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#and it was to do with the medieval feudal system

suzannahnatters · 1 year

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So here's one of the coolest things that has happened to me as a Tolkien nut and an amateur medievalist. It's also impacted my view of the way Tolkien writes women. Here's Carl Stephenson in MEDIEVAL FEUDALISM, explaining the roots of the ceremony of knighthood: "In the second century after Christ the Roman historian Tacitus wrote an essay which he called Germania, and which has remained justly famous. He declares that the Germans, though divided into numerous tribes, constitute a single people characterised by common traits and a common mode of life. The typical German is a warrior. [...] Except when armed, they perform no business, either private or public. But it is not their custom that any one should assume arms without the formal approval of the tribe. Before the assembly the youth receives a shield and spear from his father, some other relative, or one of the chief men, and this gift corresponds to the toga virilis among the Romans--making him a citizen rather than a member of a household" (pp 2-3). Got it?

Remember how Tolkien was a medievalist who based his Rohirrim on Anglo-Saxon England, which came from those Germanic tribes Tacitus was talking about? Stephenson argues that the customs described by Tacitus continued into the early middle ages eventually giving rise to the medieval feudal system. One of these customs was the gift of arms, which transformed into the ceremony of knighthood: "Tacitus, it will be remembered, describes the ancient German custom by which a youth was presented with a shield and a spear to mark his attainment of man's estate. What seems to the be same ceremony reappears under the Carolingians. In 791, we are told, Charlemagne caused Prince Louis to be girded with a sword in celebration of his adolescence; and forty-seven years later Louis in turn decorated his fifteen-year-old son Charles "with the arms of manhood, i.e., a sword." Here, obviously, we may see the origin of the later adoubement, which long remained a formal investiture with arms, or with some one of them as a symbol. Thus the Bayeux Tapestry represents the knighting of Earl Harold by William of Normandy under the legend: Hic Willelmus dedit Haroldo arma (Here William gave arms to Harold). [...] Scores of other examples are to be found in the French chronicles and chansons de geste, which, despite much variation of detail, agree on the essentials. And whatever the derivation of the words, the English expression "dubbing to knighthood" must have been closely related to the French adoubement" (pp 47-48.)

In its simplest form, according to Stephenson, the ceremony of knighthood included "at most the presentation of a sword, a few words of admonition, and the accolade." OK. So what does this have to do with Tolkien and his women? AHAHAHAHA I AM SO GLAD YOU ASKED. First of all, let's agree that Tolkien, a medievalist, undoubtedly was aware of all the above. Second, turn with me in your copy of The Lord of the Rings to chapter 6 of The Two Towers, "The King of the Golden Hall", when Theoden and his councillors agree that Eowyn should lead the people while the men are away at war. (This, of course, was something that medieval noblewomen regularly did: one small example is an 1178 letter from a Hospitaller knight serving in the Latin kingdom of Jerusalem which records that before marching out to the battle of Montgisard, "We put the defence of the Tower of David and the whole city in the hands of our women".) But in The Lord of the Rings, there's a little ceremony.

"'Let her be as lord to the Eorlingas, while we are gone.' 'It shall be so,' said Theoden. 'Let the heralds announce to the folk that the Lady Eowyn will lead them!' Then the king sat upon a seat before his doors and Eowyn knelt before him and received from him a sword and a fair corselet."

I YELLED when I realised what I was reading right there. You see, the king doesn't just have the heralds announce that Eowyn is in charge. He gives her weapons.

Theoden makes Eowyn a knight of the Riddermark.

Not only that, but I think this is a huge deal for several reasons. That is, Tolkien knew what he was doing here.

From my reading in medieval history, I'm aware of women choosing to fight and bear arms, as well as becoming military leaders while the men are away at some war or as prisoners. What I haven't seen is women actually receiving knighthood. Anyone could fight as a knight if they could afford the (very pricy) horse and armour, and anyone could lead a nation as long as they were accepted by the leaders. But you just don't see women getting knighted like this.

Tolkien therefore chose to write a medieval-coded society, Rohan, where women arguably had greater equality with men than they did in actual medieval societies.

I think that should tell us something about who Tolkien was as a person and how he viewed women - perhaps he didn't write them with equal parity to men (there are undeniably more prominent male characters in The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit, at least, than female) but compared to the medieval societies that were his life's work, and arguably even compared to the society he lived in, he was remarkably egalitarian.

I think it should also tell us something about the craft of writing fantasy.

No, you don't have to include gut wrenching misogyny and violence against women in order to write "realistic" medieval-inspired fantasy.

Tolkien's fantasy worlds are DEEPLY informed by medieval history to an extent most laypeople will never fully appreciate. The attitudes, the language, the ABSOLUTELY FLAWLESS use of medieval military tactics...heck, even just the way that people travel long distances on foot...all of it is brilliantly medieval.

The fact that Theoden bestows arms on Eowyn is just one tiny detail that is deeply rooted in medieval history. Even though he's giving those arms to a woman in a fantasy land full of elves and hobbits and wizards, it's still a wonderfully historically accurate detail.

Of course, I've ranted before about how misogyny and sexism wasn't actually as bad in medieval times as a lot of people today think. But from the way SOME fantasy authors talk, you'd think that historical accuracy will disappear in a puff of smoke if every woman in the dragon-infested fantasy land isn't being traumatised on the regular.

Tolkien did better. Be like Tolkien.

#tolkien #middle earth #jrr tolkien #lord of the rings #lotr #the lord of the rings #eowyn #writing fantasy #fantasy #female characters #writing #historical fiction #medieval women #medieval history #medieval #history #womens history

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asha-mage · 22 days

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WoT Meta: Feudalism, Class, And The Politics of The Wheel of Time

One of my long standing personal annoyances with the fantasy genre is that it often falls into the trap of simplifying feudal class systems, stripping out the interesting parts and the nuance to make something that’s either a lot more cardboard cut-out, or has our modern ideas about class imposed onto it.

Ironically the principal exception is also the series that set the bar for me. As is so often the case, Robert Jordan’s Wheel of Time is unique in how much it works to understand and convey a realistic approach to power, politics, government, rulership, and the world in general–colored neither by cynicism or idealism. How Jordan works the feudal system into his world building is no exception–weaving in the weaknesses, the strengths, and the banal realities of what it means to have a Lord or Lady, a sovereign Queen or King, and to exist in a state held together by interpersonal relationships between them–while still conveying themes and ideas that are, at their heart, relevant to our modern world.

So, I thought I’d talk a little bit about how he does that.

Defining the Structure

First, since we’re talking about feudal class systems, let's define what that means– what classes actually existed, how they related to each other, and how that is represented in Jordan’s world.

But before that, a quick disclaimer. To avoid getting too deep into the historical weeds, I am going to be making some pretty wide generalizations. The phrases ‘most often’, ‘usually’, and ‘in general’ are going to be doing a lot of heavy lifting. While the strata I’m describing is broadly true across the majority medieval and early Renaissance feudal states these things were obviously heavily influenced by the culture, religion, geography, and economics of their country–all of which varied widely and could shift dramatically over a surprisingly small amount of time (sometimes less than a single generation). Almost nothing I am going to say is universally applicable to all feudal states, but all states will have large swathes of it true for them, and it will be widely applicable. The other thing I would ask you to keep in mind is that a lot of our conceptions of class have been heavily changed by industrialization. It’s impossible to overstate how completely the steam engine altered the landscape of socio-politics the world over, in ways both good and bad. This is already one of those things that Jordan is incredibly good at remembering, and that most fantasy authors are very good at forgetting.

The disparity between your average medieval monarch’s standard of living and their peasants was pretty wide, but it was nothing compared to the distance between your average minimum wage worker and any billionaire; the monarch and the peasant had far more in common with each other than you or I do with Jeff Bezos or Mike Zuckerberg. The disparity between most people’s local country lord and their peasants was even smaller. It was only when the steam engine made the mass production of consumer goods possible that the wealth gap started to become a chasm–and that was in fact one of the forces that lead to the end of the feudal system and the collapse of many (though by no means all) of the ruling monarchies in Europe. I bring this up because the idea of a class system not predicated on the accumulation of capital seems pretty alien to our modern sensibilities, but it was the norm for most of history. Descent and birth mattered far more than the riches you could acquire–and the act of accumulating wealth was itself often seen as something vulgar and in many countries actively sinful. So with that in mind, what exactly were the classes of feudalism, and how do they connect to the Wheel of Time?

The Monarch and their immediate family unsurprisingly occupied the top of the societal pyramid (at least, in feudal states that had a monarch and royal family- which wasn’t all of them). The Monarch was head of the government and was responsible for administering the nation: collecting taxes, seeing them spent, enforcing law, defending the country’s borders and vassals in the event of war, etc. Contrary to popular belief, relatively few monarchs had absolute power during the medieval period. But how much power the monarch did have varied widely- some monarchs were little more than figureheads, others were able to centralize enough power on themselves to dictate the majority of state business- and that balance could shift back and forth over a single generation, or even a single reign depending on the competence of the monarch.

The royal family usually held power in relation to their monarch, but also at the monarch’s discretion. The more power a monarch had, the more likely they were to delegate it to trusted family members in order to aid with the administration of the realm. This was in both official and unofficial capacities: princes were often required to do military service as a right of passage, and to act as diplomats or officials, and princesses (especially those married into foreign powers) were often used as spies for their home state, or played roles in managing court affairs and business on behalf of the ruler.

Beneath the monarch and their family you get the noble aristocracy, and I could write a whole separate essay just on the delineations and strata within this group, but suffice to say the aristocracy covers individuals and families with a wide range of power and wealth. Again, starting from that country lord whose power and wealth in the grand scheme of things is not much bigger than his peasants, all the way to people as powerful, or sometimes more powerful, than the monarch.

Nobles in a feudal system ruled over sections of land (the size and quality usually related sharply to their power) setting taxes, enforcing laws, providing protection to the peasants, hearing petitions, etc. within their domains. These nobles were sometimes independent, but more often would swear fealty to more powerful nobles (or monarchs) in exchange for greater protection and membership in a nation state. Doing so meant agreeing to pay taxes, obey (and enforce) the laws of the kingdom, and to provide soldiers to their liege in the event of war. The amount of actual power and autonomy nobles had varied pretty widely, and the general rule of thumb is that the more powerful the monarch is, the less power and autonomy the nobles have, and vice versa. Nobles generally were expected to be well educated (or at least to be able to pretend they were) and usually provided the pool from which important government officials were drawn–generals, council members, envoys, etc–with some kingdoms having laws that prevented anyone not of noble descent from occupying these positions.

Beneath the nobles you get the wealthy financial class–major merchants, bankers, and the heads of large trade guilds. Those Marx referred to generally as the bourgeoisie because they either own means of production or manage capital. In a feudal system this class tended to have a good bit of soft power, since their fortunes could buy them access to circles of the powerful, but very little institutional power, since the accumulation and pursuit of riches, if anything, was seen to have negative moral worth. An underlying presumption of greediness was attached to this class, and with it the sense that they should be kept out of direct power.

That was possible, in part, because there weren't that many means of production to actually own, or that much capital to manage, in a pre-industrial society. Most goods were produced without the aid of equipment that required significant capital investment (a weaver owned their own loom, a blacksmith owned their own tools, etc), and most citizens did not have enough wealth to make use of banking services. This is the class of merchants who owned, but generally didn’t directly operate, multiple trading ships or caravans, guild leaders for craftsfolk who required large scale equipment to do their work (copper and iron foundries for the making of bells, for example), and bankers who mainly served the nobility and other wealthy individuals through the loaning and borrowing of money. This usually (but not always) represented the ceiling of what those not born aristocrats could achieve in society.

After that you get middling merchants, master craftsfolk and specialty artisans, in particular of luxury goods. Merchants in this class usually still directly manage their expeditions and operations, while the craftsfolk and artisans are those with specialty skill sets that can not be easily replicated without a lifetime of training. Master silversmiths, dressmakers, lacquer workers, hairdressers, and clockmakers are all found in this class. How much social clout individuals in this class have usually relates strongly to how much value is placed on their skill or product by their society (think how the Seanchan have an insatiable appetite for lacquer work and how Seanchan nobles make several Ebou Dari lacquer workers very rich) as well as the actual quality of the product. But even an unskilled artisan is still probably comfortable (as Thom says, even a bad clockmaker is still a wealthy man). Apprenticeships, where children are taught these crafts, are thus highly desired by those in lower classes,as it guaranteed at least some level of financial security in life.

Bellow that class you find minor merchants (single ship or wagon types), the owners of small businesses (inns, taverns, millers etc), some educated posts (clerks, scribes, accountants, tutors) and most craftsfolk (blacksmiths, carpenters, bootmakers, etc). These are people who can usually support themselves and their families through their own labor, or who, in the words of Jin Di, ‘work with their hands’. Most of those who occupy this class are found in cities and larger towns, where the flow of trade allows so many non-food producers to congregate and still (mostly) make ends meet. This is why there is only one inn, one miller, one blacksmith (with a single apprentice) in places like Emond’s Field: most smaller villages can not sustain more than a handful of non-food producers. This is also where you start to get the possibility of serious financial instability; in times of chaos it is people at this tier (and below) that are the first to be forced into poverty, flight, or other desperate actions to survive.

Finally, there is the group often collectively called ‘peasants’ (though that term is also sometimes used to mean anyone not noble born). Farmers, manual laborers, peddlers, fishers- anyone who is unlikely to be able to support more than themselves with their labor, and often had to depend on the combined labor of their spouse and families to get by. Servants also generally fit into this tier socially, but it’s important to understand that a servant in say, a palace, is going to be significantly better paid and respected than a maid in a merchant's house. This class is the largest, making up the majority of the population in a given country, and with a majority of its own number being food-producers specifically. Without the aid of the steam engine, most of a country’s populace needs to be producing food, and a great deal of it, in order to remain a functional nation. Most of the population as a result live in smaller spread out agrarian communities, loosely organized around single towns and villages. Since these communities will almost always lack access to certain goods or amenities (Emond’s Field has a bootmaker, but no candlemaker, for example) they depend on smalltime traders, called peddlers, to provide them with everyday things, who might travel from town to town with no more than a single wagon, or even just a large pack.

The only groups lower than peasants on the social hierarchy are beggars, the destitute, and (in societies that practice slavery) slaves. People who can not (or are not allowed to) support themselves, and instead must either eke out a day to day existence from scraps, or must be supported by others. Slaves can perform labor of any kind, but they are regarded legally as a means of production rather than a laborer, and the value is awarded to their owner instead.

It’s also worth noting that slavery has varied wildly across history in how exactly it was carried out and ran the gamut from the trans-Atlantic chattel slavery to more caste or punitive-based slavery systems where slaves could achieve freedom, social mobility, or even some degree of power within their societies. But those realities (as with servants) had more to do with who their owners were than the slave’s own merit, and the majority of slaves (who are almost always seen as less than a freedman even when they are doing the same work) were performing the same common labor as the ‘peasant’ class, and so viewed as inferior.

Viewing The Wheel of Time Through This Lens

So what does all this have to do with Robert Jordan’s Wheel of Time? A lot actually, especially compared to his contemporaries in fantasy writing. Whereas most fantasy taking place in feudal systems succumbs to the urge to simplify matters (sometimes as far down to their only being two classes, ‘peasant’ and ‘royalty’) Jordan much more closely models real feudalism in his world.

The majority of the nations we encounter are feudal monarchies, and a majority of each of their populations are agrarian farming communities overseen by a local lord or other official. How large a nation’s other classes are is directly tied to how prosperous the kingdom is, which is strongly connected to how much food and how many goods the kingdom can produce on the available land within it. This in turn, is tightly interdependent on how stable the kingdom is and how effective its government is.

Andor is the prime example: a very large, very prosperous kingdom, which is both self-sufficient in feeding itself via its large swathes of farmland (so much so that they can afford to feed Cairhien through selling their surplus almost certainly at next to no profit) and rich in mineral wealth from mines in the west. It is capable of supporting several fairly large cities even on its outskirts, as well as the very well-developed and cosmopolitan Caemlyn as its capital. This allows Andor to maintain a pretty robust class of educated workers, craftsfolk, artisans, etc, which in turn furthers the realm’s prosperity. At the top of things, the Queen presides over the entire realm with largely centralized power to set laws and taxes. Beneath her are the ‘great houses’–the only Houses in Andor besides the royal house who are strong enough that other nobles ‘follow where they lead’ making them the equivalent of Duchesses and Dukes, with any minor nobles not sworn directly to the Queen being sworn to these ten.

And that ties into something very important about the feudal system and the impact it had on our world and the impact it has on Jordan's. To quote Youtuber Jack Rackham, feudalism is what those in the science biz would call an unstable equilibrium. The monarch and their vassals are constantly in conflict with each other; the vassals desiring more power and autonomy, as the monarch works to centralize power on themselves. In feudalism there isn’t really a state army. Instead the monarch and the nobles all have personal armies, and while the monarch’s might be stronger than anyone else’s army, it’s never going to be stronger than everybody else’s.

To maintain peace and stability in this situation everyone has to essentially play Game of Thrones (or as Jordan called it years before Martin wrote GoT, Daes Dae’mar) using political maneuvering, alliances, and scheming in order to pursue their goals without the swords coming out, and depending on the relative skill of those involved, this can go on for centuries at a time….or break apart completely over the course of a single bad summer, and plunge the country into civil war.

Cairhien is a great example of this problem. After losing the Aiel War and being left in ruins, the monarch who ultimately secured the throne of Cairhien, Galldrian Riatin, started from a place of profound weakness. He inherited a bankrupt, war torn and starving country, parts of which were still actively on fire at the time. As Thom discusses in the Great Hunt, Galddrian's failure to resettle the farmers displaced by the war left Cairhien dependent on foreign powers to feed the populace (the grain exports from Tear and Andor) and in order to prevent riots in his own capital, Galldrian choose bread and circuses to keep the people pacified rather then trying to substantially improve their situation. Meanwhile, the nobles, with no effective check on them, began to flex their power, seeing how much strength they could take away from each other and the King, further limiting the throne’s options in how to deal with the crisis, and forcing the King to compete with his most powerful vassals in order to just stay on the throne. This state of affairs ultimately resulted, unsurprisingly, in one of Galladrin’s schemes backfiring, him ending up dead, and the country plunging into civil war, every aristocrat fighting to replace him and more concerned with securing their own power then with restoring the country that was now fully plunged into ruin.

When Dyelin is supporting Elayne in the Andoran Succession, it is this outcome (or one very much like it) that she is attempting to prevent. She says as much outright to Elayne in Knife of Dreams–a direct succession is more stable, and should only be prevented in a situation where the Daughter Heir is unfit–through either incompetence or malice–to become Queen. On the flip side, Arymilla and her lot are trying to push their own agendas, using the war as an excuse to further enrich their Houses or empower themselves and their allies. Rhavin’s machinations had very neatly destabilized Andor, emboldening nobles such as Arymilla (who normally would never dream of putting forward a serious claim for the throne) by making them believe Morgase and Trakand were weak and thus easy to take advantage of.

We also see this conflict crop up as a central reason Murandy and Altara are in their current state as well. Both are countries where their noble classes have almost complete autonomy, and the monarch is a figurehead without significantly more power than their vassals (Tylin can only keep order in Ebou Dar and its immediate surrounding area, and from what she says her father started with an even worse deal,with parts of the capital more under the control of his vassals than him). Their main unifying force is that they wish to avoid invasion and domination by another larger power (Andor for Murandy, Illian and Amadica for Altara) and the threat of that is the only thing capable of bringing either country into anything close to unity.

Meanwhile a lack of centralization has its trade offs; people enjoy more relative freedoms and social mobility (both depend heavily on trade, which means more wealth flowing into their countries but not necessarily accumulating at the top, due to the lack of stability), and Altara specifically has a very robust ‘middle class’ (or as near as you can get pre-industrialization) of middling to minor merchants, business and craftsfolk, etc. Mat’s time in Ebou Dar (and his friendship with Satelle Anan) gets into a lot of this. Think of the many many guilds that call Altara home, and how the husband of an inn owner can do a successful enough business fishing that he comes to own several crafts by his own merit.

On the flip side both countries have problems with violence and lawlessness due to the lack of any enforced uniformity in terms of justice. You might ride a day and end up in land ruled by a Lord or Lady with a completely different idea of what constitutes, say, a capital offense, than the Lord or Lady you were under yesterday. This is also probably why Altara has such an ingrained culture of duels to resolve disputes, among both nobles and common folk. Why appeal to a higher authority when that authority can barely keep the streets clean? Instead you and the person you are in conflict with, on anything from the last cup of wine to who cheated who in a business deal, can just settle it with your knives and not have to bother with a hearing or a petition. It’s not like you could trust it anyways; as Mat informs us, most of the magistrates in Altara do the bidding of whoever is paying their bribes.

But neither Altara nor Murandy represents the extreme of how much power and autonomy nobles can manage to wrangle for themselves. That honor goes to Tear, where the nobles have done away with the monarch entirely to instead establish what amounts to an aristocratic confederacy. Their ruling council (The High Lords of Tear) share power roughly equally among themselves, and rule via compromise and consensus. This approach also has its tradeoffs: unlike Murandy and Altara, Tear is still able to effectively administer the realm and create uniformity even without a monarch, and they are able to be remarkably flexible in terms of their politics and foreign policy, maintaining trade relationships even with bitter enemies like Tar Valon or Illian. On the flipside, the interests of individual nobles are able to shape policy and law to a much greater extent, with no monarch to play arbiter or hold them accountable. This is the source of many of the social problems in Tear: a higher sense of justice, good, or even just plain fairness all take a back seat to the whims and interest of nobles. Tear is the only country where Jordan goes out of his way, repeatedly, to point out wealth inequality and injustice. They are present in other countries, but Jordan drives home that it is much worse in Tear, and much more obscene.

This is at least in part because there is no one to serve as a check to the nobles, not even each other. A monarch is (at least in theory) beholden to the country as a whole, but each High Lord is beholden only to their specific people, house and interests, and there is no force present that can even attempt to keep the ambitions and desires of the High Lords from dictating everything. So while Satelle Anan's husband can work his way up from a single fishing boat to the owner of multiple vessels, most fisherman and farmers in Tear scrape by on subsistence, as taxes are used to siphon off their wealth and enrich the High Lords. While in Andor ‘even the Queen most obey the law she makes or there is no law’ (to quote Morgase), Tairen Lords can commit murder, rape, or theft without any expectation of consequences, because the law dosen’t treat those acts as crimes when done to their ‘lessers’, and any chance someone might get their own justice back (as they would in Altara) is quashed, since the common folk are not even allowed to own weapons in Tear. As we’re told in the Dragon Reborn, when an innkeeper is troubled by a Lord cheating at dice in the common room, the Civil Watch will do nothing about it and citizens in Tear are banned from owning weapons so there is nothing he can do about it. The best that can be hoped for is that he will ‘get bored and go away’.

On the opposite end, you have the very very centralized Seanchan Empire as a counter example to Tear, so centralized it’s almost (though not quite) managed to transcend feudalism. In Seanchan the aristocratic class has largely been neutered by the monarchy, their ambitions and plots kept in check by a secret police (the Seekers of Truth) and their private armies dwarfed by a state army that is rigorously kept and maintained. It’s likely that the levies of the noble houses, if they all united together, would still be enough to topple the Empress, but the Crystal Throne expends a great deal of effort to ensure that doesn't happen,playing the nobles against each other and taking advantage of natural divisions in order to keep them from uniting.

