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countrymusiclover · 1 year

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31 - Knights of the Vale

Part 32

Fire OF A Stark

@dragonixfrye

Walking through Castle Black shrugging my brown fur cloak over my shoulders I paused watching the snowfall from one of the windows. Tonight is when Jon would face off against Ramsay to get back Winterfell. I am praying that he could actually reach the goal. Footsteps approached me down the hallway where I noticed it was my sister. “I don’t see how Jon thinks he will win this battle. He doesn’t know how he thinks.”

“Well Jaime doesn’t either. I am sorry we can’t be more helpful.” I responded by resting my elbows on the window seal. Jaime was watching little Rhaenyra in our chambers.

She crossed her arms over her chest locking a deep gaze with me. Her eyes were more serious than I remembered them to be. From Jofferey in King's Landing to Ramsay in Winterfell her marriages have been nothing like mine. It hurts me to know that the innocent girl has been treated so harshly. “Can I know why the Lannister army isn’t here? I tried to recruit the Blackfish and the Knights of the Vale. Unfortunately there hasn’t been much of a response.”

“We fled Kings Landing after I gave birth. Cersei is now the Queen of the seven kingdoms. I - I was terrified that she would murder me and Rhaenyra. Because she has the blood of a dragon and a lion.” I explained tucking hair behind my ear, slumping my shoulders in defeat.

Sansa looked at me softly beginning to walk down the hallway and I followed her heels. “I can understand that, sis. So what about using Joanna as an advantage on the field. If we can’t secure help for the battle.”

“I don’t want to put her on the battlefield and be viewed like all the other Targaryens are when they die. The house words may be fire and blood but I refuse to go down that road.” I declared hoping she would understand. I was a chosen Stark of the North. We both walked down the stairs until we were standing outside in the falling snow.

Sansa paused in her step seeing that Joanna was flying above our heads until she flew down and landed in front of us gently. “Is it safe for me to be around her…well maybe you could help bring the Knights of the Vale here.”

“They hate the Lannisters, Sansa. The late lord was poisoned apparently by them. If I set foot in their castle with Jaime they would probably execute him on the spot.” Throwing my hands up I couldn’t believe she would suggest something like that.

She bites her lip getting an idea. “Little Finger was there the last time I was before he married me off to Ramsay. He knows how to play the game. If you show up on dragonback as the last living Targaryen then I don’t see how they could say no.”

“You may have a point but there’s something you should know…I am not the last living Targaryen in the realm. There’s another.” Tapping my chin, my right hand fell to the handle of my sword on my hip.

She knitted her brows together. “What do you know about this other dragon?”

“She doesn’t have just one full grown dragon like me. She has three of them, Sansa. I have seen what she can do with just one so I am horrified to think what she could do with all of them.” Wrapping my arms tightly around myself I could still see some of the soldiers' bodies on fire and the horses running for their lives. “Her name is Daenerys and they call her the mother of dragons. Tyrion is her hand and is her adviser.”

My sister moved her gaze up to meet Joanna deep gaze. “Well you’re not like the rest of them. You were raised to be good and you weren’t born to have a dragon. So I believe that you are going to be different from the past dragons.”

“If you say so, sis….I’ll go and try to speak with Vale.” Squeezing her hand in mine I left her alone needing to find my husband and see what he thought about the backup plan we had in mind.

Pushing opened the door to our chambers Jaime was laying on the bed with little Rhaenyra asleep beside him. He lifted his gaze up to meet mine. “What is it now, Lynesse?”

“Sansa and I were talking and she informed me that she has been trying to get more soldiers yet there’s no luck.” I explained gently shutting the door behind me as to not wake our daughter.

Jaime rose to his feet, confusion written on his face. "Where are you going with this little dragon?"

"I am saying that I am hoping to fly to the Vale and convince them to come fight and take back Winterfell with us. Jon was right the Blackfish is gone and we need more men if there's even a chance to get more soldiers." I declared simply.

Jaime immediately responded back, raising his tone towards me. "No way in seven hells are you doing that!"

"And why not. I have my own dragon in case you've forgotten." I questioned not expecting him to say no.

He takes a step towards me where our chests were almost touching. His green eyes trained on me. "The Vale hate us Lynesse. They tried to murder my brother through the moon door for a crime he didn't commit. It's not safe for us there. They will consider you the enemy just because you're married to me."

"We have to try something, Jaime. And I refuse to let Jon ride off into a battle he might not win. So we have to do everything we can." I fought back towards him stomping my boots on the stone ground. "It's a risk we have to take and Sansa isn't taught to handle things like this."

Jaime grumbled reaching forward and resting his left hand against my cheek. "Lynesse, please just be careful."

"I will do my best. You have my word.” I vowed to him getting one last look at my sleeping daughter before leaving our chambers. Entering the stables I climbed onto Joanna’s back. Grabbing the reins we took to the skies and it was a much quicker trip to the Vale then it would have been on horseback. It was almost nightfall when I arrived at the castle with the guards drawing their blades at me. Raising my hands up in surrender I paused. “I am her to speak with the Lord of the Vale at the request of Sansa Stark of Winterfell.”

The guards lowered their weapons escorting me inside to see Little Finger and the young lord who could only be about Arya’s age standing beside him. “Lady Stark or should I say Lady Lannister-Targaryen it is a shock to see you here.”

“I thought the dragons were gone, uncle Peter.” The little boy spoke up.

Clasping my hands in front of myself I eyed the boy. Tyrion had told me that the boy's father was poisoned by someone working with the Lannister’s. But it seems odd to me to not have seen the lady of the Vale here as well. “I come at the request of my sister Sansa. She wants to take back Winterfell from the Boltons who you forced her into marrying for who knows what reason. She wants to ask for assistance from the Vale army.”

“I’m the lord of Vale. I have the power….you’re husband’s family murdered my father.” The boy piped up playing with a glass dove in his hands.

Dropping my gaze to the floor for a brief second I could feel Little Finger glaring at me. “How are we supposed to trust you, Lady Cadence? You are after all a Lannister by right. The Vale cannot afford to lose anymore of its rulers. Perhaps we could see your level of trust by making some sort of arrangement.”

“Arrangement, like what kind?” I asked knitting my brows together trying to figure out what he meant. The child of the Vale was now playing around the room leaving us to talk.

Little Finger stepped closer to me noticing that I wasn’t pregnant anymore. He heard the rumor but now it was true that there was a new Lannister heir. “Perhaps a marriage between Robin Lord of the Vale and whatever child you and the kingslayer have created. Say a girl.” Blinking my eyes I had no clue what to say to him about this.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

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waitingforwinterwinds · 1 year

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Game of Thrones - 40 CATELYN VII (pages 416-428)

Cat picks up some sus vibes from her sister, but puts them right back down again, and Bronn wins Tyrion's freedom.

Alyssa Arryn had seen her husband, her brothers, and children slain, and yet in life she had never shed a tear. So in death, the gods had decreed that she would know no rest until her weeping watered the black earth of the Vale, where the men she had loved were buried. Alyssa had been dead six thousand years now, and still no drop of the torrent had ever reached the valley floor far below. Catelyn wondered how large a waterfall her own tears would make when she died.

Are you sure about that? cause, water cycle babe, unless that earth is parched, her 'tears' have watered that ground for sure.

Poor Alyssa Arryn, she didn't dissolve into a weeping, wailing mess and got punished for eternity. It's all "she's too stoic and unfeeling" until a woman actually starts crying then she's an unstable wreck who proves one bad stereotype or another.

Love subtle world building like this, oooohhh, the tragedy of it all~ The sneaky peak at Cat's own mindset. Mmmm, the good stuff.

The builders had intended it as a godswood, but the Eyrie rested on the hard stone of the mountain, and no matter how much soil was hauled up from the Vale, they could not get a weirwood to take root here.

I feel like this says something about the presence of gods in the Eyrie, like it is a godless place, ruled by the hubris of men who climbed too high and now think themselves above the matters of other men. Or a place that shuns its history in favour of new fancies.

But also you would need just, so much soil and also a stable self sustaining biome to grow a tree, because it's not just dirt, soil is the good stuff, with the microorganisms, and you need nutrients for the tree, and where do they come from once the soil is tapped out? Trees need a lot.

"Life needs things to live."

"And I remind you, the dwarf murdered my lord husband!" Her voice rose. "He poisoned the Hand of the King and left my sweet baby fatherless, and now I mean to see him pay!"

Part of me wonders if part of her genuinely believes that. Every vibe I get from Lysa is that her brain is a scattered mess of cats, like she cracked under the strain of everything (not getting what she wanted as a girl (Petyr), being married to a man old enough to be her father, and taken to live in such a terrifying and remote location (the Eyrie) before being relocated to King's Landing which we all know out does Mos Eisley as the most wretched hive of scum and villainy) and now she doesn't even know she's lying because she's made herself believe in her own innocence. or she's 100% lying her ass of and deserves All the Oscars.

"I believe the Lannisters murdered Lord Arryn," Catelyn replied, "but whether it was Tyrion, or Ser Jaime, or the queen, or all of them together, I could not begin to say." Lysa had named Cersei in the letter she had sent to Winterfell, but now she seemed certain that Tyrion was the killer... perhaps because the dwarf was here, while the queen was safe behind the walls of the Red Keep, hundreds of leagues to the south. Catelyn almost wished she had burned her sister's letter before reading it.

So do we all. Come on Cat, even if you can't see this is her lie unraveling, you should at least be able to see this is retribution, not justice.

*sigh* you do though don't you, you know this is wrong, your instincts scream it at you, but you've walked yourself into a corner and you've only realised it now that you've gotten trapped.

"You are mistaken, Maester," Catelyn said. "It was Casterly Rock, not Dragonstone, and those arrangements were made after the Hand's death, without my sister's consent." The maester's head jerked so vigorously at the end of his absurdly long neck that he looked half a puppet himself. "No, begging your forgiveness, my lady, but it was Lord Jon who-"

Hindsight is flagging this conversation with so much red.

But Bronn jerked back. Jon Arryn's beautiful engraved silver sword glanced off the marble elbow of the weeping woman and snapped clean a third of the way up the blade. Bronn put his shoulder into the statue's back. The weathered likeness of Alyssa Arryn tottered and fell with a great crash, and Ser Vardis Egen went down beneath her.

That is so much more dynamic and a fun use of the terrain than fight up the stairs and down and kick him out the hole. It has that nice subtle hint of "the gods think you suck also." Like obviously the trial by combat is always decided by the better fighter, but I don't know, I just like it when 'fights overseen by the gods' have a trace of 'the higher powers were watching and they have no complaints with the outcome.'

You know, after this chapter I'm kind of wondering if the anti-stark sisters crew (the anti-sansa arya-stans and the anti-arya sansa-stans) are applying one sister relationship over another. Because Lysa and Cat are sisters too, who had a decent enough relationship as kids, but then they moved apart and grew apart and ended up on opposing sides at the end, are some people seeing that and thinking "this is how Sansa and Arya's story will go also" even though their relationship is kind of the opposite, they both felt like outsiders in their youth, like they were excluded by one another, but after all the shit they go through they both just want their family back. They went through different stuff, luckily, because neither would have survived the other's journey as much as we'd like to say they would, but at the end, the differences between them are going to look so petty and insignificant.

#a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #game of thrones #catelyn stark #catelyn tully #a chapter a day reading #got

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sansadaynes · 3 years

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ASOIAF Theories in Pictures: When news of Jon Snow's death reaches the Vale, Sansa believes herself to be the last Stark. With Robert Arryn's help Sansa comes out of hiding, rallies support from the Knights of the Vale, and begins to march North.

“Jon Snow was the only brother that remained to her. I am a bastard too now, just like him. Oh, it would be so sweet to see him once again. But of course that could never be.”

#sansa stark #jon snow #robert arryn #asoiaf edit #asoiaf #got edit #*#i want sansa to wake up from alayne at news of jon's death #i want her to work with sweetrobin so she gets the support of his army #and he begins to be seen by the lords of the vale as an actual leader to rally behind

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dontbipanicjonsa · 2 years

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"We are an old people. Ancestors are important to us. Wed Hizdahr zo Loraq and make a son with him, a son whose father is the harpy, whose mother is the dragon. In him the prophecies shall be fulfilled, and your enemies will melt away like snow." Daenerys IV ADWD

XxX

Yet the mountain road was perilous. Shadowcats prowled those passes, rock slides were common, and the mountain clans were lawless brigands, descending from the heights to rob and kill and melting away like snow whenever the knights rode out from the Vale in search of them. Even Jon Arryn, as great a lord as any the Eyrie had ever known, had always traveled in strength when he crossed the mountains. Catelyn's only strength was one elderly knight, armored in loyalty. Catelyn V AGOT

XxX

Jon had to laugh. "You never change."

"Oh, I do." The grin melted away like snow in summer. "I am not the man I was at Ruddy Hall. Seen too much death, and worse things too. My sons …" Grief twisted Tormund's face. "Dormund was cut down in the battle for the Wall, and him still half a boy. One o' your king's knights did for him, some bastard all in grey steel with moths upon his shield. I saw the cut, but my boy was dead before I reached him. And Torwynd … it was the cold claimed him. Always sickly, that one. He just up and died one night. The worst o' it, before we ever knew he'd died he rose pale with them blue eyes. Had to see to him m'self. That was hard, Jon." Tears shone in his eyes. "He wasn't much of a man, truth be told, but he'd been me little boy once, and I loved him." Jon XI ADWD

XxX

"We say, Bleed a cold but feast a fever too," Jon told him. "We say, Never drink with Dornishmen when the moon is full. We say a lot of things."

Mully added his two groats. "My old grandmother always used to say, Summer friends will melt away like summer snows, but winter friends are friends forever." Jon XIII ADWD

Stuff that melts away like snow-

Dany's enemies

The mountain clans

Tormund's grin

Summer friends

I'm beginning to think melting away like snow is actually more about sneak attacks/betrayals that you successfully get away with.

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jedimaesteryoda · 3 years

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What was in Prince Nymor’s Letter to Aegon I?

Background

Aegon the Conqueror managed to forge the Seven Kingdoms into one with his dragons, but there was one exception: Dorne. The First Dornish War marked the only war where a kingdom managed to avoid subjugation by the Iron Throne.

The Dornish avoided open battle as well as holing in fortresses. Rhaenys found all the castles in Dorne empty as she flew on Meraxes as the Dornish forces melted away.

Meria: I will not fight you, nor will I kneel to you. Dorne has no king. Tell your brother that. Rhaenys: I shall, but we will come again, Princess, and next time we shall come with fire and blood. Meria: Your words, Ours are Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken. You may burn us, my lady, but you will not bend us, break us, or make us bow. This is Dorne. You are not wanted here. Return at your peril.

Princess Meria waited for her in Sunspear just to tell her off. Aegon placed his men to control castles, and declared victory only for the Dornish forces to return. Meria threw Lord Rosby from a window herself.

Also, apparently the Dornish didn’t play nice. Entire garrisons were put to the sword. Knights were tortured, and Lord Wyl cut off the hands of captured prisoners-of-war, including Aegon’s Hand, Orys Baratheon. These actions violated the codes of chivalry, and had Aegon and his bannermen howling for vengeance, which led to a bloody cycle of retaliation and reappraisals.

Aegon’s retaliation was swift as he and his sisters took to their dragons and burned Dornish castles. The Dornish responded by burning half the rainwood and sacking half a dozen towns and villages. The Targaryens then responded by burning more Dornish castles in dragonflame. The Dornish response to that was Lord Fowler capturing Nightfall and taking its occupants hostage and razing the nearby villages and towns. The Targaryens, then predictably, responded with their dragons again, but this time, miraculously, the Dornish managed to take down a dragon. A scorpion bolt in a one in a million shot, hit Meraxes in the eye, killing the dragon and ostensibly, the rider, Rhaenys.

The death of Aegon’s favorite sister-wife was of course a huge personal blow, and it marked the start of the next two years of the war appropriately named the Dragon’s Wroth, the nadir of the war. Aegon and Visenya's initial response was to burn every castle in Dorne, except Sunspear. Some castles were even burned more than once with Hellholt, the site of Meraxes’s death, being burned three times. Aegon and Visneya also placed bounties on the heads of Dornish lords to which the Dornish responded by placing bounties on their heads as well as those of their allies. Half a dozen Dornish lords were assassinated while Aegon and Visneya survived several assassination attempts, and Lord Fell was murdered in a brothel.

Finally, Meria Martell died, and was succeeded by her son, Nymor. Nymor took a different approach compared to his mother, and sent his daughter and heir, Deria, to King’s Landing with Meraxes’s skull and a letter. While Aegon’s queen and advisors pushed for Aegon to harm Deria, Aegon refused and heard out Deria.

Dorne wanted peace, according to Deria—but the peace of two kingdoms no longer at war, not the peace between a vassal and a lord. Many urged His Grace against this, and the phrase "no peace without submission" was often heard in the halls of the Aegonfort. It was claimed that the king would look weak should he agree to such a demand and that the lords of the Reach and stormlands who had suffered so much for his cause would be angered.

Swayed by such considerations, it is said, King Aegon was determined to refuse the offer until Princess Deria placed in his hands a private letter from her father, Prince Nymor. Aegon read it upon the Iron Throne, and men say that when he rose, his hand was bleeding, so hard had he clenched it. He burned the letter and departed immediately on Balerion's back for Dragonstone. When he returned the next morning, he agreed to the peace and signed a treaty to that effect.

Aegon read Nymor’s letter, burned it, and left for Dragonstone on Balerion that day, only to return the following morning and to his court’s surprise, agree to Nymor’s terms of ending the First Dornish War with the Iron Throne recognizing Dorne’s independence.

No one knows the contents of that letter, but there are theories as to what was in that letter that led Aegon to forgo his aim to conquer Dorne and agree to Nymor’s peace. Let’s look at the possibilities offered.

1. Did he threaten to take all the wealth of Dorne to hire the Faceless Men to kill Aegon's young son and heir, Aenys?

The problem with this one is Aegon "flew to Sunspear on Balerion on the tenth anniversary of the peace accords to celebrate ‘a feast of freindship’ with Deria Martell” with Aenys accompanying him. I doubt Aegon would willingly celebrate such a treaty with Princess Deria, and do so, by bringing along the son they threatened to kill if he didn’t sign. That would just make things awkward.

Also, the whole point of hiring an assassin, especially a Faceless Man, is to get someone killed without you being implicated. If you say that “if person A dies, it's definitely because of me,” that would be a clear invitation to retaliation from the victim’s family and allies.

The man whom this threat was made to burned every castle in Dorne in retaliation for Rhaenys’s death. It doesn’t take much speculation to imagine how he would have responded to the death of his son borne by that same woman. A threat like that likely wouldn’t have intimidated Aegon into signing the treaty, but more likely angered him and provoked threats of retaliation.

One must also note that by the time of the meeting (13 AC) Maegor had just been born the year before (12 AC). Even with Aenys dead, Aegon would still have had a son to continue the Targaryen line, and it wouldn’t have been a permanent end to the Targaryen threat.

2. Did Nymor reveal that Rhaenys lived still, broken and mutilated, and that he would end her suffering if Aegon ended hostilities?

It doesn’t take a genius to see the problems with this one. For Aegon, the idea of Rhaenys having been left broken after being tortured and mutilated for two years undoubtedly would have enraged him in such a manner that would have befit his sobriquet “the Dragon”, and had him threatening swift and brutal retaliation. He would have demanded Rhaenys back, no matter what condition she was in. I also seriously doubt Aegon would take Rhaenys’s son, Aenys, to celebrate the peace with Deria that was signed on the condition of killing his tortured mother.

Nymor would also have demonstrated himself to be an idiot by needlessly endangering his daughter, Deria. By sending her, he would have handed Aegon a potentially valuable hostage on a silver platter that Aegon could use to counter any threats against Rhaenys. It also undermined the message of goodwill by bringing the skull of Meraxes.

There is also the question of if they had Rhaenys alive this whole time, why the hell didn’t they use her before, the moment they had captured her? The Dornish would have to be complete fools to not see how valuable a hostage Aegon’s favorite sister-wife could be. They at the very least could have used her to negotiate a ceasefire, and given themselves some respite.

3. Was the letter ensorceled?

Short answer: no. I don’t think we’ve seen magic capable of influencing someone’s consciousness with the most being tales of love potions.

4. Some claim it was a simple plea, from one father to another, heartfelt words that touched King Aegon’s heart.

This seems a little too romantic. I mean even if the words did touch Aegon’s heart, there were still political realities to consider, and I don’t see how relating as a father would move Aegon enough to forget about Rhaenys, the woman who first made him a father to begin with.

5. Others insist it was a list of all those lords and noble knights who lost their lives during the war.

I admit while showing a king the human costs of his war isn’t unappealing to me, one must note that “the Reach, the stormlands and the marches had suffered grievously during the fighting, and would never forgive and forget.” The relatives of those same lords and knights who died in the Dornish War largely wanted the war to continue to avenge their relatives, and would potentially have seen a Dornish peace without submission seemingly make those deaths in vain.

It also wouldn’t be the first time Aegon suffered a personal loss in his conquest. He lost his distant cousin and one of his family’s closest friends, Daemon Velaryon, in the first Targaryen assault on the Vale. Yet, he continued his conquest regardless.

What actually was in the letter?

Think back to Robert’s Rebellion with Dornish anger over the horrific deaths of Elia and her children as well as the death of Lewyn at the Battle of the Trident. Jon Arryn managed to avoid rebellion by the Dornish by returning Lewyn’s bones to Dorne, and negotiating with Prince Doran.

Returning the remains of a fallen relative is an act of respect. It is mentioned that Rhaenys’s bones were never returned. Neither were the bones Elia and her children, but that was because they were given the Targaryen custom of cremation.

