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theusurpersdog · 3 years

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A Bird in a Cage

Sansa’s arc in A Clash of Kings is all about boxing her in. Not only is she a hostage in King’s Landing, she’s also expected to pretend she’s not; she has to attend Court with a smile on her face, playing the role of Joffrey’s betrothed every day. Showing any honest emotion is punished by verbal and physical beatings. Her entire life becomes a performance she must put on to keep the monsters at bay. Everything about her world is meant to be stifling; from the physical restrictions to the emotional ones, it all makes her retreat deeper and deeper within herself.

But the real magic of this book is the moments where she finds a way to push back or escape her bounds . . .

Captive

In more ways than one, Sansa is a captive in King’s Landing.

The first kind of abuse she’s subjected to is physical. Beatings are a part of her everyday life. Because Robb was crowned king, or because she was happy Janos Slynt was sent to the Wall, or because Joffrey decided to be especially cruel one day. Sometimes for no reason at all.

She has to take care to dress carefully to hide the bruises:

The gown had long sleeves to hide the bruises on her arms. Those were Joffrey’s gifts as well.

This should go without saying, but domestic abuse is not rational; nothing Sansa does could stop Joffrey from abusing her – no clever words or tricks she could do to keep him happy. Half the time he has her beaten, it’s because of something Robb did.

Because she could be beaten at any moment, Sansa always keeps one eye on Joffrey, terrified that his mood could turn:

So the king had decided to play the gallant today. Sansa was relieved.

. . .

The king was growing bored. It made Sansa anxious. She lowered her eyes and resolved to keep quiet, no matter what. When Joffrey Baratheon’s mood darkened, any chance word might set off one of his rages.

Not only is she afraid of being hit, she’s genuinely afraid he could kill her:

When she doubled over, the knight grabbed her hair and drew his sword, and for one hideous instant she was certain he meant to open her throat.

Sansa knows her life balances on an incredibly delicate string. Jaime being Robb’s prisoner gives the Lannisters a reason to keep her alive, but Joffrey had reasons to keep Ned alive, too. If anything were to set him off, he would kill Sansa without hesitation. That’s why Sansa feels safer with Cersei around to watch her son, because she’s the only thing that remains to keep Joffrey in check. And Sansa knows that if Robb were to do anything to Jaime, her life would be over:

Gods be good, don’t let it be the Kingslayer. If Robb had harmed Jaime Lannister, it would mean her life. She thought of Ser Ilyn, and how those terrible pale eyes staring pitilessly out of that gaunt pockmarked face.

The beating she endures after Robb wins the battle at Oxcross is so bad that she can barely walk afterward; and as I already mention above, she has to be careful to wear dresses to hide her bruises.

And not only does she have to endure the abuse, she also has to carry on the farce for the rest of the court. Everyone knows she’s a prisoner, and everyone knows that Joffrey is having the Kingsguard beat her, but she’s not allowed to show it; all of her pain has to be kept hidden, pushed deep down inside herself.

Which leads me to the other kind of abuse Sansa experiences in King’s Landing. Everything about her time there is meant to emotionally destroy her. Joffrey intentionally tries to taunt her with threats to murder her family:

“It’s almost as good as if some wolf killed your traitor brother. Maybe I’ll feed him to wolves after I’ve caught him.

. . .

“I’d sooner have Robb Stark’s head,” Joff said with a sly glance toward Sansa.

. . .

“I’ll deal with your brother after I’m done with my traitor uncle. I’ll gut him with Hearteater, you’ll see.”

He loves to play mind games with her, like when he promised to show Ned mercy and then cut off his head and said that was mercy. The constant way that he twists reality around messes with her head and leaves her understandably paranoid:

What if it was some cruel jape of Joffrey’s, like the day he had taken her up to the battlements to show her Father’s head? Or perhaps it was some subtle snare to prove she was not loyal. If she went to the godswood, would she find Ser Ilyn Payne waiting for her, sitting silent under the heart tree with Ice in his hand, his pale eyes watching to see if she’d come?

The constant cruelty she suffers, and Joffrey and Cersei’s profound betrayal at the end of A Game of Thrones, make it hard for her to trust anyone, even when they show kindness:

He speaks more gently than Joffrey, she thought, but the queen spoke to me gently too. He’s still a Lannister, her brother and Joff’s uncle, and no friend. Once she had loved Prince Joffrey with all her heart, and admired and trusted his mother, the queen. They had repaid that love and trust with her father’s head. Sansa would never make that mistake again.

How is she supposed to trust anyone, when everything around her is false? When everything is a carefully constructed jape at her expense? Especially because she’s surrounded by enemies; anyone making their home in Joffrey’s court is sworn to kill Sansa’s family.

And Cersei intentionally makes her isolation worse, rotating her bedmaids:

Sansa did not know her. The queen had her servants changed every fortnight, to make certain none of them befriended her.

Sansa truly has no one to talk to, not even friendly servants to keep her company. Her loneliness is so profound that she enjoys being watched over by Arys Oakheart because he’s the only person who will actually talk to her.

She realizes that no one in King’s Landing cares if she lives or dies:

She [Cersei] spared Sansa not so much as a glance. She’s forgotten me. Ser Ilyn will kill me and she won’t even think about it.

And before the Battle of the Blackwater started, Tyrion told her this:

“I ought to have sent you off with Tommen now that I think on it.”

Unlike Joffrey and Cersei, Tyrion doesn’t wish Sansa any harm; he orders Joffrey’s men to stop hitting her, tries to comfort her afterward, and doesn’t want her to be married to Joffrey. But she is not one of his priorities. It didn’t even occur to him to try and get her safely out of the city.

This is dehumanizing. Sansa has no friends or even anyone to talk to, and the people around her treat her life as an afterthought.

Sansa also suffers from the emotional fallout of Joffrey’s abuse. She blames herself when he has men hit her:

She must learn to hide her feelings better, so as not to anger Joffrey.

The fear of being hit by Joffrey is nearly all-consuming for Sansa. It affects everything down to the smallest details of her life, like how she dresses and does her hair:

I have to look pretty, Joff likes me to look pretty, he’s always liked me in this gown, this color.

Instead of getting to live as her own person, doing things to make herself happy, Sansa has to live for Joffrey’s satisfaction. Even when she’s being physically beaten, she thinks of him instead of herself:

Laugh, Joffrey, she prayed as the juice ran down her face and the front of her blue silk gown. Laugh and be satisfied.

Everything about her life is a performance for other people. She wears the gowns and jewels Joffrey likes, dressing to hide the bruises his men leave all over, and says the words they tell her to say:

“My father was a traitor,” Sansa said at once. “And my brother and lady mother are traitors as well.” That reflex she had learned quickly. “I am loyal to my beloved Joffrey.”

Sansa repeats that phrase over and over throughout the book, always at once. Almost like a reflex. An actor on stage repeating their lines, rehearsed and performed a thousand times.

The worst part of the act is that everyone knows it’s exactly that: an act. Sansa is required, every day, to declare that her family are traitors who deserve to die, and for no reason at all. The way Joffrey abuses her is an open secret:

“He’s never been able to forget that day on the Trident when you saw her shame him, so he shames you in turn. You’re stronger than you seem, though. I expect you’ll survive a bit of humiliation.”

There is no way anyone could ever believe Sansa actually loves the boy who killed her father and intentionally humiliates her in front of his court. No matter how well Sansa tells the lie, it will always be see-through; especially because everyone knows that she’s a prisoner, being held until Jaime is freed. Sansa has to repeat the lie of believing her family to be traitors to try and please the Lannisters – if she said anything different she would be beaten or killed – but there’s no way they will ever be happy, because even when Sansa says the lies as convincingly as humanly possible, they know they’re lies because there’s no way they could be anything else. Sansa cannot win.

That’s never clearer than during her conversation with Cersei inside Maegar’s Holdfast, while the Battle of the Blackwater rages on:

“I pray for Joffrey,” she insisted nervously.

“Why, because he treats you so sweetly?” The queen took a flagon of sweet plum wine from a passing serving girl and filled Sansa’s cup. “Drink,” she commanded coldly. “Perhaps it will give you the courage to deal with truth for a change.”

If Sansa told Cersei the truth in this moment, she would be severely punished. And Cersei knows that, because she would be the one doing the punishing. Yet she verbally berates Sansa anyway.

The same dynamic plays out between Sansa and the Hound. At the end of A Game of Thrones, he gives her this bit of advice:

“Save yourself some pain, girl, and give him what he wants.”

And as one of Joffrey’s Kingsguard, he knows first hand of the abuse Sansa suffers if she says anything that could even be construed as out of line. Yet when Sansa tries to follow the advice he gave her, he throws it back in her face:

“ah, you're still a stupid little bird, aren't you? Singing all the songs they taught you”

Everyone in King’s Landing is always threatening to kill Sansa if she tells them the truth, and then calling her stupid when she repeats back the lies they want to hear. They’re forcefully dehumanizing her, demanding she remove all of her own thoughts and emotions and replace them with hollow lines they’ve given her, and then getting mad when her words are empty.

This plays on one of Sansa’s greatest insecurities about herself, which is her intelligence. Because of her low self-esteem, she already thinks of herself as being less-than. That’s very clear whenever she does an act of kindness – she steadfastly refuses to give herself credit for anything:

Sansa could not believe she had spoken. Was she mad? To tell him no in front of half the court?

. . .

Lancel was one of them, yet somehow she still could not bring herself to wish him dead. I am soft and weak and stupid, just as Joffrey says. I should be killing him, not helping him.

She never thinks to herself You are doing this because you are a good person. She always punishes herself internally, calling herself stupid and childish for believing in good things. Joffrey and Cersei have destroyed her so much that she can only see herself through their eyes, cruel and mocking.

The fear that she’s stupid is one of her greatest anxieties:

“My Jonquil’s a clever girl, isn’t she?”

“Joffrey and his mother say I’m stupid.”

And she doesn’t like to be watched by Ser Preston Greenfield because he treated her like a lackwit child.

Everyone around her is comfortable calling her stupid and emotionally abusing her, and it’s easy for Sansa to start internalizing those messages. Joffrey and Cersei’s betrayal at the end of A Game of Thrones forever changed Sansa; the fear that she could ever be so wrong again, and the fear that she was stupid to believe in them, haunts her. Throughout her time in King’s Landing, her self-worth plummets, and she really starts to believe all the things that Joffrey, Cersei, and everyone is always telling her about herself.

Because she has to endure so much abuse and cruelty every day, it starts to become normal to Sansa. Compared to the way Joffrey treats her, anything would be an improvement; she has a soft spot for Arys Oakheart because he hesitated to hit her once:

Arys Oakheart was courteous, and would talk to her cordially. Once he even objected when Joffrey commanded him to hit her. He did hit her in the end, but not hard as Ser Meryn or Ser Boros might have, and at least he had argued.

At least he had argued is one of the saddest lines in a series of books that has a lot of sad lines. Sansa expects so little of the people around her, and is subjected to so much cruelty, that the mere act of hesitating before hitting a defenseless child is enough to stand out in her memory as an act of kindness.

And Sansa thinks this when Tyrion asks her if she’s flowered yet:

Sansa blushed. It was a rude question, but the shame of being stripped before half the castle made it seem like nothing.

This is a perfect moment to show the small ways in which Joffrey is breaking her down emotionally. Tyrion’s question is embarrassing and impolite, but Sansa doesn’t even care because it is so much less embarrassing than the humiliations Joffrey makes her suffer. Joffrey has set the bar for cruelty so high that Sansa is willing to ignore others mistreating her because it isn’t as bad as Joffrey.

The secret friendship she has with Dontos makes this even worse:

“And if I should seem cruel or mocking or indifferent when men are watching, forgive me, child. I have a role to play, and you must do the same. One misstep and our heads will adorn the walls as did your father’s.”

Dontos is not wrong, but it doesn’t make it any less toxic a message for Sansa to hear: I’m cruel and hit you for your own protection. That’s on display when Joffrey is beating Sansa for Robb’s victory at Oxcross:

“Let me beat her!” Ser Dontos shoved forward, tin armor clattering. He was armed with a “Morningstar” whose head was a melon. My Florian. She could have kissed him, blotchy skin and broken veins and all.

Sansa is happy that Dontos is the one hitting her, because at least it’s better than Meryn Trant and Boros Blount. Dontos volunteering to hit her is an act of kindness for Sansa; which further reinforces the idea that someone hitting her is okay.

All of this works to lower Sansa’s standards and warp her perception of what is and isn’t okay; and in the case of Dontos, it is outright grooming on the part of Littlefinger. He intentionally paid an older man to win Sansa’s trust and get her used to the dynamic of secrecy and pushing boundaries, all so he can swoop in during A Storm of Swords. Sansa’s stuck in an endless cycle of her abuse conditioning her to accept more abuse.

All of the abuse and isolation Sansa suffers also leaves her incredibly depressed throughout A Clash of Kings. When she gets the note telling her to go to the Godswood, she thinks she will kill herself before she’s caught:

If it is some trap, better that I die than let them hurt me more, she told herself.

