the afterlife, you've become a baby. And not just any baby. You're the female villain of a video game.
Tumblr media
         ❇ Royal Romances Chapter 3 -Prince Route- ❇   The darkness is pitch black. It’s heavy. Comforting. Eerie. All at the same time.   Anastasia lurks within the shadows, looking both ways with a flickering oil lamp carried in hand. She darts her head down the long corridor and when there isn’t a soul in sight, she sneaks past the archway before pressing her palm against a stone brick behind a marble pillar. There’s a shift, gears spinning and the wall pulls back and to the side, tucking itself in.   She enters through the hidden passageway and the wall seals itself shut again as it never opened.   The cobblestone spiral stairs are dusty and dank without a single window. She cringes and bats her hand in front of her nose, damning him for choosing such an awful place to meet. Who knows what’s down here!   Ugh. A bastard son born will be a bastard life lived.    No amount of effort can make someone noble if they weren’t already born with it. She doesn’t know why she was expecting that man to be dignified.   “I didn’t think you would come so soon.”   The King’s bastard son stands at the landing of the stairs. The spiral staircase seems to descend further behind him, but she isn’t curious to where it leads.   “Hmph.” She turns away, lamp still in hand, and she pulls her shawl closer to her. “I already made up my mind. I want to get rid of that orphan whore, so I’ll do whatever it takes. She dares to try to seduce my fiancé when she doesn’t even know her place.”   The corner of Taehyung’s thin lips curl. “Then by all means, I’ll erase that problem for you.”   The Duke’s daughter turns and her eyes glimmer with intrigue.   The man reaches into the sleeve of his cloak and hands her a tiny vial of green liquid. An emerald jewel on the cap shimmers against the dim candlelight that casts their ominous shadows on the walls.   “It’s poison. One drop in the Empress’ tea cup and you can frame her for it. That’s all it’ll take.”   Anastasia smirks, a rush of air leaving her nose in satisfaction. It might be easier just to dip the tip of a dagger in and stab that wrench with it, but framing her would make Jungkook lose his trust in the girl. He wouldn’t look at her twice. And she’d be executed without the real perpetrator ever being implicated in the crime.   She takes the vial, holding onto it carefully. Yet her eyes flicker up to Taehyung’s. “What’s in it for you?”   “All I want is the empire’s wealth.”   ….. .. .            ❇ Royal Romances Chapter 7 -Prince Route- ❇   Punishment does not come in the form of her stripped title or even her head rolling away from her neck. Punishment arrives in the darkened loneliness. That loss of sanity that whisper she has failed to capture the attention of the only person she ever loved. That she failed to make him love her.   Everything she did, it drove him away.   Every act of love placed distance between them.   Everything.   Liberation comes back with the music of trumpets muffled by the stone walls. “What’s going on?” her voice is hoarse through her parched throat. The servant screams when her arm reaches past the bars to tug on the girl’s dress. Her eyes are bleary as she looks up at the girl. “Why is it so noisy?”   “T-The civil war’s over.” The girl backs away and the celebrations become more distinct with the realization. “The villain is dead.”   The girl withdraws into the cell and cackles rip through her lungs, resounding across the empty chambers. The servant scurries away as the knight huffs out through his nose and shakes his head. But it’s the best news she’s received since she’s been stowed away.    That bastard son — Taehyung.    He was a liar. He tried to kill her beloved Jungkook. He dared to try and replace him. But no amount of effort can make someone noble if they weren’t already born with it.    A bastard son born will be a bastard life lived.    She may have been condemned as his accomplice — she may have been used as his pawn, too blinded by her own affections to realize. But she is mad with joy that she will not die alone.    She can only hope he died a cruel and painful death.   Anastasia cackles again.
Tumblr media
You gasp.   Your entire body jolts and you tear yourself up into an upright position. The covers pool in your lap, your white nightgown stuck to your back slick with cold sweat. You press your palm on your forehead, focusing on studying your heaving breath. It was just a nightmare.   Or rather, it was scenes from the original game. The way it was supposed to be.   It felt so real. As if you were Anastasia and those choices and decisions were the ones you made.   The door opens and the maid entering is startled to see you already awake. “Good morning, my lady. It’s still quite early….”   There’s no way you can return to sleep after that. “Today’s a busy day so I’ll get ready now.”   The maid nods and follows after you to the vanity. “Lady Devon has a lilac gown prepared for you today, my lady. The late Queen wore the same colour during the inauguration of the last Head Priestess.”   “Shouldn’t everyone wear it then?”   “Of course not.” The young servant smiles as she runs the brush through your hair. “Only the future queen should.”   Pft. Yeah right. It’s a ridiculous idea that you would ever be queen. Anastasia never had the chance in any route or lifetime and you doubt you will either.   But rather than changing the dress like you normally would, your hand tightens in your lap.   “Bring it to me then.”   As the future Crown Princess, you’re dolled up by several maids. Your tutor paces back and forth, commanding the flurry around you on each of their actions, from a strand of your hair out of place to a loose thread sticking out. Your cheeks are powdered in a soft pink and your lips are painted in the same cherry blossom shade. You feel like a Barbie being dressed up and not in a good way. But thankfully, the dress is simple for the occasion and your hair is plainly clipped back on both sides.    It isn’t a ball after all where people are going to be flaunting themselves. The next two days marks the inauguration of the new priestess. It’ll be a day of celebration and then a day of solemn prayer and song at the empire’s largest cathedral.   Aka, it’s going to be boring as hell.   Once you’re free from outstretched hands touching your body and making sure you’re a photoshopped version of yourself without the photoshop, you head to the gardens for a breath of air. And also to escape Lady Devon’s lectures of how you should ideally behave.   But by now, you already know what she wants to say.   Don’t chew with your mouth open. Keep your back straight. Don’t back talk to your elders. Most importantly, don’t speak to Tae—   “Anastasia!”   The corner of your mouth tugs. “Lucy.”   You shouldn’t be so happy to see the heroine of this story. Not when her existence naturally opposes yours and you purely forged a friendship for your own self-preservation.   But somewhere along the way, you found that she’s the only female who doesn’t look at you any differently. She doesn’t smile just to make you happy. She doesn’t call you just because she has something to gain. Unlike so many others, you know she has no intention of using you.   The girl doesn’t have ulterior motives. Unlike you.   “Good morning.”   “Morning.” You meet her between the bushes of peonies on the cobblestone path. “What are you doing here so early? The play doesn’t start for another three hours.”    “I didn’t want to be late, but I guess I came earlier than expected.” Her smile is sheepish and she lifts her arm, a single white lily held in her fingertips. “I saw this on my way here. I heard it was lucky to have white lilies on the day of the Head Priestess’ inauguration ceremony, so…”   You take her gift. “Thank you.”   The petals are delicate and the fragrance is subtle enough that you lift it to tickle your nose. It’s then and there, while you’re twirling the stem with your fingertips, that you notice a gaze upon you.   By sheer coincidence and coincidence only, it seems like Taehyung was seeking refuge in his corner of the garden again and ran into you. The corner of his mouth lifts, distance kept yet he’s somehow close. You can’t pretend that he’s not there.   Your eyes have locked together.   Immediately, you grab Lucy’s hand and turn to her. “You have no one to accompany you to the Eastern Cathedral tomorrow, right?”   “Uh…”   Before she can answer, you take her to the dark-haired man and smile cordially at him. “Good morning, Your Highness.”   “Anastas—”   “This is Lucienne from the House of Liza.” You drag the girl to your side and she murmurs a timid greeting to him. “I’m sure the two of you must’ve met each other a few times. She has no one to accompany her tomorrow.”   “Anastasia.” Lucy shifts to you. She’s visibly uncomfortable, her brows knitted together, fingers rubbing the skirt of her dress. “It’s quite alright, I don’t need anyone to—”   “Nonsense,” you interject with another friendly smile. “It must be lonely to go by yourself. I’ll be busy with Prince Jungkook. It’s important that you get to know others as well. You shouldn’t latch onto the Prince all the time.”    She’s visibly taken aback at your insinuation. It’s not like you want to be so blunt, but there has to be no room for refusal. This is the only way.   It’s no longer about trying to avoid the three of them. It’s no longer about bringing Lucy and Jungkook together and remaining on the sidelines. If you want to save Taehyung too, you need to use the only person who can do so.   You’ll find other ways to save yourself.   But Taehyung needs her.   “I…”   Your voice remains firm. “You should go with Taehyung.”    Lucy is the heroine of this game. It’s possible that they can end up together instead. She can comfort Taehyung, change his mind about revenge, ease his suffering, rid his grief. She’s the only one who can clear the darkness stowed inside of him.   They don’t know it, but you do.   You push her towards him. The girl stumbles from the loss of her footing and he steadies her by her shoulders.   “S-Sorry!”   “It’s fine,” he brushes off quickly and then turns his head, eyes boring holes in you. “What are you doing?”   Taehyung holds his gaze, searching your impassive expression and the corners of your mouth pulls stiffly. “I’m just joining two people who I think really suit each other. Oh, look at the time! I should leave before I’m late for my morning greeting to my fiancée. I’ll leave the both of you to it then.”   You curtsy hastily and spin around to walk away.   But Taehyung is three steps ahead of you.   His strides are long and he overtakes you easily, stopping your form far away enough that it’s out of Lucy’s earshot. He grabs your arm, pulls you back and stares deeply into your eyes. His frown deepens.   “Is this because of what I did that night of the feast?” he asks in a quiet murmur that makes you swallow hard. You don’t want to be reminded of that. Not now. Not when you’re trying to pay back the favour of saving your life by saving his. “Anastasia, I meant everything I said that night. I meant everything that I was about to do—”   You interrupt him, not wanting to hear anymore of it. It shouldn’t be this hard.   “It’s not that.” You stare directly into his pupils, unwavering in your gaze. “I have to go now.”   You brush past him and don’t glance over your shoulder, even when the temptation is overwhelming.   It really shouldn’t be this hard. You know the future. You know what’s entailed in their destiny.   But why does it seem like you’re making all the wrong choices.   //   Your knuckles rap against the surface. There’s a muffled ‘come in’ and you open the door.   Jungkook is getting ready in front of the mirror. His cape is being pinned perfectly on his back, navy blue jacket with ribbons and golden buttons making him look like the picture perfect prince of every Disney movie. It’s no wonder all the ladies constantly swoon when he passes.   To you, he’s always been that doe-eyed boy afraid of ladybugs. But marrying him wouldn’t be so bad. You’re sure it would be a good marriage. At least one full of respect and mutual understanding.   It would be better than half the marriages in the twenty-first century that ends in divorce.   Jungkook looks at your reflection in the mirror. “Anastasia. What brings you here?”   “I have matters to discuss, Prince Jungkook.”   “Very well.” He looks to the attendants beside him. “Please bring in refreshments.”   “There’s no need.” You quickly stop them and the man in front of you turns, visibly surprised at your rejection of sweets and tea. It’s the main reason why you come to visit each other after all. “This’ll be quick.”   They bow their heads and the doors shut a moment later, giving you and Jungkook privacy.   He pinches the hem of his sleeve. “Did you get in trouble with your tutors again?”   “Jungkook.” Your voice is solemn, your expression even more serious. He looks up and the corner of his mouth falls into a straight line. He follows you to the sofa and sits across from you.   “What’s the matter?” He’s frowning, worried about your changed demeanor.   You take a deep breath, bracing yourself. “We should solidify our engagement as soon as possible.”   Jungkook’s eyes widen. “W...what? Why so sudden?”    “Is it?”   “You’ve never been interested in being queen before.” His eyes narrow in on you and his brows furrow more. “Is this about the Duke and Duchess? Are they rushing you?”   “No.” You shake your head. “This is about me. It’s about us.”   “But this isn’t like you, Anna.”   “Why is it so surprising?!” Your voice is pitched and instead of anger, frantic desperation seeps in. You don’t know why everyone has to make it so difficult for you. “We’ve been engaged since our childhood! It’s only natural to move ahead. Who else are you supposed to marry—?!”   As the words come out of your mouth, it slaps you right back in the face: you’re falling into the same pattern as Anastasia.   Demanding the prince to marry you. Being blunt. Curt. Upset.   It’s so easy. It was as if your entire life was set up to be the villainess.   Oh god. You don’t know what to do. You don’t know what the answer is. You don’t know what choice to make to wind down the best path—   “Anna!” Jungkook calls you for the fifth time in the midst of your meltdown.   You lift your head to find him sitting beside you, his hands firmly squeezing your shoulders. He’s asking you if you’re alright, if you need a healer or some rest to clear your mind. He’s saying how the two of you can talk about this later. But you don’t want later. It’s always been later.   Making choices now for later.   Making plans now for later.   Everything you’ve done is for later down the line and you wonder if you’ll ever be able to reap the benefits or find the happiness you were so desperate to have when you died the first time.   Now. You want someone to shoulder your burdens with right now.   “Jungkook, what if….what if I told you I was from another world and I know the future of this world?”   “What?”   You swallow hard and meet Jungkook’s doe eyes. He searches your visage, unable to comprehend where this is coming from, where you’re going with this. “What if...the only way to save Taehyung is through Lucy? The only way is if they fall in love and she saves him.”   He’s completely lost on that. “Taehyung? What does he need saving from? Who told you he needs to fall in love with her? What?”   Your mouth opens, but you don’t know where to start, how to explain, if he would even believe you in the end. “You just need to trust me, Jungkook. I know things you don’t.”   “I...don’t understand what you’re talking about.” There’s a simmering pause between the pair of you and Jungkook looks carefully at your profile. Then his lips part to speak forbidden words— “Are you in love with Taehyung?”   It’s your turn to be confused. Befuddled. Taken aback.   And Jungkook must read the expression on his face, since he replaces your speechlessness with his own voice. “Otherwise, why would you care so much about him? You’ve never brought anyone up to me before. Not even your own parents, Anna, and I know they make things difficult for you. I’ve never seen you care about anyone else more than you care about yourself.”   You rise to your feet in an instant and turn your back on the man.   “That’s impossible. It’s impossible.”   “Why? I thought you always told me it was okay if we ended up falling in love with other peopl—”   “I said it was okay if you did. Not me.” You don’t get such a privilege. Jungkook is the protagonist, the hero. No matter what route it is, which way the story goes, he always wins. He will always live. But you will either die or be casted away. “It’s different.”   Jungkook has nothing to risk. You have everything.   “Anastasia.”   “Don’t change the subject. I came to tell you that we should move ahead with the engagement. There is no reason you should refuse, Jungkook.”    You turn and leave the room, ending the conversation there.   He doesn’t know. He makes it sound easy. But you can never be with Taehyung.   The Crown Prince’s fiancée and the bastard son. What a pair that would be.   As long as you’re living in this world, in this society, any relationship deeper than an acquaintanceship would bring disaster. It’s not as simple as falling in love, calling off the engagement, eloping together far away. This isn’t a fairy tale. This isn’t a romance narrative.   It’s life. A society that scrutinizes and shames. A culture that slanders names with scandals.   The Devereux house will fail anyway and you don’t care about soiling your reputation and being outcasted. But the King would deem it treasonous. The royal family’s reputation would be marred and ruined, and he would never accept that. He was already unhappy when Taehyung danced with you at the debutante ball, when Taehyung handed you the Hunt’s prize, when Taehyung rescued you from being kidnapped. And you cannot risk your life and Taehyung’s like that any more than you already have.   Jungkook is terribly naive if he thinks it could ever work.   //   The royal court is lively with warm drums and bright flutes that echo throughout the capital.   Famous minstrels and troubadours across the empire have come to perform for the King, having made their way through the streets in the morning for the commoners as well. He smiles in approval from his throne, the middle-aged priestess to be coordinated tomorrow seated beside him and the pair look to be enjoying the show.   Your parents are no exceptions either, seemingly relishing in the festivities. They’ve brought Edith and Joan in tow as part of their entourage, faces you never thought you’d miss. The former nods her head at you in silent greeting and the latter smiles, but you don’t get a chance to speak to either of them. Not when your parents have kept their distance.   It seems like the last incident has made them rethink their involvement in your affairs. And for that, you’re glad you’ve been granted a little more freedom.   Marquess, earls, counts, viscountess and barons seated around speak to one another in between performing acts, sipping on their wine as the afternoon sets into evening. Once in a while, laughter sparks through the courtyard and thunderous applause succeed performances.   But unlike them, you can’t enjoy it.   In spite of sitting next to Jungkook and visibly smiling, the space in-between the pair of you is tense and stiff. Lucy sits a few rows down from where she is beside her father and you can tell she’s uncomfortable with what happened earlier by her expression that never seems to ease.   All of it would be easy to ignore. If not for Taehyung’s gaze.   He’s standing in the corner against the stone walls that line the courtyard, inconspicuous but not to you. A glance at a crowd and you could still pick him out in an instant. But he doesn’t watch the play, doesn’t watch the musical performances or the acrobatics twisting around. He looks at you. As if that alone could figure out your intentions, like he could deduct what’s in your mind.   You don’t spare him a peek. Even when it’s difficult to resist.   You avoid him until the very end.   //   The moon is full, a perfectly round sphere that’s golden. Like a firefly amidst the blanket of stars. It isn’t brighter than the sun, but not any less beautiful.   Taehyung stares up at the horizon and then his eyes stray to marble railings. He floats up to your balcony and his feet touch against the white, stone flooring. He won’t let you run away.   The room is dark, but he makes out a lump in the bed that’s turning and twisting. Taehyung knocks against the glass door and the figure freezes before it moves a moment later.   Within a minute, the door opens and you emerge into the golden moonlight. “Taehyung? What are you doing here? You’re not allowed to be here,” you whisper harshly, looking both ways of the castle grounds while tugging the white, laced shawl around your shoulders closer.   “I had to come see you,” Taehyung gazes into your eyes tenderly and he leans down to capture your hand gently in his. The skirt of your nightgown flutters in the warm breeze. “I know there’s something wrong. Did Jungkook do something? Did he say something?”   You shake your head.   “Then why push me away?”   You turn from him, ripping your hand away from his grasps. “I don’t know what you mean.”   Taehyung grabs your arm and your head whirls back to him, eyes connecting. “You know exactly what I mean.”   “I’m engaged.”   “To a person you don’t even love.”   Your eyes widen and your brows furrow. “You don’t know that.”   “I love you.”    It’s a bold confession spoken from his lips, his deep timbre that doesn’t lack any sincerity.    An earnest proclamation that has your heart stuttering in your chest, your breath hitching in your throat. Your heartbeat is thunderous in your ears and something stirs in the pit of your stomach at the sorrowful expression Taehyung looks at you with. He murmurs, “I was going to take that secret to the grave, but I can’t stand by and watch you like this. I love you. Be with me.”    Be with me.   A three word plea. Whispered secretly on a full-moon night. An affection full of warmth that you never had the privilege of receiving before in your past life or this life. Until now.   You never thought it would be like all those cheesy movies — Love Actually, Pride and Prejudice, the Notebook. But nope. They’re right. When you hear a love confession, when you hear someone say ‘I love you’ and ‘be with me’, it really does make you overwhelmingly happy.    It makes you want to cry. It makes you want to hug him, kiss him, throw your arms around him and scream ‘yes’. It makes you imagine the rest of your life, growing old with someone you love.   But you stagger away from Taehyung. No.   No. It can’t be. He can’t love you. No.   You aren’t Juliet. Elizabeth Bennet. Allie.   This isn’t your love story. You aren’t the main character. And this most certainly won’t have a happy ending.    Taehyung was never supposed to love Anastasia.    This is a mistake. An accident. Repercussions to your actions.   “Don’t mistake sympathy for feelings of love.” You surprise yourself at how stern your voice sounds, never once wavering. You suppose years of growing up in the Devereux household and being put under rigorous training allowed you to control your exterior well. “I don’t love you. You don’t love me, Taehyung.”   “You’re wrong.” He steps forward, closing the distance, as firm as you are. “I’ll even fight for the throne if you want. I’ll fight Jungkook if that’s what it takes for you to be by my side—”   “No!”    The scream echoes in your own ears, loud and shrill enough to bring alarm. “Please. Don’t. Don’t.”   It’s then and there, in the throes of his reckless promises, it slams into you — the realization of how desperately you don’t want to see Taehyung die.   You don’t want to witness his tragic ending. And you don’t want him to do it for you.   Taehyung’s expression is crumpled in anguish and his arm lifts, hand extending. The pad of his thumb tenderly wipes away the tear that’s streaked down your cheek. The corner of his mouth upturns, but the sorrowful smile never reaches his eyes. “Do you hate the idea of being with me that much that you’re crying?”   “No...Taehyung…”   He withdraws. “I’m sorry.”   Taehyung gazes at you and then he shuts his eyes, falling backwards off the balcony. You cry out in absolute terror and your legs lurch forward towards the railings. Your arms snap out to grab him, but your fists merely catch the passing wind.   He’s vanished into thin air, leaving nothing but traces of magic in the air.   You collapse onto the floor, grasping at the banister as sobs wreck through your body. “T-That’s...not...i-it—”   The matter of life or death should be simple. The choices should be easy. But you don’t know why each path you choose has its own tragedy, why happiness never seems to come.   Why can’t you control your own destiny?