I think Rhaenys’s body was likely given the same treatment. What Nymor may have mentioned in the letter is that he was returning Rhaenys’s ashes from her funeral pyre to Dragonstone. That is why Aegon left for Dragonstone that day on Balerion, he wanted to meet up with the ship carrying her urn.

That leaves the question of why Aegon burned the letter. The reason is probably the same as why Aegon had no close friends except Orys: he was a very private person, and this was a very personal matter to him.

Throughout the war, both sides did a lot of awful stuff with the Targaryens burning everything in Dorne in dragonflame, and the Dornish responding by engaging in torture, mutilation and assassination (which the Targaryens did first). All those actions did was escalate the war, and result in more brutal retaliation from the Targaryens with each side upping the violence, brutality and destruction. However, by performing this one honorable gesture, Nymor managed to succeed where his mother failed in ending Aegon’s attempts to subdue Dorne.

#dorne #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #house targaryen #rhaenys targaryen #aegon the conqueror #aegon targaryen #aegon #visenya targaryen #house martell #uller #balerion #meraxes #aenys targaryen #sunspear

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hadesisqueer · 4 years

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I'm bored and I don't care and you most probably don't care too but I don't care about that either, so here it comes: my Blake analysis.

People tend to think Yang is my favorite character. And, although they're not entirely wrong, because she's the character I relate the most to, my actual favorite character is Blake. I just find her so inspiring, and such an interesting character yet flawed character. CRWBY did a great job showing her traits as both the Beauty and the Beast, and I just love it.

Leaving the White Fang and Beacon times

Honestly, one of the things I admire the most about Blake is just how freaking brave she is. Because it takes an incredible amount of courage to be able to realize about your mistakes and seek a way to redeem yourself by learning to help people. And it takes a lot of strength to be able to leave your abuser behind.

Blake leaves the White Fang and gets into Beacon hoping for two things: redemption and a new life. She starts off as the typical quiet, kind of cynical (yet still idealistic), emo and mysterious girl who we knew basically nothing about her. We had basic information about the other three, but nothing from her except that she wore a bow and liked books.

I really liked how she seemed to not want to get close to anyone, but then the interactions with Ruby and Yang came. She, although kind of annoyed because they wouldn't let her read (mood), seemed amused by them, and even awkwardly tried to tell them that it was a pleasure to meet them as they fought and before Weiss came and she gave up reading (mood).

Which is one of the reasons I think she chose Yang as her partner. She was probably looking for a partner who she knew she could work well with. And having being partners with Adam, who was just as much of an offensive fighter as Yang, she knew she could work with that. That and the fact that she also seemed to like her and Ruby the night before, so Blake probably recognised her and followed her around to check if Yang could fight too (also because she was hot okay this is just me shipping). And when she saw she could, she was probably like “Okay, I'm keeping this one”. Which is fun, because Blake was the quiet girl and then she went and chose the most extrovert partner (besides Nora) there was. And actually liked having her around, as anyone could see when she smiled when Yang said something.

And that's the thing: she didn't want to get really close to anyone, but she was really eager to start a new life. Even though she wasn't really sure about Weiss, she had good teammates and genuinely liked them. She joined Ruby and Yang in their idiocy (love those two) from the start and showed to be as much as a dork as them if she wanted. She was relaxed with them and liked team JNPR too (we never really saw her having conversations with them alone but if she sat with Pyrrha in class it meant she was cool with them too) and, if you read the books, she was really good friends with team CFVY as well.

Still, she was afraid to open up about her past, or even tell them about being a faunus to the point that when she slipped and told them when she was mad at Weiss being an ignorant, she ran away. Because after all, she doesn't think they would like her true self. I mean, we're talking about a girl who ran away from the White Fang because she realized it had turned into basically a terrorist organisation -one she took part of, and left her family behind for. A girl who's suffered from abuse, making her feel like she doesn't deserve anything good. It's crystal clear in the comics (though they're vol 4 content), Blake thinks she is poison and ruins everything good around her. And she felt like she'd just ruined it again. Which is why when she sees that they don't care, and that Weiss has decided she doesn't care either (and to me, that's the beginning of her arc of being an ignorant and daddy's girl to “when I see a racist a floor him and fucky you, dad), Blake almost cries.

Then in vol 2 she is literally obsessed with Torchwick and the White Fang. It's understandable: she used to be part of that organisation (goddammit, her own father created it) and she's had to see how it went from believing in peace and equality to becoming more violent to start working with human crime lords in a way that doesn't seem to benefit the faunus at all? She knew there was something big going on, and even if she had to fight her own past, she was willing to if that's what it took to find out what it was. It's funny because I felt like she was the main protagonist in that volume instead of Ruby and it's true: she was the one calling the shots.

The thing is that she took it too far and led her to basically become obsessed with the White Fang, as I said. To the point that Yang had to almost literally slap some sense into her and tell her to chill and go to sleep. And well, it worked. She took Yang's advice and didn't forget her goals, but took her time instead of destroying herself in the process.

In vol 3, she seems more relaxed than we'd ever seen. She doesn't have to hide who she is to the people she cares about, because she's slowly opening up more and they are understanding. They succesfully stopped a Grimm attack in Vale and got Torchwick in jail, so she felt more confident and hopeful. And they were killing it at the Vytal Festival. So yeah, she deserved to chill a little, enjoy herself, to be a little goofy and eat some tuna with her friends. The girl had earned it.

... but it's volume 3, and if it fucked everyone up, it wasn't going to be any different with Blake. Like, for fuck's sake, give the poor girl a break.

It starts with Yang breaking Mercury's leg and Blake not knowing what to think. Because as she said, the whole situation was so familiar. She'd had a passionate and aggressive yet “kind” partner before, one she thought she loved and trusted, and he slowly became more and more violent, and more abusive, and for a long time, she was blind to it. And then Yang does that. Her passionate and kind of aggressive yet sweet new partner, who she may already had romantic feelings for (even if she hadn't realized yet), who even had the same semblance as Adam. Was it all happening again?

Yang and Adam are, after all, foils of each other in a way. They're really similar. The main difference is how they deal with their suffering: Adam used it as an excuse for hurting others and never really got over it, and Yang took meaning from it instead and found the way to move on. Her heart was never driven by hate; she used her pain to become a better, stronger person. After all, just as Blake said, Adam was Spite, and Yang was Strength.

Blake's reaction was understandable. She was a victim of abuse and the situation reminded her of it. And as I said, it didn't help that Adam and Yang were so similar. But deep down, she knew that Yang wasn't Adam, that there was an explanation, which is why she gave Yang that chance to tell her. And she knew Yang wasn't lying.

And then everything gets REALLY fucked up for everyone. The situation couldn't be worse. Penny has died, Ruby is at Amity Arena, Yang is still at the dorms. Blake and Weiss are fighting together at Beacon against the White Fang and Grimm- and also the robots. And getting separated was honestly the worst thing they could have done, but Blake went after that Beowolf. And then she found Adam.

I don't think I have to even explain how I think she felt at that moment, when she saw her abuser right there in front of her eyes, for the first time since she left him. I think the look in her eyes are enough to express how terrified and conflicted she was. And yet, she is brave enough to fight him. And she loses. And then the guy uses “summon love interest” card and Yang appears, and he sees right through Blake. And the thing she feared the most happens. She's ruined it. She's really ruined it.

Vol 4 & 5 or the Belladonnas, Sun and Ilia.

Volume 4 is, without any doubt, Blake's lowest point, and again, thank God for having her parents and Sun around, because the girl was almost suicidal (most of all, when you read the comics). As I said, she feels like she's poison who ruins everything good around her, and this once, the universe has proved her right. Yang, her lovable partner who had been nothing but sweet, funny and understanding since she'd met her, had lost an arm trying to save her. And she knew that Adam wasn't kidding when he said that he'd kill her. So she left because she'd rather have Yang, Ruby and Weiss hating her than risking their lives. And because she couldn't stand the guilt she felt. The poor girl hated herself for what happened.

It took her while to decide to go back to Menagerie, but she did, and I was honestly thrilled to find out about her family. Like, we knew about Ruby and Yang being sisters and later we also find out more about their family life. We knew about Weiss being the heiress of the SDC, that she came from an important family, and later we know that she has siblings and it's implied that her father is a dickhead. But we didn't know anything about Blake's family life. We didn't know if she had any family at all or if she was an orphan, or if she had been abandoned, or if she was poor or rich. I think a lot of people had those headcannons before vol 4. But nope. Those ideas were obliterated.

Her father had created the White Fang, which explained why Blake always took the whole matter so personal: it was her legacy, and it had been taken from her and became corrupted. Not only wasn't she poor: she was some sort of fucking princess and owned a mansion. And not only wasn't she an orphan or an abandoned kid: out of team RWBY, she was the only one with two functional, loving parents. She clearly felt guilty about leaving them as well but both of her parents forgave her without any doubts, and showed her unconditional love. Kali and Ghira were two understanding and forgiving people who loved their daughter more than anything, and really, it was such a relief.

And I have my issues with the whole Sun thing, most of all after reading Before the Dawn. He followed her without permission, didn't respect her boundaries and she got too aggressive with him sometimes because of that (first slap I get it, the other two no). And I don't think he was completely necessary for the whole Battle of Haven thing. But at the same time, I really think having him around actually helped Blake a lot. Because yes, he didn't understand her many times, but I do think that having him around helped her as much as her parents. He had a big crush on her, and Blake did like him back, but never at the same level. After the time-skip, he still liked her but her crush on him had faded. And he took his time, but he realized. Blake didn't need a boyfriend, she needed a partner, a good friend who opened her eyes and made her understand that not everything that happens is her fault. That pushing people away with the excuse of protecting them wasn't helping anyone: she was just hurting herself and others more. And that's what he became. And I love the fact that he never for a second thought that she owed him anything: he helped her because he wanted, not because he expected anything from Blake. He would literally be disgusted with people who think she did owe him. Sun has his issues but he is an amazing friend and a perfect example of a guy without one bit of toxic masculinity, and his friendship with Blake is just great (can't wait to see more of them. Brotp).

Blake got love, forgiveness, support and friendship from her parents and Sun, but honestly, I think that what finally pushed her to stop running away and put an end to this whole bullshit was Ilia's appearance. Her former best friend up until she left the White Fang (who was, by the way, the person who indirectly gave her the idea of using a bow to pass for human).

She had already seen someone she cared about lose his way and turn into a monster. Blake herself had lost her way for a good while, found it back and then lost it again, and was working to find it once more. Seeing Ilia in that situation too made her brain go like “Okay, there's no way I'm letting you end up like Adam”. Blake knew Ilia wasn't like Adam, she knew it wasn't too late for Ilia yet, just like it hadn't been too late for Blake herself. So she gave Ilia the same things her parents and Sun had given her, the same things team RWBY gave her once too: love, forgiveness and friendship. And by helping Ilia, Blake also helped herself. I've done this before in another post, but I'll do it again; as uncle Iroh said once: sometimes the best way to solve your own problems is to help someone else.

(I'm not going to get too deep about the White Fang; most of all, because I'd need an entire post just about it. I'll just say that even though I thought I liked most of it, I still have a lot of issues with the White Fang thing and I found the end to be a bit disappointing and rushed).

Back with team RWBY, rebuilding relationships and Adam's end.

I'll never stop thinking that the fact that she didn't know what the fuck was going on at Haven but still joined the fight was hilarious, but still, it really made sense. She's done running away from her fears and her past, and one of her fears was that: confronting her team (mostly, Yang, because of the whole Adam thing) after leaving them. And then they all appear right in front of her eyes.

Past Blake would run away again to avoid the consequences. But she'd grown from that. Instead, she dealt with her own problems with Adam and the White Fang, and as soon as she was done, she went right back into the building and start fighting by Weiss and Ruby's side. And after the fight, while she was talking to her family and Ilia, Sun gave her the final push: he encouraged her to go and actually talk to the team, and she did. She went and told them that if they gave her a second chance, she wouldn't leave them again. Because she knows that leaving them had been one of the biggest mistakes of her life, if not the biggest one. She didn't know if they'd forgive her (a part of her probably still thought they wouldn't, and that she probably didn't deserve it anyway) but she still tried. And Ruby and Weiss accept her without questions. And honestly, the face Blake makes when she sees that Yang is also accepting her back and then they all invite her to the group hug still gets me every time.

She was obviously really happy that they'd forgiven her and that they gave her another chance that it's clear she was really trying to make the most of it. She clearly wanted to make up for lost time, and really make up for leaving, showing Ruby a bunch of times that she was always ready to follow her lead, reassuring Weiss after finding the bodies and... the whole thing with Yang. Because she felt guilty. But don't think Blake was feeling guilty because of the arm thing; at least, not anymore. She had reached a point where she understood that Adam's actions weren't her fault. No, she felt guilty because she left.

Yang had told her about Raven, and Blake knew that the poor girl had some serious abandonment issues (actually, Blake and Raven are kind of similar as well but with many differences, like the fact that they both tend to run away when they're scared, but for different reasons; one leaves by putting people in harm's way to protect herself, and the other because she wants to protect people in the wrong way. Eventually both get called out on that behaviour, and one responds with running away again, and the other with learning to not to run and face her fears. Both are foils of each other in Yang's eyes just like Yang and Adam in Blake's. Okay I'll continue). And Blake knew that when she left Yang, she most likely made said issues worse. Which is why she was trying so hard to make sure that Yang knew she wasn't leaving her again. She even actually tells her over and over again. “I'm not leaving”, “I'll hurry back”, “I'm not gonna break my promise, I swear”. Even during the Bees vs Adam fight, she says “I have people who actually care about me and I promised I'd never leave them again, so I'm not dying now”. That states two things:

1) She wants to fucking live, of course.

2) Blake is telling Yang that she is not going to die, not only because, as I said, she is a normal person who wants to live. But because she knows that, even if she would totally do it given the case, Yang doesn't want her to sacrifice herself for her, because then, she'd be leaving her again. She is telling Yang that she's not going to do that, and that they'd leave that place together.

But the thing is, Blake was trying SO hard to be there for her that she made things awkward, making Yang think Blake believed she was fragile and needed protection, which wasn't the case (I already talked about all this and Yang hating people taking care of her she thinks it makes her weak in the Yang analysis). And which is why Blake corrected herself and said “protecting each other”, as equals.

(Before people complain about how I'm talking too much about Yang in here, let's be clear: you can't make an Yang analysis without talking about Blake. Just like you can't make a Jaune analysis without talking about Pyrrha. You can't make a Salem analysis without talking a lot about Ozma. Or a Weiss one and not mention her entire family. Because that's what happens when you write a complex character with varied relationships with different characters - the relationships shape the character into what they are-. And Blake and Yang's arcs is so intertwined with the others' since the Fall of Beacon that you can't make an analysis of one without talking a lot about the other. Thus, I'm analyzing their relationship too, just like I'm talking about Sun, Adam and more. And yes, I'm doing this from the romantic perspective. Because, in case you hadn't noticed, the relationship stopped being platonic since Heroes and Monsters, and has been showing to be more and more romantic as the show goes on. It's been even confirmed to be romantic. So please, anon, I'm talking to you: if you don't like it stop reading lmao).

Now for the Adam part. Man, I can't even talk about this.

People complain that it didn't make sense that Blake seemed full of confidence at Haven when facing him, and then at Argus, she was terrified. Well, let me clear one thing up: the situation was totally different, dude.

At Haven, she was surrounded by people she knew they would help her: Sun, her parents, damn, even team RWBY. She had a whole army supporting her (and even with Sun's help, she wasn't dumb and she knew better than trying to follow him, because she knew him and knew that that's what he wanted). So of course she was going to feel safer then than being totally alone with that guy who had been stalking her across the world like a total creep. Like, thank God Yang appeared and helped her.

Once again, these three are all together again since the Fall of Beacon. This guy, who maimed and traumatized Yang in a way she will most likely never completely get over (as a person with PTSD, I know it gets better, but it will never entirely go away). Blake's ex boyfriend. A person she trusted and loved, and turned out to be completely different than he made her believe.

Blake's done with running away from him. And she's done with being afraid, because she is. But even though she's afraid, I love how during the entire fight, he tried to get in her head but Blake didn't let him. Because she was done with that. He had abused her, tried to kill her and the people she loved, took her innocence and confidence, even stole her own legacy. And she's not letting him do that again. Not now, and nevermore.

Sorry, I had to.

Blake and Yang give him multiple opportunities to leave. He didn't. We know how that ended for him. And even after that, Blake feels terrible about having to take his life, and feels guilty about it, or felt like she'd ruined the whole “let's steal an airship” plan. But luckily, she had all of her friends reassuring her and being completely understanding and loving, and honestly, I'll say it a million times: that scene between Ruby, Blake and Yang is one of my favorites.

Volume 7

We don't see much Blake during volume 7, to be honest. Yes, we get that great moment with Weiss and Jacques (fuck you). We get to see how she really hasn't forgotten about the whole Adam thing, and how killing him was haunting her in a way. We got to see her and Yang being the ones who reached out for Robyn (people with brains who don't try to take her out and try to make her and the HH allies instead. THANK YOU). We got to see her and Yang kicking some ass in the RWBY vs Ace Ops fight. And of course, we get confirmation (we already knew, but some people are blind and needed more. Some people won't understand until they kiss) of Bumbleby going the romantic way. And I liked that.

But neither Blake nor Yang had much of an individual arc or important stuff to do last volume (and I really hope that changes in volume 8). That annoyed me. But at the same time, I remember that they hadn't had a break since vol 3; Blake had never had one, actually, because every volume found the way to emotionally fuck her up in some way. And after losing limbs, being stabbed, having to deal with terrorists, with bandits, with terrible moms, with abandonment issues, with PTSD and depression, with an abusive exboyfriend they even had to end up killing to survive... I was kind of fine with both of them getting an “easy” volume where they didn't have to deal with big emotional arcs like that, and were just chilling and enjoying themselves for a little while. Still, I want them to be more important, both as a couple and individually, next volume.

Conclussion

As I said, Blake is my favorite character. She is a very flawed person who learns about her flaws and works hard to be better. She is incredibly brave, by far, the bravest character in the series, who overcomes her fears and her abuse and moves forward. Blake's arc, besides taking back her legacy and fighting for equality, is about her finally understanding that she's not to blame for others' actions, that she isn't poison. She learns to finally stop running from her fears and her guilt, to stop pushing others away, and realize that she deserves a second chance, that deserves forgiveness and love and friendship, and to be happy. Blake's entire personal journey is about her finding her path, about overcoming her abuse and trauma, and about learning to love herself. And I love it. I love her.

#rwby #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #weiss schnee #ruby rose #bumbleby #sun wukong #kali belladonna #ghira belladonna #damn this is long #i just love blake so much #rwby analysis #blake analysis

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lesbiansforboromir · 3 years

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Impossible LotR Quiz Answer sheet with explanations!

As an addendum, since people have been doing the quiz I’ve seen a few mistypes and awkwardnesses that are my own fault so I’ve corrected them. This means some people got a higher score than was shown, know that when I looked over your answers I saw your actually right answers and fully appreciated them! It’s good to not that the ‘fill in the blanks’ questions will not take two words in one space, so I’ve had to get creative with how I apply two named folk like Mardil Voronwe, or people who have numbers like Hurin I.

I would also like to say, to everyone talking about how they’ve never read the Silmarillion, this quiz is very purposefully almost entirely based outside of the Silmarillion. This is Appendices stuff! Indeed there is only 1 question even tangentally related to elves in here, this is by design.

@magaramach, @brynnmclean and @apojiiislands asked to be tagged in this! Answers under the cut.

Q2. Who was Dora Baggins in relation to Bilbo Baggins? - Second cousin on his father's side Dora Baggins is a very elderly woman who was the daughter of Bilbo’s father’s brother. She likes writing people a lot of unsolicited advice! THIS WAS WRONG AND SAID FIRST COUSIN FOR SO LONG AND I AM DEEPLY SORRY FOR IT.

Q3. How many pairs of biological twins are mentioned in the whole of Arda's timeline and what races do they belong too? - 2 for men, 1 for elves and 3 for half-elves Fastred and Folcred, Haleth and Haldar (men) Amrod and Amras (elves) Elured and Elurin, Elrond and Elros, Elladan and Elrohir (half-elves) Now, admittedly Elladan and Elrohir are never actually described as twins. However they appear completely identical and have the same birth date, so it is assumed.

Q4. Baldor is who the skeleton scratching at the door used to be. When Aragorn and co pass through the paths of the dead they find a skeleton clawing at a door to the mountain. It is finely dressed and described as mighty and was later essentially confirmed to be Baldor, the eldest son of King Brego of Rohan, also called Baldor the hapless, who foolishly wandered into the paths of the dead on, apparently, a dare. (the answer to this was originally Brego because of a foolish typo from me, many apologies!)

Q5. When was the Ondonóre Nómesseron Minaþurie written? - During Meneldil's reign. “Enquiry into the Place-names of Gondor” was a text written by settled numenoreans about their new kingdom during Meneldil’s reign, who was the first sole King of Gondor after both Anarion (his father) and Isildur had perished.

Q6. Farmer Maggot's particular friend was Tom Bombadil It is stated that Farmer Maggot sometimes peacefully passes through the Old Forest to go and meet Tom Bombadil, who very much enjoys his company. However! Those who answered Merry or Pippin still deserve excellent recognition, Farmer Maggot was indeed fond of Pippin and respected Merry greatly.