After the bread riot, Sansa has panic attacks; so much so that she feels suffocated in small rooms:

Sansa could go where she would so long as she did not try to leave the castle, but there was nowhere she wanted to go. She crossed over the dry moat with its cruel iron spikes and made her way up the narrow turnpike stair, but when she reached the door of her bedchamber she could not bear to enter. The very walls of the room made her feel trapped; even with the window opened wide it felt as though there was no air to breathe.

She likes to go up to the roof of the tower so she can see the entire city laid before her; it’s the only place where she doesn’t feel so claustrophobic and trapped.

That passage is also so fantastically written to show just how depressed Sansa is. Sansa could go where she would so long as she did not try to leave the castle, but there was nowhere she wanted to go. She's too depressed to go riding around the courtyard; she doesn’t see the point in going around in circles. We know from A Game of Thrones that Sansa has plenty of hobbies: playing the high harp, needlepoint, reading, and sharing gossip with her best friend. In A Clash of Kings, she’s too isolated to have anyone to talk to, but we never see her doing any of her other hobbies either. Nothing brings Sansa happiness in this book.

Especially because she’s constantly surrounded by reminders of her trauma. The way Sansa copes with her grief is by pushing it out of her mind and pretending like it doesn’t exist:

Sansa did not know what had happened to Jeyne, who had disappeared from her rooms afterward, never to be mentioned again. She tried not to think of them too often, yet sometimes the memories came unbidden, and then it was hard to hold back the tears.

Sansa actively tries to forget about the people who mean the most to her because it hurts too much to think of them.

But she can’t forget about Ned when she’s surrounded by reminders of his death. Joffrey and Cersei intentionally throw it in her face, and she has to walk through the same halls his men died in:

Sansa moved as if in a dream. She thought the Imp’s men would take her back to her bedchamber in Maegor’s Holdfast, but instead they conducted her to the Tower of the Hand. She had not set foot inside that place since the day her father fell from grace, and it made her feel faint to climb those steps again.

The reminder that hurts the most is the presence of Ilyn Payne, a recurring figure in all of Sansa’s nightmares. Just his presence makes Sansa’s skin crawl:

She was climbing the dais when she saw the man standing in the shadows by the back wall. He wore a long hauberk of oiled black mail, and held his sword before him: her father's greatsword, Ice, near as tall as he was. Its point rested on the floor, and his hard bony fingers curled around the crossguard on either side of the grip. Sansa's breath caught in her throat.

. . .

She looked for Ser Ilyn, but the King's Justice was not to be seen. I can feel him, though. He's close

When Sansa’s afraid she’s going to die, it’s always his blade she fears:

I'll not escape him, he'll have my head.

. . .

Ser Ilyn will kill me and she won't even think about it.

. . .

If she went to the godswood, would she find Ser Ilyn Payne waiting for her, sitting silent under the heart tree with Ice in his hand, his pale eyes watching to see if she'd come?

. . .

If Robb had harmed Jaime Lannister, it would mean her life. She thought of Ser Ilyn, and how those terrible pale eyes staring pitilessly out of that gaunt pockmarked face.

Watching Ilyn Payne kill her father is the worst thing that ever happened to Sansa, and she lives in constant fear that the same thing could happen to her.

The only thing that keeps her going is the thought of her family. Sansa is insecure in herself enough to start believing the abuse that Joffrey and Cersei inflict on her; but she loves her family too much to ever believe the lies about them. Even though she’s forced to declare them traitors every single day, her internal monologue is always fighting against it:

Rob will kill you all, she thought, exulting

. . .

I pray for Robb’s victory and Joffrey’s death . . . and for home. For Winterfell.

She even finds a way to make Joffrey’s words work in her favor:

“Did I tell you, I intend to challenge him to single combat?"

"I should like to see that, Your Grace." More than you know. Sansa kept her tone cool and polite, yet even so Joffrey's eyes narrowed as he tried to decide whether she was mocking him.

One of the only moments where Sansa is even remotely happy in this book comes when she’s talking to Tommen, because he reminds her of Bran:

Princess Myrcella nodded a shy greeting at the sound of Sansa’s name, but plump little Prince Tommen jumped up eagerly. “Sansa, did you hear? I’m to ride in the tourney today. Mother said I could.” Tommen was all of eight. He reminded her of her own little brother, Bran. They were of an age. Bran was back at Winterfell, a cripple, yet safe.

Sansa would have given anything to be with him. “I fear for the life of your foeman,” she told Tommen solemnly.

That’s a short passage, but it so beautifully captures a small piece of what Sansa is truly like, outside of the abuse and the fearing for her life and the never being able to express her emotions. She loves her family so much and wants nothing more than to be with Bran again. And while Joffrey mocks Tommen for his knightly dreams, Sansa is so nice to him, building up his confidence before he competes. She’s old enough to have grown passed the childishness of Tommen facing the quintain, but because she knows how important it is to Tommen, she gladly plays along with him. We never got to see any scenes in A Game of Thrones of Sansa interacting with Bran and getting to act like a big sister, but this scene does such a good job of showing us that Sansa was a great sister to him.

Sansa also feels a much stronger connection to the Godswood, the ancestral home of her father’s gods:

The air was rich with the smells of earth and leaf. Lady would have liked this place, she thought. There was something wild about a godswood, even here, in the heart of the castle at the heart of the city, you could feel the old gods watching with a thousand unseen eyes.

And even though Lady’s long dead, Sansa still has a strong connection to her wolf. When she believes she’s going to die during the Blackwater, Lady is the first thing she thinks of:

“Lady,” she whimpered softly, wondering if she would meet her wolf again when she was dead.

The more abuse Sansa suffers and the more pressure is put on her to denounce her family as traitors and give up on ever going home, the more Sansa falls back on her family. That’s the only form of comfort she has in King’s Landing; the memory of Winterfell, and the belief that Robb is coming to save her.

The Lannisters have Sansa held captive physically and emotionally in King’s Landing; she has to suffer through beatings and repeat their words to stay alive. But as long as Sansa has her family - has Winterfell - to hold onto, there is a part of her that the Lannisters can never have. Even if it’s only within the walls of her own mind, Sansa has fought herself a small piece of freedom.

Courtesy is a Lady’s Armor

Trapped within the political machinations of King’s Landing, Sansa starts to learn how to play the game in earnest.

Even before she consciously starts to do it, though, Sansa is already in many ways an adept political actor. There’s a reason that all highborn children are taught from a young age how to conduct themselves; Westeros is a society built on the cornerstone of tradition, and knowing how to perform courtly behavior is important. Because Sansa took all of Septa Mordane’s training seriously, she already knows how to walk the dangerous tightrope of courtly speak:

Sansa felt that she ought to say something. What was it that Septa Mordane used to tell her? A lady’s armor is courtesy, that was it. She donned her armor and said, “I’m sorry my lady mother took you captive, my lord.”

This is the same skill we saw in her second chapter of A Game of Thrones, when she was proud of herself for telling the Hound that no one could withstand Gregor during the tourney – she managed to say something courteous without telling a lie. Just as she did then, Sansa manages to say an apology to Tyrion that’s true.

It also shows just how good Sansa is at keeping a level head, because just moments before she was thinking this:

Tyrion turned to Sansa. "My lady, I am sorry for your losses. Truly, the gods are cruel."

Sansa could not think of a word to say to him. How could he be sorry for her losses? Was he mocking her? It wasn’t the gods who’d been cruel, it was Joffrey.

Faced with the men responsible for killing her father, she manages to think on her feet and fulfill the role of a Lady.

She also learns how to use that same skill to benefit herself. Whereas at first she was just trying to perform the functions of a Lady, she starts to use her courtesy to talk the people around her into helping her in such a way that they don’t even realize it’s happening:

“I would sooner return to my own bed.” A lie came to her suddenly, but it seemed so right that she blurted it out at once. “This tower was where my father’s men were slain Their ghosts would give me terrible dreams, and I would see their blood wherever I looked.”

Tyrion Lannister studied her face. “I am no stranger to nightmares, Sansa. Perhaps you are wiser than I knew. Permit me at least to escort you safely back to your own chambers.”

Part of why Sansa’s so naturally gifted at this kind of political double speak is because she understands people so well; she’s an empathetic and emotional character, and is extremely aware of the emotions of everyone around her. To affectively influence others, you need to understand what they want and be able to give it to them. Because Sansa is so aware of the people around her, she intuitively knows what they want; and all she wants to do is give it to them, because she doesn’t want to be hurt again.

The whole conversation she has with Tyrion in the Tower of the Hand does an excellent job showing how intelligent she is:

“I . . .” Sansa did not know what to say. Is it a trick? Will he punish me if I tell the truth? She stared at the dwarf’s brutal bulging brow, the hard black eye and the shrewd green one, the crooked teeth and wiry beard. “I only want to be loyal.”

“Loyal,” the dwarf mused, “and far from any Lannisters. I can scarce blame you for that. When I was your age, I wanted the same thing.” He smiled. “They tell me you visit the godswood every day. What do you pray for, Sansa?”

I pray for Robb’s victory and Joffrey’s death . . . and for home. For Winterfell. “I pray for an end to the fighting.”

Again, she shows an unparalleled ability to lie without actually lying. And she’s clever enough to tell Tyrion what he wants to hear without saying anything that’s actually false, that way it can’t come back to bite her later. She learned her lesson in A Game of Thrones not to trust someone just because they’re kind, and is careful not to show her cards to Tyrion. But in case he’s being honest in trying to help her, Sansa does not reaffirm her love for Joffrey. That’s why her answer of I only want to be loyal is so smart; whether Tyrion is playing her false or no, Sansa has given him the answer he wants to hear. She’s kept all of her doors open without creating additional risk for herself.

Having to survive Joffrey every day also teaches Sansa how to get what she wants without actually having to say it. When she saves Dontos’ life, she plays to Joffrey’s ego:

Unhappy, Joffrey shifted in his seat and flicked his fingers at Ser Dontos. "Take him away. I'll have him killed on the morrow, the fool."

"He is," Sansa said. "A fool. You're so clever, to see it. He's better fitted to be a fool than a knight, isn't he? You ought to dress him in motley and make him clown for you. He doesn't deserve the mercy of a quick death."

All Sansa wants is to save Dontos’ life, and in the moment she comes up with a spectacular lie. Of course Joffrey would think it humiliating to make Dontos into a fool, so Sansa convinces him that would be an even greater punishment than death. She manipulates Joffrey into doing what she wants him to, and he doesn’t even know it’s happened.

Learning how to slyly insult Joffrey is one of the few ways Sansa can actually express herself as a prisoner, and she gets incredibly good at it. She starts by passive-aggressively getting one over on him:

“Did I tell you, I intend to challenge him to single combat?"

"I should like to see that, Your Grace." More than you know. Sansa kept her tone cool and polite, yet even so Joffrey's eyes narrowed as he tried to decide whether she was mocking him.

But as she gets better at politics she goes even further, actively tempting Joffrey into getting himself killed:

“They say my brother Robb always goes where the fighting is thickest,” she said recklessly. “Though he’s older than Your Grace, to be sure. A man grown.”

Joffrey’s biggest insecurity is that he can’t rule in his own right; Cersei won’t let him do certain things, and Tyrion is in charge of him as the Hand of the King because he hasn’t come of age yet. While Joffrey’s anger is normally aimed destructively at Sansa, here she figures out a way to make it work for her; using his own emotions against him to do something reckless.

As well as learning the art of political double-speak, Sansa starts to understand the broader political machinations at work. Because she was a diligent student of Catelyn and Septa Mordane, she has almost every sigil in Westeros memorized; at Joffrey’s name-day tourney, she recognizes every competitor by their House. This may seem unimportant at first glance, but it’s actually very important; twice in Arya’s chapters in A Clash of Kings she wishes she knew Houses and Sigils as well as Sansa, because than she would know who she was dealing with.

Since Sansa knows who everyone is, she has head start in understanding where everyone’s loyalties lie. On top of that, she’s also incredibly observant; she’s constantly taking in everything around her, stopping to pay attention to every little detail and interaction between people. Even though Cersei and Joffrey are trying to keep it hidden, Sansa notices that Joffrey’s tourney is held inside the Keep because he would be mobbed if they went out into the city. And she knows the Redwyne twins are hostages just as much as she is:

The Redwyne twins were the queen’s unwilling guests, even as Sansa was. She wondered whose notion it had been for them to ride in Joffrey’s tourney. Not their own, she thought.

That’s not something anyone would have told Sansa. For one, no one is even allowed to talk to her per Cersei’s orders. For two, Cersei doesn’t let anyone acknowledge that she has hostages – in the same way Sansa has to pretend she is a guest of Joffrey’s court, the Redwynes have to pretend they’re willing guests. That means that Sansa, with no help from anyone, has of her own accord put all the pieces together and realized the Redwynes are political pawns just like her. Very impressive for a twelve-year-old.

Sansa’s attention to detail is clear when she meets Shae, and immediately notices something is not right with her:

Lollys clutched at her maid, a slender, pretty girl with short dark hair who looked as though she wanted nothing so much as to show her mistress into the dry moat, onto those iron spikes.