Again, this has pros and cons. The Seanchan Empire is unquestionably prosperous; able to support a ridiculous food surplus and the accompanying flow of wealth throughout its society, and it has a level of equity in its legal administration that we don’t see anywhere else in Randland. Mat spots the heads of at least two Seanchan nobles decorating the gates over Ebou Dar when he enters, their crimes being rape and theft, which is a far cry from the consequence-free lives of the Tairen nobles. Meanwhile a vast state-sponsored bureaucracy works to oversee the distribution of resources and effective governance in the Empress’s name. No one, Tuon tells us proudly, has to beg or go hungry in the Empire. But that is not without cost.

Because for all its prosperity, Seanchan society is also incredibly rigid and controlling. One of the guiding philosophies of the Seanchan is ‘the pattern has a place for everything and everything’s place should be obvious on sight’. The classes are more distinct and more regimented than anywhere else we see in Randland. The freedoms and rights of everyone from High Lords to common folk are curtailed–and what you can say or do is sharply limited by both social convention and law. The Throne (and its proxies) are also permitted to deprive you of those rights on nothing more than suspicion. To paraphrase Egeanin from TSR: Disobeying a Seeker (and presumably any other proxy of the Empress) is a crime. Flight from a Seeker is a crime. Failure to cooperate fully with a Seeker is a crime. A Seeker could order a suspected criminal to go fetch the rope for their own binding, and the suspected criminal would be expected to do it–and likely would because failure to do anything else would make them a criminal anyway, whatever their guilt or innocence in any other matter.

Meanwhile that food surplus and the resulting wealth of the Empire is built on its imperialism and its caste-based slavery system, and both of those are inherently unsustainable engines. What social mobility there is, is tied to the Empire’s constant cycle of expand, consolidate, assimilate, repeat–Egeanin raises that very point early on, that the Corenne would mean ‘new names given and the chance to rise high’. But that cycle also creates an endless slew of problems and burning resentments, as conquered populations resist assimilation, the resistance explodes into violence that the Seanchan must constantly deal with–the ‘near constant rebellions since the Conquest finished’ that Mat mentions when musing on how the Seanchan army has stayed sharp.

The Seanchan also practice a form of punitive and caste-based slavery for non-channelers, and chattel slavery for channelers. As with the real-life Ottoman Empire, some da’covale enjoy incredible power and privilege in their society, but they (the Deathwatch Guard, the so’jhin, the Seekers) are the exception, not the rule. The majority of the slaves we encounter are nameless servants, laborers, or damane. While non-channelers have some enshrined legal protections in how they can be treated by their masters and society as a whole, we are told that emancipation is incredibly rare, and the slave status is inherited from parent to child as well as used as a legal punishment–which of course would have the natural effect of discouraging most da’covale from reproducing by choice until after (or if) they are emancipated–so the primary source for most of the laborers and servants in Seanchan society is going to be either people who are being punished or who choose to sell themselves into slavery rather then beg or face other desperate circumstances.

This keeps the enslaved population in proportion with the rest of society only because of the Empire’s imperialism- that same cycle of expand, consolidate, assimilate, repeat, has the side effect of breeding instability, which breeds desperation and thus provides a wide pool to draw on of both those willing to go into slavery to avoid starvation, and those who are being punished with slavery for wronging the state in some manner. It’s likely the only reason the Empire’s production can keep pace with its constant war efforts: conquered nations (and subdued rebellions) eventually yield up not just the necessary resources, but also the necessary laborers to cultivate them in the name of the state, and if that engine stalls for any sustained length of time (like say a three hundred year peace enforced by a treaty), it would mean a labor collapse the likes of which the Empire has never seen before.

A note on damane here: the damane system is undoubtedly one of chattel slavery, where human beings are deprived of basic rights and person hood under the law for the enrichment of those that claim ownership over them. Like in real life this state of affairs is maintained by a set of ingrained cultural prejudices, carefully constructed lies, and simple ignorance of the truly horrific state of affairs that the masses enjoy. The longevity of channelers insulates the damane from some of the problems of how slavery can be unsustainable, but in the long run it also suffers from the same structural problem: when the endless expansion stops, so too will the flow of new damane, and the resulting cratering of power the Empire will face will put it in jeopardy like nothing has before. There is also the problem that, as with real life chattel slavery, if any one piece of the combination of ignorance, lies, and prejudice starts to fall apart, an abolition movement becomes inevitable–and several characters are setting the stage for just that via the careful spreading of the truth about the sul’dam. Even if the Seanchan successfully put down an abolition movement, doing so will profoundly weaken them in a way that will necessitate fundamental transformation, or ensure collapse.

How Jordan Depicts The Relationships Between Classes

As someone who is very conscious in how he depicts class in his works, it makes sense that Jordan frequently focuses on characters interacting through the barriers of their various classes in different ways. New Spring in particular is a gold mine for this kind of insight.

Take, for example, Moiraine and Siuan’s visit to the master seamstress. A lesser writer would not think more deeply on the matter than ‘Moiraine is nobly born so obviously she’s going to be snobby and demanding, while down-to-earth Siuan is likely to be build a natural rapport and have better relationship her fellow commoner, the seamstress Tamore Alkohima’. But Jordan correctly writes it as the reverse: Tamore Alkohima might not be nobly born, but she is not really a peasant either–rather she belongs to that class of speciality artisans, who via the value placed on her labor and skill, is able to live quite comfortably. Moiraine is much more adept at maneuvering this kind of possibly fraught relationship than Siuan is. Yes, she is at the top of the social structure (all the more so since becoming Aes Sedai) but that does not release her from a need to observe formalities and courtesies with someone who, afterall, is doing something for Moiraine that she can not do for herself, even with the Power. If Moiraine wants the services of a master dressmaker, the finest in Tar Valon, she must show respect for both Tamore Alkohima and her craft, which means submitting to her artistic decisions, as well as paying whatever price, without complaint.

Siuan, who comes from the poor Maule district in Tear, is not used to navigating this kind of situation. Most of those she has dealt with before coming to the Tower were either her equals or only slightly above her in terms of class. She tries to treat Tamore Alkohima initially like she most likely treated vendors in the Maule where everyone is concerned with price, since so many are constantly on the edge of poverty, and she wants to know exactly what she is buying and have complete say over the final product, which is the practical mentality of someone to whom those factors had a huge impact on her survival. Coin wasted on fish a day from going bad, or netting that isn’t the right kind, might have meant the difference between eating that week or not, for a young Siuan and her father.

Yet this this reads as an insult to Tamore Alkohima, who takes it as being treated with mockery, and leads to Moiraine needing to step in to try and smooth things over, and explain to Siuan-

“Listen to me, Siuan and do not argue.” she whispered in a rush. “We must not keep Tamore waiting long. Do not ask after prices: she will tell us after we make our selections. Nothing you buy here will be cheap, but the dresses Tamore sews for you will make you look Aes Sedai as much as the shawl does. And it is Tamore, not Mistress Alkohima. You must observe the properties or she will believe you are mocking her. But try thinking of her as a sister who stands just a little above you. A touch of deference is necessary. Just a touch, but she will tell you what to wear as much as she asks.” “And will the bloody shoe maker tell us what kind of slippers to buy and charge us enough to buy fifty new sets of nets?” “No.” Moiraine said impatiently. Tamore was only arching one eyebrow but her face may as well have been a thunderhead. The meaning of that eyebrow was clear as the finest crystal. They had already made the seamstress wait too long, and there was going to be a price for it. And that scowl! She hurried on, whispering as fast as she could. “The shoemaker will make us what we want and we will bargain the price with him, but not too hard if we want his best work. The same with the glovemaker, the stockingmaker, the shiftmaker, and all the rest. Just be glad neither of us needs a hairdresser. The best hairdressers are true tyrants, and nearly as bad as perfumers.”

-New Spring, Chapter 13: Business in the City.

Navigating the relationship between characters of a different class is something a of a running theme throughout New Spring–from Moiraine’s dealing with the discretion of her banker (‘Another woman who knew well her place in the world’ as Moiraine puts it), to having to meet with peasants during her search for the Dragon Reborn (and bungling several of those interactions), to wading through the roughest criminal parts of Chachin in search of an inn, and frequently needing to resort to the Power to avoid or resolve conflict. Moiraine’s ability to handle these situations is tightly tied to her experience with the people involved prior to her time as a Novice, but all hold up and give color to the class system Jordan presents. It also serves as set up so that when Moraine breaks the properties with a different seamstress near the end of the book, it can be a sign of the rising tension and the complex machinations she and Siuan find themselves in.

Notably, Moiraine and Siuan’s relative skill with working with people is strongly related to their backgrounds: the more Moiraine encounters people outside her lived experience as a noble daughter in Cairhien, the more she struggles to navigate those situations while Siuan is much more effective at dealing with the soldiers during the name-taking sequence (who are drawn mostly from the same class as her–common laborers, farmers, etc), and the people in Chachin, where she secures an lodging and local contacts to help in the search with relative ease.

Trying to navigate these waters is also something that frequently trips up characters in the main series as well, especially with the Two Rivers folk who are, ultimately, from a relatively classless society that does not subscribe to feudal norms (more on that below). All of them react to both moving through a society that does follow those norms, and later, being incorporated into its power structures in different, frequently disastrous ways.

Rand, who is not used to the complicated balance between vassal and monarch (which is all the more complicated as he is constantly adding more and more realms under his banner) finds imposing his will and leading the aristocrats who swear fealty to him incredibly difficult. While his reforms are undoubtedly good for the common folk and the general welfare of the nations he takes over, he is most often left to enforce them with threats and violence, which ultimately fuel resistance, rebellion, and more opposition to him throughout the nations he rules, and has down-the-line bad ripple effects on how he treats others, both noble and not, who disagree with him.

Rand also struggles even with those who sincerely wish to serve and aid him in this context: he is awkward with servants, distant with the soldiers and warriors who swear their lives to him, and even struggles with many of his advisors and allies. Part of that is distrust that plagues him in general, but a big element to it is also his own outsider perspective. The Aiel frequently complain that Rand tries to lead them like a King, but that’s because they assume a wetlander King always leads by edict and command. Yet Rand’s efforts to do that with the Westland nations he takes over almost always backfire or have lasting consequences. Rand is frequently trying to frequently play act at what he thinks a King is and does–and when he succeeds it’s almost always a result of Moiraine or Elayne’s advice on the subject, not his own instincts or preconceptions.

Perrin, meanwhile, is unable to hide his contempt for aristocracy and those that willingly follow them, which leads to him both being frequently derelict in his duties as a Lord, and not treating his followers with a great deal of respect. Nynaeve has a similar problem, where she often tries to ‘instill backbone’ into those lower in the class system then her, then comes to regret it when that backbone ends up turned on her, and her leadership rejected or her position disrespected by those she had encouraged to reject leadership or not show respect to people in higher positions.

Interestingly, it’s Mat that most effectively manages to navigate various inter-class relationships, and who via the Band of the Red Hand builds a pretty equitable, merit-based army. He does this by following a simple rule: treating people how they wish to be treated. He accepts deference when it’s offered, but never demands it. He pushes back on the notion he’s a Lord often, but only makes it a serious bone with people who hold the aristocracy in contempt. He’s earnest in his dealings, fair minded, and good at reading social situations to adapt to how folks expect him to act, and when he breaches those expectations it’s usually a deliberate tactical choice.

This lets him maintain strong friendships with people of all backgrounds and classes– from Princes like Beslan to horse thieves like Chel Vanin. More importantly, it makes everyone under his command feel included, respected, and valued for what they are. Mat has Strong Ideas About Class (and about most things really), but he’s the only Two Rivers character who doesn't seem to be working from an assumption that everyone else ought to live by his ideals. He thinks anyone that buys into the feudal system is mad, but he doesn't actually let that impact how he treats anyone–probably from the knowledge that they think he’s just as mad.

Getting Creative With the Structure

The other thing I want to dig into is the ways in which Jordan, via his understanding of the feudal system, is able to play with it in creative and interesting ways that match his world. Succession is the big one; who rules after the current monarch dies is a massively important matter since it determines the flow of power in a country from one leader to the next. The reason so many European monarchies had primogeniture (eldest child inherits all titles) succession is not because everyone just hated second children, it’s because primogeniture is remarkably stable. Being able to point to the eldest child of the monarch and say them, that one, and their younger sibling if they're not around, and so on is very good for the transition of power, since it establishes a framework that is both easy to understand and very very hard to subvert. Pretty much the only way, historically, to subvert a primogeniture succession is for either the heir’s blood relationship to the monarch or the legitimacy of their parent’s marriage to be called into question.

And yet despite that, few of the countries in Jordan's world actually use primogeniture succession. Andor does, as do some of the Borderlands, but the majority of monarchies in Randland use elective succession, where the monarch is elected from among the aristocratic class by some kind of deliberative body. This is the way things are in Tarabon, Arad Doman,Ghealdan, Illian, and Malkier, who all elect the monarchs (or diarchs in the case of Tarabon- where two rulers, the Panarch and the King, share power) via either special council or some other assembly of aristocrats.

There are three countries where we don’t know the succession type (Arafel, Murandy, and Amadicia) but also one we know for sure doesn't use primogeniture succession: Cairhien. We know this because Moiraine’s claim to the Sun Throne as a member of House Damodred is seen as as legitimate enough for the White Tower to view putting her on the Sun Throne as a viable possibility, despite the fact that she has two older sisters whose claims would be considered superior to her own under primogeniture succession. We never find out for sure in the books what the succession law actually is (the country never stabilizes for a long enough period that it becomes important), but if I had to guess I would guess that it’s designated,where the monarch chooses their successor prior to their death, and that the civil war that followed the Aiel War was the result of both Laman and his designated heir(s) dying at the Bloodsnows (we are told by Moiraine that Laman and both his brothers are killed; likely one of them was the next in line).

One country that we know for sure uses designated succession is Seanchan, where the prospective heir is still chosen from among the children of the Empress, but they are made to compete with each other (usually via murder and plotting) for the monarch’s favor, the ‘best’ being then chosen to become the heir. This very closely models how the Ottoman Empire did succession (state sanctioned fratricide) and while it has the potential to ensure competence (by certain metrics, anyways) it also sows the seeds of potential instability by ensuring that the monarch is surrounded by a whole lot of people with bad will to them and feelings of being cheated or snubbed in the succession, or else out for vengeance for their favored and felled candidate. Of course, from the Seanchan’s point of view this is a feature not a bug: if you can’t win a civil war or prevent yourself from being assassinated, then you shouldn’t have the throne anyways.

Succession is far from the only way that Jordan plays with the feudal structure either. Population is something else that is very present in the world building, even though it’s only drawn attention to a handful of times. In our world, the global population steadily and consistently rose throughout the middle ages and the Renaissance (with only small dips for things like the plague and the Mongol Invasion), then exploded with the Industrial Revolution and has seen been on a meteoric climb year over year (something that may just now be stabilizing into an equilibrium again, only time will tell). This is one of the pressures that led to the collapse of feudalism in the real world, as a growing aristocratic class was confronted with finite land and titles, while at the same time the growing (and increasingly powerful) wealthy financial class of various countries were beginning to challenge the traditions and laws that kept them out of direct power. If you’ve ever read a Jane Austen novel (or really anything from the Georgian/Regency/Victorian eras) this tension is on display. The aristocratic class had never been as secure as people think, but the potential to fall into poverty and ruin had never been a greater threat, which had ripple effects for the stability of a nation, and in particular a monarch who derived much of their power from the fealty of their now-destabilized vassals.

In Jordan’s world however, we are told as early as The Great Hunt that the global population is steadily falling, and has been since the Hundred Years’ War (at least). No kingdom is able to actually control all the territory it has on a map, the size of armies have in particular shrunk consistently (to the point where it’s repeatedly commented on that the armies Rand puts together, some of no more than a few thousand, are larger than any ‘since Artur Hawkwing's day’), large swathes of land lay ungoverned and even more uninhabited or settled. Entire kingdoms have collapsed due to the inability of their increasingly small populations to hold together. This is the fate of many of the kingdoms Ingtar talks about in the Great Hunt: Almoth, Gabon, Hardan, Moredo, Caralain, to name just a few. They came apart due to a combination of ineffective leadership, low population, and a lack of strong neighbors willing or able to extend their power and stability over the area.

All of this means that there is actually more land than there are aristocrats to govern it; so much so that in places like Baerlon power is held by a crown-appointed governor because no noble house has been able to effectively entrench in the area. This has several interesting effects on the society and politics of Randland: people in general are far more aware of the fragility of the nation state as a idea then they would be otherwise, and institutions (even the intractable and mysterious White Tower) are not viewed by even their biggest partisans as invulnerable or perpetual. Even the most powerful leaders are aware, gazing out constantly, as they do, at the ruins of the hundreds of kingdoms that have risen and fallen since the Breaking of the World (itself nothing more, to their understanding, then the death of the ultimate kingdom) that there are no guarantees, no promises that it all won’t fall apart.

This conflict reflects on different characters in different ways, drawing out selfishness and cowardice from some, courage and strength from others. This is a factor in Andor’s surprisingly egalitarian social climate: Elayne and Morgase both boast that Andorans are able to speak their minds freely to their leaders about the state of things, and be listened to, and even the most selfish of leaders like Elenia Sarand are painfully aware that they stand on a tower built from ‘the bricks of the common folk’, and make a concentrated effort to ensure their followers feel included and heard. Conversely it also reflects on the extremely regimented culture of the Borderlands, were dereliction of duty can mean not just the loss of your life, but the loss of a village, a town, a city, to Trolloc raids (another pressure likely responsible for slow and steady decline of the global population).

The Borderlanders value duty, honor, and responsibility above all else, because those are the cornerstones holding their various nations together against both the march of time and the Blight. All classes place a high value on the social contract; the idea that everyone must fulfill their duty to keep society safe is a lot less abstract when the stakes are made obvious every winter through monsters raiding your towns. This is most obvious in both Hurin and Ingtar’s behavior throughout The Great Hunt: Hurin (and the rest of the non-noble class) lean on the assurance that the noble class will be responsible for the greater scale problems and issues in order to endure otherwise unendurable realities, and that Rand, Ingtar, Aglemar, Lan (all of whom he believes to be nobly born) have been raised with the necessary training and tools to take charge and lead others through impossible situations and are giving over their entire lives in service to the people. In exchange Hurin pays in respect, obedience, and (presumably) taxes. This frees Hurin up to focus on the things that are decidedly within his ken: tracking, thief taking, sword breaking, etc, trusting that Ingtar, and later Rand, will take care of everything else.

When Hurin comes up against the feudal system in Cairhien, where the failures of everyone involved have lead to a culture of endless backstabbing and scheming, forced deference, entitlement, and mutual contempt between the parties, he at first attempts to show the Cairhienin ‘proper’ behavior through example, in the hopes of drawing out some shame in them. But upon realizing that no one in Cairhien truly believes in the system any longer after it has failed the country so thoroughly (hence the willingness of vassals to betray their masters, and nobles to abandon their oaths–something unthinkable in the Borderlands) he reverts to his more normal shows of deference to Rand and Ingtar, abandoning excessive courtesy in favor of true fealty.

Ingtar (and later Rand) feel the reverse side of this: the pressure to be the one with the answers, to hold it all together, to be as much icon and object as living person, a figure who people can believe in and draw strength from when they have none of their own remaining, and knowing at the same time that their choices will decide the fates and lives of others. It’s no mistake that Rand first meets Hurin and begins this arc in the remains of Hardan, one of those swept-away nations that Ingtar talks about having been left nothing more than ‘the greatest stone quarry for a hundred miles’. The stakes of what can happen if they fail in this duty are made painfully clear from the start, and for Rand the stakes will only grow ever higher throughout the course of the series, as number of those ‘under his charge’ slides to become ‘a nation’ then ‘several nations’ and finally ‘all the world’. And that leads into one of the problems at the heart of Rand’s character arc.

This emphasis on the feudal contract and duty helps the Borderlands survive the impossible, but almost all of them (with the exception of Saldaea) practice cultures of emotional repression and control,spurning displays of emotion as a lack of self-control, and viewing it as weakness to address the pains and psychological traumas of their day to day lives. ‘Duty is heavier than a mountain, death lighter than a feather’, ‘There will be time to sleep when you’re dead’, ‘You can care for the living or mourn the dead, you cannot do both’: all common sayings in the Borderlands. On the one hand, all of these emphasize the importance of fulfilling your duty and obligations…but on the other, all also implicitly imply the only true release from the sorrows and wounds taken in the course of that duty is death. It is this, in part, that breaks Ingtar: the belief that only the Borderlands truly understand the existential threat, and that he and those like him are suffering and dying for ‘soft southlanders’ whose kingdoms are destined to go to ruin anyways. It’s also why he reveals his suffering to Rand only after he has decided to die in a last stand–he is putting down the mountain of his trauma at last. This is also one of those moments in the books that is a particular building block on the road to Rand’s own problems with not expressing his feelings or being willing to work through his trauma, that will swing back around to endanger the same world he is duty-bound to protect.

I also suspect strongly that this is the source of the otherwise baffling Saldean practice of….what we will call dedicated emotional release. One of the core cultural Saldean traits (and something that is constantly tripping up Perrin in his interactions with Faile) is that Saldeans are the only Borderlanders to reject the notion that showing emotion is weakness. In fact, Saldeans in general believe that shows of anger, passion, sorrow, ardor–you name it–are a sign of both strength and respect. Your feelings are strong and they matter, and being willing to inflict them on another person is not a burden or a betrayal of duty, it’s knowing that they will be strong enough to bear whatever you are feeling. I would hesitate to call even the Saldaens well-adjusted (I don’t know that there is a way to be well-adjusted in a society at constant war), but I do think there is merit to their apparent belief in catharsis, and their resistance to emotional repression as a sign of strength. Of course, that doesn't make their culture naturally better at communication (as Faile and Perrin’s relationship problems prove) but I do think it plays a part in why Bashere is such a good influence on Rand, helping push him away from a lot of the stoic restraint Rand has internalized from Lan, Ingtar, Moiraine, et al.

It also demonstrates that a functioning feudal society is not dependent on absolute emotional repression, or perfect obedience. Only mutual respect and trust between the parties are necessary–trust that the noble (or monarch) will do their best in the execution of their duties, and trust that the common folk in society will in turn fulfill their roles to the best of their ability. Faile’s effectiveness as Perrin’s co-leader/second in command is never hindered or even implied to be hindered by her temperament or her refusal to hide/repress her emotions. She is arguably the one who is doing most of the actual work of governing the Two Rivers after she and Perrin are acclaimed their lord and lady: seeing to public works projects, settling disputes, maintaining relationships with various official groups of their subjects.

The prologue from Lord of Chaos (a favorite scene of mine of the books) where Faile is holding public audience while Perrin is off sulking ‘again’ is a great great example of this; Faile is the quintessential Borderland noble heir, raised all her life in the skills necessary to run a feudal domain, and those skills are on prime display as she holds court. But that is not hindered by her willingness to show her true feelings, from contempt of those she thinks are wasting her time, to compassion and empathy to the Wisdoms who come to her for reassurance about the weather. This is one of those things that Perrin has to learn from her over the course of the series–that simply burying his emotions for fear they might hurt others is not a healthy way to go about life, and it isn’t necessary to rule or lead either. His prejudices about what constitutes a ‘good’ Lord (Lan, Agelmar, Ingtar) and a ‘bad’ one (literally everyone else) are blinding him, showing his lack of understanding of the system that his people are adopting, and his role in it.

Which is a nice dovetail with my next bit–

Outsiders And the Non-Feudal State

Another way Jordan effectively depicts the Feudal system is by having groups who decidedly do not practice it be prominent throughout the series–which is again accurate to real life history, where feudalism was the mode of government for much of (but by no means all) of Medieval and Renaissance Europe, but even in Europe their were always societies doing their own thing, and outside of it, different systems of government flourished in response to their environments and cultures; some with parallels to Feudalism, many completely distinct.