Q7. What was the office of the Steward originally created to do? - Keep the Tradition of Isildur When Romendacil I went to war in the east, he realised that if he died then the secret of the Tradition of Isildur would die with him. Hence he wrote it down in a sealed scoll and gave it to a trusted confidante, to be given to his heir if he should perish. This tradition was maintained by further kings and those trusted confidantes became the Stewards of Gondor. This, admittedly, is a more suggested progression than explicit, but it’s a Impossible evil quiz so :) Q8. What was the 'Tradition of Isildur'? - Remember where Elendil was buried. Elendil had been secretly entombed in Calenardhon, supposedly the midpoint between Gondor and Arnor. This was a hallowed space for only Kings at first, but in later years when the Stewards came to rule Gondor they also were permitted the secret. Cirion had the remains moved when Calenardhon was gifted to the Eotheod to eventually become a part of the Kingdom of Rohan.

Q9. At the time of Pelargir's founding, is the world flat or round? - Flat. Pelargir was founded as a ‘Faithful Numenorean’ haven on the river Anduin. Therefore it was built before Numenor’s destruction in the Akallabeth, the reason for which being that Eru turned the world from flat to round.

Q10. Which of these monarchs were indolent and had no interest in ruling? - King Atanatar I - King Narmacil I - Tar-Vanimelde King Atanatar I ruled during Gondor’s richest generation and seemed to believe that meant he didn’t need to put any work in. Narmacil I, his son, didn’t want to put any work in, but he at least assigned his nephew, Minalcar, as ‘Karma-Kundo’ or regent during his reign. So he at least did something to keep the country going. Tar-Vanimelde had no interest in ruling and allowed her husband to do most of the governence. This backfired when she died and he organised a coup against his son to hold power.

Q11. When looking back on the Ship-Kings of Gondor, King Tarannon Falastur began the invasion of Harad and expanded Gondor's borders, King Earnil-I finally took Umbar but died at sea shortly afterwards, King Ciryandil spent most of his reign trying to defend Umbar and died in it's seige and King Hyarmendacil defended Umbar against seiges for 35 years before making war upon all Harad and claiming Harondor as a province of Gondor, ending the line of the Ship Kings.

Q12. What happened during the reign of King Romendacil II? - I don't know! Nothing? Yes I know this is particularly evil of me but Romendacil II was originally called Minalcar, yes the same Minalcar who became REGENT of Gondor due to Narmacil’s indolent nature. Minalcar indeed did everything else listed as answers to this question, but none of them happened during his reign as king. Indeed, his reign was said to be peaceful and we have no real information on it, so technically saying we don’t know, and suggesting nothing happened, is actually the most correct answer :)

Q13. Who succeeded Tar-Telperien of Numenor? - Her nephew, Minastir Tar-Telperien was a lesbian Queen of Numenor who never married and never wanted too and did an excellent job and I love her. Her nephew built a tower to mope in about how much he wanted to be an elf. They are not the same. Absolutely terrified about what Amazon could do to her.

Q14. Whilst his brethren, the nazgul, were attacking the Prancing Pony, The Witch-King was waiting in the Barrow Downs and probably had a really nice time. Not much to this! Witch King was chilling with the Barrow Wights.

Q15. Which of these characters are described as 'beautiful' at least once in the Lord of the Rings? - Galadriel, Denethor, Eowyn, Frodo, Elanor, Celeborn, Boromir Yes, Arwen is never described as beautiful, but Denethor is :)

Q16. We all love Boromir II, select the similarities he and Boromir I did NOT share. - Renowned relationship with the Rohirrim. - Destroyed the Bridge of Osgiliath - Feared by the Witch King - Retook Ithilien. - Had a brother. In case you’re wondering, yes, I love both Boromirs. But this question is a fun highlight of how many similarities Boromir II has with his namesake. These are the only things they didn’t both do. Although! Boromir I’s son was Cirion who allied with the Eotheod and created Rohan in the first place, the Uruk-Hai destroyed the Bridge of Osgiliath in Boromir I’s lifetime, Boromir II was PROBABLY feared by the witch-king we just don’t know, Boromir II held Ithilien and Boromir I had two elder sisters like Denethor II did.

Q17. Hey, did you know that, from Boromir I's war with the Uruk-Hai of the Morgul Vale, Gondor didn't know peace until Sauron's death on the 25th of March, 3019? Hah hah! How gut wrenching is that? About how long do you think it has been since Gondor knew peace then? Hey wait does that mean Boromir I's valiant victory that came at a personal sacrifice was the beginning of Gondor's wars and then Boromir II's valiant sacrifice was the end- oh god... oh fuck - 550 years To everyone who answered the crossed out answer,,, you’re correct in my heart. You get bonus points. Also hey! What the fuck :)

Q18. Who was Borondir? - The rider sent to find Eorl who made it to him after starving himself for two days but who then rode to the Celebrant with Eorl anyway and died in that battle. Literally couldn’t love this fellow more. Big Hirgon energy. A hero of Gondor for time immemorial.

Q19. The Ruling Stewards, from first to last (with their numbers typed as so Turin-I Hurin-II etc), were as follows; Mardil ; Eradan ; Herion ; Belegorn ; Hurin-I ; Turin-I ; Hador ; Barahir ; Dior ; Denethor-I ; Boromir-I ; Cirion ; Hallas ; Hurin-II ; Belecthor-I ; Orodreth ; Ecthelion-I ; Egalmoth ; Beren ; Beregond ; Belecthor-II ; Thorondir ; Turin-II ; Turgon ; Ecthelion-II ; Denethor-II ; and for like two seconds ; Faramir ; Alrighty, we had a bit of a fight in my discord about this but eventually I did relent in agreement that Faramir IS... very briefly... legally considered a RULING Steward. Ruling Stewards being Stewards that ruled a Kingless Gondor. But! With Aragorn RIGHT THERE is just seemed very redundant. Still! I’ll allow the pedant to win out, ten minutes is still a Ruling Steward. ALSO! I decided that having an extra box for the ‘voronwe’ part of mardil voronwe was just mean as it set everyone’s answers off kilter, so I removed that. ALSO for all of those calling me a bastard for adding this question, @illegalstargender was the one who requested it! I wasn’t going too!

Q20. The Stewards, despite ruling through very tumultuous and violent periods, were often known for boring things (because they simply ruled better than the Kings did, I said what I said) But what boring thing was Steward Turin I remembered for? - Being the only monarch of Gondor that married twice This skeezy bastard really did marry a second time during his OLD age just to father a son. I can only imagine what a dreadful cultural and social effect this had on this prude country. It’s so unnecessary! He had daughters, many of them! One of them certainly had a son before he did. He was just being a controlling arse, down with Turin I!!!!

#my quiz

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elliemarchetti · 3 years

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If Need Be

At this point I don't know if it makes sense to anticipate everything with a brief description of the plot, but for all the possible new readers who will run into this chapter and for some strange reason haven’t seen the previous ones, this is the story of Elva, a half-elf of Mirkwood, leaving with the Fellowship in place of Legolas. The actual tale begins shortly after Gandalf's death, and it all centers around how Elva's presence impacts not only on the mission but on Haldir's life.

In this part, the Fellowship finally leaves Caras Galadhon to resume their Quest.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Words: 2448

In the morning, as they were beginning to pack their slender goods, some Elves went to Haldir’s talan to bring many gifts of food, mostly in the form of very thin cakes, made of a meal that was baked a light brown on the outside and inside was the colour of cream, and a hooded cloak.

"For someone who spends most of his time at the border, you are very popular," Elva commented, after thanking yet another visitor.

"They fear I may not come back, and they tell me that my brothers will be helped in every possible way,” the marchwarden explained. “These are lembas, or waybread, more strengthening than any food made by Men and more pleasant than the cram made in Dale. It must be eaten little at a time, for these things are given to serve when all else fails and will keep sweet for many days, if they’re unbroken and left in their leaf-wrappings.”

“Those are fair garments, though,” Aragorn commented, stroking the light but warm silken fabric, the same the Galadhrim and the court wove. It was hard to say of what colour they were, as they seemed to be grey with the hue of twilight under the trees and yet, if they were moved or set in another light, they were green as shadowed leaves or brown as fallow fields by night; in the dusk, they looked like water under the stars, and even the brooch that fastened them, a green leaf, was veined with silver.

“They must be from the Lady,” guessed their host. “Yet, as you said, they are garments, not armours, and they won’t turn shaft or blade, only serve us well in staying out of the Enemy’s sight.”

"They seem to have done their work so far," Elva said, trying to cheer up the room and hinting that after all his wanderings he was still alive.

"Sure, and a considerable number of blades to the throat were also needed," he replied, after which silence fell, and was maintained as they walked through Caras Galadhon’s empty green streets. In the trees above them, many voices were murmuring and singing, and flashed of barely comprehensible words followed them to the lawn where the other members of the Fellowship waited and down the southward slopes of the hill, to the great gate hung with lamps until the white bridge, after which they took a path that went off into a deep thicket of mallorn trees and passed on, winding through rolling woodlands of silver shadow, leading them ever down, southwards and eastwards, to the shores of the River, laid in a shining lawn of grass studded with golden elanor that glinted in the sun. On the right and west the Silverlode flowed glittering and on the left and east the Great River rolled its broad waters, deep and dark, with woodlands still marching as far as eyes could see on the southwards shores, bleak and bare, as no mallorn lifted its gold-hung boughs beyond the Land of Lorien. On the bank of the Silverlode, at some distance up from the meeting of the streams, there were moored many boats and barges, some brightly painted, shining with silver, gold and green tones, and some either white or grey, like the three that had been prepared for the travellers. Haldir threw some coils of slender but strong rope in each, and Sam went to inspect the workmanship, similar to that of the cloaks they wore.

“They are made of hithlain,” their guide explained, anticipating his question. “Had I known this craft delighted you, I could’ve taught you much, but at the moment I think you’ll have to settle for a theoretical explanation during breaks.”

Sam seemed satisfied by the pact, and went to take his place with Frodo on the boat captained by Aragorn; Boromir thus settled for Merry and Pippin, and Haldir for Elva and Gimli, with whom he had most bonded during their stay in Lothlorien. The boats were moved and steered with short-handled paddles that had broad leaf-shaped blades. When all was ready, their guide led them on a trial up the Silverlode, where the current was swift and they went forward slowly. Sam sat in the bows, clutching the sides, and looking back wistfully to the shore, the sunlight glittering on the water dazzling his eyes. As they passed beyond the green field of the Tongue, the trees drew down to the river’s brink: here and there golden leaves tossed and floated on the rippling stream and the air was very bright and still, bringing only silence except for the high distant song of larks. They turned a sharp bend in the river, and there, sailing proudly down the stream towards them, they saw a swan of great size. The water rippled on either side of the white breast beneath its curving neck and its beak shone like burnished gold, while its eyes glinted like jet set in yellow stones; its huge white wings were half lifted, and suddenly they perceived that it was a ship, wrought and carved with elven-skill in the likeness of a bird. Two elves clad in white steered it with black paddles and in the midst of the vessel sat Celeborn, with his wife behind him, tall and white, a crown of golden flowers in her hair and a harp in her hands. Sand and sweet was the sound of her voice in the cool clear air as she told the story of gold leave shook by the wind. As if the first vision of the Mirror had awakened in Elva an ancient memory that didn’t belonged to her, she too sang of Lorien’s first winter with bare and leafless trees, but she didn’t have the heart to finish, because it spoke of the departure beyond the Sea, of that journey that tasted like defeat and she could never face, even if she wanted to. Haldir stayed his boat as the Swan-ship drew alongside, so the Lady could tell them she had come to bid their last farewell and to speed their boats with blessings from her land. The half-elf wasn’t quite sure their intentions were that noble, but she said nothing, and ate lunch with the royals on the grass, as Celeborn suggested, speaking again of their journey.

“As you go down the water,” said the Lord, “you’ll find that the trees will fail, and you’ll come to a barren country. There the River flows in stony vales amid high moors, until at last after many leagues come the sheep shores of the tall island of Tindrock, that we call Tol Brandir. With great noise and smoke, the waters fall over the cataracts of Rauros down into the Nindalf, the Wetwang, as it’s called in your tongue.; that is a wide region of sluggish fen, where the stream becomes tortuous and much divided and the Entwash flows in by many mouths from the Forest of Fangorn in the west. About that stream, on this side of the Great River, lies Rohan, while on the further side are the bleak hills of the Emyn Muil. The wind blows from the East there, for they look out over the Dead Marshes and the Noman-lands to Cirith Gorgor and the black gates of Mordor. Boromir, and any that go with him seeking Minas Tirith, will do well to leave the Great River above Rauros and cross the Entwash before it finds the marshes. Yet they shouldn’t go too far up that stream, nor risk becoming entangled in the Forest of Fangorn, a strange, little known land, but doubtless, you don’t need this warning.”

“Indeed we have heard of Fangorn in Minas Tirith,” replied the person most concerned. “But what I’ve heard seems to me for the most part old wives’ tales, such as we tell to our children. All that lies north to Rohan is now to us so far away that fancy can wander freely there, but it’s now many lives of men since any of us visited it to prove or disprove the legends that have come down from distant years. Anyway, I have myself been at whiles in Rohan, but I’ve never crossed it northwards, although, when I was sent out as a messenger, I passed through the Gap by the skirts of the White Mountains, and crossed the Isen and the Greyflood into Northerland. A long and wearisome journey it was, four hundred leagues I reckoned it, and it took me many months, for I lost my horse at Tharbad, at the fording of the Greyflood. After that and the road I have trodden with this Company, I don’t much doubt I shall find a way through Rohan, and Fangorn too, if need be.”

“Then I need say no more!” exclaimed Celeborn. “But don’t despise the lore that has come down from distant years, for oft it may chance that old wives keep in memory word of things that once were needful for the wise to know.”

At those advice, Galadriel rose from the grass and taking a cup from one of her maidens she filled it with white mead and gave it to her husband.

“Now it’s time to drink for our farewell,” she said, and when they had all done as she commanded, chairs were set for her and Celeborn. For a while she looked upon her guests, but at last, she called each in turn, offering them gifts, starting from Aragorn, whom she addressed as the leader of the Fellowship, giving him a great stone clear green in colour, set in a silver brooch that was wrought in the likeness of an eagle with outspread wings.

“This was left in my care to be given to you, should you pass through this land; I gave it to my daughter Celebrian and she gave it to hers, and now it comes to you as a token of hope. In this hour take the name that was foretold for you, Elessar, the Elfstone of the House of Elendil!”

Aragorn took the stone and pinned the brooch upon his breast, and those who saw him wondered how they hadn’t noticed before how tall and kingly he stood: “For the gift that you have given me I thank you, Lady of Lorien of whom were sprung Celebrian and Arwen Evenstar. What praise could I say more?”

The Lady bowed her head, and she turned to Boromir, giving him a belt of gold, similar to the silver ones Merry and Pippin received; to Elva, she gave a bow such as the Galadhrim used, longer and stouter than the bows of Mirkwood, and strung with a string of elf-hair. With it went a quiver of arrows, while Sam received no weapons or wealth, but only a little box of plain grey wood, unadorned save for a single silver rune upon the lid, filled with earth from Galadriel’s orchard: “It won’t defend you against any peril, but if you keep it and see your home again at last, then perhaps it may reward you. Though you should find all barren and laid waste, there will be few gardens in Middle-earth that will bloom like yours, then you may remember Galadriel, and catch a glimpse far off of Lorien, that you have seen only in our Winter, for our Spring and our Summer are gone by, and they will never be seen on earth again save in memory.”

Sam went red to the ears and muttered something inaudible, as he clutched the box and bowed as well as he could.

“And what gift would a Dwarf ask of the Elves? ” said Galadriel, turning to Gimli.

“It’s enough for me to have seen the Lady of the Galadhrim, and to have heard her gentle words,” he replied, courteous.

“Hear all ye Elves!” she cried to those around her. “Let none say again that Dwarves are grasping and ungracious! Yet surely you desire something that I could give? Name it, I bid you! You shall not be the only guest without a gift.”

“There’s nothing, Lady Galadriel,” said Gimli, bowing low and stammering. “Nothing, unless it might be permitted to name a single strand of your hair, which surpasses the gold of the earth as the stars surpass the gems of the mine. I don’t ask for such a gift, but you commanded me to name my desire.”

The Elves stirred and murmured with astonishment, and Celeborn gazed at the Dwarf in wonder, but the Lady smiled. “It’s said that the skill of the Dwarves is in their hands rather than in their tongues, yet that is untrue of Gimli,” she said. “And how shall I refuse, since I commanded you to speak? But tell me, what would you do with such a gift?”

“Treasure it, Lady” he answered, “in memory of your words to me at our first meeting. And if ever I return to the smithies of my home, it shall be set in imperishable crystal to be an heirloom of my house, and a pledge of good will between the Mountain and the Wood until the end of days.”

So the Lady unbraided one of her long tresses, cut off three golden hairs and laid them in Gimli’s hand: “These words shall go with the gift: I don’t foretell, for all foretelling is now vain with darkness lying on one hand and only hope in the other, but if hope shouldn’t fail, then I say to you that you hands shall flow with gold, and yet over you gold shall have no dominion.”

Then she addressed Frodo, and gave him a small crystal phial, glittering with rays of white light from the Earendil’s star as she moved it: “May it guide you in dark places, when all other lights go out.”

Lastly, she looked at Haldir, giving him a sheath made to fit his sword, overlaid with a tracery of flowers and leaves wrought of silver and gold: “The blade drawn from this sheath shall not be stained or broken even in defeat,” she said, leading Elva to question again what their guide might’ve seen in the Mirror. Were those words a hidden condemnation? She couldn’t know, and after the gift that had been given to her, she couldn’t ask too. Haldir bowed, but found no words to say, so the Lady arose, and the yellow noon laid on the green land of the Tongue accompanied their last farewell, for so it seemed to them that Lorien was slipping backward, like a bright ship with enchanted trees, sailing on to forgotten shores, while they sat helpless upon the margin of the grey and leafless world.

#haldir of lothlorien #haldir x fem oc #aragorn #arwen #aragorn x arwen #sam gamgee #boromir #frodo baggins #merry brandybuck #pippin took #gimli son of gloin #galadriel #celeborn #galadriel x celeborn #lotr #the fellowship of the ring

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fedonciadale · 3 years

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Thank you for your thoughtful answer re: grrm & middle ages. You make a lot of good points. Thinking about it a bit more carefully, I suppose my beef is this: for years I was told that he is more realistic and historically accurate than other pseudo medieval fantasy writers. But when I read the books myself, I didn't find anything new or really accurate: just the same dark age cliches that have been popular since forever. If they it hadn't been sold to me as a some kind of correction... tbc

(2) Continued... Of a popular idea of middle ages, I would be more forgiving. But it just recycles what everyone already thinks of the era, and it's a very one sided and dated view. And to have that 19th century historian's understanding touted as a revolutionary new imagining bugs me something fierce. Does that make any sense?

Hi there!

That makes a lot of sense, I think. The problem is that people tend to mix up ‘there is more gore’ with ‘it is more realistic’, and that is why GRRM is praised for being more realistic. He shows the brutal side of it all, instead of just flying colourful banners, tournaments, knights in shining armour etc.

There are some things that are actually better than in your average fantasy, to be honest. Just to give some examples: The way the traditions in Westeros differ is actually well done, because people always underestimate how different things were in the Middle Ages. France and to a certain degree England are always seen as the default, when there were so many differences all over Europe. Inheritance was not father-son succession everywhere! So, I like it that you have a different kind of inheritance in Dorne, that you have places like Braavos or the watch, where you have some proto election, that you have places like the mountain tribes in the Vale and he Freefolk that have a different traditions of appointing leaders as well. you have places with a traditional strong female rule, you have the kingsmoot on the Iron Islands etc.

All of this is a more nuanced than your average fantasy novel but I can easily imagine that you are bound to be disappointed if you begin reading the book under the premise that it is accurate. It is not, just take child brides and ‘right of first night’. Both never were a thing in the Middle ages, but they are highly popular ideas. (child betrothals did happen, but marriages weren’t consummated until both children had grown up). There is also the fact that a king in the Middle Ages was really not an absolute monarch. He did not rule alone but with a body of lords. You can actually see, that GRRM tries to depict that, but it is still not close. In a way it makes sense. Seeing that the kings of old had dragons it sort of makes sense that the position of the king would be relatively strong.

So, when I started to read the books, I was pleasantly surprised to be honest, because to me it was refreshing that some things were more fleshed out than in general. It shows how much expectations shape your reading experience!

Thanks for the ask!

#anon ask #GRRM #GRRM and Middle Ages #Middle Ages in ASOIAF #How accurate is it?

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une-nuit-pour-se-souvenir · 3 years

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random thoughts while i’m re-reading sansa ii and sansa iii.

but i haven’t yet written down properly for the project sansa thing

Sansa II

Sansa rode to the Hand's tourney with Septa Mordane and Jeyne Poole, in a litter with curtains of yellow silk so fine she could see right through them. They turned the whole world gold.

Sansa II is about Sansa’s naive outlook in life. In here, she literally sees the world through gold tinted lenses.

The splendor of it all took Sansa's breath away; the shining armor, the great chargers caparisoned in silver and gold, the shouts of the crowd, the banners snapping in the wind . . . and the knights themselves, the knights most of all.

"It is better than the songs," she whispered when they found the places that her father had promised her, among the high lords and ladies.

The knights, most of all. This chapter should give us Sansa’s true knight, amongst all the false knights.It may even not be a knight, a she begins with this chapter quite idealistic but ends it knowing true knights are cruel (Gregor Clegane), and who wins the Tourney of the Hand is Sandor Clegane, who’s not a knight.

They watched the heroes of a hundred songs ride forth, each more fabulous than the last.

Most likely, metaphoric for all of Sansa’s “true knight” candidates, or knights she finds through her journey. The Tourney of the Hand features in narrative order:

The seven knights of the Kingsguard took the field, all but Jaime Lannister in scaled armor the color of milk, their cloaks as white as freshfallen snow. > Sansa’s tenure in King’s Landing. These knights follow Joffrey’s orders in abusing Sansa.