And when she’s entering Maegar’s Holdfast at the start of the Blackwater, and notices the guards:

The two guards at the door wore the lin-crested helms and crimson cloaks of House Lannister, but Sansa knew they were only dressed-up sellswords. Another sat at the foot of the stair – a real guard would have been standing, not sitting on a step with his halberd across his knees – but he rose when he saw them and opened the door to usher them inside.

Her encyclopedic knowledge of Westerosi Houses and her attention to detail combine to give her a really good head for political machinations. She sees how the Lannisters use empty titles to flatter their lesser servants while saving the best prizes for their family:

Hallyne the Pyromancer and the masters of the Alchemists’ was raised to the style of lord, though Sansa noted that neither lands nor castle accompanied the title, which made the alchemist no more a true lord than Varys was. A more significant lordship by far was granted to Ser Lancel Lannister.

She manages to keep pace with Littlefinger and Tywin’s games:

She did not understand why that should make him so happy; the honors were as empty as the title granted to Hallyne the Pyromancer. Harrenhal was cursed, everyone knew that, and the Lannisters did not even hold it at present. Besides, the lords of the Trident were sworn to Riverrun and House Tully, and to the King in the North; they would never accept Littlefinger as their liege. Unless they are made to. Unless my brother and my uncle and my grandfather are all cast down and killed. The thought made Sansa anxious, but she told herself she was being silly. Robb has beaten them every time. He’ll beat Lord Baelish too, if he must.

I cannot emphasize enough that Sansa, following the tiny thread of Littlefinger looks happy to be Lord of Harrenhal, manages to predict the Red Wedding a whole book before it happens. That’s pretty incredible. Right now, Sansa has no power to start pulling meaningful strings of her own, but it’s clear that she fundamentally understands the complexity of geopolitics and would be well-prepared to make decisions of her own when the time comes.

Another way Sansa continues to learn about the realities of ruling is through people around her trying to teach her lessons. Because Sansa’s a hostage and isn’t allowed to say anything she feels, she basically becomes a blank slate for people to project whatever they want onto. Cersei, Dontos, and the Hound all try to “teach” her something as they project all of their own fears, insecurities, and trauma onto her.

Dontos tells her to play the fool:

“Joffrey and his mother say I’m stupid.”

“Let them. You’re safer that way, sweetling. Queen Cersei and the Imp and Lord Varys and their like, they all watch each other keen as hawks, and pay this one and that one to spy out what the others are doing, but no one ever troubles themselves about Lady Tanda’s daughter, do they?”

Of course, Sansa already knows this. All the way back in her second chapter of A Game of Thrones, Sansa thinks to herself that Moon Boy is smarter than he looks and is only pretending to be a fool so he can go wherever he likes; and Dontos confirms her suspicions when he reveals Moon Boy is a spy for Lord Varys.

It’s a consistent pattern that everyone around Sansa is constantly underestimating her; partly because of their own biases, and partly because Sansa is an almost entirely internal character, rarely letting people hear her honest thoughts. People assume she’s as hollow as the words they force her to say, but in reality she’s an introvert and a hostage.

The Hound also feels the need to impart some “lessons” onto Sansa:

Sandor Clegane snorted. “Pretty thing, and such a bad liar. A dog can smell a lie, you know. Look around you, and take a good whiff. They’re all liars here . . . and every one better than you.”

Again, he’s assuming Sansa’s much dumber than she actually is. Sansa already knows that everyone in King’s Landing is a liar, and has sworn to herself never to trust them again.

The most valuable lessons Sansa gets are from Cersei during the Battle of the Blackwater:

“Certain things are expected of a queen. They will be expected of you should you ever wed Joffrey. Best learn.” The queen studied the wives, daughters, and mothers who filled the benches. “Of themselves the hens are nothing, but their cocks are important for one reason or another, and some may survive this battle. So it behooves me to give their women my protection. If my wretched dwarf of a brother should somehow manage to prevail, they will return to their husbands and fathers full of tales about how brave I was, how my courage inspired them and lifted their spirits, how I never doubted our victory even for a moment.”

In this moment, even though she’s not doing a particularly good job actually doing it, Cersei articulates what’s really important about politics: optics. Her true motives for protecting the Ladies don’t matter as long as the Ladies believe that Cersei is doing it for the right reasons. That’s what monarchies are built upon. They’re a fragile house of cards constructed out of people’s belief.

That’s a lesson Sansa learns again when Joffrey sets her aside and takes Margaery as his bride. Sansa knows it’s going to happen, and is coached by Cersei how to react:

I must not smile, she reminded herself. The queen had warned her, no matter what she felt inside, the face she showed the world must look distraught. “I will not have my son humiliated,” Cersei said. “Do you hear me?”

But in front of the court, Joffrey carries on the charade, pretending Garlan’s offer of his sister’s hand is brand new information. Sansa watches from the sidelines and sees how people react; chanting and cheering to the theatre of it all. She gets to learn in real time how important it is to be performing your duties for the people. Other characters – most notably Jon Snow and Daenerys – can never quite figure that part of ruling out, and it has grave consequences.

I don’t mean performing in the negative sense. Of course, it can be used like that, like when the Tyrell’s intentionally starve King’s Landing so they can swoop in and make a big show of providing food. But it can also be used for good; it is an absolutely necessary aspect of ruling to let your people know what you’re doing for them. Jon in particular gets in trouble at the Wall because he doesn’t explain why he does things; he just does them and hopes people will trust him. Part of the courtly aspect of ruling is doing the work of showing your people how you’re helping them. That way you build trust with them, and they know you care for them. That’s what Sansa’s learning how to do.

Sansa’s also very good at the literal courtly aspect of politics; the time actually spent in court, sitting for hours and hours as the tedious day-to-day of ruling takes place. After the Battle of the Blackwater is over, Sansa has to sit in court for an entire day as soldiers are given their reward. She manages to stay focused the whole time, giving incredibly detailed accounts of each prize that’s awarded and each act of valor that caused it. She handles herself better than the grown men in the hall:

By the time all the new knights had been given their sers the hall was growing restive, and none more so than Joffrey. Some of those in the gallery had begun to slip quietly away, but the notables on the floor were trapped, unable to depart without the king’s leave.

Actual adults can’t even tolerate it, but Sansa manages just fine. This talent of hers is taken for granted by readers, but really stands out when you compare it to other characters. Sansa has the benefit of being raised to be a Lady, unlike a character like Daenerys who never had to sit through the training. Dany can’t make it through one day holding court in Meereen, and calls a lid early because she’s so bored – then stops holding court all together. Actually being a Queen is horribly bureaucratic, and that’s a skill that takes some practice to be able to perform.

Sansa’s ability to hold her own as a leader also really shines during the Battle of the Blackwater, when all hope seems lost and Cersei abandons the women in Maegar’s Holdfast:

“Oh, gods,” an old woman wailed. “We’re lost, the battle’s lost, she’s running.” Several children were crying. They can smell the fear. Sansa found herself alone on the dais. Should she stay here, or run after the queen and plead for her life?

She never knew why she got to her feet, but she did. “Don’t be afraid,” she told them loudly. “The queen has raised the drawbridge. This is the safest place in the city. There’s thick walls, the moat, the spikes . . .”

“What’s happened?” demanded a woman she knew slightly, the wife of a lesser lordling. “What did Osney tell her? Is the king hurt, has the city fallen?”

“Tell us,” someone else shouted. One woman asked about her father, another her son.

Sansa raised her hands for quiet. “Joffrey’s come back to the castle. He’s not hurt. They’re still fighting, that’s all I know, they’re fighting bravely. The queen will be back soon.” The last was a lie, but she had to soothe them. She noticed the fools standing under the galley. “Moon Boy, make us laugh.”

Sansa has no reason to do this. Cersei has given Ser Ilyn orders to kill her if the castle falls, and all the women in the holdfast are older than she is. She’s the last person who should be capable of standing up to take charge, considering her age and her impending death by execution.

She knows she’s faced with a choice: try and save her own life, or stay and comfort the women in the holdfast. And she decides to stay.

True Knights

This book sees Sansa’s worldview start to deepen. She’s only a child when the series starts, and like most kids has a very simple understanding of the world; there’s good and bad people, and good and bad things that happen. Songs were the way Sansa gave that worldview structure. They taught her that the good things happened to the good people, and the bad things happened to the bad people. Westeros is fair, and only the good people could be put in charge to do good things. Kings, queens, and knights were all avatars of the inherent goodness of the world; people put in place specifically to protect others.

This worldview became unsustainable for Sansa after Ned’s death. Every single rule the songs taught her was violated by her father’s execution. In her last chapter of A Game of Thrones, we see Sansa turn to nihilism as a result; her father is dead, her prince is a monster, and the knights sworn to protect her are the ones beating her. She doesn’t believe in anything anymore, so much so that she just wants to die.

In A Clash of Kings, Sansa starts to grapple with the overwhelming cognitive dissonance. Ned’s death and Joffrey’s cruelty taught her how evil people can be; but she also knows how good they can be, because she grew up in Winterfell. For all of their shortcomings, Ned and Catelyn were loving parents who tried their best to do good, and raised their kids the same.

Sansa still believes in goodness, but sees that everyone around her fails to live up to it:

Knights are sworn to defend the weak, protect women, and fight for the right, but none of them did a thing. Only Ser Dontos had tried to help, and he was no longer a knight, no more than the Imp was, nor the Hound . . . the Hound hated knights . . . I hate them too, Sansa thought. They are no true knights, not one of them.

Notice how she thinks They are no true knights. Sansa is surrounded by unimaginable cruelty, but she holds on to an undying sense of optimism. She knows that real knights don’t fight for the right, but that doesn’t stop her from continuing to believe in those ideals. Unlike in A Game of Thrones, when her belief in good was attached to specific people like Joffrey and Cersei, Sansa’s new worldview isn’t dependent on people to live up to. She believes in doing the right thing no matter what, even if the people around her let her down.

Sansa’s conception of beauty is the same way; in the first book, she assumed that beautiful people must also be good. But in A Clash of Kings, she reverses that order; people become either beautiful or ugly to her based on how good or bad they are. We view Joffrey through many POVs, and it is clear that by any standard that he is objectively attractive; yet Sansa now finds him ugly:

His plump pink lips always made him look pouty. Sansa had liked that once, but now it made her sick.

And she thinks this of the Hound:

The scars are not the worst part, not even the way his mouth twitches. It’s his eyes. She had never seen eyes so full of anger.

It’s not his physical appearance that scares her, it’s the anger in his eyes. That’s the part of him that’s ugly to her.

This evolution in Sansa’s understanding is never clearer than in her interactions with Dontos. The parts of his appearance that Sansa finds unattractive are his blotchy skin and broken veins, which are both symptoms of his constant drinking. It’s his drinking that bothers her:

“I prayed and prayed. Why would they send me a drunken old fool?”

. . .

This is madness, to trust myself to this drunkard

But Sansa manages to look beyond that as soon as Dontos invokes Florian the Fool. As much as Sansa understands that the songs aren’t true, the idea still appeal to her. When Dontos says he wants to make amends and become a true knight, in spirit if not name, Sansa treats him as if he actually were a knight:

“Rise, ser.”

. . .

Sansa took a step . . . then spun back, nervous, and softly laid a kiss on his cheek, her eyes closed. “My Florian,” she whispered. “The gods heard my prayer.”

Sansa’s growing understanding of the world around her also changes the way she thinks of class. To some extent in A Song of Ice and Fire, every single character is classist because they’re all rich people in an extremely hierarchical society. The entire structure of kings, lord paramounts, lords, knights, and peasants requires you to be classist; if you believe everyone in Westeros is equal, the entire structure of the society crumbles. While some of the POV characters like Jon and Davos make great strides in understanding how bankrupt the Westerosi class structure is, they’re still generally classist; it’s almost impossible not to be when you grow up in the culture they did. Davos grew up poor, but the indoctrination of classism has given him an almost religious fervor to follow Stannis as the “true” king.

Sansa especially had a very rigid understanding of class in A Game of Thrones; Arya making friends with the butcher’s boy was anathema to her. But the more that Sansa sees the people in power as the monsters they really are, the more sympathy she has for the people below her. In the sept praying before the Battle of the Blackwater, she holds hands with a washerwoman:

The old woman’s hand was bony and hard with callus, the boy’s small and soft, but it was good to have someone to hold on to

The more Cersei and Joffrey try to isolate Sansa, the more they try to snuff out any feeling of goodness or loyalty she had, the more Sansa reaches out to connect with people. Everything bad that happens to her makes her feel more connected to the people of King’s Landing. She’s too young and privileged (class-wise) to have a fully functioning understanding of the true evils of hierarchy, but she fundamentally understands something most of the aristocracy do not: that the common people are people and should be treated with respect.

She knows the common people will suffer the most if Stannis breaches the city walls, and prays for theme:

She sang along with grizzled old serving men and anxious young wives, with serving girls and soldiers, cooks and falconers, knights and knaves, squires and spit boys and nursing mothers. She sang with those inside the castle walls and those without, sang with all the city. She sang for mercy, for the living and the dead alike

Sansa gladly positions herself alongside the working people, not offended to be among them the way the Lannisters certainly are.