Tumblr media
A wheeze tears from the bastard son’s mouth.   His ruined hands are wrapped around his silver staff until his bloodied knuckles have morphed white. But it’s his leverage, keeping him standing on his shaking legs. He may have lost but he refuses to collapse until his last breath has been taken. His pride won’t allow him otherwise.   “Why?”   He lifts his head and locks eyes with the impassive Prince, dignified and noble. A hero to all. A brother who he never deemed as a brother. Only in blood and never truly in name.    “Why did you do this?”   The corner of Taehyung’s mouth curls. Even on the battlefield when they are both armoured and armed with weapons — in the moment of death — Jungkook is as oblivious and ignorant as when he was a mere child.    Taehyung spares a thought as to what it feels like to be that naive. He concludes it is a privilege.   “W-hy….d..o...you...think?”   The Forgotten Prince’s feet sinks into the mountain of brittle bones. He had to bring the dead back to life through necromancy to build an army for this war. No one would fight on his side after all. No one’s ever wanted to fight on his side.   But even so, he was never able to bring himself to revive his mother.   But it’s foolish he didn’t. She may have just been a marionette doll with tangled strings, a simple outer shell of a real human being, but he regrets not doing it. He should’ve.   Even if it was just to see her for a moment.   But it is a regret too late. He has another wish he wants to achieve in these last moments.   Taehyung chokes out that girl’s name.    He didn’t know he would have feelings for her. He was simply intrigued. Anything that belonged to his brother was always something worth envy. And he wasn’t wrong. She was a pawn on the opponent’s side who turned out to be more valuable than the queen.   “P-Please….” Blood curdles at the back of his throat, thickening his words into pathetic sputters. “Let me...see her….on.e….las...t….tim..e…”   “I’ll never let you see her.”    The Prince’s hands tighten on the handle and he rips the sword out of his abdomen in a single motion. The sound of silver cuts sharply through the air and Taehyung drops to his bruised knees. His own blood has splattered across his visage, scarlet drenched on ashy skin.   The Prince stands tall, the very furrow of his brows jarring against the cold, cordial expression he maintains. It’s an expression of contempt, of hatred and indifference. His shadow looms over him, the status he was born with intrinsic in his sheer presence.    “All...I...ever..wanted….was to be you. To be...powerful...to have everything you have.”    The Forgotten Prince rests against his staff and shuts his eyes. He ponders for a mere moment if he will be able to see his mother after this. But if there is such a thing as an afterlife, it’s still unlikely that fate would grant him such peace and refuge.   “I...d..idn’t...want….to...be...aban..doned…”   The remnants of magic surges through his veins and with a weak flick of his wrist, Taehyung’s last magic summons the girl who had occupied his thoughts. She appears in front of him, manifesting with his spell, and she screams.   Jungkook calls out to her and they embrace. He holds her, covering her body with his arm.   The two of them look down at Taehyung in fear and disdain.    But her vicinity is enough for him. He wonders when he became this pathetic. Or if he was always this way as their villain.   Taehyung chokes on the blood curdling at the back of his throat, but his lips upturn into a smile.    He mouths her name and dies at their feet.   ….   Anastasia.   You wake up with a gasp tearing from your chest. Your breath heaves out of you and tears coat your cheeks and the pillow beneath your head. Most of all, your chest fucking hurts like your heart’s about to burst. So you call for a maid at the top of your lungs and within seconds, someone scatters in.   “My lady?”    “Water,” you croak and she nods.   A glass is presented in front of you within moments and you down the entire thing, able to calm yourself down once you’ve finished. The maid notices your sweaty form and asks if you would like to change clothes, but you wave her off and she leaves.   Your worst fear came to life in a nightmare.   Instead of calling the heroine’s name, Taehyung called yours.   //   The ceremony at the Eastern Cathedral is exactly like all other events and celebrations in the castle.   Boring. Tedious. Like sitting in a lecture hall with the most unenthused professor droning on about the art of paint drying. Except you have to slap a friendly smile on you, sit straight, make small talk and pretend you’re intently listening. You wish cardboard cutouts were a thing, so you could just slap a picture of yourself in your seat instead of having to deal with it.   But the entire ordeal keeps your mind from wandering about last night.    There’s something about pretending that you’re fine that makes you feel fine after a while. Like you’ve tricked your own self into being okay.   You’re even anxious once it’s over. Once the quiet has settled back in.   Many of the guests leave, viscounts and countesses bidding their farewells from the cathedral and getting into their carriages. After you’ve sent off Lady Devon and you’re free of her scrutiny, you quickly turn around to find Jungkook and get out of here.   The last thing you want is to run into Taehyung right now. You don’t know if you’ll be able to manage your reactions, control your expressions.   But on your way back, your attention is taken by an elderly priestess dressed in white robes with a cane, hobbling around. Her hands are outstretched and she bats the air. She’s blind.   “Excuse me, do you need help?”   “Oh, yes, please, that would be wonderful.” She smiles and the tens of wrinkles on her face crease. The old lady reminds you of your grandma and the corner of your mouth quirks. You take her hand and place it on your arm, guiding her. “I’m usually not so clumsy but I lost my way and had to re-orientate myself. You can just bring me into the side house, it should be on the West side of the cathedral grounds.”   You look around and spot it around the building. “It’s this way.”   “Are you here for the ceremony?”   “Yes, I am.”   “How nice, Emelisse will make a fine Head Priestess. Her holy magic is quite powerful.”   You hum and get to the smaller building within two minutes. The doors are already open, so you peek inside to see if anyone’s there to take the old lady, but there’s no one. “We’re here.”   The Priestess reaches out and grabs the door frame. She smiles and gets up the steps herself, but not before turning around. “Thank you. Not many people would personally aid me in this day and age, and for that I’m thankful.”   “It’s not a problem.”   It’s been a long time since you’ve been able to speak so casually to someone. But it’s relaxing to forget about your titles. You don’t have to be the Crown Prince’s Fiancée. The future Queen. Or the heir of the Devereux house.   You’re just Anastasia. Y/N. A mix of both that makes you you.   “Would you be willing to hear an old secret in exchange for helping me?”   “Uhhhhh…..” You glance over your shoulder. There’s no palace guards or Jungkook in sight.   You really don’t want to stick around for too long. But you remember your grandma got pretty lonely towards the end of her life and was willing to talk to door-to-door salesmen for a good hour or two until they wanted to run away and blacklist the house from their list. Bless her heart.   You decide to indulge the old woman, so you go along with it. “Sure.”   “I once knew a woman, a kind but poor woman. She was with child,” her voice croaks and you lean in closer, realizing it’s juicy gossip and it sparks intrigue. “The father of that unborn child wasn’t very happy to know that child was coming into existence, so she, worried, came to see her fortune and her child’s on the eve of the Solar Festival.”   The old Priestess holds the handle of her cane with both hands, placed in the middle of her body. She faces the sky, enjoying the warmth of the sun on her skin as she continues the story.   “She came to this cathedral and they told her about doom and her child’s inevitable doom. Desperate and heartbroken, she begged to find a way to deviate from such a fate. She wanted to do anything she could to change the predetermined destiny of her unborn child.”   Your brows furrow. You begin to wonder why she’s telling you this. “And?”   “She did a ritual of dark magic to search for a soul that would protect her son.” The old woman shakes her head. “She defied the laws of destiny itself without knowing the pain it would cause.”   “But through sheer will, she broke it!” The Priestess smiles, her voice having been a murmur drawing you in. “She found a fitting soul and that soul was sent to another dimension before this one to learn about what was to come, so that they could protect her son.”   You stagger back. Breath caught in your throat. Blood draining from your face.   There’s no way. It can’t be.   But everything aligns. It matches perfectly.   “W-What happened next?”   The woman hums a low note and you realize too late that she’s the former Head Priestess, the one who had just stepped down. “I’m not quite sure what the ending to that story is since that soul wrapped in dark magic is standing right in front of me.”   The former Head Priestess smiles gently and turns around, entering inside her abode. She leaves you standing rooted to the ground on your own as it dawns upon you —   It was all on purpose.   Being reborn into this world. Having memories of your past life. Being burdened with the knowledge of what fates there are, what the future holds. All along, it was to serve your purpose: to protect Taehyung.   Your destiny was entangled with him even before this lifetime.    But you’ve already failed. You let his mother die. And now his own time is running out.   You turn around. The urge to see him overwhelms your very being. You have to tell him how you really feel. You’re not just Anastasia. You’re Y/N. And you won’t allow the original storyline to confine your choices anymore.   None of this was an accident. You weren’t messing anything up. None of your actions, your feelings or his are wrong. Nothing was a mistake. You’ll find a way to save Taehyung, to be with him.    You have to.   In the south courtyard of the cathedral, by sheer coincidence and coincidence only, you see him there. Of all the places of these vast grounds where he could be, you still found him.   “Taehyung!”   You call out to him and he turns at the sound of your voice. But then your smile falls. Your feet slow. By coincidence, an arrow soars towards him, slicing through the air.   You shout at the top of your lungs and Taehung whips his head around. The tip of the arrow freezes an inch away from his nose and clatters to the ground through his magic. But then five more arrows splits the sky and flies towards him. Taehyung dodges, stops another, but one catches him in the arm.   He sharply inhales.    A scream of his name tears from your throat.   Taehyung winces and rips the shaft of the arrow out of his skin. He looks at the tip before throwing it away. He can feel the poison spreading in his veins, bleeding inside of his body. It inhibits his magic and before he can yell at you to get away, another arrow spirals in the horizon.   He shuts his eyes. Taehyung feels an impact. But the pain never comes.   His eyes shoot open, brows knitting together and his mouth draws open when he sees you.    Your arms have wrapped around his body in a warm embrace, shielding him away, protecting him like you were meant to. The end of the arrow has pierced into your shoulder.    But you can’t feel it.   Taehyung shouts your name and you collapse. He holds your body in his arms, cradling your head against his shoulder as he screams from the pit of his stomach for help. And you watch him through foggy eyes, a smile gracing your lips.   You’re glad he’s not hurt.   Your hand slowly lifts to caress his cheek and he looks at you.   “I….fi..nally came….on time, Tae...hyung.”