Ser Jaime wore the white cloak as well, but beneath it he was shining gold from head to foot, with a lion's-head helm and a golden sword. > Jaime Lannister stands apart from the other kingsguard, as he ignores Cersei’s orders to find Sansa and instructs Brienne to find her, giving her a lion’s head golden sword. He’s actually portrayed as a fool in this chapter, could be Dontos Hollard.

Ser Gregor Clegane, the Mountain That Rides, thundered past them like an avalanche. > Petyr Baelish is narrativelly connected to giants.

Sansa remembered Lord Yohn Royce, who had guested at Winterfell two years before. > Sansa’s tenure at the Vale.

Septa Mordane pointed out Lord Jason Mallister, in indigo chased with silver, the wings of an eagle on his helm. > A winged knight, still at the Vale.

The girls giggled over the warrior priest Thoros of Myr, with his flapping red robes and shaven head, until the septa told them that he had once scaled the walls of Pyke with a flaming sword in hand. > A priest of R’hllor and the wall, along with a flaming sword in hand. We can think of Jon at the Wall, but we can also think of Brienne and Thoros of Myr proper as well considering the end of ADWD.

END PARAGRAPH. Chronologically, this fits the narrative. It may suggest these knights are the ones that shape Sansa’s journey. I’m not convinced of this because of how many other knights are mentioned after this.

The most terrifying moment of the day came during Ser Gregor's second joust, when his lance rode up and struck a young knight from the Vale under the gorget with such force that it drove through his throat, killing him instantly. (...) His cloak was blue, the color of the sky on a clear summer's day, trimmed with a border of crescent moons, but as his blood seeped into it, the cloth darkened and the moons turned red, one by one. (...) It would be different if it had been Jory or Ser Rodrik or Father, she told herself. The young knight in the blue cloak was nothing to her, some stranger from the Vale of Arryn whose name she had forgotten as soon as she heard it.

As many have theorised, this may foreshadow Harry Hardying’s death. Indeed this guy dresses exactly like him, pretentiously with the Arryn coat-of-arms. Interestingly, Sansa says that she’d care if he meant something to her. Around the time Harry is likely to die, Jon is dead at the Wall. Sansa won’t care about Harry, but she’ll care about Jon.

Ser Loras (...) was the youngest rider on the field, yet he had unhorsed three knights of the Kingsguard that morning in his first three jousts. Sansa had never seen anyone so beautiful. His plate was intricately fashioned and enameled as a bouquet of a thousand different flowers, and his snow-white stallion was draped in a blanket of red and white roses. After each victory, Ser Loras would remove his helm and ride slowly round the fence, and finally pluck a single white rose from the blanket and toss it to some fair maiden in the crowd.

The ideal knight, dressed in blue, with the rose thematic. Interestingly, he fights against a Royce and wins. There have been many essays about Loras paralleling Jon here.

However, Brienne also dresses in blue, she wears a blue armour, and whose childhood features a bad memory about a Ser Ronnet offering her roses but was actually mocking her behind her backs. Jon is also thematically linked with blue and roses through his mother, who loved blue winter roses.

It is my conviction Sansa’s true knight is Brienne, not Jon.

To the other maidens he had given white roses, but the one he plucked for her was red. "Sweet lady," he said, "no victory is half so beautiful as you." (...) She inhaled the sweet fragrance of the rose and sat clutching it long after Ser Loras had ridden off. When Sansa finally looked up, a man was standing over her, staring. (...) "You must be one of her daughters," he said to her. He had grey-green eyes that did not smile when his mouth did. "You have the Tully look." "I'm Sansa Stark," she said, ill at ease. (...) "Your mother was my queen of beauty once," the man said quietly. His breath smelled of mint. "You have her hair." His fingers brushed against her cheek as he stroked one auburn lock. Quite abruptly he turned and walked away. By then, the moon was well up and the crowd was tired, so the king decreed that the last three matches would be fought the next morning, before the melee.

If we take this all in a chronological order, we have all the knights listed, then Loras Tyrell (Brienne, who started looking for Sansa in ACOK / ASOS), then we have Littlefinger seeing someone else in Sansa but she’s sure of whom she is (Petyr taking Sansa to the Vale, as Alyane Stone), the night comes (winter).

Sansa and Septa Mordane were given places of high honor, to the left of the raised dais where the king himself sat beside his queen. (...) She could not hate Joffrey tonight. He was too beautiful to hate. He wore a deep blue doublet studded with a double row of golden lion's heads(...). Sansa looked at him and trembled, afraid that he might ignore her or, worse, turn hateful again and send her weeping from the table.

A raised dias over everyone else (Wall), Joffrey in blue (Jon as a “Stark”), Sansa is afraid he’ll turn hateful and send her away. This is actually legitimate fear, as Sansa would go to the Wall, yet still afraid Jon would send her away. Jon actually thinks doing this to Arya somewhere in ADWD, the Wall is no place for a woman. It’s also in chronological order with the previous paragraph’s interpretation.

Instead, Joffrey’s perfectly civil, but we must remember he’s Jon’s anti-parallel so whatever’s written about the former reflects in the latter either as a parallel or an anti-parallel and that’s kind of though to figure out.

He raised his hand to summon a servant with a flagon of iced summerwine, and poured her a cup. (...) The servants kept the cups filled all night, yet afterward Sansa could not recall ever tasting the wine. She needed no wine. She was drunk on the magic of the night, giddy with glamour, swept away by beauties she had dreamt of all her life and never dared hope to know. (...) And Joffrey was the soul of courtesy. (....) A thick soup of barley and venison. Salads of sweetgrass and spinach and plums, sprinkled with crushed nuts. Snails in honey and garlic. Sansa had never eaten snails before; Joffrey showed her how to get the snail out of the shell, and fed her the first sweet morsel himself. Then came trout fresh from the river, baked in clay; her prince helped her crack open the hard casing to expose the flaky white flesh within. And when the meat course was brought out, he served her himself, slicing a queen's portion from the joint, smiling as he laid it on her plate. She could see from the way he moved that his right arm was still troubling him, yet he uttered not a word of complaint. Later came sweetbreads and pigeon pie and baked apples fragrant with cinnamon and lemon cakes frosted in sugar, but by then Sansa was so stuffed that she could not manage more than two little lemon cakes, as much as she loved them. She was wondering whether she might attempt a third when the king began to shout.

This is similar narrative to Sansa I, especially becomes it features the “return of the trout” and the queen imagery. I proposed in my post on Sansa I that its subtext was about Sansa becoming queen and that Joffrey was a stand-in for Jon, and that their day together foreshadowed the northern campaign. I also mentioned Joffrey’s behaviour could be seen under two different ways, either parallel or anti-parallel, especially when Joffrey is a little shit.

Entrées: no fucking idea, but apparently it involves Jon offering a “snail in honey” to Sansa. I’m... I don’t know.

Fish Course: To remember from Sansa I: “ It was a day for adventures. They explored the caves by the riverbank, and tracked a shadowcat to its lair, and when they grew hungry, Joffrey found a holdfast by its smoke and told them to fetch food and wine for their prince and his lady. They dined on trout fresh from the river, and Sansa drank more wine than she had ever drunk before. "My father only lets us have one cup, and only at feasts," she confessed to her prince.”

I proposed it was interesting because it included conquering the riverlands (exploring the caves by the riverbank would be checking out riverlords for their cause, tracking a shadowcat to its lair would be chasing the lannisters back west, and dining on trout meant taking Riverrun). This time, “her prince helped her crack open the hard casing to expose the flaky white flesh within.” can be seen as foreshadowing a siege of Riverrun that goes well

Meat Course: To remember from Sansa I, Joffrey is humilliated and consequently never forgivies Sansa, so she’d never be a successfull queen married to her (if he was planning on that at all, since he jumped so easily to Margaery). I proposed that Jon as Joffrey’s anti-parallel would be humilliated in battle but he’d move past it (this is basically what happened in the Battle of Winterfell, he got humilliated and he saved her arse, and even expected him to be angry with her but he went all targ sibling on her forehead instead).

In here, we see what I proposed for Jon to go past it reflected, as Joffrey serves Sansa the queen’s portion, smiling as if all is forgiven despite the source of humilliation being present as “She could see from the way he moved that his right arm was still troubling him, yet he uttered not a word of complaint.” Nice guy Snow, thank you very much.

Dessert: No idea, but a few infamous ones are featured. The pigeon pie present in the purple wedding, cinnamon apples in one of Bran’s banquets (the one he’s given the king’s portion as well), and lemoncakes (three of them), magic number.

Sansa started as Joffrey laid his hand on her arm. "It grows late," the prince said. He had a queer look on his face, as if he were not seeing her at all. "Do you need an escort back to the castle?"

The nice atmosphere is broken because Robert is a dick and fights with Cersei. Joffrey then decides to be a dick as well. This also featured in Sansa I, a boy and a girl fighting, then Joffrey makes a dick of himself.

"You do not tell me what to do, woman," he screamed at Queen Cersei. "I am king here, do you understand? I rule here, and if I say that I will fight tomorrow, I will fight!"

Hopefully, that’s a metaphor for Aegon telling Daniella to go fuck herself, he’s the king of westeros and she does not tell him what to do. I did those dragon posts where Rhaegal (representative of Jon) seems to take take offence of Viserion (Aegon) getting trolled repeatedly.

Sansa could feel the Hound watching her. "Did you think Joff was going to take you himself?" He laughed. He had a laugh like the snarling of dogs in a pit. "Small chance of that." He pulled her unresisting to her feet. "Come, you're not the only one needs sleep. I've drunk too much, and I may need to kill my brother tomorrow." He laughed again.

Joffrey didn’t take Sansa back to Winterfell, but Jon did.

Sansa III

This chapter is completely “useless” at first glance, except for Sansa and Arya’s second squabble, which is when Ned has the ephiphany that Joffrey isn’t Robert’s kid. Other than that, it features a recap of the chapter before, two Sansa and Arya squabbles, and Ned’s "favoritism” (not really, just guilt over his sister) over Arya. So what is this chapter’s for outside of that? The subtext of course.

"Father, I only just now remembered, I can't go away, I'm to marry Prince Joffrey." She tried to smile bravely for him. "I love him, Father, I truly truly do, I love him as much as Queen Naerys loved Prince Aemon the Dragonknight, as much as Jonquil loved Ser Florian. I want to be his queen and have his babies." "Sweet one," her father said gently, "listen to me. When you're old enough, I will make you a match with a high lord who's worthy of you, someone brave and gentle and strong. This match with Joffrey was a terrible mistake. That boy is no Prince Aemon, you must believe me." (...)

"Stop that weeping, child," Septa Mordane said sternly. "I am certain your lord father knows what is best for you."

Urgh. lmao.

Ned promises Sansa a high-lord, who’s brave, gentle and strong, that he is no aemon the dragonknight. The latter is the “easier” one, because Jon will remembers much later that he used to say he was Aemon the dragonknight in childplay. Just one out of all that, doesn’t seem promising, eh?

After this, there’s Sansa and Arya cluing in Ned over Joffrey being a bastard aprading as the heir to the Iron Throne, which is the anta-parallel to Jon. As I said in Sansa I post, this could be foreshadowed in the sisters squabbling over Rhaegar’s rubies. It comes in chronologically order, the motifs of the fight at the Trident are similar to what’s used all over GOT, etc etc. So Jon is here again (he was present in that segment in Sansa I as one of Rhaegar’s ruby), for some reason.

Going back to the beginning of this chapter... the conversation is kind of odd, it goes all over the place. They talk of what happens in there, then Sansa randomly remembers a dream for no reason, and wanders in her mind over this and that. It’s kind of schizophrenic writing... unless it’s kind of awkward because it’s meant to say something else in the subtext... So...

“He wouldn't send Ser Loras," Sansa told Jeyne Poole that night as they shared a cold supper by lamplight. (...) Her father's decision still bewildered her. When the Knight of Flowers had spoken up, she'd been sure she was about to see one of Old Nan's stories come to life. (...) And then Father had refused him! It had upset her more than she could tell. She had said as much to Septa Mordane as they descended the stairs from the gallery, but the septa had only told her it was not her place to question her lord father's decisions.

There have been plenty of essays comparing Jon to Loras Tyrell. This is especially important in Sansa II / Sansa III because Loras is wearing blue (odd choice, as his house colours are green) and roses, thematically connected to Jon’s mother. Ned thinks the kid is too young to be a hero, which is an interesting paralell to him refusing Jon to go to the Wall at first because he was also too young. We can also look at Ned taking Jon as his bsatard son, as taking away the chance to be the song hero. He went from a prince of roses (urgh) to a bastard.

That was when Lord Baelish had said, "Oh, I don't know, Septa. Some of her lord father's decisions could do with a bit of questioning. (...)" (...) He had touched her cheek, his thumb lightly tracing the line of a cheekbone. "Life is not a song, sweetling. You may learn that one day to your sorrow."

Ned’s decision of taking Jon as his bastard will be questioned of course and the truth will come out. Life’s not a song and Lyanna made Ned promise to protect Jon, because Robert would have killed him if he had found out. But Jon has a song, the song of ice and fire. Shut up Littlefinger.

"Ser Ilyn's the King's Justice, not Ser Loras," Jcyne said. "Lord Eddard should have sent him." Sansa shuddered. Every time she looked at Ser Ilyn Payne, she shivered. He made her feel as though something dead were slithering over her naked skin. "Ser Ilyn's almost like a second monster. I'm glad Father didn't pick him." "Lord Beric is as much a hero as Ser Loras. He's ever so brave and gallant." "I suppose," Sansa said doubtfully. Beric Dondarrion was handsome enough, but he was awfully old, almost twenty-two; the Knight of Flowers would have been much better. Of course, Jeyne had been in love with Lord Beric ever since she had first glimpsed him in the lists. Sansa thought she was being silly; Jeyne was only a steward's daughter, after all, and no matter how much she mooned after him, Lord Beric would never look at someone so far beneath him, even if she hadn't been half his age.

(...) "I saw your sister this afternoon," Jeyne blurted out, as if she'd been reading Sansa's thoughts. "She was walking through the stables on her hands. Why would she do a thing like that?"

Instead, Ned chose Beric Dondarrion. There have been plenty of essays that compared Ilyn Payne to Ramsay Bolton (dead eyes and taking over the Stark legacy, etc), and Beric Dondarrion to Jon Snow (dresses in house targ clothes and was ressurrected by a priest of r’hllor, etc). The fact that Ilyn Payne is brought up by Jeyne Poole of all people and after an intermission with the white hart dream, she also mentions Arya, therefore it could be a heartbreaking nod to fake!Arya plotline.

As we also know, Ramsay and Jon have been locked into a bizarre war of wills up north, precisely over fake!Arya. Likewise Beric dying in the middle of his “mission” for the Starks and then ressurrected by a priest of R’hllor, Jon also died while he was going to retake Winterfell and save fake”Arya and its likely he’ll be ressudrected by a priest of R’hllor. In the show, Sansa took over fake!Arya storyline.

It’s interesting to note Beric is awfully old at “twenty-two”, because that’s Jon’s age give it or take it at ADWD if the timeskip between ASOS and AFFC / ADWD have happened (he’s seventeen or so then). It’s worth noting that Beric is said to be “brave”.

“I had a dream that Joffrey would be the one to take the white hart," she said. It had been more of a wish, actually, but it sounded better to call it a dream. Everyone knew that dreams were prophetic. (...) "He shot it with a golden arrow and brought it back for me." In the songs, the knights never killed magical beasts, they just went up to them and touched them and did them no harm, but she knew Joffrey liked hunting, especially the killing part. Only animals, though.

This one is interesting, because it’s sandwiched between the Ilyn Payne and Arya Stark, which could be a mention to the northern tug of war between Ramsay and Jon mentioned above. As we know though, Jon is one that would fit Sansa’s dream, because not only he protected the direwolves who are magical beasts, he took the white direwolf for himself. “Only touch them and not harm them”, dare I say... gentle? Not only that, the anti-parallel btween Joffrey and Jon is fuelled further since Jon took Lady (and later, he’ll be brigning the white wolf Ghost) back to Sansa while Joffrey took her away.

"There was a black brother," Sansa said, "begging men for the Wall, only he was kind of old and smelly." She hadn't liked that at all. She had always imagined the Night's Watch to be men like Uncle Benjen. In the songs, they were called the black knights of the Wall. But this man had been crookbacked and hideous, and he looked as though he might have lice. If this was what the Night's Watch was truly like, she felt sorry for her bastard half brother, Jon.

Yoren of the Night’s Watch and it’s self-explanatory, since Jon as a member of the Night’s Watch is even mentioned in this segment. It’s also worth noting that Sansa fantasises the Night’s Watch to be men like Benjen Stark, the black knights of the Wall... dare I say... strong?

It’s also worth noting Sansa’s disilusion with the Night’s Watch comes after a segment that may foreshadow Ramsay and Jon “fighting” over fake!Arya, then Jon being murdered and ressurrected. Which fits eprfectly with Jon’s own disillusion with the Night’s Watch that he felt in the beginning of AGOT but also in the show when he got ressurrected. Not a happy panda.

“And later these two brothers came before him, freeriders from the Dornish Marches, and pledged their swords to the service of the king. Father accepted their oaths . . . “

The Dornish Marches are slightly north of where Jon was born, at the Tower of Joy. Bascially, the next town towards the north is located at the Dornish Marches. In the show, Jon basically pledged his sword to Sansa (Ned’s narrative heir) as well, there’s even a close-in on his sword before they re-meet at Castle Black. Strangely, Sansa IV features Sansa believing Ned’s plans to take her back to Winterfell and the promised match is a hedge knight which is a freerider without a knighthood.

So, in summary, Sansa reports on three men “auditing” Ned. Loras Tyrell, the true hero, which Ned refused and could correspond to Jon as Lyanna Stark’s son due to the narrative uses of blue and roses and refusal. Beric Dondarrion, Ned’s chosen hero, and could correspond to Jon and Ramsay’s tug-of-war with Arya. Finally, Yoren, and could correspond to Jon defecting the Night’s Watch for being disillusioned after being killed by them, something that was rpesent in the show’s foreshadowing all the way back in season 3. Not only is the story presented chronological, after Beric being “brave”, Sansa randomly recalls the white hart dream (”gentle”) and Jon as a black kngith of the wall (”strong”).

So, Jon could actually be lurking in the subtext of that bizarre conversation between Sansa and Jeyne Poole.

The kitchen yielded no lemon cakes, but they did find half of a cold strawberry pie, and that was almost as good. They ate it on the tower steps, giggling and gossiping and sharing secrets, and Sansa went to bed that night feeling almost as wicked as Arya.

The dessert again.

The next morning she woke before first light and crept sleepily to her window to watch Lord Beric form up his men.

The men preparing to war. Still goes on well chronologically with the conversation before. It had stopped at Jon quitting the Night’s Watch and pledging to Sansa.

"Liar," Arya said. Her hand clenched the blood orange so hard that red juice oozed between her fingers. "Go ahead, call me all the names you want," Sansa said airily. "You won't dare when I'm married to Joffrey. You'll have to bow to me and call me Your Grace." She shrieked as Arya flung the orange across the table. It caught her in the middle of the forehead with a wet squish and plopped down into her lap. "You have juice on your face, Your Grace," Arya said.

So from the subtext from Sansa I and Sansa II, I’m convinced Sansa will become queen MUCH sooner than in the show. This squabble over here is interesting, because Arya calls her “your grace” as if she was already queen. So in the subtext that may correlate to that.

This of course, comes with a very strong imagery of wedding consummation. Sansa is wearing a white dress, that gets stained by blood orange juice (red in colour) at the lap (crotch area). Are they related?

The blood orange had left a blotchy red stain on the silk. "I hate her!" she screamed. She balled up the dress and flung it into the cold hearth, on top of the ashes of last night's fire. When she saw that the stain had bled through onto her underskirt, she began to sob despite herself. She ripped off the rest of her clothes wildly, threw herself into bed, and cried herself back to sleep.

In addition, this white dress has red blood, but it also has black fire when it’s thrown into the ashes of the hearth. The words of House Targaryen are fire and blood, the colours are red and black.They’re all there, in this white dress. So it's a Targaryen (virgin, ehem) wedding dress... for Sansa. There are only two male left for that to happen and only one of them has been lurking in the background.

And after this, comes Ned’s covnersation about Sansa’s true match. So Jon’s all over the subtext, of a chapter with wedding consummation imagery and Ned Stark’s promise of the “true one”. Why, if not to marry his arse to Sansa? I do not know.

#return of the trout #this is important because i care about the riverlands #jonsa heavy

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themattress · 3 years

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Battle of the Seasons

Gotham: Season 1 vs. Season 2 vs. Season 3 vs. Season 4 vs. Season 5

Let's take this season by season, shall we?

Season 1 has a different style to it than the rest, being more of a grounded, gritty police procedural with cases-of-the-week (or two weeks) while both an overarching mob drama and an overarching mystery (who killed Thomas and Martha Wayne?) play out on the side. This is a frustrating season for me because this style could have worked - if I gave a damn about a majority of the characters, and I just don't. I don't care about Jim Gordon, Harvey Bullock, Sarah Essen, Barbara Kean, Selina Kyle, Ed Nygma, Kristen Kringle, Leslie Thompkins, Ivy Pepper, Commissioner Loeb, Mayor James, Harvey Dent, Renee Montoya, Crispus Allen, Fish Mooney, Sal Maroni, Carmine Falcone, Butch Gilzean, Victor Zsasz or many other of this city’s miserable people. They're either boring, annoying, or utterly unpleasant, which means that I often found myself watching the show out of obligation rather than truly enjoying it.