Sansa’s deepening worldview also gives her an incredibly complex relationship to the songs and stories she used to love. As I’ve already mentioned, she doesn’t disown them entirely; the high ideals of the songs are still very important to Sansa. The concept of a true knight, who would actually defend the defenseless, is the cornerstone of Sansa’s belief system, and she doesn’t need that person to actually be a knight – as long as they fulfill the moral obligation of being good. (Little does she know that very person is later tasked to find her.)

But now she knows that the stories lie. She understands their role as propaganda; when Arys Oakheart tries to say the peasants believe the comet heralds Joffrey’s reign, she doesn’t believe him:

“Glory to your betrothed,” Ser Arys answered at once. “See how it flames across the sky today on His Grace’s name day, as if the gods themselves had raised a banner in his honor. The smallfolk have named it King Joffrey’s Comet.”

Doubtless that was what they told Joffrey; Sansa was not so sure.

And she can’t even finish a sentence defending knights without realizing it isn’t true:

“Do you have any notion what happens when a city is sacked, Sansa? No, you wouldn’t, would you? All you know of life you learned from singers, and there’s such a dearth of good sacking songs.”

“True knights would never harm women and children.” The words rang hollow in her ears even as she said them.

The words ring hollow in her ears because Sansa does know what happens when a city is sacked; earlier in a previous chapter, she thinks this:

The whole city was afraid. Sansa could see it from the castle walls. The smallfolk were hiding themselves behind closed shutters and barred doors as if that would keep them safe. The last time King’s Landing had fallen, the Lannisters looted and raped as they pleased and put hundreds to the sword, even though the city had opened its gates. This time the Imp meant to fight, and a city that fought could expect no mercy at all.

Cersei underestimates Sansa, assuming everything she knows is from a song, but here we see that Sansa knows that the songs don’t tell the whole story. Unlike in A Game of Thrones, she no longer holds them in complete reverence. The Sept used to represent everything beautiful about the songs to her:

Sansa had favored her mother’s gods over her father’s. She loved the statues, the pictures in leaded glass, the fragrance of burning incense, the septons with their robes and crystals, the magical play of the rainbows over altars inlaid with mother-of-pearl and onyx and lapis lazuli.

It was the song’s come to life. But after Ned’s death, she hates it:

When Sansa had first beheld the Great Sept with its marble walls and seven crystal towers, she’d thought it was the most beautiful building in the world, but that had been before Joffrey beheaded her father on its steps. “I want it burned.”

She literally wants to set fire to the things that used to represent the songs.

But songs and stories are the foundation of Sansa’s world; even though she doesn’t believe in them the way she used to, they still shape her perception. She doesn’t want to let them go:

There are gods, she told herself, and there are true knights too. All the stories can’t be lies.

She still uses the template of songs and stories to interact with the world, but now with the understanding that the world is so much more complicated. Whereas before, the songs represented a sanitized version of war, Sansa begins to understand it in its entirety:

Away off, she could hear the sounds of battle. The singing almost drowned them out, but the sounds were there if you had the ears to hear: the deep moan of warhorns, the creak and thud of catapults flinging stones, the splashes and splinterings, the crackle of burning pitch and thrum of scorpions loosing their yard-long iron-headed shafts . . . and beneath it all, the cries of dying men.

It was another sort of song, a terrible song.

Thinking about something through the lens of a song no longer represents a childish fantasy for Sansa. Her conception of them is no longer permanent; her view of the songs has changed to fit with her new reality, but it’s still a comforting way for her to make sense of the world around her.

She even incorporates her love of the songs into her political manipulations:

"You're lying," Joffrey said. "I ought to drown you with him, if you care for him so much."

"I don't care for him, Your Grace." The words tumbled out desperately. "Drown him or have his head off, only . . . kill him on the morrow, if you like, but please . . . not today, not on your name day. I couldn't bear for you to have ill luck . . . terrible luck, even for kings, the singers all say so . . ."

Her use of the songs nearly saves her life here. Joffrey doesn’t know enough to be sure that she’s lying, so once the Hound corroborates her story, he has to believe it’s true.

Sansa’s attachment to the stories is integral to her character, and GRRM does a tremendous job of making it important to the arc she starts in this book, which is her continued journey from pawn to player in the Game of Thrones. Sansa’s perspective as a political actor is entirely unique from anyone else for many reasons, and one of those is her connection to the ideal version of Westeros that lives in the songs. Even as Sansa realizes the songs are lies and that the world is so much darker than she thought, she never gives up on the hope that it could be good. Her unwavering optimism for the world, in the face of so much trauma, means that she will never stop trying to make the world better.

Flowering

Throughout her time in King’s Landing, Sansa’s experiences with sexuality are inextricably linked to violence. The way Joffrey physically abuses her comes with a nasty undercurrent of sexual violence. The total control he exerts over her means she has to let him do what he wants:

The king settled back in his seat and took Sansa's hand. His touch filled her with revulsion now, but she knew better than to show it. She made herself sit very still.

The subtext of that scene is drawn to the forefront when Joffrey has Sansa beaten after Robb’s victory at Oxcross:

“Leave her face,” Joffrey commanded. “I like her pretty.”

. . .

“Boros, make her naked.”

Boros shoved a meaty hand down the front of Sansa’s bodice and gave a hard yank. The silk came tearing away, baring her to the waist. Sansa covered her breasts with her hands. She could hear sniggers, far off and cruel.

This is one of Sansa’s first experiences with sexuality, and it is nonconsensual and done specifically to humiliate her.

The relationship between sex and violence is never clearer than at the start of the Blackwater:

"Bless my steel with a kiss." He extended the blade down to her. "Go on, kiss it."

He had never sounded more like a stupid little boy. Sansa touched her lips to the metal, thinking that she would kiss any number of swords sooner than Joffrey

Joffrey is asking Sansa to kiss his sword; the metaphor here is not exactly subtle. To Joffrey, sex and violence are one in the same; having power over someone, hurting someone, turns him on as much as physical attraction. And as his betrothed, Sansa is on the receiving end of his sexually charged violence.

Unlike Joffrey, Sansa’s not turned on by violence, seeing it and sexuality as two separates things. And she would rather suffer through the violence, thinking to herself she would rather kiss the sword than kiss Joffrey. Her experiences with being found attractive to someone have all been so traumatic that actual violence scares her less.

Arguably the most traumatic experience she has is during the bread riot:

Sansa dug her nails into her hand. She could feel the fear in her tummy, twisting and pinching, worse every day. Nightmares of the day Princess Myrcella had sailed still troubled her sleep; dark suffocating dreams that woke her in the black of night, struggling for breath. She could hear the people screaming at her, screaming without words, like animals. They had hemmed her in and thrown filth at her and tried to pull her off her horse, and would have done worse if the Hound had not cut his way to her side. They had torn the High Septon to pieces and smashed in Ser Aron's head with a rock. Try not to be afraid! he said.

In the nightmares she has of that day, she dreams of being murdered; a knife cutting through her stomach until she’s left in bloody ribbons. It’s not hard to see the violent sexual imagery in that description. Sansa knows what those men planned on doing to her, and the memory haunts her. It’s no coincidence that she wakes from those nightmares to her first period:

“No, please,” Sansa whimpered, “please, no.” She didn’t want this happening to her, not now, not here, not now, not now, not now, not now.

The way GRRM writes her reaction is so visceral. As tears streams down her cheeks, she tries to wash herself, cuts apart her sheets, burns them, and tries to drag her entire bed into the flames as well. And the whole time she does this, she keeps thinking They’ll know or What will I tell them? or I have to burn them. She’s so completely and utterly terrified that anyone could ever know, she’s hardly even thinking. It’s just sheer, overwhelming panic.

This line in particular stands out:

The bedclothes were burnt, but by the time they carried her off her thighs were bloody again. It was as if her own body had betrayed her to Joffrey, unfurling a banner of Lannister crimson for all the world to see.

Down to jewelry she wears and the way she styles her hair, Sansa’s body belongs to Joffrey. Her job in King’s Landing is to look pretty for him in the hopes that it will save her from his wrath. Her body exists solely to please him. She’s literally stripped of her own agency and control.

Flowering is the last straw for Sansa because it means she can be tied forever to Joffrey through marriage, and he’ll be free to rape her and force her to have his children. And there’s nothing Sansa can do to stop it. Her own body has betrayed her by merely existing.

Sansa’s period is again equated to physical violence during the Battle of the Blackwater:

“You look pale, Sansa,” Cersei observed. “Is your red flower still blooming?”

“Yes.”

“How apt. The men will bleed out there, and you in here.”

Then a second time, Cersei compares sex to violence:

“You little fool. Tears are not a woman’s only weapon. You’ve got another one between your legs, and you’d best learn to use it.”

Through Cersei’s eyes, we get the clearest summary of the point GRRM is trying to make. Existing as a woman in Westeros is inherently oppressive to the point of smothering the life out of her. Where the men are given swords, women are given marriage and childbirth; but the latter is no less violent than the former. In Cersei’s words:

“We were so much alike, I could never understand why they treated us so differently. Jaime learned to fight with sword and lance and mace, while I was taught to smile and sing and please. He was heir to Casterly Rock, while I was to be sold to some stranger like a horse, to be ridden whenever my new owner liked, beaten whenever he liked, and cast aside in time for a younger filly. Jaime’s lot was to be glory and power, while mine was birth and moonblood.”

“But you were queen of all the Seven Kingdoms,” Sansa said.

“When it comes to swords, a queen is only a woman after all.”

In many ways, Sansa’s arc in A Clash of Kings is centered around this idea; the violence of femininity in Westeros. Being a child isn’t enough to spare Sansa the horrors. The whole reason she’s trapped in King’s Landing to begin with is because of her body; the Lannisters want to use her like property – a broodmare to sire them sons to inherit Winterfell.

It’s no surprise the climax of Sansa’s chapters in A Clash of Kings pushes this concept to its furthest bounds . . .

Ser Dontos and The Hound

Throughout Sansa’s chapters in King’s Landing, GRRM is deconstructing the trope of the Princess in the Tower. Sansa more than any other character is aware that her life takes place within a story, and she prays to the gods to send her a hero to save from the Red Keep. GRRM had already subverted the idea of a charming Prince with Joffrey in the first book, so A Clash of Kings subverts the trope of a knight coming to save her. That’s why her two protectors in King’s Landing are Dontos and Sandor Clegane – two men who aren’t quite knights.

For most of the book, the narrative treats Dontos and Sandor as foils. The story of why either one is not a knight puts them on two opposite ends of a spectrum. Dontos has his knighthood taken away from him because he’s too soft. He would rather drink and let people laugh at him than fight with a sword, which is why Joffrey makes him a fool. On the other hand, the Hound likes killing too much to be a knight:

“Let them have their lands and their gods and their gold. Let them have their sers.” Sandor Clegane spat at her feet to show what he thought of that. “So long as I have this,” he said, lifting the sword from her throat, “there’s no man on earth I need fear.”

This dichotomy between them is made clearer in the way Sansa has to escape their advances. Around Dontos, she’s dodging kisses:

"Give your Florian a little kiss now. A kiss for luck." He swayed toward her.

Sansa dodged the wet groping lips, kissed him lightly on an unshaven cheek, and bid him good night. It took all her strength not to weep.

But it’s a steel kiss she has to dodge from the Hound:

He laid the edge of his longsword against her neck, just under her ear. Sansa could feel the sharpness of the steel.

The idea of Dontos and Sandor as opposites is driven home further by their different approaches to Sansa’s love of stories; Dontos uses it to win Sansa’s trust:

“I think I may find it in me to be a knight again, sweet lady. And all because of you . . . your grace, your courage. You saved me, not only from Joffrey, but from myself." His voice dropped. "The singers say there was another fool once who was the greatest knight of all . . ."

"Florian," Sansa whispered. A shiver went through her.

"Sweet lady, I would be your Florian," Dontos said humbly, falling to his knees before her.

The Hound uses it to berate and belittle her:

“There are no true knights, no more than there are gods. If you can’t protect yourself, die and get out of the way of those who can. Sharp steel and strong arms rule this world, don’t ever believe any different.”

Sansa backed away from him. “You’re awful.”

“I’m honest. It’s the world that’s awful. Now fly away, little bird, I’m sick of you peeping at me.”

But underneath the superficial differences, Dontos and the Hound have the exact same relationship to Sansa. When Joffrey is having her beat after Robb’s victory at Oxcross, both make efforts to help her – Dontos volunteering to hit her with a melon instead of a sword, and the Hound telling Joffrey “enough” – but stop short of doing anything that would put themselves in danger. They both make advances on Sansa against her will – Dontos with kisses and the Hound with knives, but the overt sexual nature of both cannot be denied. They both position themselves to Sansa as a sort of mentor figure, telling her how to act and what to believe, with the implicit (and often explicit) message that she’s not smart enough to think for herself and it would really be in her best interest if she just trusted them instead. Both men position themselves as Sansa’s “protector”, but they never protect her from much of anything; in the few moments they’re actually given the opportunity, like during the Battle of the Blackwater, they both panic and leave her to fend for herself.