291 notes · View notes
oasislake76 · 3 years
Text
I need to make a distinct hierarchy for my Adam’s Family!Au
So the God on top of this ‘pyramid’ is of course Kristen. She is the Goddess of Death so she’s at the top. Philza is more of a messenger between her and the two brothers, Herobrine and Notch, and doesn’t hold a lot of political sway.
Notch, and later on Herobrine, are the Emperor’s of Minecraft. The figure heads of Gods as they are the oldest’s. Notch runs the public rings while Herobrine keeps eye on the codes and works more with the inside people such as Max, Ross, and King Aaron to keep the realm and all the servers and worlds running smoothly. Jeb is basically just like Notch, just not without the age and powers. He’s very much like Philza in the sense of a messenger but he does so much more. He’s the universal uncle to everyone and doesn’t even get referred to as Grunkle by Levin, Malachi, and Dream.
Then come the Kings, Queen, and head Sorcerer. Aphmau and Seto are twins but only Aphmau holds the title of Queen. She is the next rule over Minecraft as a whole if anything ever happens to Notch. Let’s say Nightmare, the virus that overtook Herobrine originally and will take over Dream when his SMP rises, comes back into play which automatically pushes the crown down to Aphmau. Seto has always refused to be part of the social play that partakes with being a King or Queen. Choosing instead to focus more on the budding Academy and slowly makes it to what it is today. Four spread out over the realm with the original one which taught Team Crafted, MCD, plus the rest of the now older Godlings. He spearheads, along with Lucinda, the magical backbone as well. All doctors and healing sources work under him.
Sparklez or Jordan is the oldest son of Herobrine. Just a few years then Sky. Much like Seto he chose the more privated life, as much as being a Brine will allow him. Much more of a follower then a leader in general. The Brine Brothers, as the realm likes to call them, were the duo more known to the public. Both Prince’s played and battled the players of the realm and Sky even opened the castle army to the public. Spear heading a section known as the Sky Army that dealt with the lesser stuff like the Squids and lower class virus’s. Jordan partook in the history and coding section of the Academy. Helping Seto and the two were appointed Headmasters. They have an advantage over their privacy though that both Seto and Aphmau don’t. Since Notch’s kids get, unfairly, stalked a lot more then they do it allows the Brine Brothers to slip away to different private properties without being caught. Sky’s farm is where Dream is actually raised for most of his life.
The three Prince’s are very well loved for many reasons. Levin and Malachi are very well know, being a couple millennia years old. Their adoption status is very public as it was a shock when Queen Aphmau’s modded world, the first of it’s kind, had almost swallowed itself whole. Spreading over paperback news as the eyes could see. Unlike their parents, Levin and Malachi are very much human. Immortal humans but still humans. Okay-well to be fair Malachi isn’t human but more Ghost inhabiting a ‘stolen’ body but it still frankly counts. Both are very spoiled and don’t really go out of the castle walls after the collapsing of Phoenix Drop. Willingly choosing to stay by their parents side in the safety.
Now Dream is a special case or a special Prince, which ever who want to see it as. The first biological Grandson and the God of Live and Rebirth, essentially being Death’s counterpart. Quickly endearing people top him the moment he was born. A lot of the public doesn’t know who the mother is, its Puffy, but from how much Sky gush’s about Dream in interviews it seems like Kristen had taken the motherly roll. Nobody in the public known’s what he looks like and every Admin is very clear and keeping it that way until Dream has decided to show his face on his own terms. A lot of things changed around the castle for the first years during Dreams infancy. A set squadron of guards had to be placed to keep the limit of people knowing what the Prince looks like down along with butlers and maids. Everyone having to sign NDA documents before agreeing. It wasn’t until Dream was four when Sky moved them out and onto his very private farmland where Dream continued to grow up until he was ready for the Admin Academy.
The rest are much referred to as Lords or Ladies unless there’s a specific title they hold. Much like Cadenza who is referred as Witch Cadenza or General Garroth and Laurance. They don’t really take the Lords or Ladies title very seriously and even some of them joke about it. Though none of them don’t take it as far as Max and Ross who started to joke about Butt Knight’s or something. It was spawned from to many shotgunned Red Bull’s inside the closest communal bathroom, gallons of cooled coffee, stupid people and even stupider friends finding ways to not do their own work, and sever lack of sleep
39 notes · View notes
blossom-hwa · 3 years
Text
Danger: Crown |1| - JUYEON
Tumblr media
Pairing: Juyeon x gender neutral!reader
Genre: fluff, angst, fantasy, royalty!au
Triggers: death, semi-graphic depictions of blood
Word Count: 3.7k
Lesson 7: allies can be found in unlikely places.
Previous: Onyx >> Crown: Part 1 | Part 2 >> Next: Stalemate
TBZ Masterlist | Danger | Kingdom
[ Taglist will be reblogged! Send a dm or an ask to be added! ]
Tumblr media
They end up in front of the palace.
“Seriously?” Kevin hisses, hidden in the shadow of a large building. “We went through all those weird alleys and streets when we literally could have just taken the straight path here?”
“You want to try tracking magic?” Jacob retorts. His snippy look disappears, though, when he turns to the marble palace glinting softly under the cloudy moonlight. “It’s here. I’m sure.”
Juyeon brings a hand to his face. “Figures,” he mutters. “Anything else would be too easy.” He sighs into his palm. “Kevin, do you remember how to get to the west gardens? I remember there was a tunnel there that’ll let us into the palace.”
“Tunnel?” Kevin’s expression clears. “Oh, right. That one.” His eyes turn wistful and Juyeon knows he’s remembering better times, when they were younger, free to play around and explore, not stuck on a dangerous quest to find a handful of jewels stolen by an intelligent, murderous, power-hungry queen. He doesn’t say anything, though, just closes his eyes for a moment. “I think we need to go around back. Might need to knock out a few guards on the way.”
“Not a problem,” Juyeon replies. Next to him, Jacob looks to be in similar agreement.
His heart stings. No one was in the prison with him, not a single person other than the assigned guards and later Jaehyun. No prisoners, no rebels, no knights…
And no certain Valkyrie, the one whose missing whereabouts have twisted Jacob’s kind eyes into sharp slits, soft lips thinning to pale lines as he stares at the gleaming palace just ahead.
It’s still unnerving, Jacob’s transformation since the last time Juyeon saw him before this quest. Gentleness used to emanate from his gaze, but now, even when he smiles, an edge of desperation and fury lodges itself into the set of his jaw, in the fingers curled by his sides. Not for the first time, Juyeon wishes none of this had happened, that all of the deaths and crown nonsense will just turn out to be some long, drawn-out nightmare. When he pinches himself, though, it hurts.
No dreams here, except those of jewel-toned roses and shades of the departed.