The obvious here are the Aiel who draw on several different non-feudal societies (the Scottish Highland Clans, the Iroquois Confederation, the Mongols, and the Zulu to name just a few) and the Seafolk (whose are a combination of the Maori and the Republic of Piracy of all things), but also firmly in these categories are groups like the communities in the Black Hills, Almoth Plain, and the Two Rivers.

Even though it’s an agrarian farming community made up primarily of small villages, the Two Rivers is not a feudal state or system. We tend to forget this because it looks a lot like our notion of a classic medieval European village, which our biases inherently equate to feudal, but Jordan is very good at remembering this is not the case, and that the Two Rivers folk are just as much outsiders to these systems as the Aiel, or the Seafolk.

Consider how often the refrain of ‘don’t even know they’re part of the Kingdom of Andor’ is repeated in regards to the Two Rivers, and how much the knowledge of Our Heroes about how things like Kingdoms, courts, war, etc, are little more than fairy tales to the likes of those Two Rivers, while even places unaffected directly by things like the Trakand Succession or the Aiel War are still strongly culturally, economically, and politically impacted.

Instead of deriving power and justice from a noble or even a code of law, power is maintained by two distinct groups of village elders (The Village Council and the Women’s Circle) who are awarded seats based on their standing within the community. These groups provide the day-to-day ordering of business and resolving of conflicts, aiding those in need and doing what they can for problems that impact the entire community. The Wisdom serves as the community physician, spiritual advisor, and judge (in a role that resembles what we know of pre-Christian celtic druids), and the Women’s Circle manages most social ceremonies from marriages to betrothals to funerals, as well as presiding over criminal trials (insofar as they even have them). The Mayor manages the village economics, maintaining relationships and arbitrating deals with outsider merchants and peddlers, collecting and spending public funds (through a volunteer collection when necessary, which is how we’re told the new sick house was built and presumably was how the village paid for things like fireworks and gleeman for public festivals), while the Council oversees civil matters like property disputes.

On the surface this seems like an ideal community: idyllic, agrarian, decentralized, where everyone cares more about good food and good company and good harvests than matters of power, politics, or wealth, and without the need for any broader power-structure beyond the local town leaders. It’s the kind of place that luddites Tolkien and Thomas Jefferson envisioned as a utopia (and indeed the Two Rivers it the most Tolkien-y place in Randland after the Ogier stedding, of which we see relatively little), but I think Jordan does an excellent job of not romanticizing this way of life the way Tolkien often did. Because while the Two Rivers has many virtues and a great deal to recommend it, it also has many flaws.

The people in the Two Rivers are largely narrow minded and bigoted, especially to outsiders; The day after Moiraine saves the lives of the entire village from a Trolloc attack, a mob turns up to try and burn her out, driven by their own xenophobia and fear of that which they don’t understand. Their society is also heavily repressed and regressive in its sex norms and gender relations: the personal lives of everyone are considered public business, and anyone living in a fashion the Women’s Circle deems unsuitable (such as widower and single father Tam al’Thor) is subject to intense pressure to ‘correct’ their ways (remarry and find a mother for Rand). There is also no uniformity in terms of law or government, no codified legal code, and no real public infrastructure (largely the result of the region’s lack of taxes). This is made possible by the geographic isolation and food stability–two factors that insulate the Two Rivers from many of the problems that cause the formation or joining of a nation state. It’s only after the repeated emergence of problems that their existing systems can not handle (Trolloc raids, martial law under the White Cloaks, the Endless Summer, etc) that the Two Rivers folk begin adopting feudalism, and even then it’s not an instantaneous process, as everyone involved must navigate not just how they are going to adopt this alien form of government, but how they are going to make it match to their culture and history as well.

This plays neatly with the societies that, very pointedly, do not adopt feudalism over the course of the series. The Aiel reject the notion entirely, thinking it as barbaric and backward as the Westerlanders think their culture is–and Jordan is very good at showing neither as really right. The Aiel as a society have many strengths the fandom likes to focus on (a commitment to community care, a strong sense of collective responsibility, a flexible social order that is more capable of accounting for non-traditional platonic and romantic relationships, as well as a general lack of repressive sex norms) but this comes at a serious cost as well. The Aiel broadly share the Borderlander’s response of emotional suppression as a way of dealing with the violence of their daily life, as well as serious problems with institutionalized violence, xenophobia, and a lack of respect for individual rights and agency. Of these, the xenophobia is probably the most outright destructive, and is one of the major factors Rand has to account for when leading the Aiel into Cairhien, as well a huge motivating factor in the Shaido going renegade, and many Aiel breaking clan to join them–and even before Rand’s arrival it manifested as killing all outsiders who entered their land, except for Cairhienin, whom they sold as slaves in Shara.

And yet, despite these problems Jordan never really suggests that the Aiel would be better off as town-or-castle dwelling society, and several characters (most notably the Maidens) explicitly reject the idea that they should abandon their culture, values, and history as a response to the revelations at Rhuidean. Charting a unique course forward for the Aiel is one of the most persistent problems that weighs on the Wise Ones throughout the second half of the series, and Aviendha in particular. Unlike many of the feudal states faced with Tarmon Gai’don, the Aiel when confronted with the end of days and the sure knowledge of the destruction of their way of life are mostly disinterested in ignoring, running from, or rejecting that revelation (those that do, defect to the Shaido). Their unique government and cultural structure gives them the necessary flexibility to pivot quickly to facing the reality of the Last Battle, and to focus on both helping the world defeat the Shadow, and what will become of them afterwards. This ironically, leaves them in one of the best positions post-series, as the keepers of the Dragon’s Peace, which will allow them to hold on to many of their core cultural values even as they make the transition to a new way of life, without having to succumb to the pressures to either assimilate into Westlands, or return to their xenophobic isolationism.

The Seafolk provide the other contrast, being a maritime society where the majority of the people spend their time shipboard. Their culture is one of strong self-discipline and control, where rank, experience, and rules are valued heavily, agreements are considered the next thing to sacred, and material prosperity is valued. Though we don’t spend quite as much time with them as the Aiel, we get a good sense of their culture throughout the mid-series. They share the Aiel’s contempt for the feudal ‘shorebound’, but don’t share their xenophobia, instead maintaining strong trade relationships with every nation on navigable water, though outside of the context of those trade relationships, they are at best frosty to non-Seafolk.

They are not society without problems–the implication of their strong anti-corruption and anti-nepotism policies is that it’s a serious issue in their culture, and their lack of a centralized power structure outside of their handful of island homes means that they suffer a similar problem to the likes of Murandy and Altara, where life on one ship might be radically different then life on another, in terms of the justice or treatment you might face, especially as an outsider. But the trade off is that they have more social mobility then basically any other society we see in Randland. Even the Aiel tend to have strongly entrenched and managed circles of power, with little mobility not managed by the Wise Ones or the chiefs. But anyone can rise high in Sea Folk society, to become a leader in their clan, or even Mistress of the Ships or Master of the Blades– and they can fall just as easily, for shows of incompetence, or failures to execute their duties.

They are also another society who is able to adapt to circumstances of Tamon Gai’don relatively painlessly, having a very effective plan in place to deal with the fallout and realities of the Last Battle. The execution gets tripped up frequently by various factors, but again, I don’t think it’s a mistake that they are one of the groups that comes out the other side of the Last Battle in a strong position, especially given the need that will now exist to move supplies and personnel for rebuilding post-Last Battle. The Seafolk have already begun working out embassies in every nation on navigable water, an important step to modernizing national relationships.

How does all this relate to feudalism and class? It’s Jordan digging into a fundamental truth about the world and people–at no point in our own history have we ever found a truly ‘perfect’ model for society. That’s something he’s constantly trying to show with feudalism–it is neither an ideal nor an abomination, it just is. Conversely, the Two Rivers, Aiel, Seafolk, and Ogier (who I don’t get into to much here for space, but who also have their own big problems with suffrage and independence, and their virtues in terms of environmental stability and social harmony) all exist in largely classes societies, but that doesn't exempt them from having problems or make them a utopia, and it certainly doesn't make them lesser or backwards either–Jordan expends a lot of energy to show them as complex, nuanced and flawed, in the same way he does for his pseudo-Europe.

Conclusion

To restate my premise: one of Jordan’s profound gifts as a writer is his capacity to set aside his own biases and write anything from his villains to his world with an honest, empathetic cast that defies simplification. Feudalism and monarchy more generally have a bad rep in our society, for good reasons. But I think either whitewashing or vilifying the feudal system is a mistake, which Jordan’s writing naturally reflects. Jordan is good at asking complicating questions of simple premises. He presents you with the Kingdom of Andor, prosperous and vast and under the rule of a regal much loved Queen and he asks ‘where does its wealth come from? How does it maintain law and order? How does the Queen exert influence and maintain her rule even in far-flung corners of the realm? How did she come to power in the first place and does that have an impact on the politics surrounding her current reign?’. And he does this with every country, every corner of his world–shining interesting lights on familiar tropes, and exploring the humanity of these grand ideas in a way that feels very real as a result.

The question of, is this an inherently just system is never really raised because it’s a simplifying question, not a complicating one. Whatever you answer–yes or no–does not add to the depiction of these systems or the people within them, it takes away. You make someone flat–be it a glorious just revolutionary opposing a cackling wicked King, or a virtuous and dutiful King suppressing dangerous radical dissidents, and you make the world flatter as a result.

I often think about how, when I began studying European history, I was shocked to learn that the majority of the royalists who rose up against the Jacobins were provincial peasants, marching against what they perceived to be disgruntled, greedy academic and financial elites. These were, after all, the same people that the Jacobins’ revolution claimed to serve and be doing the will of. Many of the French aristocrats were undeniably corrupt, indolent, and detached from their subjects, but when you look closer at the motives of many of the Jacobins you discover that motives were frequently more complex then history tends to remember or their propaganda tried to claim, and many were bitterly divided against each other on matters of tactics, or ideals, or simple personality difference. The simple version of the French Revolution assigns all the blame to the likes of Robespierre going mad with power, and losing sight of the revolutions’ higher ideals, but the truth was the Jacobins could never properly agree on many of their supposed core ideals, and Robespierre, while powerful, was still one voice in a Republic–and every person executed by guillotine was decreed guilty by a majority vote.

This is the sort of nuance lost so often in fantasy stories, but not in Jordan’s books. The story could be simpler–Morgase could just be a just and good high Queen archetype who is driven by love of her people, but Jordan depicts her from the beginning as human–with virtues and flaws, doing the best she can in the word she has found herself. Trying to be a just and good Queen and often succeeding, and sometimes falling short of the mark. The Tairen and Cairhienin nobility could just all be greedy, corrupt, out-of-touch monsters who cannot care for anything beyond their own pleasures–but for every Laman, Weairamon, or Colavaere, you have Dobraine, Moiraine, or Darlin. And that is one of the core tenets of Jordan’s storytelling: that there is no system wholly without merit or completely without flaw, and no group of people is ever wholly good or evil.

By taking this approach, Jordan’s story feels real. None of his characters or world come across like caricature or parody. The heinous acts are sharper and more distinct, the heroic choices more earned and powerful. Nothing is assumed–not the divine right of kings, or the glorious virtue of the common man. This, combined with a willingness to draw on the real complex histories of our own world, and work through how the unique quirks of fantasy impact them, is what renders The Wheel Of Time such a standout as a fantasy series, past even more classic seminal examples of the genre, and why its themes of class, duty, power, and politics resonate with its modern audiences.

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racefortheironthrone · 1 year

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What differs a Bronze Age Monarchy from a Feudal or Modern State Monarchy? For whatever reson I have always been given the impression that Bronze Age Monarchy is the ancient version of either the former or the later, but that does not sound right.

Yeah, that would be a major misconception.

Bronze Age monarchies:

were far more centralized than medieval monarchies, with large, year-round palace complexes that functioned not just as fortresses but also as judicial centers, religious centers, storehouses, state planning apparati, and so on. To operate all these various functions, they employed a large bureaucracy that had, if not a monopoly, something of an oligopoly, on literacy, numeracy, and higher learning.

were highly involved in planning the economy, from organizing irrigation and other labor-intensive farming practices to keeping detailed records on production and taxation to coordinating the complex network of international trade that regulated the flow of both key commodities like tin but also luxury goods.

had more of a monopoly on military force, especially when it came to elite units like chariots. Training an archer and a driver to work in unison with a team of horses specifically bred to the task and custom chariots was a long and expensive process that only a monarch could provide the necessary surplus food and other resources for.

were not Christian. I can't stress enough how important this was as a structural force - Bronze Age monarchs did not have to deal with a large, European-wide, literate bureaucracy, with immense cultural power, that owned more land than they did. This isn't to say that there was no interaction between the temples and the state - I've talked recently about the tendency of Bronze Age monarchs to either be god-kings or priest-kings - but that the terms of interaction between the two much more heavily favored the state.

By contrast, medieval monarchies - and I'm aware that the term is something of a moving target, because what it meant to be a king in CE 600 is very different from what it means in CE 1100 or CE 1600 - were:

decentralized. They had small, peripatetic courts, and initially almost no bureaucracy. Governing power was much more broadly distributed down to the regional and local level through feudal contracts, and it was a long and very fraught process for the monarchs to gradually wrestle that power back.

much less engaged in the economy. Aside from tariffs and monetary policy, which is important, you don't really see medieval monarchs telling peasants when to plow and which fields (outside of the monarch's own personal fiefs), because that was an interference with the decentralized manorial system. You see fewer and smaller building projects, in no small part because the monarch usually couldn't afford to do them.

had less of a monopoly on violence. While the feudal exchange was supposed to give kings military service in exchange for land, in practice feudal levies could be slow to form, quick to disperse, and very fractious about their terms of service. This meant in practice that the nobility could exercise more hard power than their nominal overlords, which is why noble revolts were a common feature. Similarly, it took a long time for the monarchs to establish the necessary fiscal architecture for assembling professional armies and then eventually turning those professional armies into standing armies and then eventually turning those armies against the nobility - and by that point, we're not really talking about the Medieval period any more.

were Christian. And while there could certainly be exceptions of Emperors who picked Popes (instead of the other way around) or kings who could weirdly judo-flip their piety into Galician-style control of their national church, over time the pendulum definitely swung in favor of the Church having more power than any one monarch. They were wealthy, their wealth tended to grow over time because they were a corporate institution that invested their profits back into the company, they had huge amounts of cultural power, they had huge amounts of political power, and so on.

#history #ancient history #medieval history #comparative government #bronze age #monarchy #feudalism

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gwenllian-in-the-abbey · 1 month

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Sorry if that's already been asked but what do you think about the "King's word is the law" in hotd/dance discourse? I'm not sure where that even came from and for me there is 0 evidence that suggests it's true

Hi anon, excellent question! Sorry it took me so long to reply, this got a bit long! This is actually something that comes up a lot when I teach feudalism to my high school students. I've found that most people in general do not know the difference between feudalism and absolutism, and conceive of all kingship as a form of tyranny. And compared to most modern systems of government, of course feudalism and absolutism are both oppressive and restrictive, so the difference can feel a bit like splitting hairs. Neither system gives the the common people any real voice, but the difference is that feudalism is a system with a relatively weak monarchy that has to, both directly and indirectly, answer to both the church and to his vassals. But Westeros, even under the Targaryens, even with the dragons, is not, strictly peaking, an absolute monarchy but rather a feudal monarchy.

Broadly speaking, in a feudal system "the king's word is law" is only true insofar as the king can enforce that law, and to enforce his laws he needs the support of his vassals, the landholders who supply him with his armies and revenues. The feudal relationship between the king and his vassals looks roughly like this (this is the actual diagram we use in my world history curriculum):

Notice how the relationships are all reciprocal? The king might technically own all the land in the realm, but he has no standing army of his own. Knights pledge their service to the lords, rather than the king (he will have some knights in his personal service too, but not nearly enough to make war). It is in the king's best interest to keep his vassals happy. He needs them! They help him keep other unruly vassals in check, help defend against foreign invasion, and help him wage his own wars of expansion. They also provide the crown with revenue in the form of taxes, and their farmlands are what provide food for the people of the realm. In Westeros in particular, the royal family does not hold much land of its own (the land held by the royal family is called the royal demesne and the Targaryen royal demesne is very small compared to that of irl kings), so it's particularly dependent on the support of the vassalage. This makes it a relatively weak feudal monarchy, all things considered.

(also, notice the bishop up there with the lords? Usually, he would usually be appointed by the king with the approval of the pope, but the question of whether or not church officials were subjects of the king and subject to the king's laws was a huge point of contention hat caused many power struggles in medieval monarchies, and there was a whole separate court system, the ecclesiastical court, to deal with the crimes of court officials)

Anyway, a feudal king who just does whatever he wants without regard for his vassals will quickly find himself being named a tyrant, and the accusation of tyranny is a serious one in a feudal system, because vassals will rebel rather than serve a tyrant. Rebellions were not usually done with the goal of overthrowing the king completely, they were done in order to pressure the king into listening to their demands. We saw this happen with King John, whose barons were unhappy for a number of reasons including what they saw as avaricious economic policies, costly wars with France, increased royal interference in local administration of justice, and conflicts between the king and the church. Eventually, John's barons pressured him into signing the Magna Carta, a document that specifically limited the power of the king and stated outright that the king was not above the law and that the king could not impose new laws without the consent of the lords. John later repudiated this document, which led to further rebellions, and his son and heir Henry III had to reaffirm it after his death (and a series of rebellions still plagued Henry III). Eventually, this leads to a formalization of the idea that the king must not act without the consent of his lords and the creation of parliament.

Now, we never see a Westerosi Magna Carta or the creation of a set parliament, there is the small council and the occasional great council, and lords can and do object to the king's laws, force concessions, and remove kings. Notably, Robert's rebellion in the main series is an example of vassals losing faith in their king and eventually removing him. Aegon V cannot push his reforms through because he lacks the support of the lords, and in his desperation tries to bring back the dragons. But if we look back, even dragonriding Targaryens could not simply impose their will without the cooperation of the realm's lords. Aenys was considered weak and his rule was beset by rebellions, eventually coming to a head when he arranged an incestuous marriage for his heir, this after the Faith was already displeased with his brother's polygamous marriage. This led to Aenys being known as known as King Abomination and the Faith Militant uprising forced him to flee to Dragonstone. Maegor, who followed him, is ousted (and killed) as a tyrant for going further than that, suppressing the faith and committing kinslaying against his nephew. What makes Jaehaerys' rule notable and successful is that he's very good at appeasing the lords and when he is going to do something controversial, like the Doctrine of Exceptionalism or changing the succession, he campaigns and politicks for their support (I maintain that he knew Viserys being picked at the council was a forgone conclusion, but he did not want to unilaterally go against Andal custom without consulting his lords, it's a CYA move). This is something Viserys completely fails to do, not only failing to drum up support for his unconventional choice of heir, but actively alienating potential supporters.

It's worth keeping in mind that "law" means something different in this context than what many of us are used to today. Medieval law, and Westerosi law, was a hodgepodge of custom, statute, and precedent. Westeros, like England, operates on "common law." Successions are disputed all the time because competing claims exist. If Viserys named Mushroom heir, is his word law? What if he names Helaena? Jace? And in a normal situation, if it wasn't the succession of the throne in question the rival claimants would present their petitions, citing evidence and precedent, and the master of law, magistrate, or the king would make a ruling. The will of the lords is especially required to enforce an unconventional royal succession because succession takes place after the king is dead, and so if the succession is disputed, the claimants and the lords of the realm have to settle the dispute, nonviolently if possible, or else civil war will follow.

And you can get the lords behind an unconventional succession, but you have to have a good reason. "She's my favorite child from my favorite wife" is not actually good enough. For instance, when Robb chooses to legitimize Jon and disinherit Sansa in order to keep Winterfell out of Lannister hands, this is widely accepted among his vassals and allies because the reasoning is sound. Jon may be a bastard, but it would be worse for everyone to have Winterfell pass to a Lannister, even if it's shitty for Sansa. By the same logic, initially, Rhaenyra is accepted as heir because the lords do not want Daemon on the throne (the man she is now married to!). But after Aegon is born most assumed he would naturally become his father's heir. And remember, there's no reason for Alicent to marry Viserys if he cannot even ensure he inheritance of his own firstborn son. And Viserys never builds a case for Rhaenyra while he is alive, never tries to present Aegon as unworthy, he never has the lords come reaffirm their oaths, never writes a decree to formalize Westerosi succession. He doesn't take action because he knows he would not achieve anything near consensus (despite certain houses choosing Rhaenyra when it comes to war, it's doubtful they would have made the same choice if it had been a great council), so instead of dealing with the problem, he passes it on to his children.

I think it's fair to view the challenge to Rhaenyra's succession as an objection to what some see as tyranny on the part of the king. Viserys and Rhaenyra set themselves above the law in multiple ways-- not just jumping ahead of a son in the line of succession, but the way she has destabilized her own rule by placing bastards in her line of succession. What they are doing defies all precedent, and in a world where law is built in large part from precedent, this is not something the lords of the realm are obligated to accept.

#asks #the king's word is law #or is it #feudalism #anti team black #team green #anti viserys i targaryen

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unhelpfulfemme · 7 months

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More random Captive Prince thoughts, because I feel like being a sadist to all of my mutuals these books are living rent-free in my head right now. These ones are more about the plot and the worldbuilding.

Worldbuilding-wise, I loved the attention to detail, because as far as I could tell all the little details of how a medieval-ish army functions and how you would run it and what you would do with the horses and the supplies and the roads etc. etc. were pretty accurate. I mean, these books are by no means a treatise on warfare (in fact they can be delightfully pulpy, which I liked - I grew up on The Three Musketeers and the Scarlet Pimpernell and similar swashbuckling novels, and I got some of the same feelings here!), but there were details in there that most other authors don't bother to put in or inadvertently fuck up (I love ASOIAF to death but historically accurate it is not), and most of the military stuff seemed plausible enough as well, though again not described in too much detail so you can fill it in with your own assumptions or skim over if it's not something that particularly interests you. And I also loved the architectural details and could imagine everything quite well, but again, as I said previously, this may be because the author spent some time living near where I live so we've seen a lot of the same stuff probably.

Actually when I was first reading it and thinking it was going to be bad I was reading it exclusively for the architectural details lol, I was like yeah, yeah, they're all sucking each other off, but Damen please tell me again how you feel about the tiling?

What I also particularly liked is how the... scale of the conflict I guess? was refreshingly accurate for the "historical period".

The worldbuilding is a mashup of Ancient Greece and medieval France, but what it really felt like to me is a world where the Roman Empire never really consolidated to the extent that it did in our world and Italy went on into the middle ages (because these are decidedly feudal systems) with Cisalpine Gaul having the, well, Gallic culture, while the South had a Greek one. I may be thinking this because I live in Italy and so everything reminds me of Italy, but once I thought of it I couldn't unsee it.

I guess I gotta put in a cut somewhere and now's as good of a time as any?

But anyway, back to the scale of the conflict, the actual middle ages were filled with small and mid-sized countries, and petty local conflicts with family members turning onto each other over succession and stuff, and random small territories going back and forth (well, that's just Europe in general, always, TBH), and this is how it all felt like to me. Actual medieval history has a guy who started a rebellion because his brothers threw a pisspot at him and his father did nothing about it and he felt humiliated, and the war was secretly funded by his mother, so the combination of the small scale with a random local conflict that probably literally nobody cares about outside of the region we are in + everything being so intensely driven by interpersonal drama between insane people felt really authentic to me, like the kind of weird historical moment that would get turned into a funny Tumblr post. And of course the royals did a lot more sneaking around than was probably smart, but I can forgive that for the swashbuckling vibes and also because if Cleopatra could sneak into a palace in a carpet these guys can do whatever they want in my book.