What really connects the two men is how they use Sansa. To them, she’s the paragon of youth and innocence; the way she believes in the stories reminds them both of what they used to be like before the world beat them down. Sandor was a boy who played with toy knights before Gregor burned his face, and Dontos was saved as a child by the knight of knights Barristan Selmy. While they’ve both grown jaded, Sansa brings out the parts of them that still believe in the stories. That’s clear from the way Dontos reacts to the Lannisters winning the Battle of the Blackwater:

“Oh! the banners, darling Sansa! Oh! to be a knight!”

And even though the Hound claims to hate the stories, it’s a song he wants from Sansa:

“Go on. Sing to me. Some song about knights and fair maids.”

Sansa as the princess in a tower appeals to the fantasy of both men to be her hero.

But this is a subversion of that trope, not a straight retelling. Particularly in regards to Sandor, GRRM really deconstructs the destructive nature of this male fantasy. Before Sandor asks Sansa to sing him a song, he comments on her body:

“You look almost a woman . . . face, teats, and you’re taller too, almost . . .”

Sandor wanting to play the knight with Sansa is always tied to his sexual attraction to her; in every single instance, GRRM always ties them together. There is never one without the other. It should go without saying that this is not good; Sansa is barely twelve, and hasn’t even had her first period when Sandor’s sexual advances start. She is a child. In Maegar’s Holdfast, she’s shocked that men would view her sexually:

“Enough drink will make blind washerwomen and reeking pig girls seem as comely as you, sweetling.”

“Me?”

“Try not to sound so like a mouse, Sansa. You’re a woman now, remember?”

This passage also very clearly draws the connection between Sandor’s relationship to Sansa and violence. Cersei explains to Sansa the way battle makes men into monsters around women, and then the next chapter Sandor appears in Sansa’s bedroom with a knife. This is not meant to be a romantic scene, or else GRRM would not have framed it with threats of rape and violence.

This is further re-enforced by the song Sansa sings to Sandor. When he holds the knife to her neck, he demands she sing the song of Florian and Jonquil:

He gave her arm a hard wrench, pulling her around and shoving her down onto the bed. “I’ll have that song, Florian and Jonquil, you said.” His dagger was poised at her throat. “Sing, little bird. Sing for your little life.”

But Sansa can’t remember the words, and instead sings the Mother’s Mercy hymn:

Gentle Mother, font of mercy, save our sons from war, we pray, stay the swords and stay the arrows, let them know a better day.

Gentle Mother, strength of women, help our daughters through this fray, sooth the wrath and tame the fury, teach us all a kinder way.

It is incredibly symbolic that the Hound demands Sansa sing him a song of romance, but she physically can’t; the only song she can remember the words to is one of forgiveness.

So much of Sansa’s narrative in A Clash of Kings is people demanding things that she can’t give them. Joffrey wants her loyalty, Cersei wants her words, Tyrion wants her trust, and Dontos and Sandor want her love. Everyone is pulling her in different directions, and her entire personality starts to crumble under the pressure; there’s no way she can give all of these people everything they want. Something has to give.

And when Sansa can no longer play her role, when the fear of dying is too visceral for her to wear her courtesy like an armor, the one thing Sansa can still give Sandor is her mercy. . .

Radical Empathy

The running thread that connects all of the themes in Sansa’s chapters is her being trapped. Physically through Joffrey’s abuse, emotionally through Joffrey, Cersei, Dontos, and Sandor, and even by herself mentally as she begins to internalize the abuse. Everything about the Red Keep is meant to turn Sansa cruel and self-interested, just like everybody else; even if they aren’t intentionally cruel like Joffrey, they’re okay with Sansa being hurt because that’s just how life is, like Cersei. Or Dontos and the Hound, who don’t intend to hurt Sansa but do because they’re too caught up in their own narrative to acknowledge her humanity. Even Arys Oakheart, who really doesn’t want to hurt her, but is too afraid to say no and defy the class structure of Westeros.

That makes Sansa’s defiance through empathy stand out in such radical contrast. The kindness Sansa shows everyone, even those who hurt her, is how GRRM brings the songs to life. Sansa doesn’t love those stories because she’s silly and naïve; she loves them because they justify her belief in the inherent goodness of being kind.

Empathy and kindness are Sansa’s defining character traits, and that’s why her arc in A Clash of Kings opens with her saving Dontos’ life:

Sansa heard herself gasp. “No, you can’t.”

Joffrey turned his head. “What did you say?”

Sansa could not believe she had spoken. Was she mad? To tell him no in front of half the court? She hadn’t meant to say anything, only . . . Ser Dontos was drunk and silly and useless, but he meant no harm.

Even though just moments earlier she had noted Joffrey’s mood was turning dark:

The way Sansa stands up for Dontos is particularly notable because he had the chance to do the same for her in A Game of Thrones, but chose not to:

Sickly Lord Gyles covered his face at her approach and feigned a fit of coughing, and when funny drunken Ser Dontos started to hail her, Ser Balon Swann whispered in his ear and he turned away.

- Sansa V

Dontos wouldn’t even risk treating Sansa with basic courtesy, yet she risked her live to save his.

And that’s not the only time Sansa stands up to Joffrey to save someone:

Halfway along the route, a wailing woman forced her way between two watchmen and ran out into the street in front of the king and his companions, holding the corpse of her dead baby above her head. It was blue and swollen, grotesque, but the real horror was the mother's eyes. Joffrey looked for a moment as if he meant to ride her down, but Sansa Stark leaned over and said something to him. The king fumbled in his purse, and flung the woman a silver stag.

- Tyrion IX

The only other character we ever see move to actually stand up to Joffrey is Tyrion, who is also the only person in court who doesn’t have to be afraid of Joffrey’s retaliation. Everyone else sits by day after day and watches as Joffrey abuses Sansa and says nothing; or worse, they actively participate. But whenever Sansa sees Joffrey hurting someone, she risks herself to make him stop.

Sansa also uses her kindness to give herself courage:

Sansa found herself possessed of a queer giddy courage. “You should go with her,” she told the king. “Your brother might be hurt.”

Joffrey shrugged. “What if he is?”

“You should help him up and tell him how well he rode.” Sansa could not seem to stop herself.

She’s too afraid to speak back at Joffrey when he’s abusing her, but as soon as she sees him mistreat Tommen, she finds the courage to stand up for others.

Kindness is almost an involuntary reflex for Sansa:

Lancel was one of them, yet somehow she still could not bring herself to wish him dead. I am soft and weak and stupid, just as Joffrey says. I should be killing him, not helping him.

Lancel Lannister, who stood by and egged the crowd on as Sansa was stripped and beaten after the Battle at Oxcross. She has every reason not to help him; she knows if she stays in that room, with the battle all but lost, Ser Ilyn is going to kill her solely because of the Lannisters’ spite. She has no reason to stay and help Lancel. But she can’t stop herself.

The moment where Sansa’s kindness stands out the most, though, is when the Hound comes to her room during Blackwater:

Some instinct made her lift her hand and cup his cheek with her fingers. The room was too dark for her to see him, but she could feel the stickiness of the blood, and a wetness that was not blood. “Little bird,” he said once more, his voice raw and harsh as steel on stone. Then he rose from the bed. Sansa heard cloth ripping, followed by the softer sound of retreating footsteps.

I think reading this passage out of context is what allows certain fans to paint this scene in a romantic light. The softness of Sansa reaching out to touch Sandor is an indelible moment. But it does the moment a disservice to read it that way. This scene is so well written because of what comes before it:

“I could keep you safe,” he rasped. “They’re all afraid of me. No one would hurt you again, or I’d kill them.” He yanked her closer, and for a moment she thought he meant to kiss her. He was too strong to fight. She closed her eyes, wanting it to be over, but nothing happened. “Still can’t bear to look, can you?” he heard him say. He gave her arm a hard wrench, pulling her around and shoving her down onto the bed. “I’ll have that song, Florian and Jonquil, you said.” His dagger was poised at her throat. “Sing, little bird. Sing for your little life.”

Afraid for her life, Sansa closes her eyes. But Sandor is too bitter, jaded, and wrapped up in his own self to realize that’s why she closes her eyes; he thinks it’s because she still can’t look at the burned ruin of his face. He came to her room with kindness the furthest thing from his mind; the flames dancing on the Blackwater Rush made him scared like a wild animal, and he’s come here to get something from Sansa – whether she wants to give it or no.

(And while certain people are interested in carrying a lot of water to redeem this character, GRRM has really left no ambiguity in Sandor’s intentions. The passage He gave her arm a hard wrench, pulling her around and shoving her down onto the bed, taken in tandem with his confession to Arya, I took the bloody song, she never gave it. I meant to take her too. I should have. I should have fucked her bloody and ripped her heart out before leaving her for that dwarf, make it very clear that Sandor intended to rape Sansa. That is not up for debate.)

Sansa singing the Mother’s Mercy hymn is the last thing Sandor expected. The idea that in this moment, as Sandor becomes all of the worst things he’s ever believed about himself, about to do one of the most monstrous acts a person can do – that in that moment, Sansa could still show him mercy, is enough to stop him. He can no longer pretend that all the songs are lies and that everyone is only pretending to be good, because in this moment Sansa is still somehow capable of showing him kindness.

Sansa’s ability to have empathy for seemingly irredeemable characters is not limited to Sandor (though certain shippers would like to pretend that’s some unique characteristic of their relationship, it most certainly is not). The dynamic between Sansa and Cersei is so rich because of Sansa’s inability to hate her, even though Cersei is responsible for pretty much every bad thing in Sansa’s life.

The Sansa and Cersei dynamic is one of the narrative’s most dynamic and complex, as Cersei represents a dark mirror of Sansa. Both were in love with the idea of becoming Queen as children, but arrived in King’s Landing to find their Prince is not who they thought he would be – Cersei both literally and figuratively, as she realizes she’s not to marry Rhaegar Targaryen but instead Robert Baratheon. They’re both subjected to emotional and physical abuse by the King for things that aren’t their fault – Robert hates Cersei because she isn’t Lyanna, and Joffrey hates Sansa because of his fight with Arya on the Trident.

But Cersei’s Lannister upbringing and life have made her cruel in all the ways Sansa is kind. She can see the parallels between herself and Sansa, but instead of reacting with empathy, she uses it to justify her cruelty:

“You’re stronger than you seem, though. I expect you’ll survive a bit of humiliation. I did.”

Being afraid of the men in her life has taught Cersei that’s the correct way to wield power:

“Another lesson you should learn, if you hope to sit beside my son. Be gentle on a night like this and you’ll have treasons popping up all about you like mushrooms after a hard rain. The only way to keep your people loyal is to make certain they fear you more than they do the enemy.”

But Sansa reacts the opposite way:

“I will remember, Your Grace,” said Sansa, though she had always heard that love was a surer route to the people’s loyalty than fear. If I am ever a queen, I’ll make them love me.

This line has become the definitive statement of Sansa’s character because it so wholly embodies her ethos. Cruelty is not in her nature, and her instinct is always to show kindness. It also ties a direct connection to her own personal experiences shaping how she wants to be as Queen:

“Fear is better than love, Mother says.” Joffrey pointed at Sansa. “She fears me.”

Sansa knows what it feels like to be afraid, and she never wants anyone else to ever feel like that. Where the cruelty Cersei suffered taught her it was normal and good to rule that way, Sansa learns what it feels like to be at someone else’s mercy. If she ever has control over someone, which she will in books to come, she’s learned to always be kind because she knows what it feels like when someone isn’t.

All of her chapters in A Clash of Kings are full of moments that show how much Sansa values kindness. While I’ve already highlighted the life or death examples, she also shines in the small moments, like when she encourages Tommen before he faces the quintain at Joffrey’s name day tourney. And she comforts him when Myrcella leaves for Dorne:

Prince Tommen sobbed. "You mew like a suckling babe," his brother hissed at him. "Princes aren't supposed to cry."

"Prince Aemon the Dragonknight cried the day Princess Naerys wed his brother Aegon," Sansa Stark said, "and the twins Ser Arryk and Ser Erryk died with tears on their cheeks after each had given the other a mortal wound."

- Tyrion IX

She tries to comfort Lollys Stokeworth across the bridge to Maegar’s Holdfast:

She greeted them courteously. “May I be of help?”

Lady Tanda flushed with shame. “No, my lady, but we thank you kindly. You must forgive my daughter, she has not been well.”

“I don’t want to.” Lollys clutched at her maid, a slender, pretty girl with short dark hair who looked as though she wanted nothing so much as to shove her mistress into the dry moat, onto those iron spikes. “Please, please, I don’t want to.”

Sansa spoke to her gently. “We’ll all be thrice protected inside, and there’s to be food and drink and song as well.”

Her prayer in the Sept before the battle starts shows just how much she cares for everyone:

She sang for mercy, for the living and the dead alike, for Bran and Rickon and Robb, for her sister Arya and her bastard brother Jon Snow, away off on the Wall. She sang for her mother and her father, for her grandfather Lord Hoster and her uncle Edmure Tully, for her friend Jeyne Poole, for old drunken King Robert, for Septa Mordane and Ser Dontos and Jory Cassel and Maester Luwin, for all the brave knights and soldiers who would die today, and for the children and the wives who would mourn them, and finally, toward the end, she even sang for Tyrion the Imp and for the Hound. He is no true knight but he saved me all the same, she told the Mother. Save him if you can, and gentle the rage inside him.