The exceptions to the rule would be the young Bruce Wayne and his hardass yet caring butler Alfred Pennyworth (and Selina whenever she's around them, as the chemistry she has with them really brings her character to life), and, of course, the show's breakout character: Oswald Cobblepot, the man who will become the Penguin. David Mazouz, Sean Pertwee and Robin Lord Taylor sell these roles so perfectly that I just couldn't look away from the screen whenever they were on it. And while I love Oswald the whole series through, I do need to mention that this is the only season where he comes off as legitimately intimidating to me: his murderous rage can be a little over-the-top but it's anchored with a patience and a calculated skill for manipulation that makes him a force to be reckoned with as he climbs the ladder of power all the way to becoming the leader of Gotham's mob (”I’M THE KING OF GOTHAM!!!")

Season 2 is split into two distinct halves, with 2A being the "Rise of the Villains" story arc and 2B being the "Wrath of the Villains" story arc. Very quickly, it becomes apparent that the show has undergone a massive improvement - not only is it more serialized than procedural-based which ends up working better for it, but many of the characters I didn't care for are gone now, and most of the ones still left I'm finally made to care for: I actually like Harvey Bullock, Barbara Kean, Selina Kyle (on her own, not just w/ Bruce and Alfred), Ed Nygma, Ivy Pepper, Leslie Thompkins, Butch Gilzean and Victor Zsasz now, and they are now complimented by even more great characters like Lucius Fox, Nathaniel Barnes, Theo and Tabitha Galavan, Jerome Valeska, Silver St. Cloud, Bridgit Pike, Victor Fries, and Professor Hugo Strange.

The only weak link remaining is, ironically enough, the lead character himself, Jim Gordon. Maybe this character would have been interesting if he was someone else, but I never buy him as the future Commissioner. Ben McKenzie's try-hard edgy performance doesn't help.

In terms of the story arcs themselves, I like them both but much prefer "Wrath" to "Rise". "Rise" deals with Theo Galavan's rise to power in Gotham, with it revealing that he is actually the chief agent of the Order of St. Dumas, a secret society that desires the death of "the son of Gotham" - namely, Bruce Wayne. Most of what I like about this arc comes from the side stories and character development; I never really got into the central plot thread. James Frain, while good, doesn't hold the same villainous presence here that he does in, say, Elementary, and given how obviously evil he and his sister are it got tiring to see them score win after win over the good guys until the last minute. Also, certain interesting characters such as Richard Sionis, Jerome Valeska, Silver St. Cloud, Bridgit Pike and Butch Gilzean are shamefully wasted. Lastly, early into the arc the show actually makes Alfred unlikable, and since he's one of my favorite characters from the first season, that really hurt to watch.

"Wrath" deals with Professor Hugo Strange and his insidious secret experiments in Indian Hill, an underground division of Wayne Enterprises beneath Arkham Asylum that holds the key to the Wayne murder mystery. This arc just seems to flow together more smoothly than its predecessor, its contents are the type of overarching mystery I'd wanted the show to explore since the beginning rather than all the diversions from false leads, mafia wars and religious cults infiltrating the city's political structure, it provides pay-offs that I'd long been waiting for, and Professor Hugo Strange as played by B.D Wong is the perfect Big Bad. My one quibble with this arc is the decision to resurrect Fish Mooney at the end - I never cared much for her, she had a good enough ending in Season 1, and the revived, superpowered version of her ultimately accomplishes jack-squat in Season 3 before dying again anyway.

Season 3 is just one story arc, centering around the conspiracy of the Court of Owls that secretly controls all levels of power in Gotham, but its first two thirds go under the title of "Mad City" while its final third goes under "Heroes Rise". There is a good reason for this, as the events of "Mad City" see things at their bleakest yet for the forces of good in Gotham, with the forces of evil seemingly unstoppable, which makes the turning of the tide in "Heroes Rise" all the more gratifying. It’s a textbook “it’s always darkest before the dawn” storyline.

I greatly enjoy this season. There are certainly some flaws here and there - Jamie Chung's Valerie Vale is done dirty, I still can't get invested in Jim Gordon no matter how hard the show is trying to make me, and the way the writers drive a wedge between Oswald and Ed is some of the worst writing the show has ever had - the break-up ultimately needed to happen, but it didn't need to happen like this! However, so much more is done right here: the Court of Owls' portrayal, Bruce's further development, Bruce's creepy doppelganger Subject 514A aka the future Owlman, the show's depiction of the Mad Hatter and how pivotal he ends up being to the plot, Captain Barnes’ descent into madness and becoming the Executioner, Selina and Ivy just being awesome both individually and together, further great comedy from the likes of Harvey Bullock and Barbara Kean, the more interesting usage of Carmine Falcone via his "legit" son Mario who in turn helps Lee become even more interesting, the return of Jerome Valeska as the Beta Joker, Ed fully transitioning into the Riddler, Oswald finally embracing himself as a "freak" and ultimately getting his revenge on Ed, and the finale which introduces Ra's Al Ghul (played to perfection by Alexander Siddig) as he engages in a Batman Begins-style plot where he unleashes a virus that threatens to make Gotham tear itself apart.

However, there is one major drawback for Season 3...in spite of all this great stuff, it ultimately amounts to just being more set-up. And as such, all of the big dramatic conclusions that are reached by the end get completely reversed early into the following season. Bruce and Alfred have a rift with Selina? Mended shortly into Season 4! Bruce has dedicated himself to being a vigilante? He'll walk that back soon enough! Oswald is back in power and owns the Iceberg Longue? Not for much longer! Ivy works for Oswald? She'll be done with his shit by the end of the Season 4 premiere! Ed is frozen? He's thawed out a mere three episodes into Season 4, and the negative effect to his brain from being frozen don't even last! Lee leaves Gotham in order to escape her dark side? Nope, she's back in the city and her dark side continues to grow. Butch and Barbara are dead? Aha, they're both back alive! The loss of big characters like Nathaniel Barnes and Fish Mooney? Never mentioned again! And of course, there's the presence of Ra's Al Ghul and the League of Shadows as the group behind the Court of Owls, which just goes to show that despite all the build-up, the Court of Owls was never truly the end-all be-all force of evil in Gotham, so this show ain't over yet.

Season 4, "A Dark Knight" is kind of Season 3's equal yet opposite. There is a lot of stuff in it that doesn't quite work for me, moreso in the execution rather than the conception - Alexander Siddig as Ra's Al Ghul credited as a regular and yet only actually showing up in the first few and last few episodes, Oswald being betrayed and losing all of his power again, Ivy Pepper's long-awaited transformation into Poison Ivy taking ten whole bloody episodes, Ed's severe case of Badass Decay and pointless romance with Lee, Butch's transformation into Solomon Grundy not lasting or amounting to anything important which makes me question why it even happened, the Sirens being formed and also not lasting or amounting to anything important, Bruce's long period of being unlikable (far moreso than even Alfred's period back in 2A), and the Beta Joker only turning out to be the Beta Joker because his twin brother whom we'd never seen or heard of before shows up to become the real Joker!

However, there is also a lot that does work for me - Harvey Bullock finally ascending from just comic relief and having some well-executed character development as he clashes with Jim, Lee's arc of becoming the leader of the Narrows, Oswald's touching relationship with a young orphan boy and his reconciliation with Ed, Ra's Al Ghul whenever he is around, Professor Pyg who is equal parts terrifying and comical and played masterfully by Michael Cerveris, Sofia Falcone who - being a sociopathic master manipulator who even manages to serve Jim a permanent and well-deserved defeat - is hands-down one of the most brilliant villains the show has ever had, and the perfectly-done sense of escalation and excitement throughout the second half of the season which concludes in the best season finale in the series' history, where the good guys contend with a team-up between Ra's Al Ghul and the Joker. And that's what Season 4 has over Season 3 - it builds to a true climax for the entire show's story, almost everything that goes down in the end is permanent (emphasis on almost - looking at you, Lee and Ed), and it retroactively makes the lack of pay-off in Season 3 and the less-than-desirable parts of this season worth it. It made me grateful for sticking with this show.

Season 5, titled "Legend of the Dark Knight", is the show's final season, and its biggest strength is also its biggest weakness - it is a truncated season, lasting only 12 episodes. On the one hand, this is perfectly appropriate - the Season 4 finale was the story's climax and there's not much left to do, so having roughly half a normal season's length for the falling action and wrapping up of all loose ends makes total logical sense. But on the other hand, there are certain ideas for plotlines and character arc resolutions that end up feeling incredibly rushed due to the shorter runtime. It feels like they are rushing down a long checklist rather than allowing anything proper breathing room. Also: yes, a lot of Season 3 and Season 4 clearly borrowed from Batman Begins and The Dark Knight, but they did it in clever ways. This season shamefully rips off The Dark Knight Rises by having a plot inspired by the No Man's Land storyline from the comics, a big focus on the relationship between Bruce and Selina, the main hero (Jim Gordon in this case) falling to his lowest point before rising again, the final battle being between the GCPD and Bane's army, and having the main villain be Bane except that he's actually working for the daughter of Ra's Al Ghul (Nyssa in this case) who was masquerading as someone else! Did the writers really think that they could outright cheat off of Christopher Nolan's homework and that viewers wouldn't notice!?

In the end, my ranking is Season 3 = Season 4 > Season 2 > Season 5 > Season 1.

I think that Seasons 3 and 4 are equally strong but hold just the slightest personal preference for Season 3, Season 2 is also really good and mainly just suffers from its adequate first story arc being weaker than its more interesting second story arc, Season 5 is a middling season that somehow manages to be both the ideal conclusion for the show and a less-than-ideal conclusion at the same time, and Season 1 is the weakest due to all of the growing pains the show had to go through before it could become entertaining on a consistent level and make me care about most of its characters. On the whole, Gotham is a well-executed series. It’s far from perfect, but it could have been far worse....it could have been Smallville! (Cue rimshot!)

#Battle of the Seasons #Gotham #Opinion #Analysis #Comparison

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ampleappleamble · 3 years

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Pillars of Eternity: Anthem Infinitum: Chapter 8: Cleaning House

Just in case you don’t/can’t go to AO3 for whatever reason but wanna read chapter 8, or if you missed it the first time around, or whatever. I also did a very small amount of clean-up editing since first publish.

Now to start on chapter 9! *looks at blank document labelled Chapter 9 Notes*

---

"Wael's eyes, man, slow down. It's midmorning yet!"

Axa got up on the tips of her toes and leaned over to pluck the bottle from the old man's surprisingly strong grip, her headache intensifying as she caught a whiff of his rancid breath. She had been mostly joking when she ordered Kana to bring out the wine for their guest, but once she'd seen the delight in the poor old salt's face, the sparkle in his eyes when presented with goblet and bottle-- well, how could she refuse?

She glared at the aumaua now, clutching her last bottle of pomegranate wine, barely a quarter full after the old man's assault. Kana winced apologetically at her, but the little woman only smiled wryly and shrugged. It was as much her own fault as it was his, and she knew it.

The old man laughed good-naturedly, revealing a mouth only half full of teeth, and toasted his hostess with his borrowed goblet. "Early it may be, m'lady," he rasped, a strange sailor's brogue coloring his Aedyran, "bu' this elt lad dosnae rest. An' Magran help us, nei'r dae th' thirst." The old man sloshed the wine in his cup as he spoke, slopping it over the lip and onto the dusty stone floor more than once, before smacking his lips and merrily sucking down what remained inside.

As she had predicted, the night had not gone easily for the newly minted Watcher of Caed Nua. What little sleep she'd managed to get had been plagued by nightmares about books and machines, promises and betrayals, adra and copper and blood. And when sleep had failed her, she'd squirmed in her bedroll, tossing and turning and sweating and groaning. And thinking-- lots of thinking.

But in spite of it all-- perhaps, in fact, because of her sleeplessness-- her awareness felt bizarrely heightened. It reminded her of her all-night research sessions in her old college life: standing there practically vibrating from murkbrew and nervous energy, feeling simultaneously like she was strong enough to lift a horse over her head and like she was about to collapse. Scrutinizing the drunken old salt, she squinted resolutely against her headache, determined not to let anything escape her notice.

Axa saw the gnarled fingers, knotted with age, and she watched the unsteady, drunken gesticulations that spilled her favorite wine onto the cobwebs and mouse shit that decorated her Great Hall. But she also saw that the hand itself was steady: not tremulous, but strong and sure. The half-lidded, drink-addled eyes took a while to fully focus, but once he managed to fix his gaze on hers, she could see a remarkably fierce little twinkle in his mischievous eyes.

"Engrim, you said your name is?"

"Pretty much everyone calls him Eld Engrim," Edér drawled, leaning against a stone pillar while fiddling with his pipe. "He's from around here somewhere, but he tends t' spend most of his time on the sea. Or in whichever tavern's nearest. Probably came in from Anslog's Compass lookin' for a little shore leave, ended up owin' someone a favor and havin' to hoof it all the way out here for 'em." Despite the content of his introduction, the farmer spoke with fondness, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled warmly at the old man. "That sound about right, Eld Engrim?"

The old sailor cackled and nodded, clutching his empty goblet in front of himself with both hands like a talisman. "Aye, laddie, ye've got me fairly figured! Masons in yer Vale promised me a fine bottle o' spirits should I answer 'em this missive from oul' Caed Nua, abandoned all these long years. Although, ye did neglect t' address me Mistress, heathen that ye be, She whose spark 'n flame lit me way here!" He winked obnoxiously and wagged a crooked finger at the Eothasian, like a grandfather teasingly scolding his grandson.

Axa had not missed the telltale signs of a Magranite priest. The smell, in particular, of singed hair and arcane flame had tipped her off.

"You didn't think the priesthood of Ondra might suit you better?" Aloth's lip curled with disgust as he regarded the man, glaring at him over the edge of his grimoire. He had been broody all morning, Axa had noticed, and the elf seemed particularly irritated by the old lush.

"Not if he's a cannoneer," Kana suggested. "I can see where you might get Ondra-- the sea, drink and forgetfulness, those common themes-- but many who work with munitions, and especially ships, keep a Magranite priest on their payroll for their beneficial healing magic as well as for their blessings on and expertise with explosives." He grinned toothily at the elf, beaming with intellectual pride.

Aloth twitched, then spoke in a calm, low voice behind his gritted teeth. "If that's the case, why is he here running errands for stonemasons in Gilded Vale instead of mumbling over a double bronzer or something somewhere out on the sea?"

Axa turned her attention to her guest. "Good question, actually. Maybe you'd care to tell me a bit more about yourself while we make our way back to Gilded Vale, Engrim?"

The old man's eyes bugged out of his head, flicking back and forth between the orlan and his empty goblet. "Och, young miss, ye cannae mean t' be gettin' t' Gilded Vale now! 'Tis a day's sojourn, an' rovin' bands o' bandits roam o'er th' roads, Magran bash 'n burn 'em! An' 'ave only just arrived, me!" He looked around at her companions' faces, groping wildly for support, and found only pity and scorn for this man foolish enough to think to argue with her.

"He... does speak true, my lady." The Steward's voice rang out gently from the halls of the old keep. "No guard patrols have been dispatched along Caed Nua's surrounding roads since old Maerwald's decline into madness, and the paths surrounding the estate have been infested with brigands and monsters alike." As her voice faded, a soft little blanket of sadness settled over the gathered kith like a light dusting of snow.

Axa shuddered. "All the more reason, then, to get going. For better or worse, this keep is mine now, my responsibility." She paused, vaguely unnerved as she perceived the Steward's blush of surprise, followed closely by a soft, tentative gratitude. "The only people I can count on to restore my barbican are not, apparently, ready to take me seriously, so it seems I must issue my orders face to face. And I need this barbican restored. Unless, of course, Aedelwan Bridge is no longer flooded?"

Engrim shrugged, fiddled with the stem of his goblet, shuffled his feet. "Nae, no, 'tis... 'tis nae flooded..."

"It's destroyed," Kana chirped. "Ondra's mighty fist at work! I learned from a traveling hunter just the other day. The Dyrwood can't seem to steer clear of the gods' wrath, can--"

"We're going to Gilded Vale, today. Right now." Axa paused, hand on her hip, and then downed the remainder of her wine, time of day notwithstanding. She almost flung the empty bottle to the floor in a fit of pique, but then remembered the Steward, and quickly tamped down her temper. "...I want this barbican fixed. I want to get to Defiance Bay. By the Wheel, if the only way to get it done is to do it myself, I will."

No one could argue with that.

---

It was a satisfying sound, the scuffle of boots and the shouts of workers. Especially, Axa thought, when you know they're going to work for you. Although she knew the work couldn't begin for another day or two, Axa still felt a distinct sense of accomplishment as she strode out of the Hound, listening to the masons hustling behind her.

"Well, considerin' how drunk they all were, I'm surprised that went as well as it did." Edér clapped the little woman on the shoulder, grinning broadly and chewing gently on the stem of his pipe.

Aloth's voice drifted to her over her opposite shoulder. "Indeed, especially after the third time they addressed their questions to Edér and not to you, despite your repeated and... exponentially sonorous objections."

"Let it be known that the new Lady of Caed Nua does not suffer fools gladly," Kana proclaimed. "Although, speaking of fools... I can't help but notice the sun is setting, Caed Nua is almost a full day's hike away, and we're... leaving the inn?"

Axa smiled. "Remember we met Aufra on our way in? I offered to stay with her tonight, cook her some dinner, keep her company. I trust none of you object?"

No one did. She paused, and when she spoke again, she was much more subdued, almost somber.

"Last time I saw her, I was telling her her potion was horseshit and the fate of her unborn babe's soul was up to the caprices of the gods. Least I can do now is put my money where my mouth is and be the good neighbor that girl needs right now."

They walked in silence for a short stretch.

"If I'm bein' honest-- and I actually am, sometimes-- I been noticin' a lotta changes around here since we got back. Lot more smilin' people in the streets." Edér strolled up beside Axa, his blond whiskers quirking up with his grin. "Wasn't like that before you showed up. ...'Course, there is still that tree fulla dead bodies in the center of town..."

Kana winced. "Yes, I was wondering about that--"

"It's a long and gruesome tale." The man in the green cloak stepped out into the road, and Axa stopped dead in her tracks, placing herself between the stranger and her companions. "But I'd tell it, if you'd listen. You and the good Lady both."

"Kolsc." Edér whispered, surprised, but not angry. Axa's gaze flicked up to the stranger's face as he limped closer.

---

"...Did I fuck this up?"

Edér looked up from his whittling, focusing his good eye on the little woman. The other eye was still swollen shut, shiny and painful from their fight against his late Lord, but with some rest and the help of Raedric's priests-- Kolsc's priests, now-- he and the rest of his friends would be good as new for the trek back to Caed Nua tomorrow.

"Ain't too many ways I can think of to fuck up killin' a terrible murderin' bastard like Raedric," he mumbled around his mouthful of smoke, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Unless y' think we didn't kill him enough, or somethin'."

Axa's lips smiled, but the rest of her face did not follow suit. Her party was spending the night in a corner of the Berathian priests' sleeping quarters in Raedric's sanctuary, and she sat on her borrowed bed gently rocking to and fro, her knees drawn up to her chest, her sharp little nails worrying tiny holes in her trousers.

"The Legacy makes men mad. Perhaps it does worse to women. I do not know." Raedric had looked Axa over, then, had glanced toward his bedchamber where his own wife lay dead in their marital bed--

"No, we killed him exactly the right amount, I think." The smile was already gone, soundly quashed by the ugly memory. "I just... feel like I may have acted in haste here. Like there's something I'm missing about all this that's going to bite me in the ass later, when I least expect it." She pressed her chin into her knees, curling up as tightly into herself as she could.

--if i make myself small enough i can just hide away from all this and no one will see me--

Kana chuckled, idly leafing through a massive tome that dwarfed even his sizable lap as he reclined in the worn armchair next to Axa's bed. "Yes, it is a rough sea, the world of the ruling class! So many nerve-wracking social calculations to make, always looking over one's shoulder... The political alliances to take into account, then the family alliances, the religious affiliations... But even the Ranga Nui himself and his own son are at ideological odds! And if you're discovered as a fair-weather friend, paying lip service to either or both--"

"I think," Aloth interrupted, "perhaps, that you've made your point, Kana." The elf was just as irritable now as he had been the morning that old drunk had showed up at Caed Nua, and his half-healed broken rib was not helping to improve his mood.

And now the in-fighting begins in the esteemed Lady of Caed Nua's exclusive inner circle. Axa felt her guts redouble their efforts to destroy themselves, anxiety churning inside her like acid. "Gods, I'm ill-suited for this politicking horseshit. Why did I think I could do this? I'm Ixamitec, we don't... nobody 'owns' land, that's not how--"

"Oh, don't get me wrong!" Kana pressed on, seemingly oblivious to Aloth's peevish attitude. "Just as hard lands forge strong people, rough seas often yield great rewards. For instance, when we return to Caed Nua on the morrow, we can look forward to seeing your Brighthollow manse restored to its former beauty and prestige! Well, in part, anyway. All because of your actions here today and Kolsc's gratitude!"

"And even if you weren't gettin' somethin' out of it," Edér added, "you're the kinda lady can't rest without knowing you did the best thing y' could. Point being, y' had to do something, long-term consequences be damned. And like I said earlier, if y' have to do something, it's hard to go wrong with killing a mass-murdering shitheel like Raedric. No matter how bad Kolsc might turn out to be, better him than what we had goin' on before." He casually brushed the wood shavings from his lap, either ignoring or unaware of the annoyed glares and whispers from the priests in the room.

Axa glanced across the room at Aloth, who simply lay on his back in his bed in the corner, eyes screwed shut, his grimoire too heavy to hold in his lap without irritating his wounds. "Maybe," she sighed, lifting her head from her knees, "I should just hire on an advisor. Someone who actually knows what they're doing, to help me navigate these choppy waters." Her gaze flicked to Kana, a wicked little grin popping up on her face. "You know anyone who needs a job?"