Speaking of the petty interpersonal drama, I also liked the emphasis on how in this system personal reputation and the performance of kingship are king. Usually when you have a heavily political story it's much more based on the quid-pro-quo, "rational actor" kind of politics, but medieval politics also had a lot more going on in the cultural sense (and so do modern politics actually but at least pretending to be a "rational actor" IS the modern performance of leadership), and here you had people dealing political blows through meticulous management of their own and others' political reputations, which was fun to see, especially in combination with so many manipulative bastard characters. Like, how Laurent is manipulated into going to the border just because looking like a coward will lose him more political points than he can afford, and Damen's continued wearing of the slave cuff and instistence on not being served by slaves initially deals massive blows to his reputation, because these are cultures that value heroism, of one sort or another.

(And speaking of heroism, the emphasis on the physical activity-related activities that are the centerpiece of noble life in both countries were wonderful, especially since because both Ancient Greece and the European Middle Ages were really into that in their respective ways and it makes the mashup feel really well-done and coherent in how she tied it together.)

What's notable is a lack of any kind of religion, which felt particularly glaring during the whole Kingsmeet thing - in the real world there would likely be a belief in some kinda curse from the Gods or something similar to discourage the drawing of weapons, but since I'm not really religious and tend not to personally care about religion (while ofc recognizing its anthropological importance) I really didn't care and it didn't diminish my enjoyment of the series.

Still, I do have to say that the ending of the last book felt reeeeaally rushed, and that felt really glaring exactly because the rest of the series had such amazing detail work and excellent pacing and very gradual plot development.

I didn't get the part with the doctor and the letter (why didn't he say anything earlier? how would they verify the authenticity of the letter? Did anyone even have the time to READ the thing?) but I'm gonna be honest with you here, I read book 3 under a heavy fever and it was like 2 AM when I got to that part, so I'm not sure that I haven't missed something that makes it make more sense.

BUT even if that part makes sense, I feel like the Regent was dealt with far too quickly. Like in one paragraph he is in control of everything, in the next they've already beheaded him and that's it. I can imagine in my head that a lot of the nobles were probably already sick of him and took little convincing, that they were disapproving both of his meddling in foreign politics and of his likely grave breach of cultural rules via taking an aristo kid as a pet, or that he initially rationally seemed a better choice over Laurent until Laurent proved himself to be more competent and with a more competent ally, or they already had some hints about what happened that the audience didn't and the evidence confirmed what was inconclusive before.

But I feel like in a series that spends so much time detailing the shifting alliances between the characters and the public's opinion on everyone that matters? I really needed to be sold on it a bit more. Like I really needed some discussion over what to do with the Regent, I needed them to keep him in a cell for a while as they decided whether to kill him (and have the leads scared that the Regent will turn them over as Laurent often does to people), I needed them to consider the evidence just a little bit more, I needed some post mortem with the council members where they explain what was happening on their side of the things. It needed to be MUCH longer and more detailed.

Another thing I wondered at was why the Regent was so insistent to paint Laurent's collaborations with the Akielons as a bad thing when he was... also collaborating with the Akielons? Like he is foaming at the mouth calling them barbarians and accusing Laurent of sleeping with the prince-killer but it feels more like setup for Damen's big declaration of love than an actual political strategy because my brother in Christ, you are literally in the Akielon royal palace, in the middle of Akielos to which you ran after your nephew started a rebellion, with the Akielon king sitting next to you as your equal. Why do you think that you can convince your people that YOUR Vere-Akielos alliance is somehow more morally pure than Laurent's? This was also the right moment to pull out all the patricide allegations that seemed to be going around for Damen, but IIRC he didn't use that as much as he could if at all.

Since there were some Akielons in the room as well, I was also wondering WTF was Kastor doing as the Regent was shitting on his country and calling them barbarians and making it like allying with them is a grave transgression? Why was HE allowing this humiliation? It felt like a very unpolitical thing to do from a character whose strength was in his political acumen (obviously meaning the Regent, not Kastor) and the plot just let it slide by.

I feel like a lot of this is due to this being the first time that the story had to fit within the constraints of a traditional book? So it needed a decisive traditional climax and perhaps it was getting too long for a traditional format, or the author got a bit tired of it and wanted to wind it up now that she wasn't getting regular feedback as you do with serialized publishing, or she prioritized emotional impact over plot logic.

I don't know. I still think they're great books, and the conclusion was emotionally satisfying in the sense that the psychological and interpersonal threads were wrapped up impeccably, I just wanted more detail on the political side. It's still grabbed me like nothing else did for a long time, I can take a mid ending, half of my favourite series will never have one at all because the author wrote themselves into a corner and then died lol.

#captive prince #this one's a plot and worldbuilding analysis #I just have so many things to say I'm sorry ._.#they really scratched an itch #RIP to everyone who followed me for anything else (so basically everyone)

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lemonhemlock · 4 months

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i get what you’re saying but i get what dany stans are saying too, what is the difference between dany taking back kl and sansa taking back winterfell? at the end of the day, monarchy sucks and none of these characters are truly "worthy"

I approached this topic more in-depth here and here.

The difference between Dany taking back King's Landing and Sansa taking back Winterfell lies in the construction of legitimacy. When engaging with medieval fantasy, rejecting its political framework and ignoring its limitations in absorbing more egalitarian ideology (and the socio-technological constraints that inform those political/philosophical limitations) is going to prove a fruitless pursuit. Westeros is roughly based on feudal Europe and has a recognizable European political thought inheritance and recognizable medieval technology and means, so I think it would be reasonable to employ political philosophy that could be plausibly applied during the period from which it takes inspiration.

~unnecessarily long essay no one asked for below~

In this regard, what makes for a "worthy" ruler in medieval times might differ with the passage of centuries, as socio-political practices transform. Which is why I feel like the validity of monarchy as a form of government was never truly under question in this setting, even though it has certainly been criticised and points have been made about social injustices arising from wealth disparities and the segregation of social spheres (I hesitate to call them social classes as I don't think the Westerosi have developed class consciousness yet).

I think that this is ultimately an element of disappointment for some readers, who are trying to project onto the text something that is not there, instead of switching to progressive fiction that addresses their concerns and presents alternative political systems. What I mean to say is that dismissing all types of monarchy as illegitimate is not useful within the text, as it renders all differences between the characters null & ignores the entire historical evolution of the concept of legitimacy. So you end up with takes like "it doesn't really matter who sits the throne". It matters very much to Martin, because that is the type of story he is trying to tell, that's... the entire point of the series. He is a boomer writing about dragons and knights in the 90s, not a transformative political thinker who is going to smack us with a new social order at the end of the series. That doesn't mean he can't critique the system or the characters' approaches to ruling. That's why he keeps killing the unfit kings & punishing those who rely on wanton brutality.

Coming back to the question, Dany's family was deposed, meaning that, legally-speaking, she doesn't have any "birthright" to the throne of Westeros anymore, no matter what she tells herself. Is deposition legal? John Locke certainly thought so in his Second Treatise of Government, chapters "Of Tyranny" and "Of The Dissolution of Government". Below we have Jean-Jacques Rousseau, "Discourse on Inequality":

OK, these are Enlightenment thinkers, but the concept was not new. The Magna Carta of 1215 certainly has a provision for this. That's medieval enough, I feel.

(Ralph V. Turner, "Magna Carta Through the Ages", Harlow, Pearson Longman, 2003 - the original article was too long lol but anyone can look it up for themselves).

Thomas Aquinas, "Summa Theologica", 1274:

etc.

You will find these ideas under the term "right of revolution".

Many medieval kings IRL have been deposed or lost their crown. Richard II, anyone? There's an entire play about it. So, yes, Robert Baratheon is the legal king of Westeros at the start of AGOT and Viserys / Daenerys simply are not. There is no birthright to speak of, that is just Dany's entitlement that goes unchecked and unquestioned.

Of course, crowns can be won back by the right of conquest, which is what Dany is trying to do. GRRM's plan for her seems to either be rejected by the people of King's Landing for whatever reason (a la Rhaenyra maybe) or for her to commit such an atrocity on the city in her attempt to seize it that it disqualifies her as a potential ruler because she breaks the normal rules of engagement to a horrifying degree (i.e. dragonflame). Dany's entire plan is questionable from the start, since she intends to mount an invasion on a people brutalised by several years of war already, on the onset of winter - essentially extra suffering. The conditions are there so that the Westerosi might not interpret her actions as liberation, but merely as another pretender to the throne, who is only after her personal betterment - basically no different from what they've seen before, so no reason to join her cause or believe in her propaganda. She will bring fire-breathing monsters, Dothraki and Unsullied warriors to their lands, whom they fear and for whom they have no kinship. They have no particular attachment to the old Targaryen kings either. In short, Dany's father was deposed and she will end up deposed herself because of her own actions (or never recognised in the first place). I'm not saying this because I have beef with Daenerys, she is not a real person who did me wrong, she is a fictional character the author is using to illustrate a political idea.

Whereas the people of the North maintain a very favourable view of the Starks and of Ned Stark in particular. They are seen as the legitimate rulers of the North and their replacements (the Boltons) are almost universally hated. The text is littered with "the North remembers" and "there must always be a Stark in Winterfell" and general Stark-fawning. The people of the North were very eager to name Ned Stark's son as their king. The people of the Night's Watch voted for Ned Stark's 15-year-old bastard as their leader. Ramsay Bolton pretends to marry Arya Stark to consolidate his legitimacy as the ruler of Winterfell and the North. Many other characters covet Sansa for the same reason. The Starks have not been deposed, unlike the Targaryens, they're just missing / presumed dead and Winterfell is up for grabs. None of our Northern characters think how lovely it would be if we had a Targaryen restauration. These things may seem like candy floss to the modern reader and they may not resonate, but they mattered a lot in the past. So when Sansa takes back Winterfell, it will be with the backing of the majority of the Northern population and with the help of the Knights of the Vale, who are seen as honourable and are of Andal descent, so will not be perceived as foreign invaders. No one in the North will be contemplating their right-to-revolution against the Starks, because they will be revolting alongside Sansa to free themselves from the abusive Bolton rule.

Sansa rebuilds Winterfell out of snow and thinks of it warmly as her home, feels kinship and connection with the place she grew up in, whereas Daenerys feels possessive over a land she's never seen and wants to take it with "fire and blood". True, these are not actions, not crimes for Dany and neither acts of benevolence for Sansa. They haven't done anything yet. But they are images. Framing. Hints. That's how literature works.

Could Dany be given a narrative of Westerosi restauration? Could GRRM write her as gaining popular support and as not breaking the social contract while installing herself back on the throne? Had only Book 1 been published, these questions would have had more validity. But after Book 5? Not when Martin frames her like that and literally kicks her out of the city she conquered.

#not me writing a whole ass paper on this LOL #🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️#ask #anon #asoiaf #grrm #asoiaf endgame #anti daenerys targaryen #sansa stark

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finnlongman · 11 months

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Keep thinking about that one KJ Charles interview where she's talking about the challenges of being a historical romance novelist when you sort of believe the whole aristocracy should've been executed, and the delicate balancing act of writing historically accurate and interesting characters who don't have awful politics and values. And, crucially, she challenged the typical rich love interest idea by asking, "But where does the money come from?"

Once you think about it, you can't stop thinking about it. Every historical romance I read now, I can tell whether the author has thought about it. Sometimes they've thought about it but tried not to deal with it and hoped we wouldn't notice that the rich aristocrat probably owns a plantation. Sometimes they've actually dealt with it. And sometimes they have not considered it and It Shows.

But I also don't want historical novels where characters have modern sensibilities! I want them to feel historical... I just also want the "desirable" characters to not be, you know, involved in the slave trade or whatever, because that seriously undermines everything the book is doing to make them seem attractive. (One does not generally read this flavour of historical romance for morally grey antiheroes, and even if you did, that would be a fairly tasteless way of developing such a character, imo.)

I really enjoyed a detail in one of Cat Sebastian's books where the love interest is a Quaker, and he refuses dessert because he's boycotting sugar. It's a way of signalling to us that this character has particular values, but one that's rooted in the historical context and doesn't feel like a modern character wearing period clothing. His Quakerism also influences a few other details – his use of first names rather than titles, for example – but it's not a major plot point and he's no intense political campaigner. It's just one facet of his character, and one that made me like him more.

This sort of thing becomes a problem, too, with medieval settings and retellings and anything where you start having to deal with kings. A king of some tiny little pseudohistorical country whose major concerns revolve around not getting invaded and ensuring his people survive the winter is a very different prospect from a king intent on conquering his neighbours and expanding his glorious kingdom, of course. Still a king, though. What do you do with that, if you're someone who doesn't approve of kings?

I ran into this problem with a book I was working on a few years back, and it's one of the reasons I shelved it. I was trying to write a book about community and friendship. I was also trying to write an Arthurian retelling. And while a brotherhood of knights is a great starting point for a story about community and friendship, in order to have knights, you need to have a king for them to pledge fealty to. Problematic. My Arthur figure did not believe in hierarchy, but the story demanded that he perpetuated one anyway, because it was baked into the building blocks of story I was using to build mine. Eventually I realised I could not write that story as an Arthurian retelling without stripping it of everything recognisably Arthurian, and set it aside to be remade into something else.

I still think about this, though. I think about my Bisclavret retelling, which by necessity has a king in it. Bisclavret is a story about feudal loyalty, about oaths, about hierarchies. Take that away and you no longer have Bisclavret; it is a story that cannot exist without a king for the knight-wolf to be loyal to. Does that mean that as a story it always inherently supports a monarchist ideal, though? Or is its portrayal of kingship (a relationship that is, crucially, reciprocal) sufficiently detached from colonialist systems of monarchy to be distinct from those?

What systems and ideals form the assumptions a story is rested on? What happens once you start to question them? Can you still tell the same stories once you ask where the money comes from, or why the king is owed loyalty? Or does there come a point where you realise there are ideas woven into the very fabric of those narratives that you can't see past?

I don't have answers. I'm just thinking aloud. Thinking about having written a book with a king who isn't the bad guy, and what that means when I approve of neither kings nor hierarchies in general. Thinking about writing the past with the eyes of the present. Thinking about the unexamined assumptions in so many historical novels I've read, and how it feels as a reader not to be able to stop examining them.

(I have also read a number of contemporary romance novels where, after working my way through half an author's backlist, I've been forced to acknowledge that despite everything, the author does in fact think rich people are inherently attractive. Not sure what the solution to that one is, but it's certainly a different, if related, problem.)

#writing #historical fiction #historical romance #kj charles

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rangercorpstherapy · 10 days

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ok weird question, but like, virginity in these books?? it's the medieval period so it was customary and expected (and scandalous if you don't) to save yourself till marriage but like, Commandant Crowley Meratyn gives off major 'guy who fucks' energy so I supposed that it's just irrelevant??

also Halt and Pauline had sexual tension for 15 fuckin years, and Will and Alyss dated for 7 years, and Gilan and Jenny dated for-- my god they're STILL dating.

someone explain

the view on virginity and sexuality differs between the Early Middle Ages and Late Middle Ages, it also depends on if the subject is nobility or not.

At the start of the Middle Ages, there wasn't as much sexual freedom as nowadays but there was certainly much less taboo on the topic. People were still connected with their old traditions and ways even though they were introduced to/and or practising Christianity. There wasn't as much of a pearl-clutching 'oh no an ankle' sex fear in the Middle Ages as people think. Yes, clergy swore oaths of celibacy and nobility were expected to stay chaste (although this expectation rested more on women than on men). For noble families, it was important to be absolutely sure that that was your baby because you couldn't just do a DNA test. Kinda important if you want to keep the family in power and make sure the bloodline continues undisputed.

Back to the pearl-clutching, it was not sex people were afraid of. There was no taboo on nudity (partly because one didn't have much privacy back then) and sex was even a source of public entertainment, for example in plays or on fairs. It was more pregnancy that was the issue. Bastards weren't treated very well along with their mothers (many choosing to leave their children in orphanages), noble bastards were dealt better cards, they could inherit and would often be seen as valuable enough that they could be used in marriage pacts. This period of vague sex is ok just be careful came to a very abrupt end because of reformations in the Church. Remember what I said about clergy having to be celibate...yeah let's just say they were not doing that. To the point of having 'wives' and kids, not even sneakily, they lived with them in a house, like a family. This was an issue from average priest to bishop. One of the many reforms was meant to make sure that calibates were calibating and put stricter measurements in place. Nuns were forced to live more secluded (before they took a very active role in the life around the convent), and convents became closed off for outsiders. Through efforts from the Pope, sex became demonized and women were presented as evil seductresses and the root of all evil evil desire. I don't think it was the same reforms but around the same time all bastards were stripped of any claim to inheritance and even if fathers claimed them they could not be legitimized. Making having bastards/being one even more taboo.

But even with all that were the Middle Ages not the most anti sex period in western history. The idea of "having sex before marriage is the end of the world and God will strike you down and dance upon your remains we are scared to hold hands with the opposite sex" came during the 16th century with the rise of STDS and would continue well into the Victorian era.

Back to the question.

It's hard to say when RA takes place, having some more modern technology but still having many characteristics of the High Middle Ages (lack of agricultural reforms, strong feudal system and a lack of cities). I am guessing that when RA took place it was around the same time the reforms were spreading (give or take a few decades maybe).

So to finally answer the question:

Crowley is saving himself for nobody, fucked till his heart gave out that's why he died with a smile on his face. Front-row seats to those sex plays at fairs. Always complaining about the good ol' days when you could get laid without some guy in robes and a hat having an opinion about it. Also, he's gay so it's not like he has to worry about populating Araluen with many handsome redhead babies (although he is a bit disappointed he can't be of service in that aspect of course).

Alyss and Will (all the ward kids for that matter) are sooo bastards to me. Bullied by the other kids you say??? Needing special protection or else they would have no one in the world you say??? People knowing they fornicated in the vineyard would not make their reps worse. Those bitches did NOT care, they fucked around day and night and would just get shotgun married if it was necessary. What is anyone going to do? How dare you and your scary wizard boyfriend part of an elite scary people group whom we are all collectively deeply afraid of have sex!

Halt was heir to the throne and probably had some speeches about how not to waste his royal seed on just anyone, to be careful and was so culture-shocked meeting Crowley and Pauline that he needed 15 years to recover.

#“therapist how do you know all thi-”#shhh don't ask #im had to stop myself from saying more because it was getting to long #hope this answers the question (probably doesn't)#rangercorpstherapy #ranger’s apprentice #rangers apprentice

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whumpninja · 19 days

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Ask Me About…Medieval Fantasy Whump!

Hear ye, hear ye! By order of His/Their Majesty Jack Ninja, the good people of Whumpcommunityshire shall be bestowed with ye olde medieval fantasy ask game, handcrafted to match this most illustrious genre. Any and all whump blogs are hereby royally invited to reblog! Foresooth and alas, and so on!

Okay, that’s enough of that. Here’s the second game for this project…three days late, but who’s counting? I’m taking suggestions for next week’s- while this Friday’s is decided, after it goes up I’m going to start doing polls to pick the next genre. So if you have an idea, send it in! Major genres only please, don’t get too specific- save that for the custom ask games! Which are still going up. Eventually.

Warning: these are whumpy questions, so they involve some dark content! Torture, weapons, et cetera.

Taglist: @sleepyiswhumping

QUESTIONS FOR WHUMPEE

🥘- what’s your favorite meal in your medieval world? How long has it been since you had it?

👑- what do you think of the current ruler? If you are the current monarch, what do you think of the common folk?

⛓️- have you ever been locked in a dungeon/put in the stocks/undergone medieval torture/some other historical type of punishment?

🦄- have you ever seen a wondrous beast (unicorn, dragon, griffin, etc.)? If you haven’t (or if your world doesn’t have them) which one would you like to see one day?

🧚- have you ever been hurt with magic?

🍻- do you have friends or family still alive? How long has it been since you’ve seen them?

🧜- can you use magic? If not, what would you do if you could?

QUESTIONS FOR WHUMPER

🧪- what’s the worst/your favorite medieval thing you’ve ever done to Whumpee?

🏰- where do you live? A castle? A manor? A townhouse? A shack?

🫅- what class do you fit into in the feudal system? Are you a peasant, a merchant, a member of the clergy, a knight, a noble, or perhaps even royalty?

⚔️- what weapons do you know how to wield?

🔮- what’s your opinion on magic?

🛡️- do you have minions/henchpeople/underlings/an army?

♟️- are you a good strategist?

QUESTIONS FOR CARETAKER

🕯️- how did you rescue/first meet Whumpee?

🧙- do you know any healing magic/spells? If magic doesn’t exist in your world, do you believe in any folk healing practices/old wives’ tales?

🧌- what would you do if you encountered Whumper?

🫖- how do you feel about the rich/the nobility/royalty?

🍞- can you cook? What’s your favorite thing to cook, if you can? If not, what’s your favorite thing to eat? Have you made it for Whumpee yet?

🧝‍♂️- do you have any non-human blood in you? If not, do you know anyone who does? If your world only has humans, what’s your favorite story about mystical creatures?

🏹- do you have any experience with weapons?

#whump #medieval whump #fantasy whump #magic whump #whump ask game #ask me about #jack be whumpy

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the-hole-in-terzos-shoe · 1 year

Text

Premier Amour

Terzo x Fem!Reader

TW: smut, running away, murder, blood, pregnancy

Word Count: 18.4k

Medieval Terzo is finally here!!!! I've been working on this for.... A month now? I've lost track, but I'm stoked to share it with you.

I'm not a historian and also it's just like a fantasy AU so I'm sorry if there's historical inaccuracies, especially around religion, marriage, ceremonies, language, geography, the feudal system, whatevs. I'm no William Shakespeare 😂 just let me have my cliche romance in peace. But if there's anything I can improve, please let me know, I love to learn things ❤️

This is the Terzo I picture for most of the story. And this is one of my Cavaliere Terzo inspo arts!

"What a beautiful pendant," you admire the metal work that the local silver smith has on display in the little bazaar in the middle of town.

"Ah, yes, that's one of my favorites. Beautiful emerald, innit?" the merchant engages with you.

"Sì, it would look bellissima on la signora," a stranger interrupts. You turn to see him, just taller than you, dressed in a black linen cloak, removing the hood from his ear length raven black hair. He looks quite pale to be from Italy, but his accent is too accurate for him not to be. His bare face, clean of facial hair indicates that he might only be a little older than you; his dimples on his cheeks and chin are strong, and he look quite handsome. And his heavy black brows give him a natural scowl over his… mismatched eyes?

Your eyes lock with his, "Yes," you practically whisper, "thank you, sir."

He closes the space between you, his rugged riding boots scraping across the gravel beneath his feet. The mysterious man holds out his hand, and you offer him yours without a second thought. Something about him is so alluring. His eyes flutter closed as he presses his lips to your knuckles, and when they open again, there's something fiery in his gaze. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance, bella mia."

And just like that, he's gone, off into the crowd like nothing happened. You exchange a look with the shop owner, both equally shocked by the encounter. After that, you decide maybe it's time to head back home for the day.

You quickly stop by the local baker's tent to grab a few pastries and fruits for the journey back, but as you walk on the outskirts of the bazaar towards the trail you always take, an arm slips itself under yours, hand gripping tightly against your sensitive skin. Whimpering, you try to pull away from whoever is, when you hear that Italian accent ringing in your ear again, "Don't scream. Act normally if you want to live." His other hand slides around your waist and leads you off the trail and into the trees, deep into the thick of the woods.

"What do you want from me?" You finally question him once out of earshot of the marketplace, fire and frustration building in your belly. Jerking your arm away from him only for his grip to return a second later, he turns you, pinning your back against a tree, making you drop your fabric wrapped goods. "Hey!" you yell at him.