Kevin leads the way, slinking through shadows untouched by the few torches lit on the sides of buildings for light. As they shift around the palace walls, Juyeon’s hand reaches up towards his throat, clutching the gold insignia still wrapped around his neck. He’s been doing that more and more often since his visit to the gray mage’s shrine, grasping at the last memory of a dead best friend like the small symbol of a king and queen will bring him luck.
Though if it’s lucky, it certainly hasn’t given any sign of that just yet.
“Here,” Kevin finally whispers, jerking his head towards a white-gated expanse of grass and flowers. It looks so different in the cloudy night, colors muted and darker than Juyeon remembers. It could just be the lack of moonlight, but the fact that Somin is now the one in charge of it and not her sibling, the former queen, probably has something to do with it.
Swallowing, Juyeon peeks out from the building they’re hiding behind. Two guards stand at attention. Not too bad. A shake of Jacob’s head tells him there’s no immediate danger from magic either.
Well. He looks down at his hands, lined and crusted with blackened blood from taking out his anger on a set of iron prison bars. They sting, but he can still wield a sword with some proficiency. Not the dual blades, though. Besides the fact that he left them at the arena, Juyeon would be perfectly happy not holding the traditional ivory weapons ever again.
“Need to get closer,” Juyeon mumbles, almost to himself. He steps forward –
Two more guards appear around the corner of the palace just as he’s put a foot out. He sucks in a breath and Kevin pulls him back, elbow hitting the building wall with a dull thud.
Ow.
Rubbing his arm, Juyeon peeks out again, careful to keep himself in shadow. They must be switching shifts. Good news, for once. Changing the guard now means more time before the next set of soldiers comes along, so less chance of discovering unconscious bodies before Juyeon has managed to get deeper into the palace.
The original two guards peel off from the gate, leaving their spots to the new ones. They begin to walk in the direction of Juyeon’s building.
They’re talking, but too faintly for Juyeon to hear just yet. He brings a finger to his lips, looking expectantly at his friends, as the guards come closer. And closer.
“– so boring,” a disgruntled voice says.
The other snorts. “You haven’t had crown duty yet. That’s so much worse.”
Crown duty?
Juyeon doesn’t dare look back at Kevin or Jacob for fear of missing something more. He leans forward, ears straining to catch anything else.
“You really think that’s worse?” the first guard asks.
“At least outside, there’s a little change in scenery. If you’re standing in that hallway for hours…” The voices fade away, leaving Juyeon to stew over their words in silence.
“Crown duty,” Jacob whispers.
Kevin nods. “The crown must be in the palace, too.”
It could be a stroke of luck. If both the onyx stone and the crown are in the palace, if they could manage to take both in one go…
“Come on.” Juyeon pushes himself off the wall, trying to tamp down the hope rising in his chest. No sense in hoping for good luck just yet, but there’s a chance they could pull this off, a chance he has to take. “Let’s knock some guards out first.”
. . . . .
One sneak attack and two unconscious guards later, Juyeon and Jacob have dragged the bodies behind a large bush and Kevin has found the tunnel opening, a hatch under a large boulder. He slips in after Juyeon before Jacob closes the hatch from outside. A faint scraping noise sounds as he shoves the boulder back into place, and then the mage shifts into the tunnel, landing right on top of his cousin.
Kevin groans from the tunnel floor. “Jacob, why.”
Juyeon can almost see the apologetic smile in Jacob’s voice as he helps Kevin up in the darkness. “Sorry.”
“As you should be.” Kevin huffs. “Where do we go now?”
“This tunnel leads to a few others.” Juyeon traces a hand on the walls, feeling tiny bits of packed dirt crumble against his fingers. “I don’t remember exactly where all of them go, but…” He stops, turning to where he thinks Jacob is. “Jacob, is there magic on the crown? Could you sense that? Or is it just on the stones?”
Jacob shifts in the dark. “It’s not as strong without the stones, but there is some magic on it. Probably a little more than normal, given that several mages took the jewels out, so their traces are there as well.” A pause. “Do we split up?”
“No.” Kevin’s answer is immediate. “There are only three of us. If we split up, one person goes off alone, and if something happens the other two won’t know anything about it.”
Juyeon agrees. “None of us know the tunnels very well, either. I think our best bet is to follow your sense of where the magic is, Jacob. We’ll try to find one, then the other.”
No one argues in the pause that follows. Juyeon nods. “All right, let’s go. Jacob, we’ll follow you.”
They walk in silence, footsteps padding softly on the tunnel’s dirt floor. One fork comes, then another. Each time, Jacob holds out an arm, barring the other two, before heading in one direction or the other. With every turn they take, Juyeon grows less and less sure of where they are. He’s been to the palace many times, but even then, he hasn’t seen it all. Underground, there’s no chance of him being able to keep the layout in mind.
But something tells him they’re going the right way. A tug in his gut, a slight nudge pushing him forward…
Juyeon stops suddenly. Kevin crashes into him from behind, but he doesn’t move, not even when Jacob’s footsteps pause and asks what happened.
The tug. The subtle, familiar push in his mind, moving his feet for him.
The stone is calling him.
“Juyeon?”
He shakes his head. “Sorry,” he says, swallowing. “I just… I feel the stone. I think.”
“Getting closer, then.” Jacob shifts in the tunnel, then grabs Juyeon’s wrist and pulls him forward. “We’re following you, now. Your sense will be a lot more accurate than mine.”
Back at home, when Juyeon’s father would wear the crown for official proceedings, the pull of the stone always felt comforting to him, a reminder of his lineage and his family. Now, though, it feels cold. Sinister. Tainted, maybe, tainted with the fact that with every step Juyeon takes, he walks into deeper and deeper danger. Only Jacob’s hand on his wrist and the steady sound of Kevin’s footsteps keep him from stopping where he is and bolting out of the tunnel.
He doesn’t notice the tunnel sloping upward, doesn’t notice his breaths becoming more labored as he walks up, up, up. In fact, he nearly runs into the hatch at the end of the tunnel, only stopping just in time.
A hatch.  
They’re at the surface.
“Great,” Kevin mutters. “So do we go out or…?”
Juyeon swallows. “It’s only the king and queen in residence, right? Younghoon and Somin?” The fewer people they encounter, the better.
“Servants,” Kevin says. “And guards. What if we come across them?”
What if they come across them, indeed. Will Juyeon kill them? Knock them out? Let them pass? What will he do if some unsuspecting, innocent servant has the bad luck to pass Juyeon by?
“We’ll see,” Juyeon finally says, hand drifting to the sword at his waist. He hopes he won’t have to use it, but better safe than sorry. “We need the jewel.”
Feeling around in the darkness, Kevin finds the latch that secures the door. He flips it and Juyeon slowly pushes up the slab of wood, squinting into the room.
It’s dark. He can’t see much. There are no sounds, however, and if nothing is lighting the room, that probably means no one is in here. Juyeon lifts the door further. “Come on.”
Relief floods Juyeon’s mind when he pulls himself out of the tunnel and no random voices yell in surprise. Kevin follows, then Jacob. “Where are we?”
Juyeon frowns, trying to think. He can’t see much, but even then, the room doesn’t look very familiar. Next to him, Kevin seems similarly confused.
Then the door opens.
. . . . .
It takes less than a second for Juyeon to leap at the newcomer, sword flashing through the air. A choked sound issues from the servant’s throat – his attire looks like that of a servant, anyway, Juyeon can’t really tell since the only source of light is the lantern the servant is carrying – as the blade comes to rest under his chin. The door shuts with a soft bang.
Adrenaline courses through Juyeon’s veins as he holds the sword in place, arms shaking slightly with terror. “Kevin, watch the door.”
“Juyeon?”
Head whipping back to the servant he’s holding at sword point, Juyeon blinks once, twice, trying to recall the semi-familiar voice that just spoke his name. Where, and when…
He nearly drops his sword with the realization. “Haknyeon?”
A trembling smile begins to spread across Haknyeon’s face. “It’s really you?”
Juyeon wants to mirror Haknyeon’s smile, he really does. But he can’t tell just yet if that’s the smile of seeing someone he once knew or the smile of knowing exactly who to report this to. The sword doesn’t lower. “Depends on what you’ll do with that information.”
“I thought you were in prison,” Haknyeon breathes. “Queens, you…”
Well, that’s a bit of good news. At least word of his escape hasn’t spread to the palace just yet. Though it doesn’t change the fact that Haknyeon could very well betray them at this moment with a loud enough scream.
And from a singular experience that he does not want to repeat, Juyeon knows the boy has the lung capacity to pull it off.
“If you scream, I won’t hesitate to cut your throat,” Juyeon says lowly, refusing to let any semblance of relief creep across his face. “I’m serious.”
“Oh, I know.” Haknyeon’s smile turns into something like a smirk. “You’re looking for the crown, aren’t you?”
Behind Juyeon, Kevin sucks in a breath. Haknyeon’s smirk grows wider. “It isn’t exactly news,” he says, sounding almost giddy. “The queen’s been steaming about all the other jewels going missing, even though she hasn’t said anything explicit. She was the happiest she’s ever been when you were captured, but now that you’ve escaped…” He almost laughs, a hand coming up to his mouth to muffle his snort. “This is perfect.”
Juyeon glances at Jacob, at Kevin. Both wear similar expressions of bemusement.
Is Haknyeon actually someone to be trusted?
“Why are you so happy about that?” Juyeon asks carefully.
Haknyeon’s gaze shutters, the smile disappearing from his face. “Being the leverage for Her Majesty to control her king has the surprising side effect of making me hate her very much,” he says, eyes dark. “Younghoon isn’t supporting her of his own free will, you know. Somin knows who to keep close so he stays under her hand.”