The aumaua laughed, a thunderous noise that filled the small room. "Everyone I know is either in this room or in Rauatai, my friend! But I take your meaning. However, my own experience with the gentry is limited to the court of the Ranga Nui, a profoundly different environment from the one in which you find yourself, so I'm afraid I'd be more of a hindrance than a boon. And--" He glanced over at Edér, his smile half apologetic and half cheeky-- "I hope he'll forgive me for saying so, but our Edér doesn't seem like the sort to hobnob with the nobility."

The folk man snorted. "What tipped y' off?"

"That leaves you, Aloth," Kana continued, smiling in the elf's direction. "If I recall, you were raised among the gentry in Aedyr, were you not? That's a bit closer to the political system and aristocratic power structure here; any insight you have into that world would surely be invaluable to our Watcher. You're qualified, intelligent, you're clearly quite learned, you're... capable in battle. Why, you even came to the Dyrwood with the express purpose of finding a patron!" He was getting excited now, leaning forward in his seat, gesticulating passionately. "And here she is! What marvelous serendipity!"

Axa couldn't help but be charmed by Kana's enthusiasm, and she appreciated his effort to lift the wizard's spirits. "That's not a bad idea, actually. What say, Aloth?" She couldn't see his face from where he lay, but she could see his ears were bright red.

Not a fan of being the center of attention, I see. She felt a sudden surge of sympathy and warmth towards the man, and found her own ears reddening soon thereafter.

"I wouldn't take the gig 'f I were you. She can't even pay you, 's what I heard." Edér winked at her, taking his attention away from his whittling for just a second, then hissed with pain and surprise as his knife slipped.

Kana shook his head, his grin as wide as ever as he regarded the farmer with pity. "O, poor man! He who thinks coin is the sole and lone benefit of working for a prestigious, powerful woman like our Watcher! The true rewards of such a vocation are not in material wealth, my friend, but in the challenge! Rebuilding the glorious Caed Nua from the crumbling ruins... The intrigue of the political world of the Dyrwood... the tension, the drama... not to mention the treasure trove of ancient Engwithan secrets just waiting to be discovered in the Endless Paths!" He sighed like a lovestruck maiden telling her friends of her handsome beau. "Ah! I'm so envious. Were I more well-suited to the position, I'd have accepted her first offer in an instant! As it is, it seems I'll have to settle for hired muscle. Either way, I couldn't ask for a finer directress!" Now Axa's entire face was getting warm, and she found herself unable to look at Kana, although she could feel his eyes on her, his smile, warming her like gentle spring sunlight.

"Aye, I wager ye'd leap at a position 'neath 'er, slick-a-britches."

Aloth very quickly clapped a hand over his open mouth-- the loud pop! filling the little room-- and then came the long, shuddering groan of pain muffled behind his fingers, the sudden movement having yanked at his sore ribs.

Axa immediately flopped over onto her side, laughing like Hel, unable and unwilling to stop herself. Edér's eyebrows leapt up his forehead, surprise and delight clear on his face, chuckling through his nose due to the wounded thumb in his mouth.

"...She seems impressed. I think you've got the job, my friend!" Kana quipped, flipping to a new page in his gigantic book. He paused, considering, and then leaned forward in his seat, cocking his head with curiosity. "...Did you say 'slick-a-britches'?"

"No. I didn't. I said nothing." The elf's voice was quiet and short and clipped. "I'm in immense pain and I'm speaking complete and utter idiotic meaningless nonsense. ...Can we please talk about anything else." Axa was still giggling, tip of her tongue sticking out between her front teeth. He squirmed with embarrassment, and it hurt.

"As you say. How about this animancy research?" The scholar lifted the huge tome on his lap, tilting it up to show Edér as he crossed the room to wash and wrap his thumb. "I'm no animancer, to be sure, but from what little I've managed to decipher from Osyra's records, she may have been onto something!"

Aloth bristled, his breath hitching in his chest as he exhaled a bit too sharply. He had said 'anything else,' hadn't he. "All any animancer has accomplished, at the very best, is to swell their own ego and their own coinpurse. In particular, Osrya was a dangerous, insane monster who mutated kith into abominations. I have no interest whatsoever in reading anything that woman may have seen fit to record."

Anyone else would take the man's curt tone and disparaging language as the opposite of an invitation to continue. Kana continued with renewed gusto, "But if what Osrya posits is true-- and as far as I can tell, her methods are logically sound, if not morally-- why, then this may just provide the solution to the Legacy that the Dyrwood has been searching for these long years!"

Axa had stopped laughing a while back, but only now did she sit back up. She remembered the animancer's words, recited them aloud with an accuracy she would not ordinarily expect from herself--

"It must be a localized effect. Something which strips the soul from a body, as the bîaŵacs are known to do. I have detected, even so, lingering traces of essence upon the bodies of so-called Hollowborn. This suggests that the soul itself has not been wholly destroyed. It remains, I think, intact somewhere."

Everyone-- even Aloth, lifting his head from his pillows-- looked at her, dumbstruck. The few priests remaining in the room hurriedly shuffled out, angrily whispering prayers to ward their souls against blasphemy.

"Um." She coughed, suddenly uncomfortably self-conscious. "That was... what she had to say, anyway. Before we had to kill her. ...If I'm remembering correctly."

"That's... what's in here, more or less, yes," Kana blurted, his ever-present grin tinged with nervousness as he shut the enormous book.

"So, what," Edér drawled, squinting at his half-finished carving as he turned it this way and that, "Hollowborn got a soul, but... somethin' or, or someone takes it from 'em soon as they're born?" He furrowed his brow, frowned at a blotch of red on the misshapen wooden thing in his hand. "And... what, hides 'em somewhere? Eats 'em? Why?"

"That would depend, it seems, on who or what is manipulating the souls, I would think." Kana actually frowned, now, staring blankly into the book. "Although I'd be hard-pressed to identify a creature capable of manipulating souls on this grand a scale, for this long, with this much apparent ease and consistency... short of, perhaps, a god." He glanced furtively at Edér, holding up his huge hands in deference. "Not that I'm attempting to implicate any particular deity..."

The farmer shook his head slowly, eyes shut tight with conviction. "Don't worry about me thinkin' that. Like I said before-- I can't and won't believe that Eothas was the kinda god would do somethin' like this."

"Do you believe, then, as some in your country do, that the recent prevalence of animancy is to blame?" The scholar was fumbling for a bit of charcoal, now, eager to take notes. "Keep in mind, the Vailian Republics has not suffered a similar Hollowing despite being the leading animancy practitioners on Eora--"

"Whether the recent uptick in animancy has caused the Legacy by inviting the ire of the gods is nigh impossible to know, and thus pointless to discuss," Aloth interjected, "although I certainly wouldn't put it past many of the gods to come up with a bizarre, horrific punishment like the Legacy in retribution for any slight from us kith, real or perceived.” He glanced balefully at the door the Berathians had shut behind them as they’d left. “What can be meritoriously discussed is what to do about the unbridled, barely educated charlatans taking advantage of a terrified and exhausted populace, using the Hollowborn crisis to feed their sick curiosity and their pocketbooks both. That is the everyday reality of animancy that must be dealt with in the Dyrwood, for the good of the citizenry." He winced in pain, his impassioned argument a bit too much for his battered body. "...Ahem. In my opinion."

"I don't think I know enough about any of it to have much of an opinion about it, bein' honest." Edér scratched the back of his neck, squinting in confusion as Kana eagerly copied down the conversation, his attention ping-ponging excitedly between each successive speaker. "I feel like that whole world is way, way beyond my ken. Might have to leave the thinkin’ to you on that, Boss Lady." He smiled over at the orlan, glad to see her relaxing and engaging with other kith instead of clutching her knees and staring into the middle distance. He'd seen enough of that during the Saint's War. "...Although some of 'em are tryin' to do somethin' about the Legacy, at least. I guess. This animancer was a crazy piece of shit, but she's also the only animancer I ever really chatted with, 's far's I know. So I don't really got a lot to go on. Y'know?"

"Caldara was sweet, and extremely helpful." Axa felt an odd little tug of nostalgia at the memory of the dwarf, her warm, motherly smile. "Of course, she was also dead when I met her. So you'll kind of have to take my word for it. That said, ultimately I have to agree with you, Edér: I don't know enough about animancy to pass any sort of judgment on it just yet. It seems potentially useful, perhaps even miraculously so, but also extremely volatile and dangerous." The little woman paused, stretching her sore limbs, and then laid back down on the bed with a long, cathartic sigh. "Perhaps once we reach Defiance Bay, we can get a clearer picture of what the day-to-day animancy trade is really like. Until then, I must, in good conscience, reserve all judgment on the subject."

"A wise and prudent choice, but indecision is a heavy burden. Never let it be said that our Watcher takes the easy way out!" Kana rose from his seat as he spoke, seeing that the orlan was getting ready to settle in for the night, and crossed the room to his loaner bed. "Speaking of hardships, I've heard tell that the poor weather over the last few days may have delayed the work on Caed Nua's eastern barbican. If, once we return, we find that to be the case... and if you're amenable to a bit of dungeon crawling after all this fresh air and sunshine..."

Axa half-groaned and half-laughed, like a good-natured mother finally losing patience with her annoying toddler. "Yes, Kana, I promise we will explore the Endless Paths. I already promised you before, too, remember?"

"Forgive me!" Kana chuckled as he reclined, his feet dangling over the edge of the too-small bed. "I don't mean to wheedle you, rest assured. But once I get an idea in my head, I tend to focus on it so intently as to neglect politesse!"

"We've noticed," Aloth grumbled.

The massive aumaua turned to Aloth in the bed next to his, smiling still. "That reminds me-- I've never heard that one before, 'slick-a-britches'. Did you mean to say I slicken others' breeches-- or britches, as you say-- or did you mean my own breeches are slick? As in, ah, lubricated for easier removal?” The giant snickered like a naughty schoolboy telling dirty jokes after dark in the dormitory. “Ondra’s jowls, I didn't even know you spoke Hylspeak! You must teach me some!" He wore no malice on his face, only open, honest joy and wonder-- and for some reason that bothered Aloth more than if the aumaua had been displaying naked hostility.

Axa cackled maniacally in her bed, thrashing her limbs and rolling about. In lieu of responding, Aloth slowly, deliberately pulled his coverlet up over his chin, then his nose, then his brow. His facial expression did not change.

---

It was a lovely sound, the sound of carpenters and masons plying their trades. Engrim found they sounded even lovelier with a drink in his hand and cool shade under his arse, so that's how he had elected to enjoy the afternoon while he supervised the renovations.

Now that the storm clouds had finally shoved off-- and the Little Mistress was back home with her companions, mucking about in that endless dungeon of hers-- the crew was hard at work clearing the last of the rubble and overgrown foliage from the eastern barbican's arched gateway and portcullis. By tomorrow evening, at long last, Caed Nua would have a beautifully restored barbican, allowing access to the Woodend Plains and Defiance Bay beyond. And in the meantime, Brighthollow was bustling with carpenters and porters, bringing freshly cut lumber and large, fine beds and bolts of cloth and rugs. Prettying up the Great Hall, restoring the barracks, hiring guards and posting patrols-- the fuzzy little thaynu and her stone steward had a plan for this place, and that meant that these laborers could look forward to quite a few more of these jobs and their generous pay.

Engrim smiled his gap-toothed smile, swirling his tankard of cider. It had been a gift for the Little Mistress, sent by a brewery newly under Kolsc's protection, and she had kindly opted to disperse it among the work crews before she and her party had descended into the depths under the castle.

Could get used tae this, me. If Ye'd allow fer a wee bit o' idleness, O Magran. Engrim chuckled to himself. He knew he ought to know better at his age than to press his luck with his goddess, but he just couldn't help himself, sometimes.

It took him a while to realize where the sound was coming from, because he wasn't expecting it to be behind him-- after all, he'd specifically chosen to sit in a place where he could keep an eye on all the work that he was supposed to be helping with. But then Engrim heard the scraping and scratching on the eastern side of the ruined chapel, heard the muffled shouts and the banging of fists against solid wood, and he scrambled to his feet, stumbling as quickly as his skinny old legs would carry him. He'd had to help dispatch some of the beasties and spirits that had managed to wander up from the depths of the Endless Paths once or twice already, but they'd always crawled up from the dungeons, inside the keep. That these old bulkhead doors were connected to anywhere, let alone to the Paths, hadn't occurred to anyone.

Until now. Engrim squared his shoulders and planted his feet, readied his staff, whispered a prayer to the Lady of Battle. Waited and watched as the heavy wooden doors shook with the force of a mighty blow from within.

Thump. "Harder, damn it! Or, no, wait-- is there a mechanism holding it shut? Give him some light, Aloth!"

The old priest felt his eyes bug out of his head. 'Tis 'erself! The Little Mistress' voice was unmistakable.

"Certainly, just a moment, please..." And the sound of her elf lad kissing her arse all but confirmed it. Engrim rushed forward, dropping to his rickety old knees in front of the doors, his hands scrabbling at the weathered, graying wood.

"Watcher! Mistress!"

Shocked silence hung in the air for a moment, then: "Engrim!? Thank the gods! ...We have reached the surface!"

"There is a mechanism," her aumaua rumbled, his voice thunderous even behind the thick doors. "A... surprisingly simple one, actually. If I had some light--"

"I said I'm working on it," Aloth snapped, and a moment later the cracks in the doors lit up from within. Engrim squinted against the glare, laid his hands on the twisting, smothering ivy and the dried-up, half-dead rose bushes choking the splintering planks. He furrowed his wrinkled brow, concentrated, began to burn the vegetation away with a care and precision that betrayed his years and level of sobriety.

And before long, the doors were flung wide for the first time in hundreds of years, and the Watcher of Caed Nua and her loyal allies emerged from the Endless Paths.

"Engrim, please tend to Edér; he needs healing badly." Kana gently lowered the farmer to the ground, his blond hair streaked brownish-red with blood, head rolling loose on his shoulders, and Engrim rushed to meet him with a powerful restorative blessing on his boozey breath.

"By the ricketin' Wheel, yer lot's flame's lookin' half-snuffed yerselves!" In truth, all four of them were bleeding and bruised, clutching at their various wounds and limping, although Edér was easily the worst off of the lot. "What in Hel did ye find doon in them depths?"

"Ogres. There were crazed, violent ogres," Axa rasped. "And looters who attacked us on sight. And a tribe of xaurips. And their drake." She glared at Kana, anger smoldering. "And you wanted to press on?"

No one present had ever heard Kana speak so softly. "I-- I only remarked on the changing architecture, I didn't mean to imply we ought--"

"Spirits, too. Ghosts only I could see, only I could hear." The little woman carried on, her voice rising steadily in pitch and volume. "A pool of blood and viscera. Ancient catacombs full of giant insects and... and animated corpses. And an enormous adra-and-copper statue of a man."

"Or at least th' head," Edér mumbled, now fully conscious again though still bloodied and reeling. "Copper mustache. Heh."

Axa was at his side in an instant, kneeling next to the farmer, taking one calloused hand in between her own. "Don't speak, Edér. Save your strength."

"...'M not that bad, am I?" He managed a weak smile, tried to look at her eyes, but couldn't seem to get his vision to focus. Multiple images of the orlan danced and swam in front of him, and he found that the more he tried to get one of her to stand still, the harder it became to concentrate on staying awake.

Looking at him in full light, Axa felt her stomach drop: his dilated pupils, his unfocused gaze. He's definitely concussed. Gods, we're lucky we found that Master Staircase when we did. "Perhaps," she smiled softly, "I'm being a little hyperbolic. You just look half dead, is all."

The farmer huffed a short, sharp laugh as he let his eyes slide shut. "Work that charm on me, Watcher."

"Kana." Her ire toward the aumaua had receded, but not entirely, and her sharp tone reflected it. "Help Engrim get Edér inside. Stay with him and keep him talking. I'm... I think I have to stay out here for a bit. I kind of need to see the sky right now."

The huge man tried to smile at Axa but found the attempt futile, turning to her only to see her lying on her back in the grass, staring listlessly into the zenith. So he smiled at Edér instead, gently lifting the man by his armpits and guiding him toward Brighthollow, Engrim loping alongside.

He watched them go, and once he was sure they were alone, Aloth slowly, cautiously drew up beside the prone woman. He knelt, rolled his ankle, stumbled, recovered, decided to sit on the ground instead.

"Axa, are you... are you going to be alright?" He winced. What an insightful, intelligent question to ask, Corfiser; my, you're good at this--

"Is that supposed to be a joke?" she croaked, although the sharpness that was in her voice for Kana was replaced with a gentler tone for Aloth. He noticed, and the resulting burst of self-satisfaction tinged with guilt made him think of his school days, his teachers who played favorites, how he feared them and craved their approval both.

She sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm-- I'll apologize to Kana later, too, I'm just... tired right now. Scared." She tried to smile, grimaced instead. "Cranky."

"Well--" Aloth twisted his fingers together into tight, trembling knots of knuckles and sweat-- "Well. You've been under some... significant stress as of late, it's true, but I can't help but notice you sometimes... struggling. S-seeming to have some difficulty coping." He glanced from his hands in his lap to the ground to his hands to the woman on the ground. "I... I just want to make sure that you're alright to... continue this."

Axa sighed as deeply as her little lungs would allow, her half-lidded eyes still fixed on the heavens. "I don't know," she said at last. "I don't even really know what this is, this... new path I'm on. By the Visions, two weeks ago I was living an entirely different life! Now I'm a Watcher, a member of the Dyrwoodan gentry, I'm Awakened..."

"You've a lot on your plate, to be certain," he murmured, hoping he came off as compassionate and not dismissive. He scooted along the ground as delicately as any kith could scoot, until he was sitting alongside the woman. They still had a decent amount of distance between them, but at least now he could see her face. She did not look at him.

"I feel like I don't... know who I am, anymore." Her usually robust, confident voice quavered. "Like this is someone else's life in which I've had to take up residence. None of this feels like it's truly mine, but it definitely feels like it's all my responsibility. None of which I ever, ever asked for."

"Aye, I conne the feelin', lass." Aloth felt the words slip out, and then immediately regretted allowing them to, grimacing and squeezing his eyes shut.

When he opened them again, Axa was sitting up. "You can't help it, can you."

His heart, his stomach, his brain-- all felt as though they'd suddenly been submerged in ice water, and as she turned to him with her piercing fuchsia gaze, he half expected her to simply state aloud all of his deceptions and treacheries like some Woedican judge, her Watcher abilities having allowed her to see through all of his pitiful excuses and flimsy lies.

But instead of anger or accusation or judgment, what he saw in her eyes was... relief, almost. Wonder. "The Hylspeak. You can't help it. That's why you keep doing it, even when I've asked you to quit. Or when it's gotten you in trouble. That's why you want to go to Defiance Bay with me. With us. To find someone who can help you stop. Isn't it?"

"I-- I don't-- I was just trying to--" He sputtered and stammered, subconsciously drawing his limbs in close to his torso in an anxious, defensive hunch. He wasn't quite sure how to respond to this. He was caught, it seemed, but... not? Somehow? He fidgeted and trembled and averted his eyes from hers, unable to bear the little woman's gaze, her sad little smile as she rose to her feet and stood next to him.

And he jumped, much to his chagrin, when he felt her hand on his back. "Aloth. You can trust me. I want you to trust me. And you don't have to explain anything to me. We all have our reasons for... keeping certain things to ourselves." She gave him a knowing smile. "However, it seems that the skeletons in your closet are a bit... louder than most others'?"

He knew, of course, what she was really trying to say. How long did you think you could keep it a secret from me? I'm not stupid, and you're not exactly subtle. "It's... a problem I've had since I was a child." He sighed shakily, sagging with fatigue as he shrugged off this small portion of his heavy burden at last. "And in Aedyr, it's not the kind of thing you take your child to a healer about. Not unless you want him institutionalized... or worse."

Axa gave him a hard look, as though he had set the policy in place himself. "I see. That explains why you came to the Dyrwood for a cure." She perked up abruptly as a thought struck her. "...You know, it's a rather gratifying feeling, figuring all this out about you. It explains so much!" She smiled again, and he found himself feeling annoyed and charmed simultaneously. He'd expected either pity or disgust, and when he got curiosity instead, he felt oddly slighted. I'm not a puzzle to be solved...!

A lascivious chortle. 'She gettin' ye all fired oop, laddie?'

He shut his eyes again, curled himself up tightly. "Axa, while I am grateful for your patience with me, and your understanding regarding my... condition, I would truly appreciate it if we could keep this between the two of us. I'm... it's been a long, long time since I've really talked about this with anybody, and I don't think I'm quite ready for a full roundtable discussion regarding my mental health just yet." He glared in the direction of Brighthollow. "Not with those two, anyway. And not anymore, at all, today. Please."

"I had a feeling you were starting to reach your limit of how much you're willing to talk about it." She relented finally, lifting her little hand from between his shoulders, and he felt the weight of her scrutiny lift off of him as well. "And I'm reaching my limit of how much time I'm willing to waste feeling sorry for myself on the lawn. Come, let's get inside, get our wounds tended, check up on Edér. We'll take a day and a half to rest up and get ready, let them finish working on the barbican. Then we'll set off for the city."

Aloth rose to his feet, brushed dirt and grass from his trousers. "In my official capacity as your advisor, I wholeheartedly approve your plan, my Lady." She scoffed, laughing, and he didn't try to suppress his victorious grin. "And... upon arriving?"

She started off toward her busy little manse, the carpenters and masons gawking at the bloody, dirty little orlan with alarm. "I'll know what to do when I get there, I'm sure," she called out to the elf over her shoulder.

He sighed, picking up the pace in an effort to catch up with her. "I was afraid you'd say that."