"𝘏𝘶𝘴𝘩!" he commands of you.

"Why should I?!" You attempt to garner anyone's attention.

You hear the unmistakable sound of metal being unsheathed before feeling the cold blade against your throat. It got you to shut up, eyes wide with horror. "You're not who you pretend to be, dolce mia."

"W-what do you mean?" you mutter, his face only inches from yours.

"You traipse around like some common little girl from town, but I see the way you hold yourself: proud, but taught to be like a delicate flower. Exactly the way they want you to be to find a suitor."

"On what grounds do you make these assumptions?" His remark had hit you right where it hurt, as if he could read you like a book, and you were angry again.

"The silk petticoat peaking from under your skirt… Commoners can't afford silk."

You couldn't believe he would talk about your undergarments with such a smug look on his face. "It was a gift! My family saved up for quite some time for it!"

He lowers his eyes to your chest, lewdly raising his eyebrows as his finger traces down the center of your cleavage, hooking on the outer layer of your dress and pulling outward just an inch or two. "Did they save up for the matching corset, too, bella mia?"

You stare at him in shock, wanting to strike him down, but also feeling an unfamiliar kind of heat coiling up inside you. Attempting to push him away with your free hand, he snatches your wrist, hiking it above your head and pinning it to the tree, the knife still pressed against your neck.

"If you're going to try to dress like a commoner, I would suggest making certain your disguise is more… thorough," he says pointedly. "So, who are you then? The daughter of… Hmm, a lord? High up land owner?" He inquisitively watches your body language, knowing you won't admit to anything. "Is daddy a lawyer? No? An ambassador? Politician?"

Nothing from you, only persed lips and furrowed brows.

"Ahhh, dare I say it? I must have some lady of the high court under my steel blade." His joke isn't funny to you, so you just keep staring him down, "Perhaps a handmaiden? No… She wouldn't want to escape. But who would? Someone who's never known anything different than the silver spoon…" It's like he's playing with his dinner before devouring it. "You must be la principessa."

You cut your eyes away from him, and he knows he's got you.

"There she is, la principessa, just wanting a taste of the world around her," he teases you.

"What do you want from me?" You cut your eyes back at him.

"Just one thing," he moves impossibly closer to you. "A kiss… da quella tua dolce bocca." (A kiss… From that sweet mouth of yours.)

His eyes glance down at his prize, and you know there's no stopping him. At first contact, his plump lips are surprisingly soft against yours. He moves slowly, giving you several pecks, not unlike the ones you'd experienced while being chaperoned around with your suitors.

That's when he presses his chin to yours, and your mouths drop open together. You feel his hot breath on your face before his mouth closes around yours possessively, tongue demanding entrance. You let out a soft whimper and your tongue dances with his much more skilled one. The knife drops to the ground and is quickly replaced by his fingers massaging over the skin roughly. His other hand leaves yours to scandalously claw at your waist, urging your body closer to his, and your hand falls from the tree to tangle in the base of his hair. Your other hand explores his firm chest, desperately pushing past his cloak to feel him through less layers.

In a matter of seconds, he's turned you into some sort of harlot, abandoning all of your knowledge from finishing school, making your legs weak as he sucks on your bottom lip. Suddenly, his fingers squeeze around your windpipe, but not in a way that would hurt you, rather it draws a lengthy moan from you.

Feeling intoxicated by his presence and the lack of air, you pull away from him, resting your head in the crook of his neck and leaning against his chest, trying to catch your breath. Both of your hands relax on his warm torso, his arms now wrapped around you protectively. You dare to glance up at him, and you're met with his soft gaze staring down at you, still getting used to that strange white eye.

"Who are you?" you whisper to him.

He chuckles deeply, "Your salvation… But for now, you can call me Terzo."

You aren't sure what that answer meant, but you decide to try out his name on your tongue.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see a silver chain dangling on one of his fingers: the emerald pendant from earlier. You stand up straight, putting a bit of space between your bodies.

"Think of me when you wear it, sì?" He commands more than asks, as he latches the clasp around your neck. Your fingers feel the precious stone on your chest, while Terzo bends down to gather your pastries and his knife.

He hands the tied up package to you and makes a move to walk away.

"Wait-" you stop him. You lean up on your toes and give one one last sweet and lingering kiss. "Will I see you again?"

"Sì, do not worry, tesoro," he places his lips to your forehead then disappears into the woods.

• •

You wake that night after seeing flashes of him in your dreams, and you're warmer than normal. The heat between your legs pools stronger than you've ever felt before. The pulsing of your blood so strong, it almost feels like someone is touching you there.

Squeezing your thighs together, you try to sit up and ignore it, opening your window to let in the cool night air.

"…touch…" It's like a whisper in the wind. Your hand rests at your pelvis, balling your night gown up, fighting the sensation between your legs, like a slow, languid stroke back and forth, just enough to make you want more. But you shouldn't. It's debaucherous to even speak of these things in the little bubble that is the castle you live in, let alone to partake.

Another whisper, "please yourself for me, bella mia…" You must be losing your mind. 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘮 𝘐 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘸?

You look around, seeing everything in your room is as usual, but the aching in your core grows stronger. You feel your blood rapidly filling the area. Ever-so-gently, you grind against the sheet beneath you, and feel immediate relief at the sensation. "Ah…"

You crave more, need it even. Grabbing a pillow and shoving it under your weight; you rock your hips back and forth, toes curling as your fingers come to rest on the emerald pendant once again. You notice it glowing and nearly vibrating with energy.

"Yesss, cara, just like that," you hear him again, intoxicating you.

You rip off your night gown, leaving you bare under the moonlight as you soak the plush fabric that scrapes against your folds.

From his campsite deep in the woods, Terzo sits on his knees in a position similar to yours as his hand works over his hardened member, teasing at his own tip to drag him closer to that precipice he enjoys so much. "Touch yourself, dolce mia, please," he begs into the open air.

Back in your room, you follow his command, fingers diving between folds you'd never explored before. Upon finding a little bundle of nerves that's quite pleasing, you cry out in pleasure. Flicking over the spot again and again has the most euphoric feeling building in your pelvis.

Terzo holds both hands out in front of him, balled up onto fist for his cock to push in and out of, wishing it were you. His jaw hangs slack at the thought. "Will you come for me, tesoro?"

For the first time you address him, unsure if he's able to hear you, unsure if this is even real, "I- I think I am…" Your fingers work faster chasing that feeling higher and higher when crash! You feel the shockwave over take you, your fingers flying from beneath you to brace yourself on the windowsill. "Terzo!!!!" you scream his name out the window as your climax rips through your body for the first time.

Hands pumping fast, Terzo spills his seed all over the ground before him, cock twitching and sending long white streams through the air. He chuckles to himself, as he's pretty sure he heard your scream echo through the woods.

• •

Days passed and he was the only thought on your mind. You were careful to only wear his pendant in the night so no one would question where it came from, but also so whatever 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 was wouldn't happen again in the broad daylight. You weren't completely sure the pendant had anything to do with it, but best to be safe.

Your father, the king, had you meeting with more suitors. You were past the age that you should be married; you should probably even have a couple babes by now, but perhaps you were progressive minded in thinking that you weren't just some livestock to be sold off for breeding.

The more time passed, and the more kisses that you had to share with these boys--Terzo kissed you like a man should, like a lover would--well, they all paled in comparison to it, and frankly you were starting to miss him. Although, no doubt, you feel insane for missing a man that held you at knife point just to give you a kiss… The best kiss of your life.

As you wait in the garden for the next suitor to come along, you figured you'd spend an hour with him, then onto the next--𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘮.

You stare at the man before you like you'd just seen a ghost.

"Ma'am, this is Marquis Lucien Sauveterre," the chaperone announces.

Terzo takes your hand and kisses your knuckles just as he had in the bazaar that day. "C'est un plaisir de faire votre connaissance, ma belle." (Pleasure to make your acquaintance, beautiful.)

Your head is spinning.

"Merci," he hands the chaperone some gold coins, and waves them off.

"What are doing here!!?" you whisper shout at Terzo once the chaperone returns back inside. "𝘓𝘶𝘤𝘪𝘦𝘯 𝘚𝘢𝘶𝘷𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘦…" you mock the fake name you'd been given, rolling your eyes.

That devious smirk pulls at his lips. He was dressed much nicer today, as were you; clearly he was hiding some sort of noble background as well.

"How have you been, mia principessa? Did you enjoy yourself a few nights ago?"

Your eyes dart up to his, and he looks you over as if he knows what you look like naked. 𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴… 𝘐'𝘮 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵.

"Anyway, I won't be bothering you long. I came to deliver a message: there's a big tree with a nice canopy in the middle of a wheat farmer's field not far from here, do you know the one?"

You nod your head; you go there to read sometimes.

"Meet me there tomorrow, sì? I'll be waiting for you." His hand cups your cheek and he kisses you quickly, a tease compared to what you know those lips can do. "I think about you every day, too, cara mia. I can't get you off my mind, but you knew that would happen when you kissed me the way you did," he guilts you with a grin.

"I believe you were the one who kissed me, sir. Held me up with a knife for it," you sass him.

You hear a low groan near your ear followed by, "Let me taste you once more, principessa."

With that, your lips crash into his with a fire to rival your previous encounter.

"Brava ragazza," he compliments you, breathless, "So responsive for me."

You blush at his praises.

"Now, when I leave here, you're to act like you despised me. You want nothing to do with me or my people ever again, sì? And then I'll see you when the sun rises again." He gives you a wink and another kiss on the forehead before leaving you to face more of your stupid suitors.

• •

The next day, you dress in your common clothes again, you hadn't yet acquired a cotton petticoat or linen corset.

You slip out of one of the back gates, letting your handmaiden know you were going to the bazaar again. And heaven knows you don't know what possessed you, but you didn't wear anything except your thigh high stockings under your petticoat.

"How did things go with your papà?" Terzo asks, languidly laid out on his side under your reading tree.

"Well…" you sit next to him crossing your arms and propping them on your knees, feeling the cool breeze rush up your skirt. "No more French suitors," you coyly reply.

He bursts out a short laugh, leaning up to sit closer to you, "Mia principessa was convincing then. Eccellente." Terzo kisses your temple.

"Terzo," you address him directly.

"Hm?"

"Who are you? I know your name, but I don't know anything else. The thought of you drives me wild, don't you think I deserve to know you at least a little bit? You clearly know a lot about me."

"Sì, sì, you are right," he holds your face in his hands, admiring all the little details as if committing them to memory. "I cannot tell you who I am or what I do. You must believe me when I say this is for your own safety."

You think on it for a moment, chewing your lip. "At least tell me something about yourself. Something not many others know."

"Let's see… I like meeting with beautiful women in secret," he giggles and kisses you.

"Terzo…" You search his two toned eyes.

"Okie dokie, tesoro. I like to partake in the company of beautiful people; I don't enjoy waking up alone. I'm sure it's obvious that I'm far away from home, and that's because I'm in search of something to take back with me. And I write music; sometimes you might catch me at the pubs singing for others."

Yes, it was cryptic, but you felt like he was as honest as he could be.

"Hmmm… What's your favorite flower?" you question him.

"White roses."

"And what do you think of before you go to sleep?"

"Home."

"What is home like?"

"Old, but it's full of life," a genuine smile comes to his face at the thought.

"Thank you…" you whisper to him.

"For what, bella mia?"

"Honesty. Your honesty," you lean forward, giving him a chaste kiss.

His fingers weave into your hair, urging you to lean your head back, where he then starts peppering kisses across the soft skin of your jaw and neck. You think kissing him has to be your favorite thing in the world.

Your arms find a cozy spot on his waist so you can let him work on you. Traveling towards your shoulder, Terzo's fingertips slip your sleeve from your shoulder, exposing more skin to him. He leaves a playful nip at the end of your collarbone, earning a squeak from you.

Hands find his shoulder blades, scratching at his black tunic as he lays you back on the grass, hand cradling your head. His legs tangle with yours while his mouth worships the cleavage spilling from your dress.

With your fingers threaded in his raven colored hair, you pull his attention back to you, wanting his mouth on yours. As he situates himself above you, his hand hooks your knee on his hip. When that same hand starts to creep up your thigh under your petticoat, you feel something hard start to press against your pelvis.

Fighting every want in your body, you put a hand on his, stopping him. "We shouldn't…" Embarrassment washes over you. "I just, it's- I'm supposed to be pure for when I get married."

"Cara, you do not owe me an explanation. If you don't want to, then we don't, sì?" He sits you both up, looking you right in the eyes to let you know he means it.

You lean into his chest for a hug, and he pulls you into his lap, leaning back against the large shady tree. "I hate it… The future of my father's kingdom depends on me remaining untouched. All of it for a man I won't want to marry."

"Don't say that, dolcezza, you may meet someone and really love them." He tries to encourage you. "Besides, your virginity shouldn't matter to anyone, especially not some man. It doesn't matter to me."

"It doesn't?"

"No, of course not. It's just some foolish ideal of the Christian church to keep women controlled." You were a little taken aback, surprised at his progressive thinking and at his blatant dismissal of the church that your father was a conduit for.

"Well, I still don't think I'll find any suitor that I love," you look down at his chest, trying to find the words, "not when you're the one who occupies my heart."

"Don't say that, principessa…" he says as if the wind has just been knocked out if his chest. "You deserve someone much nicer than I."

"Nicer? I don't want nice. All of those stupid suitors are nothing but nice! I want passion, the fire that I feel with you, I- I want 𝘺𝘰𝘶. And you make me feel CRAZY for it! I hardly know you, yet you're all I think about. When I wake up in the morning I long for you to be there; when I try to sleep at night, I want you in my arms."

In that moment, he knew he'd found what he'd been searching for, the thing to take home with him: you.

Looking down at the emerald worn proudly on your chest for him, he admits his feelings, "Ti amo, principessa." No one had ever wormed their way into his heart as fast as you had. He still had much to reveal to you, and he couldn't wait to be open with you, but he knew he had to get you somewhere safe before that could happen.

You give him a few short kisses before standing up in front of him. After kicking off your shoes, you work the laces on your dress with expert fingers, loosening them and letting the linen fabric as well as your silk petticoat fall to ground around you.

Terzo stares up at you, drinking in the sight of your soft thighs hugged by the plush white stockings, your bare sex, and the curve of your waist that your corset forced onto you.

"Make love to me," you ask of him, biting your lip.

He stands up on his knees, approaching you to wrap his hands around the back of your thighs, and sucking a lovebite to your hipbone. "I would love nothing more, bella mia."

While looking up at you, he delicately kisses your inner thigh, right next to your core, making sure you're still okay with everything before placing a sloppy open mouthed kiss to your folds.

It's unlike anything you've ever felt before. It's wet and it's hot and it feels like heaven. 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘮𝘢𝘻𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥… Without realizing, your hands tangled in his hair, pulling harshly and drawing a moan from the man beneath you.

"Oh goodness, I'm sorry if I hurt you…" You let go of him.

He opens his eyes to look at you through his lashes, "You're not going to hurt me." He takes your hand and puts it back on his head before going back to work, flicking his tongue happily over your clit.

Within seconds, your legs are shaking from him having total control over the bundle of nerves. "T-Terz-zo…" you stutter out.

He stops what he's doing and takes your hand in his, "Do you need to lie down, amore?"

You nod at him, and he helps you onto your back, but not before spreading his cloak out on the grass for you. Terzo picks your thighs up, squeezing tightly so your feet rest on his back, before getting right back to work. And with his next move, he has you seeing stars. His lips surround your clit and suck on it harshly, making you mewl for him to keep going.

He drops one of your thighs to tease your entrance with a finger, pressing in lightly to test the waters.

"Mmm! More!" you command.

With that, he slides a little deeper, slowly curling his finger over and over again, his mouth still sucking on you in just the right way.

"I- ah, Terzo, I'm-" your face is scrunched with pleasure as your orgasm reaches you.

Terzo can help but think about how fun this will be with you so sensitive as he helps you through it. After a few minutes, he sits up, still keeping that finger in you, working you slowly.

"Ready for another one, tesoro?" he asks.

"Another what?" you inquire innocently. He holds up his free hand and wiggles his digits. "Oh! Um, yes, please."

He slides out, slicking up his second finger and gingerly going back in. "You cum very easily," he states like it's the most casual thing in the world.

Feeling the stretch of his two fingers, you reply, "I do?" Being filled like this is completely foreign to you; it may take some getting used to.

He nods his head with a half smile, "It's cute."

"Oh," you feel heat come to your cheeks, and it's not from lust.

"Don't be ashamed, cara mia. I enjoy making you cum, and I'll make you do it again, and again, and again." He thrusts his fingers in time with his words to make his point.

You whimper at his motions, and he lays down next to you to make out with you yet again. Legs lifting in the air showing how needy you are for his fingers inside you, the feeling of his digits curling has that fire in your belly burn smoldering.

Hungrily, you start to toy with his tunic, needing to see more of him. "Terzo…"

His eyes find yours, the sun peeking through the canopy of the tree catching his pale face so beautifully. His hair is all messed up, falling over his eyes, irises blown wide with lust even in the bright daylight.

You reach out, fumbling with his hardness through his pants. "I need you," you pant out. In your mind, you knew there was no going back after this, but there was no stopping you either. Your desire for him was stronger than anything you'd ever felt.

He pulls his fingers from you, popping them right into his mouth; he wouldn't want to waste it after all. Next, his tunic flies off, pulled over his head hastily, exposing his chest, belly, and shoulders to you. Curious fingertips take in the expanse of skin, only serving to make you want more. He works at the ties on his trousers, fidgeting with the knot.

"Here, let me," you sit up, nimble fingers making quick work of it, just like your dress.

Seeing him lain bare is like a work of art; one that belongs in a museum for centuries to come. The long legs, the curve of his hip as he lays on his side, the hungry look in his eyes…

"Your turn," he whispers before pouncing on you, undoing the snaps on your corset before discarding it. Flipped on your back yet again with your lover atop you, his mouth explores your newly uncovered breasts. "Bellissima…" he grumbles against your chest.

With your legs wrapped around his hips, you pull him down so he's flush against you.

"Impatient, principessa," he kisses a trail up your neck to your jaw, "Always getting what she wants." He kisses you once on the lips, leaving you wanting more, "It will be no different with me; I'll give you everything your heart desires." And with that his lips meet with your again, soft at first before shifting back into the passionate rhythm you normally share.

Fingernails claw at his hips, still in desperate need to feel him inside you. As if reading your mind, his hand guides his hot girth through your slick folds, collecting every drop. He lets out a shaky breath and bites his lip, "Are you ready, tesoro?"

Already keening at the feeling, half from lust and half from anticipation, you nod your head fervently, "Yes! Yes, Terzo."

Not wanting to make you wait another second, he rocks his hips forward in a small motion, just pushing in a tiny bit. Terzo watches your face intently, waiting for any sign that he should stop. Slowly, he pulls back and slides right back in, a little deeper this time, "Bene?" he whispers to you.

"Mm-hmm," you confirm, getting used to the way he fills you.

He kisses your cheek with a hand on your hip to keep you still. As he starts going deeper, your face scrunches up, and he stops instantly, searching your face for what to do next.

"Just stay still for a moment," you caress his cheek, "It feels so good, I just need a moment." You feel his cock twitch inside you, making you realize how much he must be restraining himself to make you comfortable. You nod your head again, "Move," you demand.

Terzo doesn't hesitate, languidly pushing and pulling his hips, not even concerned with trying to go further for fear of hurting you. He lets out a soft groan at the pleasure washing over him.

"Deeper, I want to feel all of you," your hand snakes up between his shoulder blades lightly scratching.

He lifts his eyebrows as if to ask if you're sure, and you nod once again. With that, he adjusts his body to get back on his hands above you and makes sure your legs are properly wrapped around his hips; you even hook your ankles together so you don't go anywhere.

The change in angle alone feels wonderful, but when he thrusts into you solidly one time, you feel him sheath his himself into you fully. You gasp out at feeling his full length, the burn of it quickly melting away as he moves excitedly against you.

He stays on his hands for just a few more pulses of his hips before falling to his elbows so he can caress your form. "How is that, piccolina?"

"S-so good," you stammer.

"Sei così bella," (You look beautiful,) he pants hotly into your ear as his hand glides down the side of your body to grip your ass. His head nuzzles into the crook of your shoulder as he moans out his satisfaction.

Peaking over his shoulder, you watch his body move on top of yours: knees spread and toes digging into the ground to keep close to you, hips bouncing showing off the delicious curve of his ass and hip bone. It was a sight you could easily get used to.

Suddenly you feel another wave of pleasure creeping up on you, "Ohhh, Terzo…" you drag out his name.

"Sì, vieni per me, amore," (Yes, cum for me, love,) he grunts. You're not entirely sure what he's saying, but all it takes is a few strokes of his fingers on your center to have your tight wet heat clenching around his cock. "Sì, sì, bellissima, così bella…" (Yes, yes, very beautiful, so beautiful…)

You whine for him, hardly feeling like you're on planet earth anymore as you come undone at his hands. Things slow down for a brief period, as your lover lets you cool down from your high; he presses soft kisses to your collarbone as you stare up at the leaves in the tree.

Next, you certainly don't know what came over you, but you were pushing him up and to the side, and Terzo reacts quickly, holding your hips tight to him as he's rolled into his back. He looks genuinely impressed with that move as you instinctively begin to ride him, hands clutching his chest as you lift your hips and drop them.

The man beneath you helps guide you with a strong hand, and his other finds your throat again, squeezing lightly at your windpipe. You let out a small moan of anticipation at his actions. "Not quite yet, tesoro," he winks at you.

"Ughh," you groan only half frustrated. Legs more tired than you'd anticipated, you start sliding yourself back and forth rather than up and down, and it's pays off more than you would've expected as his length continuously grazes over that spot his fingers found earlier. It has that now familiar feeling building back up again, and you furrow your brow and bite your lips trying to stave it off.

"Don't fight it, cara mia, trova il tuo piacere con me…" (Find your pleasure with me…) And of course, as he promised, his hand returns to your neck, squeezing just the right way to make your head feel lighter than air. It only serves to heighten the sensations you feel and sends you toppling over in your release, literally.

Terzo holds you close as you crash down on top of him, cunt encircling his hard lust so deliciously. He cries out as his release explodes inside you, your name the only word on his lips, which is pretty impressive for a guy who knows at least two languages and never shuts up.

You can feel the warm liquid filling you; it makes you squirm on top of him. Returning the many kisses from earlier, you take your turn to adorn his pale skin with your love, as you both hold each other tightly.

Rolling off of him with shaky thighs, you bundle up in his large cloak as best you can, feeling more exposed now than before; it would certainly need to be cleaned later. He drags you right back over to him, cuddling you to his chest and kissing the top of your head. "Dolce mia, you could bring the Devil to his knees," he remarks, still catching his breath.

You look at him like he'd just said the most scandalous thing you'd ever heard, perhaps it was the most scandalous thing you'd ever heard, and he laughs heartily from his chest. A small giggle escapes you, and you offer him some of the cloak cuddle under with you. "You're gonna have to teach me all those Italian phrases, although maybe I don't wanna know what they mean," you blush at him, making him laugh again.

His lips find yours in a loving kiss, "There will be plenty of time for that, amore mio."

• •

The next time you see him, you have a ring on your finger and tears in your eyes.

"Stellina, you must dry your eyes. I can't stand to see you like this," he pulls you into a hug, his cloak wrapping around you once again; it always smells so much like him.

You had made a regular routine of meeting near the bazaar or under the reading tree every few days, whenever you weren't seeing suitors. Much to your dismay, the courting was over since your father selected a fiancé for you.