There’s only one person in the whole of Westeros Sansa won’t extend her empathy to:

But when the septon climbed on high and called upon the gods to protect and defend their true and noble king, Sansa got to her feet. The aisles were jammed with people. She had to shoulder through while the septon called upon the Smith to lend strength to Joffrey’s sword and shield, the Warrior to give him courage, the Father to defend him in his need. Let his sword break and his shield shatter, Sansa thought coldly as she shoved out through the doors, let his courage fail him and every man desert him.

This line feels especially important. A lesson that’s drilled into Sansa time and time again by Cersei and Sandor is that her kindness makes her weak. It was used against her in A Game of Thrones, where her trust in Cersei and Joffrey left her completely vulnerable to Ned’s death. But this passage shows that it is not weakness that makes Sansa kind - it’s strength. For a character as kind as she is, and subjected to so much abuse, it would be easy to see her narrative as someone repeatedly letting herself be run over. By including this line, showing that Sansa’s empathy is a choice she makes – and making it clear that she chooses not to have it for Joffrey – it shows that Sansa still has control over herself, and will set boundaries.

Instead of using her experiences in a negative way like Cersei, Sansa learns to carefully apply the lessons of her life; she won’t let abuse stop her from being kind, but she knows when to stop herself from trusting someone again.

Because Sansa’s kindness and optimism are the most important aspects of her character, her arc in A Clash of Kings ends there. Joffrey setting her aside in favor of Margaery is an emotional rollercoaster for Sansa:

Dontos waited in the leafy moonlight. “Why so sadface?” Sansa asked him gaily. “You were there, you heard. Joff put me aside, he’s done with me, he’s . . .”

He took her hand. “Oh, Jonquil, my poor Jonquil, you do not understand. Done with you? They’ve scarcely begun.”

Her heart sank. “What do you mean?”

“The queen will never let you go, never. You are too valuable a hostage. And Joffrey . . . sweetling, he is still king. If he wants you in his bed, he will have you, only now it will be bastards he plants in your womb instead of trueborn sons.”

Throughout A Song of Ice and Fire, the narrative is constantly testing Sansa’s commitment to her ideals. Everything she knows is constantly turned on its head, going from a dream to a nightmare. The momentary joy she feels knowing she doesn’t have to marry Joffrey is only allowed for a second, until it collides with Dontos’ harsh reality.

But instead of ending there, the narrative takes a page out of Sansa’s book and leaves on a vision of hope for the future:

It was a hair net of fine spun silver, the strands so thin and delicate the net seemed to weigh no more than a breath of air when Sansa took it in her fingers. Small gems were set wherever two strands crossed, so dark they drank the moonlight. “What stones are these?”

“Black amethysts from Asshai. The rarest kind, a deep true purple by daylight.”

“It’s very lovely,” Sansa said, thinking, It is a ship I need, not a net for my hair.

“Lovelier than you know, sweet child. It’s magic, you see. It’s justice you hold. It’s vengeance for your father.” Dontos leaned close and kissed her again. “It’s home.”

#Sansa Stark #game of thrones #asoiaf #asoiaf meta #just over 15000 words #which is a new personal record #sansa meta

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ageof9thhouse · 4 years

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Signs in the Sixth House

The sixth house is where we associate the sign of Virgo (ruled by the planet Mercury) but the goddess of Harvest and Fertility, Ceres or Demeter is assigned with the constellation. Demeter had a daughter named Persephone (Goddess of Spring) and Zeus thought of Persephone as the ideal wife for Hades who was the God of Underworld and not happy with his position. The myth is famously called “The Kidnapping of Persephone”. In the end, it is decided that Persephone only has to spend part of the year with Hades in the underworld and this is when the seasonal cycles come to play. Demeter had to let go of her daughter and with that acceptance, we now have four season which gives the circle of life the balance it needs. So, what does this famous myth has to do with this house? Well, I see this house as the loss of childhood (coming after 5th house), growing pains, the responsibilities one comes face to face, taking care of your own health... Living is not all about fun and games no longer. The house represents the necessary actions or the discipline one has to adapt into their lives in order for their lively-hoods to blossom.

♈︎Aries / Mars in the 6th House:

These people want to have it their way when it comes to daily plans. They have a certain routine in which they’d prefer not to change for other people. They are talented in the field of organizing but when it comes to keeping up they are slacking. They are aware of how the “self” needs growth and would love to take the necessary actions for doing so, however, they are not good recognizing what these actions exactly should be. They are naive in their approach to taking care of themselves even though they would think of themselves as the best at it. They need to at least take into consideration what other people might have to say about what might be good for them. Aries rules the head, therefore the native might be prone to migraines, head injuries and sinus pressure. Anxiety can also catch up to them when they feel like they are not good at something they set out their minds on. When working for other people, the person’s ego is very fragile. They do not like the idea of pleasing others. They are also quite competitive in the work environment. The transition to adulthood was painful but was faster than what was anticipated. The native was a rebellious young-adult who was angry at the unfairness of the world.

♉︎Taurus / Venus in the 6th House:

People with this placement tend to be very stubborn about the way they want to live to be the best option for them (and perhaps everyone else too). They will not change anything about what they are doing for anyone’s sake. And when it comes to it, their daily routine is pretty lazy and focused on one’s pleasure. They want everything to go smoothly and under their control. They do take care of themselves but it a more self-indulgent way than anything. They like making plans so that they can enjoy it. They are likely to accept other people to custom their daily lives to their own. They are not very disciplined people when it comes to taking the right actions for an order to take place in their lives. Taurus rules the throat, including the neck, thyroid gland, and vocal tract. The native might be prone to inflammation of the tonsils, sore throats, and thyroid imbalance. They are sensitive to catching a cold more than most people. Anxiety can catch up with them when they see things not going their way and when their peace is disrupted by circumstances. A test of their optimism is something they fear but inevitable. When working for other people, they make sure to make themselves feel comfortable. They’ve got a way of making their superiors like them but it is a forced relationship. Even if they tend to be lazy in the work environment they are capable of keeping things under control. The transition to adulthood was very slow since the native is stubborn when it comes to giving in to nature. The native was surprisingly a patient and peaceful young adult.

♊︎Gemini / Mercury in the 6th House:

The daily lives of these people with this placement tend to be very busy and hectic. Thankfully, they are very capable of taking on a lot of things at once. They are very curious about health and what is the right path for them to follow when it comes to self-actualization. They are very adaptable to sudden changes in their routines and have no trouble with organizing. They seem to be very talented when it comes to recognizing the necessary actions to be taken so that their lives will come in order. They always have a back-up plan when things seem to go wrong. They might have a tendency to always “be on a diet” since they have an immense curiosity for the field of health. These people are highly analytic and seem to be afraid of being ill. They are likely to be one of those people who constantly google symptoms. Gemini rules the nervous system which includes the shoulders, lungs, arms, hands, and fingers. They might be prone to carpal tunnel syndrome, anxiety, nervous or fidgety problems, smoking-related illnesses, and breathing issues. When working for other people, they are very good at doing the right thing and following orders. In the work environment even though they seem cool and capable on the outside, inside a lot of nervousness can be bothering them because of their desire of being perfect at what they are doing. The transition to adulthood was very awkward for them and caused a lot of anxiety on their part but they adapted rather quickly. The native was a young adult who was always on the run trying to achieve their goals as soon as possible.

♋︎Cancer / Moon in the 6th House:

When it comes to their daily plans these people base them on their emotional needs which are changeable hence the reason why they find it hard to have a steady structure - not that they are complaining. They like the fact that their lives are unpredictable and ever-changing. They stick to their gut feeling when it comes to knowing what is the best thing to do for their bodies and livelihood. Their mother might have influenced them a lot when it comes to self-discipline or on the contrary, it was so lacking that they had to become their own mothers and teach themselves about nourishment through trial and error. They are not comfortable with restrictions and discipline. The idea of a routine can lead them into depression. Flexibility is important for their mental health. Cancer rules the chest, including the breasts and stomach. The natives can face problems concerning these areas. The mother might also pass on an illness to the native. But the emotional ups and downs caused by past traumas will be the biggest concern for the chart owner. In the work environment, they are well-liked. The people they work for or work with seem to feel close to these individuals even if the native is not really doing anything intentionally. Their intuition is working well when they are doing their jobs. The transition to adulthood might have had been very hard for them. Their biggest emotional problems probably occurred during their “growing pains”. As a young adult, they were quite emotional and well known for their vulnerability.

♌︎Leo / Sun in the 6th House:

It would be a hard task trying to make these people do whatever they don’t want to do. They can be pretty selfish when it comes to their plans and comfort zones. They go about their days confidently, thinking the universe only works for them but this is not the case. When they come face to face with this harsh truth they self-sabotage and make the most childish choices. They are forever creative individuals who never want to grow up. They can be introverts since they only feel confident in themselves when they are in control and other people will only bring discomfort into their daily lives. Even though they are very intelligent and creative they do not like to collaborate with people for similar reasons. Leo rules the heart, spine, spinal column and upper back.If these people do not follow a passion and know joy, there can be heart disease. It is crucial for them to live their everyday lives just the way they desire. It is not possible always of course. This is the reason why for their constant depression. Once they let go of the control issues they will get rid of the depression for good since the energy of the sun has immense healing powers as much as bringing too much focus in the place it's shining on to. In the work environment, they are very efficient IF they are working on their own. There is a great chance for them to outshine everybody else surrounding them which will lead to jealousy issues. The transition to adulthood is almost non-existent since they refuse to grow up. As a young adult, they were well-known for their creativity and talents.

♍︎Virgo / Ceres in the 6th House:

This placement feels right at home but it does not make it any easier for the owner. They are very fixated on perfection when it comes to their work, daily lives and self-actualization. They have one of the most analytic brains which can give sudden anxiety. They always feel the need to make sure everything is in the right order, but what is right and what is wrong depends on the circumstances. Not having the answers to problems makes the native nervous. They are always in constant search of what is the right thing to do. Since the answer to this is vague the person with this placement always feels incomplete. They have to watch out for trying to fill this hole with addictions. Virgo rules the digestive system, which includes the intestines, and spleen. People with this placement might suffer digestive problems in addition to addiction and anxiety problems. Their hyper-awareness needs to be tamed. Meditation and mindfulness are highly recommended to these individuals. They are also very helpful individuals. Concerns of others become their concerns also. In the work environment, they are hard-workers. They tend to tire themselves out to the point of exhaustion and they tend to overlook their health when their work is on the line. The transition to adulthood came naturally since they were eager to work and take care of themselves on their own. But once they are fully grown they miss their youth greatly. As a young adult, they were well-known for being workaholics and perfectionists who were nervous wrecks from time to time.

♎︎Libra / Venus in the 6th House:

With Libra’s energy being here balance seems to be the one thing the native of the chart is striving for more than anything. With balance comes peace and beauty but in order to understand and value the true meanings of these things other than what is on the surface these people have to have a taste of chaos and imbalance in their lives. Only chaos gives birth to such beauty. Balance in their daily lives is essential for these people since the circumstances are extra hard on them. The ruthless side of Venus shows its face here. The sign of Libra rules the kidneys, skin, lumbar region, endocrine system, and buttocks. People with this placement might come face to face with health problems concerning these areas. It is a great signifier of how they have to get their act together at this time. They have a tendency to wait for a significant other to help them on their journey of self-actualization which seems to be their downfall. Relationships seem to affect their health greatly. Being dependent on others will cause their personalities to be unstable. Extra care needs to be taken on their own being. In the work environment, they are quite artistic and seem to take care of anything that is out of order in their jobs. They are very flirty with their co-workers. During their transition to adulthood, they have blossomed beautifully. They had to go through a lot of tests concerning relationships. As a young adult, they could’ve had been heart-breakers and a lot of people had crushes on them.

♏︎Scorpio / Pluto in the 6th House:

When the antagonist of Demeter’s story comes to rule her house we might come across some friction here for the natives of the chart in a house that friction is already dominating. These people are masters at planning things. They can manipulate other people to adjust their lives according to their own. They are capable of controlling other people without even trying but there is a lot of karma that follows them without their knowledge. They are master manifesters but unsatisfaction with their daily lives seems to be a curse they have to deal with. It is almost like they have a great sense of what other people are going through and how can they fix it for them (or make it worse) but when it comes to their lives not only are they clueless but they always feel out of place. Keeping their powers of manifestation on a leash can actually do wonders for them. They need to take extra caution of their thoughts, especially of others. They need to stay away from any kind of obsessive behavior. The sign of Scorpio rules the reproductive system, sex organs, bowels, and excretory systems. They can have health troubles in their lives concerning these areas when their life is out of order. Once they put their lives in order and be careful of not adapting manipulative behavior, there is nothing that can stop them... They have the potential of becoming magicians almost. They can especially work their magic in the work environment. They have a way of climbing on the top of everyone else very quickly. They have a powerful influence on people. The transition to adulthood was almost transformative. Something inside had died and now they are the phoenix who rose from its ashes. As young adults, they have done things they regret but thanks to those mistakes they are capable of great things in life now.