---

"I'll know when I get there, he says," the little woman muttered to herself, leaning against the old signpost, thumbing through her bag of bone arrowheads. "Yeah. I'm sure. ...When am I gonna learn, Itumaak?"

The fox yawned in response, licked his snowy chops, and Sagani heaved a weary sigh. Maybe he was right. Maybe it was time to make camp.

The sun was staring to set, and the cooling air brought a refreshing breeze to the little hunter's brow. And in the wind came not only respite from the heat, but information-- smells of nature, smells of kith. Sagani could smell new rain clouds already queueing up, eager to take the place of the last ones that had just departed, but hopefully not so eager as to open up on her tonight. She could not smell any other campfires nearby, so she figured she had a halfway decent chance of getting a good night's rest undisturbed by surprise guests. She was about to say something to Itumaak, head off the road in search of a quiet spot to set up, when she looked down at him--

-- and found him standing at alert, his head cocked to the side just so, ears pricked. Sagani listened, her breath completely still in her chest.

"A bear? You were whittling a bear? I thought it was a horse!" She'd only ever heard a voice that deep and booming on an aumaua man before, and the Rauataian accent all but confirmed it.

"You ever seen a horse before?" This was a different voice, not as throaty, but still definitely an adult man, a Dyrwoodan. Sagani reached slowly for her pack, not sure yet whether to grab the adra carving or an arrow.

"Whatever it was-- is-- we'll pick it back up the next time we head down there. With some hirelings, Kana." A woman's voice now, bold and clear. Sagani found the adra carving in her hand when she drew it back to her fore, and she gazed into it.

Cold and dead. Just like always, these past few months.

"Please tell me we're not going back down into that gods-cursed dungeon solely for a half-finished wooden carving of a bear..." Sagani almost didn't hear the Aedyran, she was so disappointed by her poor fortune, but the comically coincidental "carving of a bear" comment made her at least lift her head to regard the group of kith approaching her. Itumaak was bored and anxious, and he fidgeted and whined at Sagani's hip, looking up at her with his big black eyes.

The huntress sighed as she watched the little party notice her. More friendly travellers, I'm certain. Let's just get this little introduction over with.

"Relax, Itumaak. It's not him."

---

#pillars of eternity #poe anthem infinitum #next chapter: ?????????? uhhh

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vivilove-jonsa · 5 years

Note

Prompt: I suppose I shall have to keep you warm then. (me: *waggles eyebrows*)

Thank you @kitten1618x for the dialogue prompt and I hope you’ll enjoy it!

I am still doing these but it might take me a bit do them. Feel free to drop me a line of dialogue in my inbox.

This one is Canon AU of King Jon visiting the Vale and meeting Alayne Stone. It got longer than planned but I was having such fun with it :)

***

“Jon would never harm me.”

“How can you know that, sweetling? Years have passed since you last saw one another. You’re not the girl you were when you left Winterfell no more than he is the boy you knew…and I wasn’t aware you were ever that close to begin with.”

Those final words had stung though she’d been forced to acknowledge the truth of them. They had never been all that close though she’d thought of him fondly on the rare occasions she’d thought of Jon Snow at all after they’d parted.

He’s certainly no longer the boy she’d grown up. Once her bastard half-brother, she’s learned he is her cousin, the son of her aunt by Rhaegar Targaryen. And he’s not a man of the Nights Watch anymore. He’s a king now, seeking men and aid from the Vale for some coming war.

Of course, she’s no longer the girl he’d known exactly. Sansa Stark is wanted for the murder of another king. She’s currently missing and presumed dead by many. Alayne Stone is the bastard daughter of Lord Baelish who’s hosting the newly chosen King in the North in the Vale for a moon.

Littlefinger was not pleased to learn of Jon’s ascendancy. It had ruined some scheme of his but he’s already thinking of a new plan, ways he can use this to work to his advantage…and ways he can use her, she knows.

“Keep your distance until I say otherwise,” he’s told her.

But she can’t. She’s eager to see him, longing for a familiar face from the past and hoping he might help her return home again.

In the hall when the king and his small retinue arrives, her tummy’s twisted in knots and she wrings her hands so sure that at any moment their eyes will meet and he’ll recognize her.

She can almost picture it like something out of a story of the true knight finding the lost maiden. Things will grow hushed and she’ll smile at him with the hope that’s never quite left her. He’ll blink a few times and be convinced he’s seeing things until he sees her smile. Then, he’ll close the distance between them, pull her into his arms and she’ll know she’s truly safe at last.

But none of that happens.

Admittedly, he does look different but if anything, he favors Ned Stark more than ever. It makes her heart thud dully. He’s dressed in Northern furs and cloak wearing a beard. His eyes roam the hall. She detects a subtle wariness in them.

He’s startingly handsome, she decides. Her cousin Jon is very handsome. Why is that so strange? And why does it cause an unexpected and simultaneous tightening and an unfurling within her?

She must look different as well. She’s no longer a girl with stars in her eyes. She keeps her true feelings closely guarded these days and plays the role she must depending upon the company.

She’s a maiden flowered, a woman fit to be wedded and bedded. She was wedded once upon a time but she remains mercifully un-bedded for now.

She also has dark brown hair, not the auburn he’d remember.

He doesn’t remember her at all as it turns out.

When her name is spoken by the knight making introductions, she sees Jon’s head raise momentarily but then his eyes seem to slide over her before he’s back to speaking of his purpose in coming. Dead men walking. The Others being real. An army of the dead seeking their way into the lands south of the Wall with an evil aim. It sounds so fantastical and not at all like the sort of story she likes.

She’s hurt that he didn’t recognize her. But more than that, she’s hurt he didn’t give her a second glance. She’s more than hurt. She’s offended. Oddly enough, it’s not about them being long, lost family to each other. There’s a different feel to it. Alayne Stone is reputed to be a great beauty. Why didn’t he look at her longer or with more interest like most men do?

For a fortnight, she nurses her disappointment and uncalled for resentment. She’s kept mostly out of sight by the machinations of Baelish although they have caught sight of each other a few times. Actually, she’s noticed Jon looking her way more than once when he’s seated at the head table and she’s tucked down nearer the salt. It pleases her that she’s drawn his eye in one sense at least.

But they’ve not been close enough to speak and neither of them is ever alone when they’re in the same room.

No longer able to tolerate these circumstances, she’s decided upon a bolder course tonight.

Jon didn’t recognize her initially but who could blame him? He’s very preoccupied by this army of the dead business and he’s not been close enough to have a good look at her since then. She must have a moment alone with him and then he’ll see.

Balancing the tray of hot soup in one arm, she knocks upon the door of his chambers, hoping he will be alone.

She hears him beckon her to enter. He’s hunched over a table that’s covered with maps and such when she does but he turns to see who it is.

“Lady Alayne,” he says, bowing his head.

She dips into a curtsy, graceful despite her laden arms. She wants to speak but can’t find her voice.

He seems very puzzled by her appearance. And, in his eyes, there’s something. Not recognition though. It’s respectful but she sees it. He’s looking at her as a man looks at a beautiful woman. And why does that please her so?

“Is that for me?” he asks, noticing the bowl.

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“I did not call for anything.”

“It’s cold tonight and I thought you might…” She’s fumbling. Why is she not telling him who she is?

“Ah. I don’t believe we’ve had a chance to speak to one another yet, have we?”

“No, Your Grace. I’ve wanted to speak with you but...”

Why can I not say what I wanted to say?

Because I want him to recognize me on his own…or I want something else entirely.

Her cheeks flush at the thought. He must notice. He chuckles and the deep, raspy sound of them nearly makes her quiver where she stands. It’s so wicked but delightful, too.

“You don’t have to call me that, not all the time at least. I’m not overly fond of it. I was nothing but a bastard until not so long ago.”

“And Lord Commander of the Nights Watch. I wouldn’t call that nothing.”

“Well, yes.”

He grimaces and she wishes she’d bit her tongue. Could he have really been murdered and brought back like the whispers she’s heard? She wants to know. She wants to know so many things. She also wants things from him she never expected. What’s gotten into her?

“Bastards can rise high in the Watch,” he murmurs mostly to himself.

“Well, girls can’t join the Watch but I wouldn’t call myself nothing, bastard though I am.”

He shakes his head, his momentary private reflections dismissed. “You mistake me, my lady. I didn’t mean to insult you. You’re a beautiful and charming young lady from all I’ve seen and I’m just...”

“You’re what?” she asks eagerly when he fails to finish. Too eagerly perhaps.

His eyes narrow as he looks at her. Her heart starts to pound. He’s really looking at her now. He’s sure to notice her eyes or something.

His mouth starts to work and she can barely comprehend his words because she’s longing to throw herself into his arms…and maybe kiss his neck.

“Have we ever met, my lady?”

“No, Your Grace.” What is wrong with her?! Why is she lying?! Tell him!

But all those years of caution, all the lies are so ingrained and there’s this new layer of confusion over what she feels when she looks at him now. What is this?

“Oh, well, you may leave the soup there.” He turns back to his maps and takes a seat. She’s been dismissed and she finds herself growing irritated. No, more than irritated. She’s furious.

Frustrated, she places the tray down more roughly than intended and he looks up at her sharply. She’d like to shout at him. She wants to scream ‘It’s me! I’m Sansa, you stupid!’ but all those courtesies are deeply ingrained as well.

“Jon, I must confess I did come here tonight with a purpose…”

A smirk appears and there’s a touch of something dangerous in his eyes. “From Your Grace to Jon already, is it? I’ve been warned of Lord Baelish and his tactics but his own daughter?” He tries to look disgusted. He doesn’t quite manage it.

“Are you suggesting…”

“Tell me, my lady, is that soup, the soup which I did not ask for, meant to warm me tonight or are you?”

Her mouth falls open in shock. She can’t believe Jon would say such a thing to her. She can’t believe she’s actually willing to consider…

“Warm you?” she repeats, trying to figure out how to fix this terrible misunderstanding. Would it be so terrible though?

“Yes, it is awfully cold in here. I could use a bowl of hot soup or perhaps a willing wench to warm me.”

He pats his thigh meaningfully. Her breath hitches when she walks over to obey as if she’s in a trance.

But something warns her she’s being toyed with. He’s leery of Littlefinger as he should be. He has no intentions of bedding his host’s bastard daughter though the way he licks his lips suggests part of him would certainly like to. This is a little game of sorts he’s playing, she realizes. He’s testing her, maybe thinking she’ll run away crying or make a fool of herself in some other manner. She’s familiar with games.

“You’re right. It is awfully cold,” she says, low and sultry, when she sits in his lap.

His bravado slips quite suddenly. His lips part and his eyes widen as she strokes his beard, allowing her fingernails to tease the flesh underneath. Then, she takes one of his hands in hers and draws it up to her face, allowing him to stroke the smoothness of her own cheek. He’s panting before he manages to draw it away.

“It is, uh...cold,” he gulps.

Maybe he had only meant to send her scurrying off but there’s a little war going on inside his head now. She’s not fled and he’s trying to decide if he truly wants her to. He’s woefully unskilled at these games. He needs a lesson. She could almost laugh that she’ll be the one to give it to him.

And so, she does laugh the next moment when she rises quickly and tells him, “I suppose I shall have to keep you warm then, Your Grace,” just before she pours the hot soup in his lap.

But her laughter dies when he looks up in complete astonishment from his soaked breeches, tilts his head to the side and breathes a name. “Sansa?”

#jon x sansa #jonsa #jonsa fanfiction #canon au #king jon x alayne #kitten1618x #dialogue prompts

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renegade-skywalker · 4 years

Text

Out of the Abyss, Chapter 19

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12 / Chapter 13 / Chapter 14 / Chapter 15 / Chapter 16 / Chapter 17 / Chapter 18 / Chapter 19: Missing Pieces

After years in exile, ex-Jedi General, Eden Valen (now going by Vale) continues to clean up after Revan and Malak’s mess of a war, only to find herself forever cursed with their unfinished business. As an ill-fated lead brings her to Tatooine, Eden finds that Revan’s mysterious plans go beyond the Republic, beyond the Outer Rim, and into the utter unknown. (A novelization of The Sith Lords and beyond)

Chapter Summary: Erebus unwillingly catches up with his former Jedi Master as Atris’ plans slowly fall into place.

Also found on AO3 | fanfiction.net

3951 BBY, Hyperspace Erebus

Mical's eyes shuddered, moving rapidly beneath his closed lids as his fingers brushed the surface of the onyx pyramid that Eden left for Erebus. Not that she knew her brother by that name, at least not yet.

Erebus watched on intermittently, his gaze flickering between Mical and the sketches he had pinned to his workstation, sketches that roughly resembled the object before them all, granting the Republic officer with whatever visions it deemed worthy. Lonna Vash watched on unblinking, arms crossed over her chest, guarded yet somehow unfazed, as if none of this was news to her.

Before Mical could properly react, or even catch a breath, Erebus sighed with indignation and turned to Vash, his expression one of pure impatience.

"Now that we've completed your little pet project, will you finally tell us what this all means, pretty please?"

Vash met his gaze with an unwavering stare, her dark eyes deep and unyielding.

"I see nothing has changed," she answered curtly, her movements in contrast with her expression as she reached for Mical in what Erebus could only assume was meant to be an empathetic embrace. "What is it you saw?"

This last part she directed at Mical, whose gaze was middling, his eyes darting about Erebus' cargo hold yet focusing on nothing, as if reliving his visions once more before committing them to words.

"An empty hall on Coruscant, an unfinished data entry left unattended, forgotten… And then a desert stretching into the distance, endless, and it was somehow both night and day. I don't know how but I know that I was seeing the same desert over centuries, time passing… and then a flash and I was in the corps again, on the front lines at Jaga's Cluster, tending to the wounded when I heard that the Republic fleet commander was dead, that Cassus Fett had fled into deep space after severing his head… and then I was looking out over a deep chasm on Malachor, though I've only read reports, I-I've never actually been there. I don't know how I know it was Malachor, but something tells me that's exactly what I saw."

Erebus winced.

"What did you see in that chasm?" he heard himself say, regretting it the moment he said it, "Describe the sky."

Mical blinked at him, his gaze still unsettled, unready to focus just yet.

"A blinding green light. Fluorescent green, sickly. From the chasm, I mean. Unearthly, almost. The sky was… stormy. Lots of lightning. I could feel the thunder in my bones."

Erebus nodded, his eyes firm on Mical's, bright and blue, knowing his own eyes mirrored the scene on Malachor - pale green, bright, and venomous, no longer the once-soothing sage of his youth.

"Sounds like Malachor to me."

Lonna turned on him now, an arm still cradled around Mical's arms, firm but unwanted judging by the body language Erebus witnessed beneath her hand.

"I would ask what you saw but I have a feeling I already know," she said to Erebus darkly.

"Of course you do, but why don't you ask me anyway?" Erebus said, plastering a sickeningly sweet smile across his face, the sarcasm dripping from his every pore. Lonna afforded him a glance but said nothing as she released Mical from her grip and let the boy sit down. "Or better yet, why don't you tell me what I saw? All this talk of visions and you've yet to tell us what it is you already know, and why you're putting up with me."

"I know that's why you're making this difficult," Vash sighed, "I get it, I really do. After all these years, the Force begins to...wear on you. It's mysterious ways, it's indignation to divulge further details, failing to tell you what possible futures will come to pass and which ones are already dead in your wake."

Erebus wanted to retort but found that he couldn't, suddenly in odd agreement with Vash. He felt like a child again, playing the brat to counter his own frustration than anything else, not quite making it hard on those around him with the intention to be difficult but to feel less alone in his vexation. Not that it made his behavior any better…

"You're right though, I should explain myself."

Vash lowered herself onto the same crate she had claimed as a seat earlier, easing the weight off her leg as she did then, too. She watched Erebus' gaze as he surveyed her, nodding as she continued.

"I know, I know, there's a lot to explain and that will come into it, too," Vash glanced at her leg and winced, as if acknowledging it made the pain flare up.

"Old injury?" Mical asked, noticing as well. "I was a medic for many years. Many veterans develop the same sort of difficulty, even once the leg has healed it's-"

Vash held up a hand to silence him, smiling despite Mical's efforts as she silently indicated that he need not speak further.

"I'm well aware, but I'm afraid not. In fact, there is no injury."

Mical cocked his head, much like a curious gizka.

"I guess I'll start there," Vash laughed, her voice hollow, "The reason I mentioned your sister earlier, Aiden, is because I never stopped thinking about her. But there was more than just what the record showed of her trial. We on the Council never admitted to what we truly sensed from her, at least not in writing. You know we were cautious of her uncanny ability to create Force bonds, no?"

At this, Mical paled, though Erebus was unsure as to why. Part of him wanted to pry into his mind again, either out of his insatiable curiosity or the odd sense of territorialism he felt at seeing a stranger react to news about his sister. Instead, he only nodded, eager for Vash to continue and for any of this to start making sense.

"Force bonds in general are not wholly unusual. They can often develop after shared traumatic events, or even occur between siblings."

Vash paused, watching Erebus for a reaction. Their eyes met, understanding flowing in their gaze, but Vash did not elaborate further. Erebus' own connection with his sister was not seen as unorthodox when they were children, in fact it was almost expected of them, especially being twins. But once the nature of his sister's abilities became clear, where Erebus had no such affinity for bonds outside of the one he shared with his twin, the Council's attention soured.

"As you may very well know, our most recent war hero had a special affinity for such a talent."

Erebus scoffed.

"Are you talking about Revan and her famous fever dreams or the Jedi pawn Bastila's Battle Meditation?"

Vash's eyes widened but Erebus only waved a hand at her, swatting away her surprise.

"I knew Revan's redemption was oft contested but I wasn't the aware the details had reached even the Si-"

"Word gets around," Erebus cut in before Vash could insult him further. "Jedi aren't as good at keeping secrets as they'd like to believe."

"I would argue, but…. You're right. And not only that, but there are plenty of things that the Jedi unfortunately keep from each other," Vash sighed with resignation. "Which will unfortunately play it's own part in this tale, eventually. And I have a feeling you have some idea of what I'm talking about."

Vash nodded towards Mical, looking meek as always, unsure of whether he should speak. The man didn't seem bashful, more respectful than anything, and Erebus wasn't sure if that made him more annoyed or if it made him respect the man more.

"Aye, Master Vash. I know I was meant to convene with you at the Temple though nothing quite went as planned. I am happy to finally make your acquaintance, but not like this. No offense."

"None taken," Vash laughed, the light returning to her eyes for a moment before flickering out and making way for what Erebus assumed was her now-usual weariness. "Though I am curious as to why a Republic recruit with a relatively clean record would sign up for such a job."

"Job?"

"Your senses failed to tell you?" Vash replied sardonically, "Mical here was hired by one of our old colleagues. You may remember a certain Lucien Draay? Some would call him a heretic, but others might be familiar with his Jedi Covenant, a covert operation that tried to prevent Revan's rise to Sith power but unfortunately only made way for Darth Malak."

Erebus paled though he tried to hide it, hoping that his normal pallor would mask whatever winded him.

"Ah," was all he managed to say, instantly brought back to Atris' archive chambers, hard at work with little sleep trying to track down lost Jedi artifacts to win her favor. "I'm quite familiar."

"I'm not surprised, really," Master Vash said, her tone changing now as she glanced about the cargo hold, her eyes flickering over his sketches, stacks of notes and datapads, her gaze lingering on each item as if she knew exactly what moment of his childhood predated his current obsessions. And in a way Erebus would not be surprised if she did. Master Vash was the instructor he had during his most formative years, at least before the tumultuously formative ones he spent studying under Atris and struggling to make her see why she had chosen him as an apprentice, initially. "This all must strike a chord for you."

"Oh, you think?" Erebus tried not to balk, but the truth of what was happening was as clear to Vash as it was to him. Mical watched, his eyes volleying between each of them as they stewed in their thoughts, waiting for one of them to respond.

"I'm afraid I owe you an apology," Erebus found himself saying after a few tense moments, standing now and looking Mical square in the face, "From one historian to another, I knew what you sought to recover from the temple. In fact, I saw before I'd barely landed on that moon. In a vision, granted by that thing, over there."

Erebus pointed to the artifact, demure and docile on his workbench, yet sinister in its silence, its all-swallowing blackness, a surface so smooth that it should shine but instead soaked in all light as if it sought to snuff it out entirely. A blackhole in miniature. How quaint.

"Why are you telling me this?" Mical looked to Vash as if for an answer, despite not trusting either of them it was clear the boy was more inclined to ask the Jedi for guidance.

"Because it's why we're all here, isn't it?" Erebus said, spreading his arms wide, as if to show off his stores. But his crates were sealed - Mical and Vash could not see their contents. Though he had a feeling Vash already knew what was inside each and every one of the boxes stacked within the room.

"I guess it's my turn to monologue?" Erebus asked cheekily.

"I was hardly finished, but please, do go ahead."

A ghost of a smile spirited over Master Vash's lips and Erebus almost wanted to smile back, if not sardonically. How often he'd hoped to impress her as a child, or Atris, only to come up empty. As if the Force wasn't already hard at work making him bask in his own regret, it was now adding irony to the pot as well.

"I have a feeling this is all connected, but you already know that."

Master Vash's eyes softened as she surveyed him, soaking in the sight of him for a minute before nodding sagely. Yes, you're finally getting it now.

"You may have noticed that I have sketches of the very same object all over this workstation," Erebus started, pointing towards the desk. Mical's eyes followed, as if just noticing the pictures displayed there, though Erebus knew he'd taken stock of them the moment he stepped foot on his ship. "I've been searching for objects of import, particularly Sith in origin, that can extend one's life. Perhaps, unnaturally."

He glanced at Vash, who only raised her eyebrows, obviously displeased with his choice of words but otherwise keen enough for him to continue.

"On the behalf of my… benefactor."