Memories of visiting Younghoon’s domain, seeing the friendship between the current king and his favorite servant – not even a servant, really, more of a close companion in the wake of his parents’ deaths – rush through Juyeon’s mind. It makes sense, choosing Haknyeon to keep Younghoon in place.
There’s no way he can be sure that Haknyeon’s telling the truth. He has no proof, no evidence to back up his claim that he’s merely an unwilling pawn of the queen being used to keep her king in line. But the loathing in his eyes when he speaks of Somin, the suppressed rage when he talks of leverage and his best friend, the king… they speak volumes for what he feels.
Juyeon pulls his sword back slightly, decreasing the pressure on Haknyeon’s throat. “If I lower this sword and let you free, what will you?”
“Ask if I can help you.” Haknyeon answers without hesitation. “You came in through that tunnel, didn’t you? I know this palace and the tunnels inside and out. Younghoon showed them to me when I was brought here – he wanted me to know how to escape if Her Majesty ever decided he wasn’t performing up to standard. I don’t know where the crown is exactly, but I can tell you where you’re going and help you avoid guards and places that are busy even at night.”
It sounds too good to be true. A personal guide, a guide who knows the palace like the back of his hand, ready and willing to help him find the jewel and the crown? Juyeon wavers, on the cusp of letting Haknyeon free, but doubt forces him to stay his hand. 
What if he betrays them?
“Oh, come on.” Haknyeon crosses his arms, looking supremely unfazed by the blade still under his chin. “You know how to use a sword. I don’t. We’ll be in a bunch of tunnels, where you could kill me the second I do anything weird. Not saying I will, because I won’t, but you have the upper hand here.”
“He has a point,” Kevin says, stepping next to Juyeon. “We know the direction we want to go. Haknyeon is only going to tell us how to get there the fastest, and we’ll know if he’s betraying us. Right?”
Right. The tugging in Juyeon’s stomach, the pull that keeps him stepping forward – he’ll feel it growing stronger or weaker as he gets closer or further from the stone. If Haknyeon decides to mess with them, he’ll know.
At Jacob’s nod of agreement, Juyeon lowers the sword. Haknyeon massages his throat, smiling easily even as Juyeon stares him down with heavy suspicion in his gaze. “One wrong move and you’re dead.”
“I know, I know,” Haknyeon replies flippantly, already heading toward the hatch in the floor. “Now, are you going to follow me or not?”
. . . . .
It doesn’t seem like a mistake to trust Haknyeon. Once Juyeon pinpoints the direction in which he feels the tug of magic, Haknyeon effortlessly begins to navigate the tunnels, leaving the rest of them scrambling to follow. And he isn’t leading them astray – with every step he takes, the pull of the stone only grows stronger in his gut.
He almost relaxes. Almost.
And then he hears footsteps down the tunnels.
Haknyeon doesn’t stop walking, just keeps going forward until Juyeon grabs his wrist and spins him around. “You betrayed us.”
“What?” Haknyeon’s eyebrows furrow. “I didn’t –”
“Who’s there?”
The servant’s eyes go wide as Juyeon’s narrow. “Kevin,” he snarls in a whisper, “keep watch over him while I see who’s paying us a visit.”
A knife flashes in Haknyeon’s lantern light, coming to rest at his throat. Juyeon draws his own sword and steps forward once. Twice.
“Who –”
Juyeon lunges. His body hits another. They fall to the ground and whoever the other is tries to roll away, but Juyeon has the upper hand and he pins the man down, raising his sword.
“NO!”
Juyeon turns around as Haknyeon yells. “No – Juyeon!” The servant’s eyes flicker wildly in the light of his lantern. “Younghoon isn’t with the queen!”
Younghoon? Why’s he yelling about –
Haknyeon raises the lantern as far as he can without Kevin running him through. Enough light falls on Juyeon for him to realize who is staring back.
Kim Younghoon.
The Ivory King.
Harsh breathing fills the silence that follows as Juyeon tries to pull himself together. He has the king pinned beneath him, either by accident or by Haknyeon betraying them. Juyeon doesn’t want to believe the second, but the chances of the former are much slimmer.
“How did you contact each other,” Juyeon snarls, hand shaking around the handle of his sword. “How.”
“We didn’t,” Younghoon gasps. “I didn’t even know you were here.”
“Juyeon.” Jacob steps forward, putting a calming hand on Juyeon’s shoulder. “I think he’s telling the truth.” His voice lowers to a whisper. “Look at Haknyeon.”
He turns around slightly, fixing his gaze on the servant. With wide eyes and a trembling stare, it certainly doesn’t look like he expected any of this.
Juyeon glances at Kevin, who nods, just barely. He loosens his grip on Younghoon but doesn’t let go completely. “Give me a reason I shouldn’t kill you now.”
Behind him, Haknyeon lets out a strangled gasp. Juyeon ignores it.
“I’m not on Somin’s side,” Younghoon gets out, eyes still fixed on the blade glinting above his neck. “Never have been, never will be.”
“Leverage,” Haknyeon reminds. “I’m her leverage on him. She has people on all the mages, too.”
“She’s smart.” Younghoon swallows. “She knows that if she can keep some loved one hostage, even the most powerful mage has the potential to fall under her control. And sadly, I’m no exception, though I at least have some room to maneuver under the guise of protecting Ivory citizens.”
“I understand.” And Juyeon does, he really does – what would he do, after all, if Kevin or his sister was being held hostage by someone as intelligent as Somin? “But that doesn’t change the fact that if I let you go, you could easily run up a tunnel and tell someone, purposely or accidentally, that we are here.” His grip tightens on the sword. “So unless you give me a really good reason –”
“I know where the crown is.” Younghoon takes a breath. “And the onyx stone.”
“… Where.”
“The crown jewels.” Juyeon can see the truth in Younghoon’s unwavering eyes. “They’re with the crown jewels.”
The crown jewels.
Oh, Juyeon is about to lose it. Somin stole his crown, pulled apart the gems, hid two, put one in a necklace, threw another in a rose bush at the shrine where she had one of his best friends and her sibling both killed, and now she has the last one and the crown locked up with the Ivory kingdom’s crown jewels?
When they don’t even belong to her?
Juyeon doesn’t realize his hand is shaking until the sword begins to slip out of his sweaty grasp. His fist clenches around the handle. “How do you know?”
“Somin told her mages that she was leaving the stone with the crown in a place only accessible by her. One of them relayed this to me.” Younghoon swallows. “The only place she could be speaking of is the room of crown jewels – she is the only one who has the key.”
The crown jewels. Juyeon curses internally. Of course Somin has the key – only one exists for each set of regalia, held by the queen of each kingdom.
Wait.
Juyeon’s heart hammers. There is one other key that can unlock a kingdom’s crown jewels, the key that Mage Han Younghyun used to steal his crown away.
And it’s hanging around Juyeon’s neck.
He resists the urge to look down at a gold king and queen glittering faintly in the lantern light. “Why do you trust this mage?”
“Not all of us are as loyal to the queen as we appear.” Disgust crawls into Younghoon’s eyes. “Some would prefer reporting to me rather than her. I trust him.” He sets his jaw. “Do you trust me?”
One beat passes. Two.
Juyeon sheathes his sword. “Lead us there. And we will keep Haknyeon with us as a hostage, in case you try anything.” He unpins Younghoon from the ground. “I want to trust you fully. But I have no reason to.”
“Understood.” Younghoon stands. “Come with me.”
Tumblr media
If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3
(1 reblog = 1 prayer for younghoon bc juyeon is this || close to going feral)
40 notes · View notes
haphazardlyparked · 3 years
Text
the war AU
@gingerly-writing originally i started this as a response to your captured solider/person-enemy general thing  but then it just turned into a whole bunch of self-indulgence sooooo 
(i'm a softie at heart??)
---------------------
"Masara," a voice hissed in her ear, and Masara came back to her senses, only to swallow back a groan. Her whole body was an ache that burned at the edges, part magical exhaustion and part old-fashioned beating.
"Arlis," Masara murmured back, trying not to move. Trying to catalogue her hurts before she tested them, trying to remember what had happened. She did not say, You young fool.
Masara's heart––already burning her chest with grief and war––had leapt into her throat and turned to fear when she'd seen Arlis emerge from the tunnel pass, adept enough with the spells that she could open the hidden routes on her own. Masara's young, foolish squire, who had followed her because she thought her knight-mistress had gone off to do something brave, when all Masara was was reckless, desperate––and desperately hopeful.
Panam as heir was safe, the king was on his way to the Yina stronghold, and Fathmir, who had been at the holy mountain's summit since the new moon, could be made High Priest soon. The heart of Amir would be preserved, even though Amirasa had fallen. Even though things might had been different, before the assassination and the war.
Masara knew her part now. She was the most experienced knight traveling with her uncle––fleeing, navigating the twisting paths and hidden tunnels that wound through the foothills of the Endless Ridge. The king had to make it to the safety of Mount Yina, and that was worth Masara's life.
In some small measure, Amir would survive, watchful and isolated while her southern lands became a battlefield between two imperial powers. Ancient Lapur to the southwest, hemmed in by the Blasted Plains, and Kas to the northeast, a young and eager threat.
Masara had dreamed of her kingdom’s waning. She had felt the shadow of death hanging over her head since Panam had brought news of the High Priest's assassination.
When she had volunteered to lead the pursuers away from the king's trail as he and a fragment of his court ran for holy Yina, the king had faced her as her father wold have––grieved, yet proud. But he had faced her as her king, too, grimly resigned to her sacrifice.
"You might have been one of our greatest queens, if my sister and I chose differently," he had whispered.