♐︎Sagittarius / Jupiter in the 6th House:

The sign and planet of expansion are still going to do its job in a house that is all about discipline. Sagittarius is also all about higher knowledge hence the reason why the native of this placement will have an undeniable desire to know about their health and what is the right thing to do for self-actualization. The more it is ignored the larger the problems concerning these areas. The chart owner has to be aware of the issues surrounding their bodies and life-style - blind luck and optimism will not be on their side when it comes to these things if they are not taken into consideration. But once they are noticed and taken care of the native will be very auspicious. Sagittarius rules the thighs, hips, liver, pituitary gland, and sciatic nerve. If they face with health troubles especially around these areas, the native must take immediate action and take their soul-journey in their body seriously. After all, we are spirits who are having a human experience and anything that is of earth needs to be respected... especially our bodies. In the work environment, they are extravagant. It is hard to not notice them and the work they do. They are naturally good at doing what they put their hearts into but if they do not feel enthusiastic about their jobs they will be slacking. The transition to adulthood was overwhelming for them. Their optimism might have had been tested but they gained confidence as they mature. As young adults, they were always out and about and having fun. They have learned the most important lessons in their late teens and early twenties.

♑︎Capricorn / Saturn in the 6th House:

Capricorn can be extra hard on the native of this chart within this house which it shares a familiar theme with. Living life seems like a test they were not prepared to take and they always ask for extra time to complete. Serious caution and consideration need to be taken because once the health of the native is neglected serious consequences will be paid. The great magic of Capricorn (also Saturn) is that once the lesson is learned, that is it. Now you have mastered the issue. With mastery comes confidence and great self-respect. Capricorn rules the knees, joints, skeletal system, and teeth. The natives of this placement might need to take extra care of these parts of the body. Another concern might be anxiety which 6th house (Virgo) already is a natural at and together with Capricorn it is doubled. Counseling might help a lot. Health problems the father had suffered might make a come back in the child (the chart owner) so be very careful of that as well. The work-life might also be something the person is not very that much into as well. Even though the progression is slow for them success is guaranteed as well as great recognition for the job they do. They might even surprise themselves when they discover how good they are. The transition to adulthood was pretty slow for the individual as they did not really wanted to grow up at all but life goes on and with age, they get better like fine-wine. As young adults, they have struggled with a lot of fears. When they finally face those fears the monsters vanish and all that is left is endless opportunities.

♒︎Aquarius / Uranus in the 6th House:

These people are very talented in coming up with creative ways to put their lives in order. They are also very helpful and put their friends' minds at peace as well when it comes to balancing things out. Being out of control might stress them out like no other thing though. They do not like the idea of surprises and fear change. What you fear is what you get. They have learned to master their ways around sudden changes so that they will not be as affected as they used to. They might have had suffered unexpected illnesses no matter the caution they had taken. Aquarius rules the ankles, calves, shins, and circulatory system, therefore, these areas of their bodies might have had suffered or tend to get injured easily when their life is out of control. It is a way of our bodies telling us “get it together”. It is essential for them to know exactly where their future is going. They might be very intuitive. They might have flashes of insight concerning the future. These people are ought to do important work for the progression of humankind in one way or another. They have to feel like the job that they are doing is helpful for someone, out there. Their work environment is a place where they are advised to expect the unexpected. If they are truly satisfied with the fact that what they are striving to do in their job is what they were meant to do then there should be no concern. They have a tendency to be really good friends with the people they work with. The transition to adulthood was nothing like they expected to be. It was pretty shocking and life-changing. As young adults, they might have felt alienated from their environment because they were on a quest to find what was their mission here on Earth. They were on the constant search for their soul-purpose and once they found it there was no turning back.

♓︎Pisces / Neptune in the 6th House:

In this placement the 6th house feels distorted. This is the effect of Neptune on everything it touches but since Virgo is the opposite of Pisces, this touch is grander here. People with this placement tend to give in easily when it comes to what other people want from them. They tend to over estimate their own needs and put others needs first. The sense of some sort of a schedule only comes through other people. Sleep problems might haunt these people when they are not taking care of themselves. Pisces rules the feet, toes, lymphatic system, and body fat, when they are not following the right path these areas of their bodies are highly affected by their wrong doings. Pisces also rules the psychology to a certain extend. Hidden depression is a major concern these people might come to face with. They need to recgonize their bodily needs. It is essential for them to start to notice how their bodies demand respect from them. They need to learn to set up boundaries between them and other people and that is when things will start to get better for them. In their work environment, they are very idealistic. They have high expactations from themselves which can get in the way of actually doing the job the best they can. They need to take things less seriosly and let go of their ideals and only then they can manifest those ideals. They might not really have a clue about what they are doing or what they want to do. They need to allow themselves to take their dreams seriosly and pursue their dreams - not what other people tell their ideal job should be. The transition to adulthood was easy for them, or so they thought. They hid away their problems during this transition, to the subcouncious and they have to deal with them in the later years. As young adults, they were known for being carefree but were they really?

(Art: “Demeter Mourning for Persephone” by Evelyn De Morgan)

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haledamage · 4 years

Note

"I think we're stuck." for Kai?

(trigger warning for claustrophobia, brief mentions of child abuse (no worse than the stuff mentioned in-game in Aloth’s backstory))

“Oh, lovely,” Aloth said drolly, staring into the room he’d just discovered. “A dark, ominous closet. My favorite.”

“Wonderful.” Kai managed to sound even less enthusiastic about the discovery than he did as she stepped up next to him. “You know, when I said I wished we could have some more time alone together, this isn’t quite what I had in mind.”

“I know.” He took her hand, gave it a quick squeeze, then let her go. “At least those journals look promising. Maybe we’ll actually find some clues in this one.”

“Or spiders.”

He chuckled. “I suspect we’ll find spiders either way. After you, my dear. “

Kai didn’t hide her reluctance to enter the tiny room, but she did it anyway. It was barely big enough for the two of them to have room to move about without having to climb over each other. She suspected she could lay on the floor and be able to touch all four walls, and the ceiling was low enough that the cobwebs hanging from it caught in Aloth’s dark hair, silver strands clinging to him and aging him before his time. The three walls that didn’t house the door were covered in shelves with stacks of old, crumbling books and intriguing esoteric trinkets.

Without a word, the two of them turned to opposite shelves and started sifting through their contents. She had to resist the historian part of her brain that told her to take everything so she could study it at her leisure. They were here for a purpose, and part of that purpose involved leaving as small of a trace as possible of their passing.

Still. It was very tempting.

“Oh!” Aloth exclaimed suddenly, drawing her attention away from the golden curio she’d been inspecting. “I think I found something. I can’t read the text, but it looks familiar.”

She peeked over his shoulder at the book he was holding, squinting to try and see it in the unlit room. “It’s Engwithan. It’s too dark in here to decipher, but I recognize the language.”

“That seems promising,” he muttered to himself, tapping his finger on the corner of the book as he thought. Kai knew what he was thinking; he was trying to decide if they should risk exploring more, or take their prize and get out. He nodded, coming to a decision. “We should go. We’ve already been here too long.”

“Agreed. We’ll take it back to our room and see what there is to see. Worst case scenario, we can come back.”

They tried to put everything else back where they’d found it, more or less, then picked their way back to the door. It had drifted closed while they were exploring, the old wood warped and uneven from age. Aloth reached it first and moved to open it, but it didn’t budge.

He tried again; the doorknob rattled as he tried to shake the latch free, but it remained unmoved. He threw his shoulder into it, trying to force it, but it still remained spitefully closed.

Kai wished she’d thought to bring her pistol. There was more than one way to open a door.

He turned to her, a frown set deep in his brow, and she knew what he was going to say before he said it. “I think we’re stuck.”

It was amazing how much dread could come from just four words. “Of course we are. Gods forbid anything go simply for a change. How long do you think before someone comes looking for us?”

“If we’re lucky? A few hours.” His eyes roamed the room as if trying to find a different way out, but there were no windows, no spaces there could possibly be any hidden doors or alcoves. “If we aren’t… Edér will probably notice we’re missing by morning.”

“Galawain’s flea-bitten arse!” Kai growled and kicked the door. It did not fly dramatically open like she’d hoped. She leaned back against the door and pressed her head against it.

“Feel better, my dear?” he asked dryly.

“I’m sorry, darling. I just…” She closed her eyes, trying to keep her composure, but she was breathing too fast. “I don’t like tight spaces.”

“I… had forgotten,” Aloth said softly. “Forgive me.”

“Not your fault. It’s been a while.”

“That it has.” He tried to hide it, but Kai could still hear the pain in his voice.

“Don’t you dare apologize, Aloth Corfiser. We’ve talked about this.” They had, in fact, talked about it exhaustively. He still felt guilty for leaving Caed Nua, even though they’d agreed he needed to, and she still felt guilty for not going with him, even though they’d agreed she needed to stay in Caed Nua. It was a circular argument, one with no clear answer and no winner and all it did was reopen wounds that would be better left alone so they could heal.

“I know,” he said, voice so low now it was almost a whisper. She hadn’t realized how much her hands were trembling until he laced his fingers with hers. “But I can still never get back those years we were apart.”

“We have plenty of years ahead of us that we’ll spend together.” Even on the edge of panic, that still drew a small smile to her face. “Though we’ll probably spend them locked in this gods damned closet.”

“Kai. Look at me.” Aloth’s voice was gentle but firm, and she found herself responding to the command almost unconsciously. He was standing very close, his face barely inches from hers, and instead of making the suffocating closeness of the room worse, his proximity actually made it a little easier for her to breathe. His pale eyes seemed to glow in the dim light. “You are safe. I won’t let anything happen to you. Just keep your eyes on me.”

He kept talking about nothing in particular, his voice calm and his gaze steady, his hand a lifeline in hers. Every breath came a little easier than the one before. She stopped shaking as the panic ebbed away, and the walls moved back to a reasonable distance once more. Finally, she sagged against him, pressing her face to his shoulder and just breathing him in for a moment. He smelled the same way he always did, the vanilla-and-dust scent of old books and the clean sharp ozone scent of his magic and a hint of woodsmoke that he picked up from her.

His arms went around her, holding her close, and the last of the tension drained from her and she could finally think again. Her thoughts raced like they were trying to make up for the time lost panicking. Maybe one of these shelves had a key. They couldn’t be the first kith to lock themselves in here. Or maybe… “I don’t suppose Iselmyr knows how to pick locks.”

“Fye, ainlie if ye've git an axe.”

“Figured it couldn’t hurt to ask.” Kai’s own Awakened memories weren’t any help either. Iorena had been a soldier through and through. She knew how to open a stuck door using a spear as a lever, but that didn’t exactly help right now. A memory from her own childhood surfaced, hazy but possibly useful. “Maybe I can. Do you have a letter opener? A… a hair pin? A quill you’re not especially attached to?”

“Perhaps.” Aloth raised a curious eyebrow, but started searching his pockets for anything that might fit the bill. “Why would you know how to pick locks?”

“When we were children, my younger sister Ariana taught me.” Her pockets were distressingly empty, so she scanned the shelves to see if they had anything promising. “It’s been about thirty years since I’ve done it, but it’s worth a try.”

Aloth beat her to the punch, plucking a single patinated copper hairstick that probably predated the gods themselves from the shelf above her head. He offered it to her and she turned to the door to try and coerce it open. “Why would you need to know how to pick locks as a child?”

“Our mother favored solitary confinement as punishment,” she told the lock so she wouldn’t have to look at Aloth while she spoke. She knew what she’d see there: pain, sympathy, and enough understanding to make her angry, both on his behalf and on her own. “While I turned to reading as a way to pass the time, Ari was more proactive. She would sneak out in the middle of the night and rearrange Mother’s furniture, or steal things from Father and hide them throughout the house, and lock herself back away before they awoke in the morning. They never did figure out who was doing it.”

“How terrible,” he said softly, and he clearly wasn’t referring to Ariana’s poltergeist impression.

“No worse than anything you endured as a child.”

“That doesn’t make it okay.”

“No. It doesn’t.” Kai really didn’t want to talk about this anymore. There wasn’t enough space in this room for the two of them and the looming specter of her mother. Lucky for her, she was offered a very easy change of subject as the lock made a loud clicking sound. “Aha!” She gave her makeshift pick a careful twist and the door swung open. She climbed to her feet and gestured to the now-empty doorway. “After you, my dear.”

Neither of them said a word as they crept through the empty building and back out onto the street, then through a nearby alley. They emerged into a lantern-lit courtyard, music and laughter pouring out from the open doors of a tavern, and slowed their pace. Just another normal couple enjoying the evening air. The inn they were staying at was only a few buildings down, and they went straight up to their room as soon as they got there.

As soon as they stepped inside, Aloth rounded on Kai, hands falling onto her shoulders. “Are you okay?”