"Come, sit with me," Terzo whispers to you. He sits with his back against the tree and you in his lap, another habit you'd fallen into together in the short time you'd known one another. "Tell me what happened, cara mia."

"He was tired of waiting…" you sob, and Terzo knew you were referring to the king. "He said I was making the kingdom wait too long, and since relations between his and Lord Vogel's lands haven't been ideal lately, he's betrothed me to the man's son! I'm nothing more than a chess pawn to him!" You lean against your lover's chest, letting the tears flow.

"Amore, you are so much more than a simple pawn," he kisses your head, running his fingers through your hair repeatedly.

You sit up, looking in Terzo's eyes and cupping his cheek. "I don't want to marry him. For me, there is only you. I would give it all away if it meant I could have my life with you."

"Tesoro… Don't say that. You love your father, you're committed to your kingdom." How he wished he could whisk you away, but deep down he would feel so guilty for taking you away from everything you'd ever known.

"I do love my family, but I haven't been happy, not since I was first made to start seeing suitors. I know everyone thinks I'm just some stupid girl, but nothing has shown me the corruption of royalty and the blasphemous use of religion to play their little games better than being courted. They play games with people's lives, even the ones in their own homes!" You pound your fist against his chest and he clasps it in his, "Is that why you left your home? It makes me want to leave mine."

"No, cara mia. My home isn't like this. Everyone is accepted for who they wish to be, and everyone has the freedom to leave if they'd like. Even those in the royal blood line," Terzo explains.

"So you're from a kingdom too?" you ask.

"Eh, of sorts, but we don't call it that."

"I've never heard of a place like that. Sounds wonderful," you look down, wringing your hands together, fidgeting with your new ring. "Say, have you found the thing you're supposed to return home with yet?" you ask, referring to the first bit of information he ever told you about himself.

"Sì, I have, Stellina," he pets your hair lightly, playing with the ends.

"Well, then why haven't you gone back?" You look up at his mismatched eyes, the ones you never get tired of looking into.

"Because, ah… I found something here that feels like home, amore," he puts his hand over your heart, indicating that he's talking about you.

You put your hand over his, "Do you think… Could I be accepted where you're from?"

"Sì, we accept all, tesoro, no matter their background."

"Would you take me there?" you whisper.

Your lover diverts his eyes and remains silent.

"Terzo?"

Turning his eyes back to you, he has a painted expression on his face, like he's completely torn about what to do. "I fear you would feel like not more than a caged bird there, as well."

"Would I not be allowed to be with you?" you worry out loud.

"No, tesoro, we'll be together. I would never let anything take you from me," he takes your hand in his.

"If we stay here, my father will take me from you. I'll be sent off to another land and made to have someone else's babes," you remind him.

He leans his head back on the reading tree, sighing a deep breath, "I'd like to give you the choice, cara, but you have to know what you'll be involved with."

"Okay."

"I'll have to forgo some details, because it won't be safe for you should you decide not to return with me, but know that I will tell you everything when I can," he warns.

"I trust you, Terzo."

He takes in another breath, nervous that what he has to say will scare you away. "I'm to be the figurehead of a covert organization," the language sounded very practiced, not like how he usually speaks, "We seek out those who desire acceptance, freedom from the systems around them, an escape from corruption. When I return, I'll be expected to take a partner, just as you face, Stellina. Which is why I set out in search of love," he starts to sound more like himself again. "Cara, should you return with me, I'd like you to be mine. I know it would feel like you're trading one arranged marriage for another…"

His words make you realize just how similar you are, how he faced the same issue you did, and how despite it, you still found one another. "Amore," you try the new language on your tongue, "you're not only offering me a choice, you're offering me liberation… What was it you said so confidently in the woods that day? That you would be my salvation? Well, then… Free me."

That fire in your eyes had come back to him, the thing he loves most about you; you may be a princess, but you had some real fight in you. "Anything for you, principessa."

You chatted for the rest of the afternoon; what looked like casual talk between lovers was really planning and plotting for how he would get you out of the city, away from civilization, and slip quietly across the country side back to Italy.

"When do we leave?" you ask him with a warm smile. You straddle his lap now, fiddling with the edges of his cloak.

"Not for a few days, cara. You'll need a horse. I'll have to trade for one." He twirls your hair on his finger.

"We have horses at the castle, I could just take one," you offer.

"No, if they come looking for you, which they will, they would recognize one of their own horses, sì?"

"They would," you look down, feeling dumb for the suggestion.

He scoops your chin in his hand and kisses your nose. "It pains me to say it, tesoro, but you will have to cut your hair. Anyone could recognize your beauty."

"It will grow back," you bite your lip playfully and lean your forehead on his. "Hmm, what's this?" you ask, slipping a piece of paper from the lining of the cloak.

For a moment, he stiffens up like he wants to take it away from you, but he decides to let you read it… Except it's all in Italian.

"What does it say?" You look at him with innocence.

He takes the paper from you and clears his throat:

"Alessandro,

The halls of the abbey haven't been the same without your spirited presence. We wish you home soon, but no one understands more than I how you need this time away. The world is much bigger than we may know, especially in our little fortress here at home. Some may never find the love that you so desperately desire, but I will pray every day that I see you not return to these grounds until you have it. It will pain me not to see you each and every day, not to hold you close to me even though it makes you squirm for freedom, but this is a journey you must make for yourself and for your future love.

Your mother, Felìcita"

He's not sure why he felt compelled to share it with you, but he felt there was no need to hide anymore.

"And this letter is yours? I thought your name was Terzo?"

"Sì," he huffs a small laugh at you, "it is. Terzo is one of my names, but Alessandro is my birth name. No one calls me that except mia madre." He smiles foldly thinking of her.

"Oh," you pause for a moment, taking in all the little details you'd just learned about him and where he comes from. You can't help but imagine his mother as a loving and caring woman, something you hadn't known since losing yours. "Alessandro," You lock eyes with one another at the use of his name. "Ti amo… Is that how you say it?"

He smiles broadly, giving you a quick kiss, "Sì, I love you too, principessa."

• •

The task at hand is simple: sneak out of the castle just like you do all the time, even a few times at night, but now it was for forever. There would be no returning.

You scan your suite one final time, silently thanking the walls for harboring you and all the feelings you'd cried, screamed, punched into them over the years. Of all the places in the castle, this was your favorite; however, it was also the place that kept you hidden away from the rest of the world.

Sliding your engagement ring off of your finger, you leave it on the bedside table. It would be obvious that you ran away, no signs of struggle, just a bird free from the cage. You clasp the pendant Terzo had given you around your neck, immediately feeling his energy wash over you. Whatever he had done to that necklace, you couldn't explain.

Finally, slipping into your darkest cloak, a deep maroon, and picking up the bag of things you'd need: warm layers, extra riding shoes, and your mom's bracelet that she'd worn on her wedding day to your father. Quickly taking a peek out of your high up window, you see a few guards on rotation, some look asleep, others just wandering around. You had rested up as much as you could the last few days, knowing you had a long night ahead of you.

Taking a few pebbles from a small plant you had in your room and shoving them in your pocket, you close the window and leave the room, not only locking the door behind you, but breaking the key off in the keyhole. The longer it took for them to see you were gone, the better.

Sneaking down staircases and through back corridors seemingly lost to time, you made it to your usual back door. Cracking it open slowly, you scan to see where the guards are: none in sight, and your exit gate is just a few paces away. Stepping out into the cool night, you hear two guards chatting around the corner. Hiding behind a stack of barrels, you launch a couple of pebbles in their direction, and they ping off of a watering trough nearby.

As expected, it grabs their attention and they saunter over, completely unaware of your presence. Taking your opportunity, you quietly run over to the gate, flipping the latch as silently as possible and squeezing out, opening it only a little. Once on the other side, you try to even out your nervous breathing and quietly click the latch closed.

You take one last look up at the castle before turning to walk away; you had to walk while still in earshot of the palace, but once you are far away, your feet start to fly, carrying you fast and hard toward your lover. Holding the pendant against your chest, you feel his pride swelter in your chest.

Breathing hard as you run past the farmer's wheat field, you nod a final goodbye to the reading tree, warm memories of the spot flashing in your mind. You make your way towards town, near the bazaar was a tavern where Terzo would be waiting for you.

Perfect timing too, as the raven haired man exits the bar, you approach, stopping near the brothel by the stables. A few ladies of the night wait around to draw in what would be their pay for the evening, and one of them compliments how pretty you are.

"Alrighty, fellas, it's time for me to call it a night," he says to the two guys on either side of him, all hanging onto one another drunk. He spots you and gives you a wink.

"Planning to sneak off and bed one of the harlots over there?" one of the guys jabs at his side.

"Sì, sì, I think I've got my eyes on one," Terzo chuckles.

"Aye, hopefully she's good," the other guy says as your lover separates himself from them, making his way over to you.

"Oh, she is," he mumbles to himself.

As he approaches you, swiping a hand through your hair and tickling your chin, one of the bar guys calls out, "Aye!!! That don't look like no common whore." 𝘚𝘩𝘪𝘵. They were onto you; perhaps your disguises weren't as good as you thought.

Hesitating for a second and looking at Terzo with wide eyes, you jump right to action, bending over and lifting your skirt, gathering the fabric to show off your leg. You unhook a couple of garter clips, sliding one of your stockings down exposing the flesh of your thigh and giving the man before you the most sultry bedroom eyes you could muster.

Terzo responds with a low whistle and a shit eating grin, waving the other guys off before leading you back behind the brothel. You try to hide the giggle that works its way out of you, "I'm not sure what came over me, I just thought it was the best way to get them off our trail," you excitedly explain as Terzo presses you up against the wall, lips crashing into yours.

His body pressed tight against yours, giving anyone that might still see you the impression that he wanted to give off. "Brava ragazza, bella mia, I think you fooled them all," he praises you hotly in your ear.

Your fingers tangle in his black locks, and you attack his lips again. "Tutto per te, amore mio," (All for you, my love,) you tell him, you'd stolen a book from the kingdom's library to practice your Italian, but don't worry, you made sure to put it back before you left, not leaving any trace as to where you would be going.

Terzo growls against your lips, frustrated he can't take you right here and now. Once he's sure those guys went back inside the pub, he drags you by the hand over to his horse--a gorgeous midnight black. Lifting you by the hips, he sits you up on the horse's back, who lets out a huff. "Oh hush, bella ragazza, it's only for a little while," he scolds the horse playfully, giving her nose a scratch.

As Terzo hoists himself up on the animal, you catch the eye of the lady that complimented you earlier. She holds a questioning look on her face, so you throw a finger over your lips, silently asking her to keep your secret. She nods slowly at you, waving her ornate fan a few times in front of her face, a signal telling you to go while you can.

You nudge your lover's side, telling him it's time, and you cling to him tightly, riding side saddle in front of him, as he whips the reins, and you disappear into the woods.

• •

The first few days of travel would be the hardest. A few miles into the woods, Terzo would meet up with the horse he'd found for you, a beautiful dappled stallion, and from there you would ride separately. You would ride through the whole first night; it's important to make as much distance as possible as early into the trip as you can, because it will mean more distance between you and the knights that search for you.

You will catch naps and food as often as you can, but you will move almost constantly through small towns, fields, woods for about two to three days. When you get your first real break, setting up camp deep in some forest, Terzo will cut your hair and bury it, leaving no trace of your locks; he will also rub some dirt in your hair in an effort to change the color and texture even if only a little. And then you will move some more.

Everything went exactly as your lover told you it would. You were tired, exhausted really, from lack of sleep, having to take shifts to listen for danger, when all you really wanted was to hold him close and drift off. The smell wasn't great; you certainly weren't used to spending extended time like this outdoors with no bath. But you are happy.

Happy to be free from a marriage you didn't want. Happy to be by Alessandro's side; you'd really grown to understand one another well, especially when you are having to survive the elements and possible danger lurking at every corner.

"Alessandro, look! A stream!" you chirp happily, riding horse back, sun spilling through the trees

The use of his name made his lips quirk upward; he liked that you'd made a habit of it. "Sì, we should refill our cannisters," he points out.

"It looks so nice, amore, deep enough to step in. Do you think we could stop just for a quick bath?" Your eyes beg him.

As much as he didn't want to waste a moment in your escape, he knew it would make you feel better. He nods his head and leads the horses over to the running water.

Within seconds, you're dismounted and shedding layers of fabric. It was a nice warm day, and you planned on soaking it in, at least for the little while that you could before heading out again.

Terzo chuckles at you as you stand in your undergarments before him.

"Coming in, lover boy?" you tease, unsnapping the top few buttons on your corset, squeezing your cleavage together nicely.

"I shouldn't," he looks you up and down, biting his lip to hide his mirth.

"Oh, but you should. You smell just as much as I. Together we're probably worse than that horse's ass," you throw over your shoulder as you disrobe the last of your clothes, and stepping into the stream.

Terzo watches you candidly, as he refills your drinking water supply. Watching as your wet, naked body glistens and sparkles in the sun.

You dip your head in the water, fingers struggling to get used to the shorter length of your hair as you loosen the clay that tangles your locks. Terzo will insist on reapplying it, but for now, it's nice to let your hair down, so to speak.

Speaking of the sneaky bastard, he'd already slipped out of his clothes and was joining you for a quick dip. "Mmm, hello, cara mia," he greets you, wrapping his arms around your frame, bringing you close to him.

"I thought you weren't coming in," you whisper jokingly.

"You know I can't resist you like this, principessa," he kisses your cheek and ear a few times.

"I hardly feel like a princess like this," you cringe.

"You will always be my princess, all mine." Slowly you kiss one another. You hadn't had much time for romance since running away, so it felt incredibly intimate being able to kiss him so languidly. He holds your jaw so delicately, as your hands rinse the cool water over his strong chest.

As his thumb teases at your throat, you let out a small moan. He feels your breath on his face and he gently pries your mouth open to allow his tongue access. Gently, hands roam and caress one another, reveling in feeling one another's bodies as you hadn't been able to in days.

"Cara," Terzo sighs, pressing his hardening length against your hip. It was pretty incredible how you went from such a timid little thing to confidently handling your lover's desire as your palm strokes him, making him rut up into your cupped hand. Fingers dip between your folds, indicating his need to satiate you as well.

Touch starved, it wouldn't take long for either of you; the last time you'd made love was days before your escape from the castle.

The raven haired man lifts one of your thighs up to his hip and then removes his hand from your core to start lining his throbbing member up with your entrance.

"Oh, please, Ale… You always feel so good," you praise him and a soft blush comes to his cheeks. "Did you like that, huh?" You ask as you feel him press into you, "Like when I compliment you, pretty boy?"

His duotoned eyes flash up to yours, lips curling into a smile despite his jaw dropping open at the feeling of your walls flush around his burning lust for you. He nods his head, wanting to hear more. He holds you tightly to him as his hips buck up into your heat, needy for your body and your affections.

"You're so sweet, my Alessandro, oh- ahhh! Your cock feels perfect inside me," you continue.

He grunts softly, letting his head fall to the crook of your neck as he rolls one of your nipples between his thumb and index finger.

With a hand under his chin, you lift his face, "Look at me, handsome."

He bites his lips before pressing them to yours in a heated make out. Your fingers tangle in his unruly locks, and he angles you back slightly, looking to thrust deeper into your delicate walls.

Finding just the right spot, you know you'll be done in seconds. "Touch me Ale, make me feel like a goddess the way you always do," you choke out, fingers pulling at his hair and scratching vicious red lines across the pale skin of his back.

He quickly obliges, making sure to pay special attention to your clit, sending you right into your climax. "Ah!" you cry out, cunt clinching around his swollen desire. A few more pumps and he's filling you with ropes of his seed.

You hold him tightly as you ride out your orgasm, panting out, "See what you do to me, amore? That should be the biggest compliment of all."

He gives you a coy look, "Sì, I do enjoy making you come undone," his confident self returning.

"And you're so good at it," you kiss the tip of his nose, as he slips out of you, shivering at the loss of your warmth, especially in the cool stream flowing around you.

You both take time to dote over one another, washing every inch and savoring the moment before you'll have to be on the move again.

"I could never have done this without you, Terzo," you ponder as you rub his shoulder blades.

"Hm?" he spins around in the water to face you.

"All of it. Running away, traveling south through the woods, living outdoors. I never would've had the courage to do that without you."

His face flushes at your praises again, though this time for a different reason. "I wouldn't be taking this journey without you either, principessa. I'm so glad I found you." Cupping your face, he kisses you a few more times before it's time to get out and dry off.

• •

Back on the horse, feeling much fresher than before, a change of undergarments and all, you and Terzo took the horses quickly through the trees at a nice trot to make up for your little stop a couple miles back.

Suddenly, you hear another set of hooves moving quickly at a distance, as you turn to see who or what it is-

"DUCK!" Terzo screams at you, and you do, the knight speeding by you barely missing you as his arm whips through the air above your crouched body.

You immediately pull your horse to a halt, as does your lover, knife already in hand. Your hand finds the hilt of the knife he'd given you, gripping it tightly under your cloak as you watch the knight circle back towards you: one of your father's. Your stomach drops, and you have to focus to not throw up.

"Aye! There you are little princess!" he hollers out, his pewter helmet glimmering in the sun. "Taking on a different look, huh?" he refers to your hair. "Make this easy on all of us, and come with me. Then maybe your father will be merciful on your boyfriend here, yeah?"

"No." It was all you could manage. You hadn't worked so hard and come all this way to lose it all now.

He urges his horse forward in between yours and Terzo's, making a move to grab at you. Not wanting the knight to get you onto his horse, Terzo swiftly dismounts and yanks the man by his leg, pulling him from his own saddle. He did manage a hand on your wrist which involuntarily dismounts you as well.

Hitting the ground with some force, you gasp for air as the two men entangle in a fight with one another. Your lover isn't the largest man, but he was explosive like dynamite taking on one of your father's largest soldiers in all his armor.

Terzo works to rip parts of the other man's armor from his body, flinging an arm piece across the forest floor like a vicious animal. He expertly evades the larger man's punches, slowed a bit by the heavy metal on his person.

As you sit up, trying to right yourself again, you hear, "Get her! Grab her and take her back to the base camp," from the man fighting Terzo. You look up to see another knight riding up and dismounting, smaller than the other guy, thank heavens.

He chuckles a cocky laugh, heading right for you, "Come on, little princess." The second knight grabs your arm, forcing you up off of the ground. As you look into his eyes, you sober right up from being knocked off your horse, instincts taking over. You push and kick as hard as you can, fighting against him.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see the first knight with his hands around your lover's throat, hoisting him up against a tree. Your eyes widen in horror as you see Alessandro red in the face and sputtering for air, arms outstretched trying to tip the man's helmet off his head.

The knight fighting you made the mistake of underestimating you, as he was dragging you back to his horse only holding onto you with one arm. Like a trained mercenary, you knew what to do. Fast as you could muster, you unsheathed your knife, whistling at him to get him to look at you, and before he could even form a word, your blade was sunk into the soft spot between his chest plate and his helmet.

Harshly dragging the blade from his neck, he drops to the ground as life leaves him. Looking deliriously as the fight between your lover and the knight turns bad, you rush over, dipping to grab a fallen branch in your path.

Terzo looks at you over the knights shoulder, eyes bloodshot as he takes in your beauty seemingly for the last time. Just as his struggling fingers finally tip the dense metal from the knight's head, a loud crack sounds through the forest as your branch meets with your assailant's dome.

Slumping to the side on his knees before falling over, the knight releases your lover, who draws in a raspy breath, coughing painfully. Adrenaline still pumping through his veins, Terzo reaches for his own knife that had fallen to the ground and kneels above the knight that tried to kill him.

You move toward them, holding back one of the knights arms as your lover kneels on the other, swiftly cutting his throat, blood spilling out everywhere.

Stepping around his body, you hold Alessandro to your chest, a million thoughts rushing through your mind, "Oh my god, Terzo… we killed them," you cry into his chest as you both try fill your lungs with air, breathing unevenly and seemingly fighting the atmosphere around you.

"Amore, we must go. You heard them; there are more," Terzo helps you stand, getting you right back on your horse and sending them running at a full gallop with a harsh smack. Seconds later, he's following right behind you.

You ran the horses as fast as you could for as long as they could take it, tears streaming down your face over the danger afoot, the near loss of your lover, the sin you'd just committed against those knights. Love had changed you, for better or for worse.

• •

The days were long, full of worry that your father's knights would catch up to you once again. At night, you held each other closer than before, often unable to sleep over the anxiety and guilt that riddled your mind.

Finally a small relief came: you were getting close to Italy, and Terzo said he knows the tavern keeper in the next town. You'd ventured into towns to buy food and try to get a reading on how far the search party for you had fanned out, but you'd never stayed the night. Your lover was confident you'd be safe, a feeling you both needed.

As Terzo and the tavern keeper share a whispered greeting, you find a place to rest your feet, your back, your hips. Everything was sore. Between that and the mud and dirt crusted on your face and hair in an attempt to conceal your identity, you can only imagine how terrible you look right now. You could hardly bring yourself to care, only concerned with your safety and right now… relaxing.

Your lover reappears next to you, a glass of mead in each hand. Surely your eyebrows gave away that you were hesitant about drinking whatever was in that glass.

"C'mon, don't be such a 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘱𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢 about it," he teases you, setting a glass in front of you. As you look left and right to make sure no one took his joke seriously, Terzo kicks back in the chair opposite you and takes a large swig of the amber liquid. "È buono, try some." He throws a wink at you.

He enjoys watching you squirm as you attempt the drink in front of you. Although it wasn't the wine you were used to having at the dinner table, it wasn't bad. In fact, after a few more sips, you could see why people liked it enough to get drunk on it.

Terzo cups your chin in his fingers, swiping across your bottom lip with his thumb. He throws a smug grin at you before throwing the rest of his glass back, wiping his mouth on his sleeve, and standing up again, chair scraping across the floor.

"What-"

"Do not worry, bella mia. I will return," he winks at you, striding across the tavern, weaving between tables to the guy in the corner with a lute. You watch as he mumbles something to the bard, hands him a coin in trade for the lute.

Pulling up a stool in the center of the tavern, he sits and starts to tune the instrument, tweaking the pegs until it sounds just right. You didn't know he had an ear like that, although you think he mentioned something about tavern singing at some point.

He quickly clears his throat, strumming a gentle melody on the acoustic instrument, and starts with the lyrics,

"In an ice-capped fire Of burning wood In our world of wire Ignite our dreams Of starry skies And you and me As realised Our bigger themes"

Of course, he glanced up at you often. His cheeks flushed as he sang to you; it was obvious he was used to serenading perhaps whoever he was trying to lure in for the evening, but for you it was different. You meant more than that. Much more.

"Oh, take me internally Forever yours Nocturnal me, Take me internally Forever yours Nocturnal me…"

Even the ladies of the night are blushing at the innuendo in those lyrics were. Alessandro's lusty eyes find yours, as he continues filling the room with his beautiful melody.

You feel an overwhelming sensation of adoration and love as the emerald pendant on your chest starts glowing lightly, buzzing once again. You could tell that the feelings you were feeling were not only yours, but his as well.

Accompanied by that, a familiar warmth settles between your legs, growing to an uncontrollable burn by the end of the tune. You can't begin to understand the way that the pendant connects your feelings to his, but right now the solution is having your way with your lover.

After Terzo's song concludes, he receives a fair amount of applause as he returns the bard's lute and heads back your way, eyes piercing you.

Your breath hitches in your throat at his gaze before he takes you by the hand, pulling you up out of your seat and kissing your knuckles. It feels like all eyes in the room are on you two, and your survival instincts fight with your desire for him.

Without a word, he sweeps you across the tavern, heading toward the stairs by the bar to take you up to a room.