"I take it your benefactor is a proper Sith Lord," Mical mumbled, his eyes still fixed on the sketches pinned to the wall beside the desk with interest, though Erebus could hear the honesty in his voice.

"Proper?!"

"Just, go on - please," Vash cut in, eyes flashing despite the polite expression plastered to her face, "Aiden."

Still feeling the child, Erebus obliged, though the edge remained in his voice as he continued.

"After years of research into an ancient cult there's little evidence of ever having existed, I was brought to Tatooine, believing it to have once been an outpost of sorts. There were several others but nothing remained. All reports were the same, detailing an outlying village with no ties to any major cities, sustained mysteriously with limited trade, though their one export was that."

Erebus motioned towards the pyramid, still sinister in its silence upon his desk.

"That makes sense," Mical mused, examining the sketches again, but this time his gaze danced from the paper to the object in question, as if he were cross-referencing it now. "Tatooine was likely home to a thousand cultures over the eons, each one eventually swallowed up by sand and fast forgotten. Even outposts as recent as sixty years ago have sunk beneath the dunes, never to be heard from again. But that's sort of the nature of the Outer Rim, isn't it? Once a resource dries up, you just move on. Onto the next, without another thought. Because there's no room for anything other than survival. But sand can be a preservative, there's probably a thousand lost civilizations beneath the Dune Sea."

Erebus wanted to say something biting and smart in return but found that he came up empty. The man was absolutely right, even if he didn't have to go on at length just to prove a point.

"No better place to hide a secret Sith cult, no?" Erebus joked instead, though his demeanor was nothing but serious as he continued. "At least, I'm not sure the cult knew necessarily that the objects they worshipped were Sith in origin. Much like you said, this town popped up out of nowhere some eighty years ago and disappeared just as quickly. No one batted an eye. I checked the records from the Tatooine spaceports, and honestly? They could care less who lives and who dies beyond Anchorhead, or any of the other major ports. There was hardly any record of the place alongside a thousand other settlements that had mysteriously either moved in anticipation of an oncoming storm or disappeared entirely."

He stopped, realizing he needed to take a breath. He looked from Mical to Master Vash, surprised to find them both at rapt attention. His throat dry, he attempted to swallow and continue, his voice a rasp husk of what it usually was as he went on.

"I'd been studying this place for some time, unsure of where it was on the planet exactly, and yet when I arrived in Anchorhead…"

I found Eden again, he almost said, the discovery dawning on him as if for the first time, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. It wasn't so much a surprise as much as it was validation. He'd been irrevocably connected to Eden since their birth, their connection through the Force the first thing he'd truly felt coming into this world and the only thing that remained a constant in his life - until Malachor. But it was because of this tether that he knew - he knew - that if Eden had perished that he would have felt it, that he would feel that tether wrenched from him as she left this plane of existence. He would know.

"I waited. A disturbance in the Force held me back. I quickly learned that my twin sister was living in the city, but she was out of town on a job. I waited around, hoping to… well, I'm not sure exactly what I hoped, but when she returned she was only keen on leaving Anchorhead and Tatooine altogether. And with good reason."

"I take it this is about the bounty posted by the Exchange?" Vash peppered into Erebus' offered pause. He nodded.

"Precisely, which is another coincidence I don't believe to be quite the happy accident it seems, though I haven't figured that one out yet."

"Wasn't there already a bounty on Jedi?" Mical chimed in, clearly confused now as he pushed away from Erebus' desk and began to pace the small space shared between them.

"Oh, you may not have heard, being held hostage and all," Erebus said with a casual air despite his growing discomfort at Mical's growing ease to peruse his ship as he wished, crossing his arms as he leaned against the cargo hold door with a careful nonchalance painted heavily with passive aggression, "The Exchange posted a bounty on all Jedi, yes, but General Eden Valen's records and most recent whereabouts and aliases were posted to the holonet boasting a handsome fifty million credits if she was found alive."

"Found alive? And what, brought to the Exchange?" Mical asked, almost outraged at the news.

"Presumably."

"But for what purpose?"

"Who knows?" Erebus countered, exasperated, "At this point I'd like not to care, but I'm honestly probably just as afraid as you are at the idea. There were rumors during the Mandalorian Wars of a rogue doctor testing Jedi, though I don't know what ever happened to him or if he was ever brought to justice. But somehow, whatever it was Eden was doing out there when I arrived at Anchorhead, she ended up coming back with that." Erebus pointed at the black pyramid again as if they needed any reminding, almost jarred by how serenely it sat there despite everything. "I won't get into the boring details of how we managed to leave the city and end up on Space City, but she found the outpost I had been searching for somehow. I'm not sure how or what else she took from there, but she left one piece. For me. Perhaps she saw the drawings and left it as a peace offering, I really don't know. But when I touched that thing? I saw the Temple, but more specifically, I saw Exar Kun. He led me there. To you."

"Exar Kun?" Mical repeated, inching toward Erebus with a furrowed brow, "In the flesh?"

"No, no, the mural of him.The one that graces the city walls leading to the Temple like a warning."

"A warning of what The Great Sith War might wrought if the true threat was not destroyed," Mical mused, still pacing.

"I take it this is where you fit into all of this?" Erebus asked, this time actively trying to wring his voice of all bitterness, in an attempt to play nice.

Mical paused and locked eyes with Vash, who only nodded before dropping her gaze to the floor, losing herself in thought before Mical elaborated.

"I may be a Republic Scout but I have a history with the Jedi. I served with the Corps during Revan's war, made a few friends. There's a theory about some things they found during the Dxun campaign, as well as a few others, though Dxun being the most notorious. As you may know, Dxun and its history with the orbiting Onderon factor heavily in Exar Kun's fall to the… Dark Side." Mical said, his voice straying over the last two words as if he didn't mean to offend, perhaps not out of fear but out of confusion for just what their allegiances meant in close quarters like this, not quite enemies but still far from allies. "What with Revan's sudden change of heart and history repeating itself all over again, I don't think there's any coincidence about it. And the fact that there were skirmishes out on Tatooine, skirmishes that Revan herself fought in, not far from where you found that thing-"

"I didn't find it, Eden did," Erebus corrected, though his voice was almost whispersoft, afraid of growing accustomed to saying his sister's name out loud again - Eden, Ede - as if doing so might either summon or banish her, and he wasn't yet sure which was worse.

"Which is even more peculiar, I think," Mical continued, picking up his stride again despite the small space, "Considering there are reports of General Valen finding similar objects to this one on Dxun. Different in shape, yes, but with similar properties, similar makeup. Objects which were conveniently lost in transit. Revan, General Valen, the myth of Exar Kun, the Sith - it's all connected somehow. But, what I'm wondering is… why now? Exar Kun fell to the Dark Side and turned almost fifty years ago. But now the Jedi are vanishing, and Revan went missing earlier this standard year, the exiled General Valen suddenly re-emerges…" Mical shook his head, trying to make sense of it all. "There's something larger at work here."

Erebus looked at Mical square in the eye now, keen on making another smart remark about the Force and coincidences, but when their eyes met he found that he couldn't. Mical's bright eyes bore into his, almost pleading, and though it was in the spirit of making his case, Erebus felt as if he owed the man an apology - but for reasons unknown to him. If Erebus had not so easily succumbed to anger all those years ago, would he be anything like the man standing before him? Square jaw and sweeping blonde hair aside -

"Wait," Erebus said, the hair on his neck truly standing on end now as a memory took form in his mind's eye as he spoke, an image of the man before him morphing into something similar yet different - smaller in stature perhaps, and younger. Oh, so much younger. "I know you."

Though Erebus' eyes never left Mical's, he could see Lonna Vash smirk in his peripheral vision, though she remained quiet, watching.

"You came to the Archives, on Coruscant. You wanted to study under Atris, with-"

"With Eden Valen, yes."

The moment solidified as Mical confirmed it - a young boy of about twelve wandering into the Archives, bothering Erebus (Aiden, then) for an audience with the Master Historian, claiming to have a long-standing appointment, and Erebus arguing with him that it could not be the case because he knew every minutiae of the Historian's schedule down to the precise moment, only to find himself terribly wrong once Atris swept into the room to sweep the boy right back into her office without as much as a backward glance, much less an apology. Mical had been exceedingly polite then and almost as much now, circumstances willing, but back then he'd been Atris' attempt to keep Eden with the Order, a consolation prize meant to spur her onto Knighthood.

"You were meant to be her apprentice, her Padawan…"

I won't be bribed, Eden had said, If they wanted to make me a Knight they would have done it already, they would have assigned me to a proper Master and given me the same courtesy they did you. You didn't see what Revan showed me out there, Aiden, she'd pleaded, You have to believe me, it's worse than anything you could imagine.

All roads lead to Eden, he thought, laughing darkly.

"You knew this already, didn't you?" Erebus said, tearing his eyes away from Mical's equally surprised gaze, the words finding purchase as he looked Vash in the eye. "I think it's time you finish that origin story of yours."

Master Vash only looked back at him, the smirk she wore earlier fading slightly into something more serious. She brushed a strand of greying black hair behind her ear and reached into her robe, producing another black pyramid, this one smaller than the first, slight enough to comfortably hide in a closed fist.

"I was there when the Jedi found her," she began, her dark eyes fixed on the pyramid as she held it up to examine more closely. Mical's face paled.

"General Valen?"

Vash shook her head.

"No, Revan."

Neither Mical nor Erebus spoke, glancing at one another before awaiting Vash's response, a new kinship kindled between them in unknowing, the mystery unfolding before them both despite their past or their current affiliations. The Force would see to it that they were in this together, now, whether they liked it or not.

"We found her wandering the desert."

She didn't have to say which planet. Erebus already knew.

"She didn't carry anything with her. Only this."

Vash tossed the pyramid gently into the air, catching it gingerly in her palm, feeling the weight of it before she leaned over and set it on the desk beside its matching piece, the one Eden left behind.

"We brought her to Nespis, just as you had been, Aiden. I'm surprised this thing was still there."

"I take it the Jedi never discovered its true properties?" Erebus ventured. Vash shook her head.

"My Master back then saw a vision as well, when she first touched the artifact, though she never told me what she saw, nor did she let me touch it myself. Nothing indicated that she saw anything dark or disturbing. If anything, it validated her decision to bring Revan to the Jedi, to train as one of us."

Vash sighed, her eyes still fixed on the pyramids, now a pair.

"Your Master?" Erebus probed, uncertain whether Master Vash had ever mentioned any of the Jedi Masters that had trained her in their time together as teacher and student.

"Master Arren Kae."

A shiver ran down Erebus' spine at the name. Disgrace, he instantly recalled Atris saying, A traitor if there ever was one.

Master Arren Kae had not only gone on to train Revan but had also followed her to war, a grievous offense in Atris' book. She is the antithesis of everything it means to be a Jedi, a devout follower of the Light. Not only had she trained the next Exar Kun, but there were also rumors of Kae and an Echani General, whose name escaped Erebus despite how much it bothered him to forget something - regardless of how trivial.

Echani. Like the young women at the temple...

"My apprentice and I were scouring the old Temples for anything that could lead us to the new Sith threat, anything we could pass along to the Republic." Vash continued, interrupting his thoughts, "Lucien Draay had headed the effort years ago, but after what happened at Katarr, someone needed to take over where he left off. This pyramid was still sitting in the archives on Space City, unmarked, along with the cache you recovered, Mical, as well. I couldn't get to it once the Echani started watching the perimeter, much less when the Golden Company moved in."

The hair on the back of Erebus' neck stood on end as he followed Vash's gaze from the desk to the satchel Mical had brought aboard from the Temple. The cache so prized it was one of few objects set apart from the rest of the Archive's contents, let alone from any potential Dark Side users that might attempt to steal it - someone such as himself. But he'd glimpsed its contents when he had peered into Mical's mind, the mounting coincidences still not lost on him.

"Exar Kun's lightsaber," he breathed, almost reverent. Erebus almost expected Mical or Vash to make a face (A Sith? Fawning over the Dark Jedi Exar Kun? How cliché... ) but neither one reacted. It was the stuff of legend, but for Erebus is was both the dream and the nightmare. The famed object he'd coveted as a child yet feared all the same.

"I should have sensed the path you might take, Aiden," Vash said, her voice rasp with remembering, "You modeled your first lightsaber after this one, no?"

Erebus nodded, his eyes still fixed on the unopened satchel.

"What did you think of a Padawan fashioning his lightsaber after the weapon of a turncoat? Back then, I mean?"

He hadn't expected to ask, though he felt as if the question had been there all along, so much of his past coming to light that unearthing any more of it seemed only natural.

"I thought it was a coping mechanism," Vash admitted, "So many children were afraid, back then especially, but you most of all. The other Masters told me what happened when they first brought you to Space City, what you said about the mural. And despite whatever it is that brought you to where you are now, I suspect some of that still holds true."

"Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate. You know the rest." Erebus wanted to laugh, though his voice was far more somber than intended in his sarcasm. Vash smiled and glanced down into her lap.

"Something like that."

"I don't mean to interrupt this meaningful catch-up or anything, but-" Mical interrupted, polite as ever, his face painted with pure concern, "But you said you were at the Temple with your apprentice? As in… your current apprentice? Just hours ago?"

Vash looked at Mical and nodded, the weight of her unspoken answer clear on her face and obvious in her apprentice's absence.

"I'm... so sorry," Mical said, shaking his head as he crossed his arms. "If there's anything I can do-"

Vash put up a hand, pleading "Please, I appreciate it but I think the best thing we can do is consider our next steps."

"Our?" Erebus butt in, "And is this when you tell us where your injury comes from, finally?"

She nodded, inhaling a bracing breath before regaling her audience with an answer.

"I've yet to figure that out, to be honest," Vash winced again followed by a sharp intake of breath, "Though it's worth noting that my apprentice, Korath-"

She paused, a lump forming in her throat as she continued, her eyes welling up..

"Korath was taken down in a rain of blasterfire when the Golden Company arrived, completely severing his right leg."

She swallowed the rasp in her voice away, or at least attempted to, looking at neither man as she continued.

"He'd been touching the artifact when they materialized, the visions likely overwhelming his Force sense."

"And where were you?" Erebus said, at least trying not to sound accusatory, though his voice betrayed him despite it.

"I was in the library when they attacked him, watching you."

The Jedi he'd sensed in the Archive, of course, Erebus had figured as much. "But that still doesn't explain how you know-"

"I saw it," she said, interrupting him, "In my mind's eye, through the Force. It was as if… as if I was seeing it through his eyes. As if Korath wanted me to see. To perhaps help him, I…" she trailed off, shaking her head a shaking hand reached up to massage the back of her neck. "I don't know."

She looked down, her hands having descended from her neck to now wring together in her lap. "But I felt it, too. The pain in my leg. It was as if I was being shot at as well, bleeding out on the floor. You can see why your sister plays a part in this, and I don't think it's a coincidence that half the galaxy's now on her tail, either. Especially after all these years."

Erebus shook his head, though in sage agreement, knowing there was more to why Eden was of particular interest to Darth Nihilus and could not explain, and knowing that he had so many questions for what Vash sensed from Eden the day she was exiled, understanding why the woman would be wary to deign him an earnest answer.

"Korath was still holding the artifact when I found him, his fist closed tight." Vash mimicked the movement, her knuckles turning white. "And that's when I saw it. All of this, the Temple collapse, this ship, you… and Dantooine."

"So that's how you knew to find us here?" Erebus confirmed, Vash nodding solemnly as their eyes met briefly across the room.

"And what awaits us there? On Dantooine?" Mical asked, his voice soft but soothing in the seething quiet that followed Vash's vision.

"The next piece of this puzzle, I imagine," Vash said, sighing, "I think it's worth noting that an unaffiliated group of otherwise unknown Echani as well as the most notorious mercenary group in this sector were interested in what was kept in that Temple is a start. And like I said, I don't think it's a coincidence that these objects link to Revan and Exar Kun both."

Vash and Mical, as if on cue, both turned to Erebus, watching him for a reaction.

"Oh, I imagine this is where you suspect I come in, then?" he asked, clutching his chest dramatically to show his offense, since their imposing presence on his ship wasn't proof enough.

Vash shrugged meekly as Mical crossed his arms, his expression unchanging, neither one of them elaborating on their stance, though their opinions seemed set in stone.

"Ah, I see," Erebus said, sucking in a breath through gritted teeth, "Not only have I studied these objects, but I'm now supposed to be your stand-in for traitorous Jedi? Since it seems neither Revan nor Exar Kun could make it. Busy schedules and all, being either missing or dead. Okay, sure, I'll play along…"

Erebus stood up straight, pushing his out his chest as he clasped his hands behind his back, his fingertips already tingling with electricity. Calming himself with a measured breath, he continued, making sure to look both of them square in the eye, one after the other and back again, as he spoke.

"I will warn you, though I assure you I don't have to," he began, his voice a chilling monotone, soft enough that both Vash and Mical were forced to lean towards him in order to catch his every word, "That my Master is likely on our tail if he's not already on Eden's. He knows we crossed paths, I can feel it. And if he sees fit to catch up with us - with me - and demand answers? I cannot protect you, even if I wanted to."

"And your Master… is he- erm, are they-?" Mical started, though the words died on his throat before he could finish.

"Oh trust me," Erebus interrupted, his voice harsh and unrelenting, and not because he wished to instill fear in his unwilling companions but because the most he could do for them as well as himself was tell the truth, "You don't want to know. And if you did, you'd wish you didn't."

If you even want to refer to Nihilus as anything that might make him seem human, Erebus thought, thinking it best if he not elaborate - at least not out loud - thinking on the horror that was his Master. But for Erebus, it was the horror that fascinated him most - the horror and the awe, the utterly unfathomable thing that he was, something and somewhere between being and nonbeing, hunger without end. Vash's eyes were steady on him, her expression unwavering, as if she knew that Nihilus was the one responsible for Katarr. Erebus could only hold her gaze, regardless of what conclusion she came to, before breaking away and making his exit.

"We have three days before we reach Dantooine," Erebus finally said, breaking the silence, though his voice was just as severe, just as sinister, "I suggest you get some rest. I can't imagine we'll get much in the eons to come."

And with that, Erebus left Vash and Mical in his cargo bay - along with his notes, his life's work, and a slew of other things he'd prefer to keep from prying eyes - and closed the door so he was finally alone in the cockpit with only the white-blue of hyperspace for company. As soon as the thing shut, his fingers exploded with static energy at his sides, muffled only by the fabric of his robes.

Seething still, Erebus steadied himself with a few deep breaths, trying not to reach out with the Force to watch as Vash and Mical undoubtedly proceeded to peruse his things or talk behind his back. Instead, he sunk into his pilot's chair and, propping his boots up on the console, figured it best he take his own advice, and sleep.

------

3951 BBY, Telos Atris

"We should be arriving within a standard day, Mistress," Orenna spoke into the transponder, her holo-visage a ghostly blue in Atris' chambers, "We managed to retrieve some objects of import mentioned in your manifest, but overall we were unable to recover everything before the mercenaries moved in. Would you like for us to pursue?"

Orenna, like the others, was so serene, so calm. A pool of water waiting in a glen, stirring only with a ripple at the mere hint of the breeze. Concentric circles forming one from another, an echo in endless chorus until… nothing. Stillness, again. Calm.

There is no passion, there is serenity.

"Not for the moment, no," Atris said, matching her voice to the Echani's timbre. She wanted them to pursue, yes, but she needed to study what they found first, her thirst for knowledge as insatiable as ever. The logs she'd retrieved years ago divulged most of Nespis VIII's stores, but it was different seeing the objects in person. It was different seeing an object through the Force - raw and rending, like tearing flesh straight from bone. Pure and untainted.

There is no chaos, there is harmony.

"We will re-evaluate the situation once you return," Atris elaborated, "We still have the Exile to consider."

"Understood, Mistress," Orenna nodded, reverent.

"And how is your sister?" Atris asked, her voice brimming with unknowing as she spoke, though she did her best to conceal it.

There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.

"She is stable, for now," Orenna responded, looking over her shoulder as if checking on Brianna herself, though they were clearly separated by the walls of the ship, "I don't believe she is in any state to report, however."

"There is no need, at least not for the moment." Atris smiled, her expression tranquil as the gesture scarcely graced her features, "We will speak when you return."

Orenna nodded, a similar smile overcoming her face. Echani took after the physical appearance of the parent whose gender they matched, and though Atris had never met the sisters' mother she could still sense a bit of Yusanis' regality in the girls, in the way they carried themselves and the way they spoke, even if they did not resemble him physically. It was what had drawn her to the sisters from the moment she met them, tasked with divulging the news of their father's passing on behalf of the Jedi at the end of the war. But Atris had met Brianna's mother once, the bastard sister bearing another woman's face… but she could no longer recall her name, nor what she looked like, Brianna's face now a similar blur in her memory. And Atris did not know why.

"Mistress-?" Orenna interrupted, her expression growing concerned, "Is there anything I can-?"

There is no emotion, there is peace.

"No, no," Atris laughed genially, an inner calm falling over her like fresh snow, "Just alert me when you have arrived."

"And of the ship we saw dock at Nespis?" Orenna asked again, this time uncertain.

Release her records, the woman had said. The Sith will follow.

"We shall devise a plan upon your arrival."

Orenna hesitated a moment before nodding in affirmation, signing off. Business as usual.

Everything was falling into place. But now… Atris would wait.

She would retreat to her study until the sisters returned, meditate on what she knew to be true and what she willed to be so, trusting the Force to set things right and avenge the Jedi that sacrificed their lives for the secret she now knew to be true.

There is no death, there is the Force.

The future of the Jedi rested on her shoulders alone, now. And she would shoulder the burden, no matter the cost.

#kotor 2 #atris #fan fiction #star wars #mical the disciple #my writing #idk how to tag this anymore #brianna the handmaiden #also I have not updated this since august so... ta dahhhh #my ocs

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