Masara could scarcely meet her uncle's eyes.
"I dreamed a fire would burn away my future, during my rites,” she confessed. One did not usually speak of the visions, if there were any, but Masara thought she could ease her uncle’s conscience. “When Panam came with word of my father's death... I already knew how this could end. This is my decision, Uncle."
"May the Lady Sascrin guard your path, Masara," the king said.
The knight knelt, and kissed her uncle's hand, and when she rose––when the king drew her to her feet to hug her one last time, the farewell embrace she never had from her father––she smiled.
"It will be your job to look after Arlis now,” she said when they pulled away from each other. She stepped back.
Arlis was a jealous squire, and would likely be furious when she realized Masara had ridden to battle without her. Later, she would come to understand that she was too young for this.
And then the little fool had burst from one of the rocky passages, into the pitched skirmish while Masara charged a company with a twilit illusion, riding alongside moonbeams, and dropped the bridge to cut off pursuit of the king’s path.
She thought the destroyed bridge would been a good place to die, right up until she saw Arlis and realized with a ringing clarity, Not now. Her squire needed her.
Masara's vision filled with molten silver, magic in her hands and spitting down the length of her blade, and Arlis flickered across the field in her mind's eye, a star to be guarded. When they reached each other—the knight a blur of spell and steel, her squire a smaller whirlwind no less fierce for her youth, and Kassan footmen with their blue-rimmed shields and clumsy swords—Arlis screamed, and Masara's world exploded.
In the tent, when she opened her eyes, the physical ache seemed to coalesce in her chest as she put everything back together again.
There was her beloved, fool squire whom Masara would protect with her last breath; and beyond that, all the things that threatened her.
Masara and Arlis were tied side by side to foldable campaign chairs, which was quite civilized, all things considered. She could see spells crawling on the walls of the tent, and smelled the distinctive sting of burning a sharp, distinctive incense. Natural inhibitors of magic.
"Do you know where we are?" Masara spoke. Her voice was cracked and barely audible; her throat dry as dust. Unlike Arlis, she was tied to her chair by only one arm, because the other was broken. She woke with it cradled against her chest in a sling.
"I'm sorry, sir, I––” Arlis began urgently, quick and breathless, all the words she'd been thinking while Masara was unconscious now tumbling out. Masara let her relieve herself. "I shouldn't have followed, and then I ruined your plan and you went down––and I panicked. I surrendered. I thought they were going to kill you!”
“You did as you should have done, Arlis," Masara assured her squire when she fell silent. “I am grateful to be alive."
It was true. Masara had made her peace with her sacrifice, but she hadn't wanted to die. If she could live––and she had somehow, for Arlis or thanks to her––she would. (She wondered if this meant her vision was wrong; or if there was another fire threatening her horizons.)
"But Masara," Arlis mumbled. “You weren’t about to surrender.”
“That only means you have proven yourself wiser than me.”
“But... I told them who you are.”
Masara considered her broken arm––splinted and bandaged, carefully tended to like the rest of her battered body, and found Arlis's confession did not surprise her.
"And yourself, too?" Masara asked.
"Yes."
"Good," Masara said firmly. "We are alive now, and I will not see you die, Arlis."
Her squire knew enough to hear the grim promise.
"Sir," she acknowledged. "I don't think they'll hurt me. They think I'm a child––a poor, misguided girl-child who accidentally maimed some soldiers..." Arlis indulged in a little complaining, and when Masara recalled her visit to the Kassan court years ago, she decided Arlis was probably justified. And yet, they still burned the incense; they still spelled the tent. They were cautious.
"They were horrified when they realized you were a woman, and that was before I explained you are a high lady," Arlis continued. "After that, they bundled us up and had a surgeon come; you were stabbed through the shoulder, by the way. I tried to do what I could, on the road yesterday. They put us in a wagon and set a guard. They don't think very highly of me, and didn’t notice I what I was doing."
Masara considered that, and realized that was why that whole upper side of her hurt, not just the broken arm.
"Thank you, Arlis," she sighed. "It's called battlefield healing for a reason, and you've always been one of the best. I am fortunate." It really wasn't much more than cleansing wounds and dulling pain, but it was more than nothing.
Arlis grinned. "Am I better than Guira?"
Masara ignored the question, as she always did. She smiled, and then her lip split. Grimacing––carefully––she asked, “How long was I out?”
“The rest of the evening and all of yesterday. We stopped last night, and I slept, so it may be morning again,” Arlis reported. “You destroyed the footbridge we used, and that was the only easy path for a large party, so they've had to retreat back out of the foothills. They didn't stop until they were out, which was late last night."
Masara was shocked to hear she had been unconscious for so long--but something in the back of her head disagreed, remembered a dream, perhaps. Later. She said instead, "These are Sascrin's foothills; outlanders think they are cursed. Even I only turned back to make very, very certain they would too."
Some things were too important to leave to should and probably; the king had understood that when Masara proposed remaining behind to guard their rear.
Arlis didn't ask her what the plan was now. She didn't ask what it had been, either.
Trust, or insight? Masara thought it was the former, and she tried to turn her worry into resolve. Her uncle had depended on her before; now Arlis did.
"Has anyone spoken to you?"
"Only a captain," Arlis reported. “He said their general could decide what to do with nobility."
"And have you seen a mage?"
"No. But I do think there's one around. The tent could've been prepared, but the incense smells... intent."
Masara tilted her head––carefully, to avoid tugging at any other injuries she wasn't fully aware of––and smiled lopsided at Arlis, trying to avoid the split. "Very good," she said, winced, and licked at the cut. "I thought you might notice that; that's the scent of the mage's spell. Now, what other kinds of magic inhibitors are they using?”
"Sir," Arlis protested, half-indignant, but she was looking at the canvas around them. She knew better than to try and fuss more over Masara's wounds; she'd already done what she could. It was nothing she would not recover from, she decided––given a chance to recover, of course.
"We're currently bound to chairs in a spelled tent, Arlis," Masara said. "We might as well have a brief lesson."
Masara heard rather than saw Arlis's roll of the eyes. She could never keep from that airy, "As you say, sir."
But Masara saw how she relaxed a little, easing back into her seat and straining  less at her bonds.
"Let's begin with the standard suppression spells," Masara went on. "One of the nice thing about them is that they're always visible, as it's active magic, and look––these weavers didn't even try for subtlety. Tell me which ones you know already."
Arlis and Masara discussing the fire protection spell woven into the seams of the tent, where the different cuts of fabric had been sewn together, and how they served to isolate each separate piece of fabric, when they were interrupted.
"It looks newly done," Masara murmured. "And it looks northern too, not like a spell that's been fully assimilated." That was the thing about magic. There were always spells and brews you could learn, but they worked best when you had truly made it yours, or if it was yours.
Masara often wished the fireless explosions Arlis was so fond of hadn't been her obvious calling.
"How can you––" Arlis began, but then the tent flap opened and a man stuck his head in.
He came all the way in when he saw Masara was awake, daylight flashing through the opening, and stood before them.
"Good," he observed after an assessing gaze. "Surgeon said if you were out the whole two days, we might have problems."
He wasn't a very tall man, but he was broad-shouldered and confident, a soldier in a blue cloak. He had the olive skin and dark hair of some of the Kassan, though with clearer, lighter eyes that spoke of some northern heritage. Or magic and vanity.
The soldier crossed his arms and frowned when Masara said nothing. It took Masara a moment to realize he had been expecting her to speak––he had asked no question. She instead had been looking to Arlis, to see if her squire recognized the soldier, but a twitch of Arlis's fingers said, he's new, and Masara wondered again where they were. The tent also kept them from hearing just what kind of camp lay outside. Masara would bet it was far larger than the one company that braved the foothills and her attack, if the general was said to be coming.
"Are you injured?" the soldier demanded, eyes narrowing.
Masara smiled––carefully, lopsided.
"I believe so," she answered.
The soldier's frown didn't change. "Well enough to speak the general now, I see."
"Lead on!" Arlis challenged boldly, unwilling to be overlooked and left behind. Masara didn't bother to check her.
"Oh no," the soldier corrected with a grim smile. "Do you think we're letting you out of this nice tent? The general's on his way here. You should be honored. Him coming to you." The soldier sounded disgruntled enough by the necessary breach of etiquette that not even Arlis commented.
They didn't have to wait long. The soldier left the tent after another moment of silence––did he think either Masara or Aris would say something, unprompted?––and then the flap opened again, and he returned. This time, he was followed by a younger man, another soldier, alert and brisk. He'd become very tan under the Amirran sun, his hair burnished to a golden blond currently bare of a crown, but Masara was surprised to recognize the general.
Arlis shifted by her side, suspicious. The general regarded the both of them in silence, his pale brown eyes almost dark in the tent's dim light.
"Leave it open, Kinlo," the general––if that was how he chose to style himself––said, and Kinlo, the first soldier, went to pull back the opening. Clear morning light spilled inside, silhouetting the general, and from his slight smirk, he knew its effect. "They won't run."
Masara quite honestly didn't feel up to a break for freedom, so he was right, which was mildly irritating. The smoke of the incense kept her weak, as though she hadn't slept or rested in days.
"We're in the middle of my camp. Surrounded by thousands of men," the general explained reasonably. One couldn't hope to escape or be rescued against such odds. Amir's people really would be penned into the foothills, with Yina as her only stronghold. "Of course," the general said, "we will treat a high lady of the land and..." he trailed off, and frowned at Arlis.  What stories had his men had told of Masara and Arlis's capture?
Arlis's fingers twitched. Treat us with honor, I bet, she signed. Masara affected not to notice, and did not smile.
"Well?" the general prompted.