"Aye! We don't allow that kind of business in this establishment!" the tavern keeper flags Terzo down.

Your lover looks shocked, but notices the silver coin in the man's hand straight away.

The owner taps the coin on the counter, displaying a knight's helmet on it, leaning in closer to you both to and speaking in a more hushed tone, "Ladies of the night aren't welcome to run their operations here; it would be best if you seek refuge in the brothel across the way." He tilts his head towards the exit.

The message is covert but clear: there are knights upstairs, and you need to get out of here fast.

𝘚𝘩𝘪𝘵. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵'𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘛𝘦𝘳𝘻𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘐 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵?

"Ah! Mi dispiace, amico. We will not disturb you any further," your lover exuberantly replies, leading you towards the door.

You are warmly invited into the brothel with your lover, a few of the women pining over him, playing with whisps of his hair or swiping their fingers across his shoulder. It was enough reason to suspect he'd been here before too…

When he brushes them off, asking politely for a room for the two of you, the insecurities you'd been feeling melt away; it's clear he only has eyes for you.

A point that only becomes more evident when Alessandro whisks you into your room for the night, immediately pinning you to the door with his mouth latched to your neck. "Terz…"

He caresses you, pressing his body right up against yours. "I know, amore mio, I want you so badly. Sei così bella…"

You feel anything but beautiful right now. "No, Ale, I-"

Your lover's actions come to a screeching halt as he hears the tone in your voice: one of fear and worry. Two things you should never have to feel, in his humble opinion.

"I don't think I can do this… What if those guards find us? Terzo, I'm so scared," you cling to his cloak with frustrated fists, leaning your forehead against his chest.

"Do not fret, cara mia. I know it feels as if we are in the lion's den, but you are safe here. I know many people in this little village, and they will not give us away." He smoothes back your tangled hair, trying to ease your mind.

"But they can't stop those knights from seeing us! They can't stop them from recognizing me," you have real urgency present in your voice and in the way you look at him.

"Well…" He pauses to think for a moment. "What if I set up an alert system? I can have le signore here on lookout for us tonight, and we'll leave before sunrise, sì?" He rubs your arms, leading you over to the bed to at least sit down.

Your nerves are so on edge, you feel like you could ride off into the forest right now, into some secret tunnel that would take you to your destination… But you knew that wouldn't be good for you: number one because of exhaustion, and number two because you're clearly delirious if you're hoping for some imaginary path through these mountains. Relaxing into the plush mat on the bed, it wasn't much, but it was certainly so much nicer than the hard ground you'd unfortunately had to get used to.

"Principessa," Alessandro whispers to you, "You are tired. Get some rest, tesoro. I will make sure we are safe," he coos, helping you lie back in bed.

Sleepiness has hit you like a wall, especially being in a bed for the first time in what felt like months. "Amore… I trust you," you squeak out before pressing a soft kiss to his lips and allowing yourself to truly relax. Within minutes, you're out, softly making little noises in your sleep.

Terzo smiles down at you, carefully pressing his lips to your temple before slipping from the room. He's got work to do.

• •

Waking in Alessandro's warm embrace was something you'd happily gotten used to, often holding onto each other out of necessity on cold nights, but to wake in a bed, bundled up and fairly well-rested… Now this is something you'd like to experience more often.

Turning over to see Terzo's bare chest, you wish you had more time to show it your affection, but the sun will be showing itself soon.

Grumbly and not wanting to separate himself from you, it's a challenge waking the sleepy man.

"Now who's being a 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘱𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢, huh?" you quietly jab at him. "C'mon, bed bug, we've got to get moving before those knights do."

He groans, finally cracking his eyes open, "I told you, amore, we have nothing to worry about with that." He smooches your forehead before you climb out of bed.

"Yeah, we won't have anything to worry about if we leave!" you chuckle, trying to be as lighthearted as you can by chucking his cloak at his lying form.

"Eh!" He swats his hand playfully before finally getting up.

After lacing up your corset, you lean down to retrieve Terzo's shirt noticing something on the sleeve. "What is this?" you ponder quietly before turning to him. "Why is there blood on your cuff here?"

He saunters over, giving you that devilishly handsome smile and taking the shirt from your hands, "Perhaps I nicked myself on something." His tone is nonchalant as he goes back to getting ready.

It has you suspicious, but you decide to shrug it off.

Outside in the stables finally, Terzo helps you up on your steed before mounting his own. He looks you over as if sizing up a meal, admiring the way you'd really risen to the challenge of fleeing your home.

"What's that look for?" you giggle at him.

"Just observing what I didn't get to have a taste of last night," he smirks.

The objectification makes you blush and wish you hadn't gotten so in your own head after leaving the tavern. But before you can snap a quick remark, a few men, including the tavern owner, return from the treeline, shovels in hand. You notice Terzo nod a knowing look at them.

𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘣𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘥𝘥𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵?

Thinking on it for a few seconds, you piece the clues together, but decide now isn't the time to ask. Instead, you whip your horse's reins, running away from your problems once again.

• •

Settled in by the hearth after a delicious dinner with some friends of Terzo's, you lean into the man's chest as the mother of the household reads to everyone. It's a lovely story that the family had been working through together, but you only understand bits and pieces of the Italian lilting though the room. Instead you opt to mostly enjoy the comfortable silence between you and your lover, contentedly listening to his heartbeat.

This well-to-do family had a room to offer you for the night, refuge from the winding paths in the mountains, and secrecy from those who might come looking for you. Luckily, you hadn't encountered any more of your father's knights since the last town a few days ago, and you hoped you wouldn't… for their sake, especially if Terzo did what you think he did.

"Tesoro?" his voice pulls you from your thoughts as you undress for bed.

"Hm?" you turn to him.

Dramatically, he steps across the room, shirt hanging open, as he cups your cheeks in his large hands, fingertips tracing your earlobe and jawline. "Are you alright, cara mia? You've been unlike yourself the past few days, not talking as much. Have I done something to upset you?"

His last question was right on the mark, if your suspicions were correct. "Did… Did you kill those knights in the last town?" your lip quivers and you start to tear up, confronting the guilt you'd been trying to ignore since then.

"Sì, amore, I did," he starts, and as you begin to interject, he continues, "but I did it for you."

"Do not use me as an excuse, Alessandro! Why would you do it?!" Anger starts to replace your tears.

"Amore… I would do 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 for you. I did it to keep us safe! You were right when you said that those knights could catch us. I had given myself a false sense of security being in a familiar place with familiar faces." He steps back, allowing you the space to process his words.

His explanation was plainly honest, simple, didn't beat around the bush. Yet, it still vexes you that you know hardly a thing about his position, where you're going, why he has to be so secretive. And now he's killed your father's knights twice to keep you out of their grasp. You can't help but question his intentions since your stay in the last town…

"You would do anything for me?" you repeat, voice small.

"Sì. Anything. Everything, principessa! I want to marry you, amore, give you as many piccoli bambini as you want! I would do anything to have you and to love you for eternity… even killing those knights to know they won't take you from my arms." As he verbalizes his dedication to you, his emotions swell, causing the pendant on your neck to glow once again, letting you feel just how much he means it.

Perhaps you'd gotten in your own head once again.

Your fingers trace across the emerald as they often did. "Marry me?" is all you can utter.

"Certo che," (Of course,) he whispers, lashes wet as he moves to hold you close to him again. "Ti amo così tanto, bella mia." (I love you so much, beautiful.)

"I love you, too," you mumble into his chest, but then look up at him, "I think I've wanted to marry you since the moment you held that knife to my throat."

You both share small chuckle, noses nuzzled together, Terzo's fingers dancing in your hair as the moonlight spills in through the little window. Softly, he presses a kiss to your lips, relieved that you aren't angry with him anymore. He had feared he would lose you over his own actions rather than anything taking you from him.

"But," you start, and his eyes quickly flick to meet yours, "it's time you tell me the truth."

"Cara mia, we are only two days away-"

"Exactly, Alé. Don't you think I should know what I'm getting into? Who I'll be around? What you're involved in? I've been very patient, and I've put all my trust in you, amore. Nothing you have to say could change my feelings about us," you press him, but also reassure him.

Deep down, he knows you're right yet again. While it would be the safest option to wait until you have arrived at the Abbey, he can't expect you to walk into this blindly. "Okie dokie, principessa, where would you like to start?"

You pause, the realization dawning on you that you finally get to ask the millions of questions you've had. Naturally, your mind goes blank, only coming up with one simple but open ended question. "Who are you?"

The man before you chuckles as he guides you to sit on the plush bed with him. "Tesoro, you know who I am… Truthfully, you know me better than most."

"Terz- Alessandro," you start, unsure what you should call him in your mild irritation at that answer, "Who are you? What's your title? Are you important in… wherever we're going? Where are we going? Is it a kingdom? Who's the ruler there? What's it like?" The dam broke and all the questions leave you in a rush.

"Principessa," he stops the flood. "My name is Alessandro Terzo Emeritus. As for the rest of your questions, perhaps I should start where you ended." He takes your hands in his, clearing his throat. "My home is bellissima. It's not like any place you've ever seen. It's an Abbey, secluded away from the world around it. Peaceful. It's peaceful and protected there."

"What are you protecting?" you quietly interject.

He chuckles before continuing. "Our way of life, cara mia. We are a people of liberation, free will, acceptance. In structure, it is not a kingdom; however, it is not unlike the Catholicism you grew up knowing, but without all the rules. We have loyal followers, we have ministry workers, a clergy."

You sit in silence, his explanation only leading you to a million 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 questions.

"But you see, bella, we are not like Christianity in our spirituality. It's not something most are born into, it is something that is found. We have many of the tenets you are familiar with from your father's religion without all that silly worry about sin…"

You can tell he is hesitant to come out and say it. This is the thing that isn't safe to know. You wonder if it isn't safe because of how you'll feel about it or if it really could bring you danger for knowing about it.

Both is the answer.

"Cara mia, I am a part of the Church of Satan."

Again, silence falls over the room as you collect your thoughts. "Well… It's alright if you practice a different religion. I haven't felt particularly close to my own lately. So you live in this ministry? Do all of the followers live there?"

He gives you a half smile at your naivety. "No, bella, typically our followers do not all live there. Some come seeking refuge, but they do not have to stay, though many who do become Siblings of Sin."

"Siblings of Sin?" you repeat, "Are those like nuns?"

He chuckles again, nodding at you.

"So are you a… Brother of Sin?"

Another smile. And another thing he loves about you: your curiosity far outweighs your need to judge anyone.

"No, again. I am in the clergy. I am one of the few that is raised in the religion, although we are welcome to leave should we choose. My whole life I've been molded to be its leader, and the time is coming soon, which is why I set out to find you, amore."

"Me? The leader? What does that have to do with me?" you are genuinely concerned.

"Perhaps my wording was cryptic, mi dispiace. I just mean to say that once I am in charge, I won't have much time to be away from my duties, so I set out to find love before that time comes." Your lover cups your cheek, basking in how gorgeous you look in the pale moonlight.

"Oh," you smile, relieved. "So… You will be- the Pope? If it's like Catholicism."

"Sì. Papa. Papa Emeritus the Third, preceded by mio fratello, Papa Emeritus the Second, or Secondo when he's being a stronzo," he rolls his eyes at the thought, and you can't help but picture the sibling rivalry.

Somehow you've just found out he's the Antipope, opposite your religion, and all you find yourself thinking about is that he has a brother, maybe even two if there is a Papa Emeritus the First. Then you remember the letter from his mom… His whole family is waiting for him back home, and you can't wait to meet them!

Suddenly, you let out a sob, biting your lip and looking up at him through watery eyes. Hugging him tightly and crying into his chest, you hear him tell you, "I understand if it is all too much. I understand if you do not wish to be bound to me, mia dea. I do still hope you'll come along with me; you'll be safe there, no matter your beliefs. We can just be lovers, even if you never want more, amore, I'll understand."

Sniffling as you wipe your tears away, you search for your favorite mismatched eyes, "What do you mean, Alé? I'm happy. I'm finally happy, don't you see?" You hold his face in your hands, nuzzling noses once again. "It isn't lost on me the irony that I left the king of one religion just to please another, but at least I did it of my own accord. You gave me the choice, and that is what makes me love you, Alessandro Terzo Emeritus. You may have set me free… But my only wish is to be bound to you, eternally." Another pause, "Forever yours, nocturnal me. Just like your song, right?"

Sincerity is written across his face at your words; with an arm wrapped around your waist, he pulls you to straddle his lap, "𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 song," he tells you before his lips crash into yours.

• •

Sun now spills in the room as your eyes squint open. Slumped down into the cushiony bed, your body thoroughly relaxed from the way he worked every tension from your aching body last night, you find it hard to even move. But turning to find an empty spot next to you, motivation to once again be close to your lover encourages your feet to carry you through getting dressed and finding him at the dining table with the family hosting you.

Peeking through the doorway, you watch as he throws his head back in laughter, joking with one of the little boys, making him squeal and giggle. You wonder what he'll be like as a father to his own one day.

"What are you smiling at, tesoro? Come, sit," Terzo stands, pulling out a chair for you.

"Thank you," you tell him, sitting at the table with everyone.

Breakfast is delicious, and you're so grateful for the warm meals and hot bath and soft bed this family has offered you. Between table chatter, a small broach on the mother's dress catches your eye.

"Is everything alright, dear?" she asks, clearly catching you staring at it.

"Oh! Apologies, my apologies. I just spotted your pin… What does it mean?" you cringe at your own bad manners.

"Oh!" she also exclaims, "My Grucifix?" The mother runs her fingers over it almost affectionately. "Terzo… You've done a poor job informing the girl where you're taking her!" She jokes lightheartedly.

"We discussed everything late last night," he gently squeezes your hand. "I just haven't had a chance to… Show her everything: the symbolism, scriptures-"

"Your paints?" The mother asks excitedly.

You offer a confused look. 𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘴? 𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘛𝘦𝘳𝘻𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘰𝘯?

"No, I-" Terzo starts but is interrupted again.

"Honey," the father of the family smiles at his wife, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Let them move at their own pace."

You and Terzo both silently sigh your relief. He wants to tell you more, but not now.

"So, you all are followers of Terzo's Church then?" you ask, not really sure how to word it.

"My husband and I are, the children will be allowed to decide for themselves if that's what they would like to believe," the mother answers softly. "This is the symbol of Papa's church specifically, to answer your earlier question, dear."

You spend the rest of breakfast happily chatting away before having to return to the journey at hand.

"Mm, can't we stay, Alé?" you groan into his shoulder after he affixes your horse's saddle.

Hugging you lazily, he kisses your forehead, "I would dare say we could… If I weren't so concerned about delivering us home, amore mio."

"Do you think they'll like me there?" you ponder out loud.

"Like you? Tesoro, they'll adore you. Some will even wish they could be you." He looks you over amorously.

"I'll be that important, huh?" You offer him a smile.

"Oh, sì, sì. As my Prime Mover, everyone will look to you as a beacon of warmth and understanding."

His answer makes you a little nervous. You hadn't really thought about his followers also looking up to you; women don't really have a position in Catholicism, other than nuns. Now his words from last night about not wanting to be bound to him make sense.

"Prime Mover…" You won't let the challenge scare you away. "I hope I can do the position, and you, the justice it deserves," you nod your head reassuringly, kissing him softly several times.

Hesitantly, he pulls away from you. "Mm, tesoro, while I could kiss you all day, we must go," he reminds you, before helping you on your horse for the millionth time in the past few weeks.

• •

Sun was setting, leaving long dramatic shadows cast across the first floor by the tall trees. Terzo is so excited, he can hardly contain it. You're close to your final destination and it hardly feels real. Traveling with him is all you'd known thus far.

"THERE!" He points suddenly, and you're not even sure what he pointed at before he sharply commands his horse to a gallop, spooking yours into doing the same!

You may have let out a scream struggling to hold onto your horse, "Terzo?! What are you doing??!"

"Look, cara mia! Casa!" Home. It's finally within his grasp.

You come up on the beautiful brick abbey at full speed; with it's towering spires and winding vines, it casts some interesting shadows at sunset. Stunning, nonetheless.

Some tall stocky men in silver masks run out of a side door at full sprint. Upon the terrace, Terzo abruptly stops his horse and flies from the saddle, directly towards the largest man. "Omega!" he chirps as they practically slam their bodies against one another in a fierce hug.

Slowing your horse to a halt, unlike your lover, you patiently wait for the men to greet one another. They were clearly all very close. The one called Omega almost acted like an obedient dog thrilled to see his owner after so long and needing a good scratch behind the ears. Observing the devilish look of their masks and the mysterious way they move, a whole new list of questions comes to mind.

"Mamma!" Terzo running towards an older woman with long black wavy hair catches your attention. She has beautiful with warm green eyes; must be where he gets his from.

"Alessandro, how I've missed you!" she exclaims, covering his face in kisses and holding him tightly. He giggles at her, and in that moment, he looks like a happy and well-loved child. "Is this her, Alessandro? The one you've been looking for?" It shifts all the attention toward you, still perched on your dappled horse.

"Sì, Mamma, this is my love," Terzo turns, making his way over to assist you to the ground. He holds your hands, looking into your eyes to make sure you're not overwhelmed. All he finds there is happiness. He brings you over and introduces you by name and title, "Amore, this is mia mamma, Felìcita."

"Buonasera, è un piacere incontrarti," (Good evening, it's a pleasure to meet you,) you greet her just like you'd practiced, wanting to make a good impression.

"Ah, ragazza dolce, mio figlio taught you well, didn't he?" she replies with a laugh and a kiss on each cheek. "Did he give you this haircut, too?" She holds a couple of uneven strands between her fingers. You just laugh and nod. "Ah, don't worry, cara, we'll get you all cleaned up here." Her smile is so inviting and her conversation so charming, you see the influence she's has on Alé.

"Bella mia?" Terzo pulls you from your thoughts, "I'd like you to meet my ghouls."

"Ghouls?" you repeat.

"Sì, Alpha," he gestures to the one on his left. "And Omega," he pats the shoulder of the one on his right.

You're not sure how you'll ever tell them apart. "Nice to meet you both," you hold out a hand for either one to shake. Alpha takes you up on the offer, immediately pulling you close, taking you by surprise. He nuzzles his head in the crook of your neck and a strong appendage wraps tightly around you: a tail. Trying to keep your face as unreadable as possible while you take in his inhuman features, you start to hear a soft purring next to your ear.

"Alpha, scendi! You'll scare her," Terzo commands.

"Alé, it's okay," you tell him, wrapping your arms around the large man's waist, which only increases the noises coming from him.

"Alé?" Omega chucks, elbowing your lover.

"Stai zitto, demone!" (Shut up, demon!) he hisses in return. Their dynamic is pretty funny.

Alpha pulls away from your hug cheery eyed as he quietly tells you, "Il bambino è al caldo e al sicuro." (The baby is warm and safe.)

"Bambino?!" Terzo nearly shouts.

"Si, signore, she carries your child," Alpha tells him.

"Tesoro?" your lover's eyebrows immediately turn upward at the realization, "Did you suspect this?"

"I just- I thought I was only tired from being on horseback so much… I had no idea," you explain, feeling like you need to sit down.

As if reading your mind, Alessandro is there to support you. "Amore…" He gently places his hand on your stomach, "You will make una bella mamma!" Nuzzling your nose, as had become a consistent thing from him, tears prick at his eyes.

"Mi scusi, but if this is the case," Felìcita addresses you, "we should get you inside for a warm meal, sì? I won't have mio nipote go hungry!"

• •

You'd pretty much spent the last 36 hours sleeping… and eating, of course. Italian hospitality dictates that you will not go hungry. Cracking your eyes open just long enough to wiggle under your lover's arm and lay your head on his chest, you nestle right back in to go to sleep.

Terzo groans dramatically and grumbles, "Amore, we can't sleep forever, as good as it feels…"

You had been fortunate enough to be mostly left alone since you'd arrived at the Abbey, and you'd both used the time to rest after such a hard expedition into Italy, especially you and the baby.

"How did Alpha know?" you ask, eyes still closed as you listen to the man's heartbeat.

"The ghouls, they… they feel things. Almost like they're connected to those around them." His fingers trace shapes across your scalp, only serving to push you further back into your slumber.

But curiosity gets the best of you again, as you sit up, leaning over your lover. "Like the emerald you gave me? How it makes me feel what you feel?"

He smiles, "Sì, but the ghouls are much more… sensitive. Hence why I couldn't tell you are pregnant, despite the pendant."

"So you 𝘥𝘪𝘥 do something to it!" you accuse him, proud for finally cracking it.

He chuckles at your little game, "Sì, how else was I suppose to lure you in?" His hand in your hair pulls you down for a kiss.

"Perhaps with the endless thoughts I had of you every day after you kissed me," you drag a finger down his bare chest. "Although that was something entirely out of your control," you wink at him.

"Sì, well, I do like to keep you under my control, cara mia," his morning voice growls in your ear.

"Oh, are you going to put me under another spell, lover?" you giggle, playing with his chest hair.

"Mmm, one where the only word to fall off your lips is my name…" Terzo sits up, flipping you onto your back and pinning your hands above your head.

"Which one?" you playfully rebut.

"I'll allow you to decide this," it's his turn to wink as his lips find your jaw, working on all the sweet spots he knows so well.

"Mmm… Terzo," you sigh into his touch.

His hands snake under your nightgown, leaving your hands resting above your head. "Is that the one you choose, cara?" Resting his fingers on your panties, he starts to rub against your bundle of nerves.

You feign thinking about it as you writhe against his hand. "Oh no… I might pick another," you tease.

He leaves a sizable love bite at your collarbone, sucking his mark into your skin while his fingers dip beneath the fabric impeding them. His hard cock, unfortunately concealed by his sleeping pants, presses against your thigh, so you gently move your leg back and forth to offer him some relief. Before long, evidence of his lust seeps though the thin fabric.

"Dolcezza…" he whispers right in your ear before nibbling on it as well, eliciting a moan from you. One of his fingers moves further down to hint at your entrance.

You inhale sharply, "Please, Alé," you whine.

"Alé? Or will it be Alessandro?" he flirts, allowing that digit to slip into you, making quick work of curling it to find your other sweet spot.

"Mmm…" you knit your eyebrows together, "mm- I- please."

"Please what, mia dea?" He adds another finger. "You must decide on a name for me, since you insist I have too many…"

"Please," you struggle against his ministrations, especially when his free hand comes to tease at you nipple. "Please… Papa."

His eyebrows perk up at that one, and his hands pause for a moment, almost imperceptibly. "Tesoro, I am not Papa yet," he scoffs.

"You will be one day, no?" Now it's your turn to give him the devious look he normally has in his eye. "Plus… You'll be Papa to this little one very soon," you gesture by rubbing your belly just above where his hands work on you.

With that, all his restraint is lost, obvious in the way he pounces back on top of you, attacking your mouth with his and ripping your undergarments from your flesh. "Allow me to remind you how I put il mio piccolo inside you, then," he growls, pushing his own pants down to his knees before hiking your legs up around his waist.

Your hands finally move to claw at his back with him now on top of you. Feeling his length being slicked up in your folds, he gives no warning before pushing in right to the hilt. The scream it drags from you could probably wake the dead!

"Say it again," your lover commands darkly before snapping his hips into you again.

"P-uhh…" is all you manage.

Sitting up, his fingers harshly grab your chin, forcing you to look at him. "Say it. Again." This time through gritted teeth.

"Papa! Please, fuck me Papa!" you beg.

"Brava ragazza," he praises you. "Now, legs up here," he taps his collarbones, giving you little time before he's hoisting them up himself, hooking your knees on his shoulders. Falling back on top of you, you feel absolutely folded in half as his cock presses deep against your walls.

"Oh, Papa!" you whimper, feeling his tip drag against that sweet spot.

He places his weight on his elbows, fingers tangling in your hair, and he aligns his knees on either side of your hips. Carefully at first, he lifts his hips before dropping back down into you. When it earns a gasp from you, he does it again, and again, falling into a dangerous rhythm.

You whine and moan for him over and over again, having to fight back your climax already as he attacks your most sensitive spot. Fingernails scratch at his sides as he pounds into you, and you try to keep your knees from knocking against your head.

"Bellissima, cara mia, you take il mio cazzo so well…" he grunts out, already getting close as well. "Sei bellissima sotto di me." (You look beautiful underneath me.) The soft kiss he presses to your lips is a sharp juxtaposition to his ministrations.

Your urge your heels into his back, opening your mouth for more, and he doesn't disappoint as his tongue does its familiar dance with yours. "P-Papa…" you break the kiss, "I'm, I'm-"

"Vieni per me, principessa, vieni sul mio cazzo," he allows you your release; gently his hand squeezes at your airway as his hips roughly snap into your tight wet heat.

The lack of air only serves to heighten your pleasure as your orgasm rolls through you, causing your legs to shake thunderously beneath his weight. "PAPA!" you scream his soon-to-be title endlessly, the spell he joked about earlier coming true.

Holding off just long enough to work you through your climax, he thrusts into you one last time and you feel Terzo's cock kick, spilling his seed inside you. "Satanas, amore… Ti amo… Amo la tua figa," (Satanas, love… I love you… I love your pussy.) he huffs out, still pressing into you as you both come down from your high.

You share a laugh at his lewd comment, and he bumps his nose against yours before sitting up and slipping out of you before carefully helping to unfold your legs. Climbing over you once again, his thumbs massage your hips, wanting to help release any tension there. "How's that, cara?"

"Mm, feels good, Papa, thank you," you relax under his touch, eyes fluttering closed.

"Bene," he giggles, "you don't have to call me Papa anymore, tesoro."

"What if I like it?" you smirk.

"Then you may call me what you like," he says, magic fingers still working your tense muscles. "But maybe not in front of miei fratelli… It could make them feel jealous." He gives you a little wink.

• •

What would've under most circumstances been a stressful day, was actually pretty easy going. Being with your lover had a way of keeping you calm and content, even as you met the rest of his family and the upper clergy members.

It was lunch with his brothers, Primo and Secondo, and father, Nihil. You felt it odd that his mother was left out, but that would be a conversation for later. The rest of the afternoon was filled with meetings, some being introductions and others were to discuss preparing you for your Prime Mover ritual. There would be a lot to learn, but you feel confident with Alessandro by your side.

"Amore," he catches your attention with a kiss to the cheek. You're back in his chambers getting ready for Mass tonight; Secondo would be leading it, and it's your first one, so you're nervous but excited. "I regret to have to leave you alone while I go dress for Mass tonight, will you be alright without me? Of course, you'll have Sister Beth here to help with anything you could need."

"I'll be fine, my love. Besides, I'm not really alone, am I?" You place his hand on your belly and nod towards the Sister diligently waiting to assist you. "I'll see you in the chapel," you give his hand a squeeze and his nose a kiss.

After your lover dismisses himself, Beth is very patient in helping you get ready and answering any questions that come mind about tonight's mass. She's not unlike your handmaiden back home.

𝘏𝘰𝘮𝘦.

You hadn't really allowed yourself to think about the place you grew up in. It wasn't exactly home anymore…

"Are you alright, Miss?" Beth rips you from your reminiscing.

Quickly peeking in the looking glass and wiping away tears, you respond, "Yes! Yes, I'm fine, Beth. Thank you for asking." You hope the panic isn't obvious on your face.

"Of course, Miss." She nods knowingly and goes back to styling your hair, twisting and smoothing the strands expertly.

"Beth…" It escapes you before you can stop it.

"Yes, Miss?" She glances at your reflection, continuing her work.

"Do you enjoy it here? You weren't raised here, were you? I mean- My apologies, Beth. I've overstepped." You internally cringe at how your curiousity leaps all boundaries.

"It's quite alright, milady," she softly reassures you, "Must be nerve-wracking coming to a new place, and being plopped in a high up position at that. I was nervous too when I arrived on the front stoop. This is the only place I've felt fully accepted as I am, imperfections and all." She has a sense of pride on her face. "Be honest and true to yourself and everyone here will have no choice but to accept you. Surely, since you were charming enough to catch the eye of Cavaliere Terzo."

"Cavaliere?" you question.

"Oh yes, he's so sought after here at the Abbey. I should prepare you by saying that nearly all the Siblings get a little weak in the knees in his presence."

The idea of everyone having their little flirtations with your lover doesn't bother you… But 𝘊𝘢𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘦? 𝘚𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘺 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯… 𝘋𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦?

"I'm sorry, Miss, if I've upset you. I just thought it better that you know how everyone will act around him," Beth softly apologizes.

"No, no, it's not you. Or the wandering eyes. What does Cavaliere mean?"

"Oh! Just that he's a knight. One of our finest, actually. Great on horseback, and you should see him with a sword, Miss! He's very skilled at taking down his opponents during practices and tournaments."

"Oh my… He's never mentioned it to me," you ponder, baffled at this news.

"Well, of course! How else would he have survived so long traveling through the mountains and Satan knows where else?" She sounds so chipper; she must have a small crush on him too.

"And how long was he gone? I've only been traveling with him for just over a fortnight," maybe now you're prying.

"Nearly a year, Miss." Beth smiles, placing an ornate clip in your hair. "Finished! How do you like it?"

"It's bellissima, Beth. Thank you," you nod at her, appreciating her hard work.

"Already getting comfortable with Italian? The family will like that," she reassures you with a pat on the shoulder, before exiting to the bedroom to prepare your gown for this evening.

Staring into the looking glass, head reeling from all the new information, you think about Alessandro's letter from his mother.

𝘈 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳? 𝘕𝘰 𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘦?

The realization makes you feel almost insignificant, like there is a much bigger power at work here, but simultaneously makes you feel very special. Thinking on the way he didn't want you to feel trapped coming here, his mother not wanting him to come back until he found love, the sins he committed to get you here safely… It puts things in a different perspective, like all the puzzle pieces are starting to fit together. You know you've made the right choice with him and that you weren't just swept up in your feelings.

𝘏𝘦 𝘪𝘴… 𝘏𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘢𝘭𝘷𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.

• •

The grand halls surrounding the the chapel are absolutely packed as everyone greets one another, waiting for sunset. Beth stays right by your side, not wanting you to get lost in the sea of people; you had no idea this many people could even fit in this place.

"Ah, Sorella, buonasera," you hear a soft voice over your shoulder: Primo.

Secondo follows with, "How are you and il piccolo, doing?" Despite his gruff nature, you're quickly learning he's really a big softie, especially towards beautiful women and babies. You aren't even that far along, but everyone in the family seems so excited about the prospect of another little one.

"We're doing well, thank you both," you greet them offering them both a kiss on the cheek, careful not to mess up their papal paints. It's an unconventional look for certain, but their full formal regalia indeed commands the respect they deserve.

The two dismiss themselves into the chapel, leaving everyone else outside to wait for the doors to open.

"Where do you think Terzo is?" you nudge Beth lightly.

"Oh, he's over there, Miss," she points to a particularly dense crowd of people.

𝘎𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘫𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘱𝘰𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘳 𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴.

The girl seems to nervously fidget with her habit, eagerly watching the scene before her intently.

"Do you want to go see him, too?" you smile at her, and she replies with a shy nod. "It's alright, go ahead," you smile your approval.

As your handmaiden slips into the gathering, you giggle to yourself, thinking about how he must really get slowed down trying to go anywhere. From your spot by the chapel doors, you see that familiar mop of hair, but notice that he stands a little taller, chest puffed out a bit more. Seeing the ornate black and gold pauldron on his shoulder gives you a hint of his knightly attire.

Silently observing as people shake his hand, offer him hugs and even hand them their babies, it's not unlike watching a soldier who's come home from war to be greeted by those that care for him. However, when he notices Beth standing near him, his head turns, looking around for you. His face is covered in a stark black and white skeleton designs, similar to his brothers. If it weren't for the way his eyes wandered your body upon spotting you, you almost wouldn't have recognized him.

In an effort to politely slip away from his devoted flock, he kisses a few ladies' knuckles, and bids them farewell for now, turning all his attention towards you leaning against the wall, patiently waiting.

Drinking in his finely crafted artisan armor as he ambles over, you give him a wink, appreciating this new look on him. The black of his armor ties in well with his face paint and dark locks, while the gold only serves to make him stand out amongst everyone else.

"Mm, amore," he grunts, taking your hand. "You look assolutamente divino in this gown. Violet is a favorite of mine, especially seeing it on you, dolcezza." He lifts your chin with his fingers, gracing his thumb over your lower lip.

"You never told me you are a knight, 𝘊𝘢𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘛𝘦𝘳𝘻𝘰…" you feign irritation at him.

"Aye, some things must remain a surprise, sì?" Clearly being back home and returning to his high position has given him a whole new air of confidence.

"I worry to see what other 'surprises' you have in mind, caro," you giggle.

He wraps an arm around the small of your back, the hard metal firmly pressing against your skin, and pulls you in for a what feels like an inappropriate kiss to share in front of the whole congregation.

Luckily, the doors to the chapel open, saving you from any further public displays with your partner; you were already receiving some looks from a few of the Sisters just for kissing him.

"Ready for your first Black Mass, principessa?" Alessandro offers you his elbow, guiding you to the front pew to sit alongside him and his mother, who gives your hand a reassuring squeeze.

After this, you know there will be no turning back. Your old life is nothing but a memory now.

#papa emeritus iii #papa terzo #papa 3 #papa emeritus 3 #ghost band #the band ghost #fanfic #imagine #oneshot #long fic #medieval #fem reader #x reader #reader insert #knight #cavaleire #terzo #papa iii #shitghosting

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inhuman-obey-me · 9 months

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In the ars goetia they are represented as kings, dukes, and so on.. but the demons like Mammon, Leviathan, they are not part of the ars goestia, so could we say there are different structures of hell?

Well, the Ars Goetia is only one part of the overall grimoire The Lesser Keys of Solomon -- and it is certainly not the only grimoire that exists historically! Other famous grimoires include the Dictionnaire Infernal and the Pseudomonarchia Daemonum, though these also are far from the only ones. In fact, we have a book -- The Dictionary of Demons -- which sources and lists over 1,700 demons that have been mentioned in various grimoires and other occult texts over the ages. And here is what that book has to say on rankings:

In the vast majority of grimoires, demons are typically assigned a rank and royal title to indicate their position in the pecking order of Hell. In the Testament of Solomon, [...] demons sometimes present themselves as princes and kings - positions largely in keeping with the concept of royalty that existed at the time. Medieval works [...] expand the demonic hierarchy to include a variety of positions: princes and kings, dukes and earls, counts, presidents, and even knights - positions reflective of the feudal system at work throughout Europe during that time. The ranks attributed to the infernal legions may tell us more about the time period in which the various books of magick were penned than they do about the actual hierarchy of Hell.

It goes on to mention that seven ranks were eventually solidified within demonology, as seven was a number "of great significance in medieval and Renaissance Europe" due to the number of planets known at the time and the thought of seven spheres making up the heavens. The Lesser Key of Solomon was responsible for then assigning planets to each of the ranks, which in turn were linked to metals, and those metals were needed for the magical seals.

Basically, the ranks do sort of establish a sense of hierarchy in hell, but practically speaking, humans mainly need pay attention to those ranks more just for the magical practice of knowing how to deal with the demons correctly.

That said, we've talked about the Hierarchy of the Devildom in this post, which also lists the seven titles. It's also important to note that Mammon and Leviathan in particular are actually demons derived from other concepts/beings -- Mammon originally just meant money/riches, and Leviathan comes from a sea serpent referenced in the Bible, which actually has roots in Lotan. So Levi himself is actually Lotan, and he's just doing a really exaggerated roleplay when he says he's summoning Lotan. So in terms of different ranking structures then, the answer is sort of yes, sort of no. It's a mess of manmade governing systems as applied to theological creatures over time.

But in OM canon, we can very conveniently just throw most of this out because Diavolo is the one and only Future Ruler of the Devildom, the brothers and Barbatos are his immediate council, and everyone else serves as just general "nobles," such as the House of Lords. They probably have more in-depth hierarchies amongst themselves -- but for all we need to care about in the game, they're a big hassle of demons who give Diavolo (and the brothers) a hard time and should back the fuck off!! :)

#excuse our demonology word vomit lol #obey me #obey me!#obey me swd #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me nightbringer #obey me nb #omnb #demonology resources #obey me worldbuilding #not rly worldbuilding here but yknow #ask and ye shall be answered #ask and ye shall receive (essays)

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katakaluptastrophy · 9 months

Text

Something I don't think I've seen people touch on in relation to the Fourth and the Fifth, and the question of annexation is that this is a feudal society: the leaders of the Nine Houses are hereditary aristocrats who hold their land and income directly from their king. (The Sixth may be theoretically more meritocratic, but their leadership still functions within that system). These fiefdoms have lines of income from military conquest ("Cohort prizes") and from other aspects of imperial administration.

It's clear that some Houses are more powerful and influential than others. Harrow articulates early on a fear of the Ninth becoming "an appendix" of the more powerful Third or Fifth: a client state to a more powerful aristocratic family.

And this isn't just Harrow's unfounded fear. Because it's clearly something that's been happening to the Fourth for some time.

The aristocratic titles of the world are very confusing (the Third have princesses, the Seventh are apparently a duchy, and the Fifth don't seem to have any specific title - "Lady" isn't a title in itself, beyond denoting some other aristocratic status), but it's worth noting that a Baron - like the Fourth - is the lowest order of the nobility.

The Cohort Intelligence Files say that:

Abigail Pent has forged a strong relationship with both Tettares and Chatur, much stronger even than her mothers’ relationship with Tettares’ father.

Which suggests to me that the Fourth has been a client of the Fifth for some time. The Second are clearly aware of this and hoping to be able to gain more influence, though they don't sound hopeful about it.

And no wonder, because Isaac is basically the ward of the Fifth. Abigail's mothers had already cultivated a relationship with the Fourth. The heir of the Fourth is a minor, and the Lady of the Fifth has taken custody of him in a very medieval way: she has had him educated and is apparently arranging a marriage for him which would bring the Fourth into even closer connection with the Fifth. If that medieval pattern goes further, we might assume that this arrangement is also of ongoing financial benefit to the Fifth, allowing them to profit from Isaac's estates - depending on quite what a Cohort prize is, this could be quite lucrative.

None of this is meant to suggest that Abigail and Magnus don't genuinely care for Isaac and Jeanmarie! They clearly do. But it does point toward what Harrow is so afraid of: not just a loss of identity for the Ninth, but a potential loss of financial independence (such as it isn't), and the concern that another House might rob her of autonomy over her education or marriage.

This is a society where indentured servitude is apparently common enough to have specific rules for entry to the armed forces, so it wouldn't surprise me if they also had some kind of practice of wardage.

#the locked tomb #tlt #abigail pent #magnus quinn #isaac tettares #jeannemary chatur #harrowhark nonagesimus #gideon the ninth #I am not a medievalist nor do I play one on television

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qqueenofhades · 1 year

Note

so how do you think it would be best for American leftists to label ourselves, if not socialist? i've always seen socialism as one of the more palatable terms for leftism. i agree that meeting people where they are + responding thoughtfully and compassionately to their concerns is essential, but i also think we need to use the terms which accurately describe us, and *show* through our community building and efforts that dictators like Castro and Stalin do not represent us

Frankly -- and this is never going to actually happen, but I can dream -- I honestly wish the left would just abandon the word "socialism" altogether. It's never going to be palatable in the American context, there's never going to be a moment where you can just use it and have people immediately know what you mean and/or that you mean the "good" kind of socialism and not the "bad," and it's heretofore been one of the most effective cudgels for the right-wing noise machine to hit us with. Maybe when the older generations all die out, we might have a shot at rehabilitating it, but not until then, and definitely not with the way things are going right now. I'd say that the left can keep it to use among themselves if they have to, but since the one thing that leftists love to do is attack other leftists for being Insufficiently Pure, I'm not even sure it has any use in that regard. It's become an empty signifier and it has, so far as I can see, no real critical use (a bit like "feudalism" to a medieval historian, but never mind that).

Besides, what are we actually saying with the word "socialism," and in some way that we can't rephrase and say more effectively? I would define the progressive/left-wing Democratic agenda as focused on achieving economic and racial justice, protections for women, minorities, LGBTQ+ people, abortion rights, workers, etc., reforming or otherwise significantly changing the late-stage capitalist system, fighting climate change and promoting green initiatives, and other similar policies. How exactly does the word "socialism" signify any of that, and why is it necessary that we keep it? Especially when it's been proven that this does not help us win elections and drives away the Mushy Middle voters that we have to convince to vote for us long enough to actually keep a Democratic administration/Congress in power to make changes, rather than seesawing back to the GOP every few years and putting us even more miserably behind the 8-ball?

This doesn't mean we should BE Mushy Middlemen ourselves, or aspire for some milquetoast centrism that solves nothing and pleases no one, but rather we need to figure out how to make Middle America embrace our policies as they are and how to make them attractive in that context. I think Biden did this very well with his re-election video, where he cast the Democrats as the party of freedom. This is the most American word you can possibly think of, and Americans are predisposed to like anything associated with that word. Heretofore the GOP has had a total stranglehold on it, and defined it very narrowly as military triumphalism and personal freedom to be a dick to everyone you encounter and do whatever you want while trampling over the rights of others. But that's obviously a wildly hypocritical and distorted version of "freedom," in the most Orwellian sense imaginable, and the Democrats actually are the party of freedom: freedom to live your life how you choose, freedom to make choices about your own body, freedom to let your kids be who they want and learn the truth and not get murdered in school, freedom to not live in an authoritarian repressive fascist theocracy. For way too long, Democrats have just meekly ceded the "freedom" word to Republicans, who have shit all over it and made it meaningless the way they have with everything else, and that's a major error.

Likewise, "justice" is another word that the Republicans have appropriated to mean "locking up black people for anything we want and mindlessly worshiping cops," but which Democrats need to get into reclaiming. Everybody can see for themselves how wildly corrupt and unjust the GOP-packed federal judiciary and SCOTUS is (with scandal-a-day Clarence Thomas and the rest of the Federalist Society monsters). The Democrats have a golden opportunity to -- accurately -- cast themselves as the party of justice: economic, racial, climate, gender, etc etc. It's already been proven that "defund the police" is a bad message, so don't SAY that. But talk about an overall scheme of achieving justice, and Middle America likes that! They like to see themselves as generally fair and supporting people who "play by the rules." Yes, of course the law is by nature unjust, but we can still make that messaging work to our advantage to get them to support us.

Basically, I want to see leftists and Democrats alike use the language that the country is predisposed to like: words like justice, freedom, fairness, equality, etc. It's harder to smear somebody as a nasty anti-American socialist (not, of course, that the right wing won't try) if they're talking about those things, especially freedom, and especially in a left/liberal context as the GOP becomes ever more paranoid, fascist, and authoritarian. Besides, they know they're in the minority. Abortion bans aren't popular (they really, REALLY aren't popular). Book bans aren't popular. Attacks on women, LGBTQ+ rights, and trans kids aren't popular. Election denialism and attempted coups aren't popular. Endless and unrestricted assault weapons aren't popular. Yes, a fringe part of this country is awfully and irredeemably poisoned by theocratic fascist white supremacy, but they're still not the majority, and we don't need to act like they are, or write off everybody who's not a Terminally Online Leftist as impossible to ever reach or convince. That just provides a convenient excuse for not doing any work and just letting things get worse.

So like... the Democrats and the leftists alike need to lean into these words and stop letting Republicans monopolize them with their idiot and hypocritical definitions. They also need to reckon with the fact that for a not-insignificant portion of visible and vocal tankie-leftists, they DO want to emulate Castro and Stalin, or at the very least, not care at all about the historical baggage that comes with those names. They feel that any terrible dictator was secretly good if they were a) anti-American and b) describable as "leftist" in some vague and overarching sense of the word, and that's sure as hell not going to convince John and Jane Q. NiceIowaCouple to like them. It sure as hell doesn't convince ME to like them, and I'm already a leftist/liberal who has never voted for a Republican in my life. And because we are at such a dangerous moment where we've escaped fascism but it's still trying with all its might to come back, we really, really can't afford this. It's stupid and it's useless and it's just mean.

Anyway: I want people to stop f'n using the word "socialism," especially since most of them couldn't actually define what it means, what it has meant in the past, or why any benefits outweigh the clear and obvious costs. Start talking about justice, freedom, and fairness instead, show how those things can be improved with Democrats/progressives/liberals in charge instead of Republicans, and then act accordingly. I think that might work better.

#anonymous #ask #politics for ts

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smallgraygames · 1 year

Text

The Salt Keep

Demo: The Salt Keep

Status: Complete (on sale now on Mac/PC, Android, & iOS)

Genre: Fantasy/horror text adventure (think text-based interactive fiction with CYOA and RPG mechanics)

Set in a high fantasy world with low fantasy stakes, the character-driven story of The Salt Keep follows a struggling merchant named Doyle who stumbles into a life-or-death mystery. During the last legs of a months-long journey as a traveling salesman, Doyle stops in the seemingly deserted village of Cardwyke to meet a friend who has promised to help keep him financially afloat, but what he finds is even more dangerous than the crushing weight of debt.

The world of The Salt Keep should be familiar to any fan of fantasy — it has breastplates, and swords, and other fun stuff like that — but is shaped by the vaguely industrial creep of bastard feudalism. Sprawling merchant conglomerates and faceless business structures pull the levers of power as much as dukes and knights.

The world is meant to be both a reflection of traditional fantasy settings (the England-coded sword and sorcery and D&D-style locations we're used to) and an answer to some of the tropes I find most frustrating about them. It's not a world of prophesied heroes doing Great Man Theory or of grimdark anti-heroes exposing the essential evil of humanity, but of ordinary medieval schlubs trying to survive within alienating and oppressive political systems.

In other words, it's not a world a character like Doyle has any hope or intention of changing; he only means to survive.

The Salt Keep is a text-based game, so the action is described through text and the player navigates and makes choices via button inputs. Through these basic mechanics, you'll be able to:

Guide Doyle through the village and the towering keep that looms above it as he searches for a means of escape.

Collect items and discover their uses.

Equip gear to improve Doyle's ability scores.

Succeed or fail at percentage-based challenges.

Earn experience and level up based on those challenges.

Talk to and work with NPCs to make progress.

Uncover secrets and missable areas.

Risk grievous bodily harm.

Despite the prevalence of choices and risks, there is no chance of death or dead-ends. The story always moves forward. In turn, you'll change the outcome of Doyle's story (as well as those of the NPCs) not just through the things you choose to do, but through the things you fail to do, and the things you choose to ignore.

The demo includes the prologue and first chapter of five total chapters. It should provide around two hours of gameplay, though it'll vary depending what you choose to do and how thorough you are.

The full game is novel-length — roughly 260k words — and is now available on Mac/PC, Android, & iOS, and the demo should provide a good sense of both gameplay and the direction the rest of the narrative will take. If you want to help support development or keep track of progress:

Follow here for dev blog updates

Become a patron on Patreon

Follow on Twitter

Please enjoy!

WARNING: The narrative includes all sorts of violence and generally negative emotional states, which can vary based on your individual play-through, so please keep that in mind.

#text adventures #interactive fiction #horror #fantasy #indie games #indiedev #cyoa #fantasy fiction #rpg #if #if wip #indie dev #interactive novel

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