Masara lifted her gaze and fixed on the shadows by the door. "I didn't realize you wanted an answer," she excused herself. "The young Lady Arlis is my squire, if that is what you were looking for."
The general nodded, as if all was now confirmed for him, and he stepped to the side, away from the tent opening. It was strange to think of such a man––young, open-faced, eager for action and the field itself––ordering the High Priest's death. This general had plenty of battlefields to choose from, without provoking a new series of them. But he had advisers, and they were apparently in the capital, directing the empire while the general was here.
"And it was the two of you who blocked the advance company?"
Masara inclined her head as far as she could.
"You wouldn't have gotten far anyway." Arlis raised her voice in a taunt. "The foothills can be quite haunted, you know."'
The general snorted. "I don't doubt it. I don't think 'foothills' is fair name for them, either. It's like calling the Henori river a little creek. I'm ready to forget the whole campaign." He sounded matter-of-fact.
"By all means, do," Masara suggested.
"But there's Lapur to worry about. And your mages."
"Our mages," Masara repeated, turning it into a question with an arched brow. The movement pulled at a scrape on her cheek by her hairline.
The general looked at her, slow and considering.
"Yes. Mine are worried. My advisers tell me it's unnatural that you don't use spells. Materials, incantations - the common instruments." He paused, then added: "Is it?"
Masara spoke before Arlis could. "Your imperial majesty," she said blandly, deciding now was as good a moment as any to dispense with all pretense, "why should any Amirran spill our secrets to you?"
Arlis frowned, backing down. She hadn't known who the general was, and Masara could tell she was swiftly reconsidering their situation.  
"I have found some who were very talkative, actually," the emperor-general retorted. Arlis hissed at the implication of torture––but Masara frowned at the general’s honest, untroubled irritation, and heard her quiet oft-ignored fear confirmed.
There was a traitor.
How else could Amirasa have fallen? And their escape to the foothills had been too close, too harried. Masara signed another hold to Arlis, one that called for caution, and said nothing.
"Unfortunately, they do not know much about your magics."
"You have captured Amirasa," Masara replied mildly, though the admission was ash on her tongue. She didn't dare ask for the general's chatty Amirran, not yet. "If your mages cannot see the spells of our city, that does not mean anything."
"They see those spells," the emperor-general clarified. "The battle magic, on the other hand..."
He trailed off expectantly, but neither Arlis nor Masara rose to fill the silence. When it stretched on, the emperor straightened, chin lifting as though he suddenly felt the weight of his crown, and said, "Even if you don't talk, you will be useful bargaining tools. Perhaps now your king will be tempted to meet me at a crossroads. What do you think, High Lady Masara?"
Masara offered the lopsided smile she could, but without warmth. "If negotiation is what you wish, I will write to my king myself."
"You doubt me?" the general demanded.
"Your army holds our ancient capital. You have done nothing but kill our people and claim our land."
"I sent an ambassador, and your king gave him back and declared war."
"Ambassador?" Arlis snapped. "Is that a new word for assassin?"
"What are you talking about?"
"The High Priest," Masara answered succinctly. It came out flat, an accusation torn free of the sudden hollow chasm that threatened her. It appeared suddenly, as usual, and nearly all-encompassing. She breathed through it slowly, counting in her head to ten.
"He was the head of a militant religious order," the general replied carefully, sensing the delicacy of the topic. "The greatest obstacle to diplomacy. He would never accept surrender."
Arlis scowled, but Masara called for her silence again––she was never very obedient for long, but she held her tongue for the moment.
"And did your sources also believe Amir would be amenable to surrender after an assassination?" Masara asked, with pointed equanimity.
The emperor-general frowned, and crossed his arms, and then changed the subject.
"I think the most important thing to remember is Lapur. They cannot be allowed to grow past the Blighted lands."
"How gratifying, that our kingdom can be a foothold in your imperial wars."
It wasn't exactly a fair assessment; Lapur worried Amir, too, with its constant, probing incursions north of the desert, into the no man's land usually left to Amir.
But it was Kas, young and full of its own power who had invaded, not Lapur.
The emperor-general's eyes narrowed, glinting nearly like gold as he coolly declared, "Say what you will, High Lady. But we cannot afford an Amirran succession crisis, not with Lapur so close and so restless."
Masara gestured minutely, freeing Arlis while she considered the general's words.
"That was your reasoning for your conquest of Seriona," Arlis burst out, after holding her tongue for what surely felt like ages to her. "We are not Seriona. In Amir, we know our king and our prince!"
The general frowned at Arlis, but replied to her as seriously as he had to Masara. "And if your king should prefer his niece over his son?" he challenged.
Arlis strained briefly, forgetting she was tied up as she tried to point at Masara. "We are here," she settled for instead, spitting the words out furiously. "A lone knight sacrificed to hold off your whole company, the high lady, the king's supposed favorite––doesn't that tell you anything?"
A new uneasiness settled in Masara's chest as she realized how badly she had underestimated her young squire. Arlis understood Masara's decision... and she was still a fool for endangering herself. In the past half year of border skirmishes, the outbreak of war, and their flight from Amirasa, Arlis had grown up a great deal.
Masara felt she herself had aged decades.
The general's expression didn't change, yet Masara still felt a shift in his attitude.
"It tells me more than you know," he said, and then waved his hand, dismissing the matter. "My ladies, I've been distracted from my purpose. I simply wished to inform you that you will be hostages until a suitable agreement can be come to with your king, which I hope will come swiftly. Until then, you will be kept with the camp quite safely, and we will do our best to see you treated with honor. If you need anything within reason, you need only shout to the guards." He glanced at Arlis, and added, "I don't think you'll have an issue with that."
Arlis regarded the general balefully. He ignored the young squire's glares, and asked Masara directly, "Should I send the surgeon to you again, my lady?"
Arlis fumed under her breath about it being his fault anyway; Masara's mind spun.
"That would be appreciated, your imperial majesty," she said quietly, focused more on the realizations that were slowly coming together for her, overcoming her unwillingness to see them.
"In the field, I prefer the title Imperial General. Hokiraj," said the emperor, magnanimous in his role as captor, familiarity offered as a flattering courtesy.
"Well then, Imperial General. It appears we are in your hands," Masara returned in kind, though distracted.
The imperial general coughed, made a vague noise of agreement, and then made his departure with, "I will send that surgeon along. Later, we will discuss that letter and what terms your king may agree to.”
As soon as he was gone, Kinlo followed him out and shut the tent. The haste of his exit went on unremarked, and it was Arlis who finally broke the silence.
“I think there’s a traitor, sir,” she whispered, reluctant to speak her fear too loudly.
Her squire was so old at fourteen, yet Masara wanted to protect her still. "I think I know who it is,” she prevaricated.
The king had broached the idea of changing the succession only once that Masara knew of, and only idly. Masara knew he would never act without his son’s complete agreement; it was how rule had been decided between himself and his older sister, Masara’s mother. He had thought he might have Panam’s approval.
Only Panam and Masara were not siblings, and it had been a while since they had been close as such.
Oh, cousin, she thought, unease dripping through her memories of Panam like oil. Could you really?
But Masara could not let despair overcome her. She had Arlis to protect... and Amir, too. However she could. 
50 notes · View notes
celticcrossanon · 3 years
Text
BRF Reading - 24th of March, 2021
This is speculation only
24th of March, 2021
Question: Is Meghan physically carrying a growing baby in her womb (i.e. is she actually physically pregnant this time)?
Tumblr media
Interpretation: No
Card One: Six of Wands. This card is about reaching a major goal, obtaining success. So having a second child or having a girl was a goal of Meghan’s that she thinks she has reached. This could also be about the success of her first fake pregnancy, which was not exposed. Past behaviour is the best predictor of future behaviour.
Card Two: Queen of Swords. This is a card of strategy. Unlike the other queens in the deck, the Queen of Swords originally was not married to the King of Swords. Instead she is his older sister, the widow and/or the crone. Sometimes she is the old maid and the crone. She is not fertile and has no children.  In the picture on the card, you can see the Queen spilling water (the sign of fertility, the suit of cups, about relationships and babies) on the ground. This spilt fertility is a sign that she is ruled by her mind and not her emotions. As a card of pregnancy, it indicated barrenness, an empty womb.
Card Three: Knight of Cups. This Knight is chasing love, but it is an illusion of romantic love, and not the real thing. The love he offers is to put someone on a pedestal and worship them, not to work side by side with them in real life. It is the heady rush of first love, young love, puppy love, and not the tempered adult love that survives the storms of life. 
Meghan is offering a similar illusion, only hers is of pregnancy (another theme of the suit of cups). She is portraying an illusion of motherhood, a perfect ideal that no one can reach. Like young love being ‘in love with love’ and not with the person, there is no real person/baby under Meghan’s illusion, only the need to be seen as a perfect mother.
Underlying energy: The Moon. This is the exact same card that I got for the last question. As per the last spread, this is a No to the question. Nothing is what it seems. All is lies, deceits, illusions, and it will drive you crazy to try and find out the truth. This is the only major arcana card in the spread, so it is the major energy for this reading. trust what your intuition says, not what you are told or what you see (surface appearance). 
Conclusion: Meghan is not pregnant. The underlying energy of lies, secrets and deceptions (The Moon) tells me that. She is emboldened by the success of her first pregnancy ( Six of Wands) to plan and carry out (Queen of Swords) an illusion of pregnancy (Knight of Cups). We know it is an illusion because apart from the major energy of the spread being the Moon, the female figure in the spread is not pregnant and will never be pregnant as she is barren due to age (The Queen of Swords). 
48 notes · View notes