“I’m… getting there.” No use lying to him; he’d see through it anyway. She brought a hand up to his face, tracing her fingers along his cheek. “Thank you for keeping a level head, darling. If I’d been there alone, I suspect I’d have never made it out.”

“You don’t have to thank me. You’ve done the same for me. We take care of each other.” He said it like it was a simple fact of life. Water is wet; grass is green; we take care of each other. It made Kai adore him even more, just like it always did. “I got you something.”

He pulled the Engwithan book from his bag, then reached into it again and pulled out a smaller book, barely the size of his palm, and a bronze statuette of what looked like a deity, though it didn’t look like any of the ones they knew. They were small enough items that probably wouldn’t be noticed as missing, unless the owners did a thorough inventory - in which case their visit would have been noticed anyway.

Kai took the palm-sized book from him and opened it, curiosity getting the better of her. In it was page after page of faded writing in what looked like a very old form of Eld Aedyran, and the pages were so old they threatened to crumble at her touch. “You stole ancient artifacts for me,” she whispered, awed.

Aloth smiled proudly at her clear approval of his thievery. “Of course I did. I know the woman I married.”

She carefully took the books and statue from his hands and set them on the table. Then she walked back to him, cupped his face in her hands, and kissed him, pouring every ounce of gratitude she had into it - not just gratitude for the pilfered gifts, but for his support, and his love, and just for being there.

“You’re welcome,” he said breathlessly once they parted, already leaning in for another kiss.

“That’s just the start, darling,” Kai said when they next broke apart. She pulled away from him enough to undo the clasps on her armor, letting it and the shirt she wore underneath fall to the floor. “We’ve got all night. Allow me to thank you properly.”

#watcher wednesday #kai cirdani #kailoth #times like this I'm reminded that Evie Carnahan was a big inspiration for Kiki's character #nothing makes her happier than stealing priceless artifacts from bad people #and aloth is happy to exploit that fact as often as possible #this was my hurt/comfort fic I wrote #I had a migraine so I made poor kiki have a panic attack :/ but we're both okay now!#brightoncemore

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eternityunicorn · 5 years

Text

Remember Me? - Part Five

Author: eternityunicorn

Genre: Romance/Drama/AU

Pairing: Elijah Mikealson x OC

Warnings: Violence, Smut (*Smut chapters marked +18)

Summary: Set in TO Season 5 - Elijah Mikaelson didn’t know who he was, but he had stopped searching for answers. Instead, of trying to discover his true identity, he settled in a small village in the south of France, spending his days as a musician. Then a mysterious woman begins to show up, night after night, to drive him insane, when he refuses to return to his old life with her. However, his course is set as he learns more about the woman and the past he left behind, leading him down an emotional path of infidelity, betrayal, and heartbreak. Can he ever put the broken pieces back together?

NOTE: OC and original elements are from my up and coming novel series!

AUTHOR’S COMMENTARY: One more chapter after this and then this little emotional roller coaster of a fic will be finished. Also, I wanted to mention that I have the first couple chapters of my first Aziraphale (Good Omens) x Eternity fic done. So I will probably start posting for that soon, for those interested. Thanks for reading! Enjoy!

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Elijah and Antoinette met in the same place they had before, in the shadowy bowels of the same abandoned factory.

“Roman is safe,” the Original told the female vampire upon his approach. “My brother won’t try to harm him anymore. I promise.”

“Thank you,” Antoinette replied gratefully, coming to rest her hands on his shoulder affectionately. “Can you ever forgive me for the mess my family made?”

“I could ask you the same question,” he said with a slight shrug. “Where will you go?”

She smiled at him, cupping the side of his face with one hand, “Someone once told me that Shanghai is a safe place to hide out.”

“Someone?” He returned her smile with one of his own.

“A man who always did right by me, despite his decision to be with someone else,” Antoinette told him. “So I suppose I can trust him. I just want to say before I go that I’ll always love you, Elijah Mikaelson and I will always cherish our time together.”

Caught up in the moment, Elijah allowed her to kiss him tenderly and he responded in kind, knowing that this was goodbye - forever this time.

“Elijah!”

The Original pulled away from Antoinette sharply to find Eternity standing there at the bottoms of the stairs with wide eyes and an agape mouth in her shock at what she had witnessed. She backed away and then darted up the stairs, fleeing the scene.

Damn it....

Elijah sighed heavily in frustration and regret, rubbing his temples between his thumb and forefinger with his other hand on his hip.

“I’m sorry, Elijah,” Antoinette called to him. “I shouldn’t have kissed you. I truly didn’t mean to cause more strife between you two.”

He turned to her, “No, this is my fault. Aside from everything that brought us to this point, I didn’t tell her where I was going. She wasn’t even aware that I was meet with you and now....” He trailed off, as his words failed him.

“Well, I sincerely hope you are able to fix things between you,” the female vampire told him, “but if not, you know where to find me.”

Before Elijah could respond, she sped away, leaving him alone.

Immediately, he went back to the compound, knowing that he’d find Eternity there. The Mikaelson home was still her home, after all, and it was where their daughter lived too. He knew she wouldn’t simply take off somewhere else because of that reason.

Elijah found her standing at the window in his study. He knew that she had sensed him there in the doorway, but refused to turn around. As he carefully entered the room, a twinkle caught his eye as he went by his desk and saw her wedding ring sitting there, echoing their last bout of strife, right when he had gotten his memories back.

“It’s over, Elijah,” Eternity said with a shaky voice. “I cannot do this. I won’t.”

His heart dropped into his stomach with utter dread, tears automatically began to well up in his eyes. “No, Eternity, please....” his words died from the lump that formed in his throat.

“You were kissing her, Elijah” she finally turned to him, her eyes full of betrayal. “Not only that, but you snuck around behind my back to go see her. If it were nothing, if you had truly chosen us over her then you wouldn’t have done that. You would have told me what you were doing. You wouldn’t have something to hide.”

“You’re right,” replied Elijah, dropping his head in shame. “I should have told you. I was wrong, but I didn’t do it because I secretly want to be with Antoinette. I don’t. She came to me, seeking my help to rescue her brother that Niklaus kidnapped, nothing more.”

He looked up at her with certainty then, as he explained, “You and I have just been making such progress rebuilding our relationship that I didn’t want to tell you, for fear that it would ruin the parts we’ve rebuilt. I see now that it was a foolish move, one that I wish I could take back. I’m so sorry. Don’t leave. Please.”

By the almost accepting way Eternity looked at him, he thought that she would relent - that she would stay. However, her expression turned steely, as she said, “No, Elijah. I’ll send the divorce decree to you, when I have the chance, but I will not stay in this broken relationship. I’m sorry.”

He could barely breathe. He felt as though he were dying, as if her words were literally killing him. “What of our daughter? Will you take her from me too?” He demanded quietly, almost unable to speak at all.

“Beyond the stars is no place for a half-Earth based child,” Eternity told him. “I will leave her in your care and that of your family. I know you will care for her well. I’ll come to visit her when I can. Goodbye, Elijah.”

And with those last words, she swept from the room bravely, though it was obvious that she wanted to breakdown as much as he did. As soon as she was gone, he did breakdown, collapsing to his knees as tears fell from his eyes. He wept mournfully, as the pain of his wife leaving him consumed his insides.

Then Elijah heard Eternity speaking to his siblings, who had been apparently gathered in the courtyard casually when she happened by them. He went out onto the inner balcony of the compound to watch as she told everyone, including Ari, about her decision to leave.

“It is with a heavy heart that I must inform you all that I am leaving,” Eternity announced. “My relationship with your sibling, your uncle...your father, is not going to work out, after all. Therefore, I am terminating my marriage, as I cannot stay here any longer.”

His siblings all looked confused and alarmed by this news, none of which had seen it coming, except for perhaps Niklaus. He was the least shocked by her revelation. Ari looked absolutely devastated. Tears ran down the little girl’s face as she ran to her mother and wrapped her arms around her waist tightly.

“I love you all, but none more than I love you, my little one,” the ethereal beauty spoke softly. “I shall be back soon to visit you, dear girl, and I will never forget the rest of you. The Mikaelson clan will always hold a special place in my heart. You will always be a part of me.”

“Mom, don’t go,” Ari pleaded.

Eternity stroked the girl’s head, “Be good to your father, darling. He’s going to need your strength and your love. Goodbye for now, my sweet.”

With that, she vanished, leaving everyone devastated in her wake, but none more so than their daughter.

Dark days lay ahead after that.

In the weeks that followed, a black cloud hovered over the Mikaelson compound since the light that had given them new, brighter paths had disappeared from their lives. However, the shadowy void was the greatest over Elijah and his daughter.

Ari refused to see him. He had promised to fix things between him and her mother, but he had failed to do so. He had broken his promise to her. Yet, he did try and connect with his daughter, to make a new promise to always be there for her, but she wouldn’t hear it. She wanted them together as a family and if she couldn’t have that, then she wanted nothing to do with him or with her mother.

Niklaus also refused to speak to him, knowing exactly why Eternity had left, without him having to tell him. Yet, Elijah didn’t care. He shut himself up inside his study, refusing to see anyone since the one person left he wanted to see didn’t want anything to do with him.

Every day, the mourning Original sat with Eternity’s wedding ring between his fingers, staring at it as if it could summon the immortal queen back to him. He was lifeless and uncaring of anything. It was as if half of himself had gone with his soon-to-be ex wife and he believed it actually had.

As corny as it might sound, Eternity was his other half. Without her, he felt lost.

So lost was he that Elijah didn’t know what to do, but he knew he didn’t want to feel the pain that he did. Then one day, an idea came to him - a way to escape the hurt, escape the bleakness. He needed time to collect himself, if he was ever going to be a parent to Ari or at least that was the excuse for running he gave himself.

Picking up his phone, he called Antoinette for the first time in weeks.

“I cannot promise anything, but I’m coming to see you,” he told her when she picked up.

After arrangements were made with the female vampire, Elijah set to work packing his bags for a trip to Shanghai. He went into his bedroom and moved about collecting a suitcase full of clothes and necessities. He wrote a quick letter to Ari, to tell her that he would return soon.

Once he had everything he needed, he carried his bag out with the letter to drop off to his daughter ‘s door on his way out. He was in the process of heading down the hall toward Ari’s room when he received a surprise that caused him to stop dead in his tracks.

Eternity stood there, having just come out of their daughter’s bedroom. She stopped and stared at him with wide eyes. It seemed she was just as surprised to see him as he was of her.

Upon closer inspection, the ethereal beauty looked haggard. Her normal shining grace was dimmed until it was barely there. She didn’t shimmer or glow in the same way. Her otherworldliness was nearly nonexistent. Her hair that shone in light was dull and it didn’t move with her movements and her sapphire eyes had lost their luster.

Furthermore, she looked dead on her feet, exhausted and near collapse. Yet, she stubbornly stood tall before him, refusing to look weak, as if he was some kind of enemy she had to show her strength to.

Elijah was immediately alarmed by what he saw, but he tried not to show it. He didn’t know how well his concern would be received by her, given everything going on between them.

Then Eternity noticed the suitcase in his hand and looked at him curiously in that way that meant she was reading his thoughts. Upon finding her answer to why he had it with him, she coolly murmured, “I see. Moving on so quickly, are we, Elijah?”

Unable to help himself in his pain, he lashed out icily, “It is no longer your concern what I choose to do, you made sure of that, but yes, I’m choosing to move on. You can send the divorce papers to Shanghai. That’s where I’ll be.”

“Well, if you hadn’t acted like a fool in the first place, our relationship would still be intact,” she shot back. “This is your fault!”

“Perhaps, but you could have tried to forgive me for it all,” he muttered angrily. “Instead you ran away, like a coward! You gave up on us! Now you can live with it!”

A fury like no other erupted in the immortal queen then, despite her dangerous fatigue. “That’s it,” she roared and then she attacked him, punching him across the jaw and then roundhouse kicking him in the chest, sending him flying backwards. “We’ll settle this like Mikaelsons, as I am still one of you: with violence!” She growled.

An anger all his own roared to life in response to hers and Elijah engaged her, giving over to the baser part of himself. He fought back, throwing punches and blocking her, until she tackled him and sent them both over the balcony railing and crashing into the furniture of the courtyard.

Immediately, they were both on their feet, reengaging in their physical confrontation. They were each lost to the anger, the hurt, and utter grief they felt. Neither of them paused or stopped, even as they vaguely heard Ari scream at them, with Hayley then calling for Niklaus. They threw each other around the room, crashing into other pieces of furniture and into the walls, leaving cracked in the fragile concrete.

Before long, they were both battered and bruised, with blood splattered upon their skins and their clothing.

“I didn’t want to give up on us, Elijah,” Eternity shouted as they carried on. “I wanted to forgive you, I wanted to believe in you, but you gave away what was to always belong to me alone: your heart! You betrayed everything we had!”

“And if you had never left, I wouldn’t have had to act so desperately,” he raged at her, as he grabbed her by the throat and sped her into the nearest wall with brutal force. He squeezed threateningly, “I would have never met Antoinette and our happiness wouldn’t have been destroyed!”

Eternity gripped his wrist as he nearly choked her, yet she didn’t struggle against him as she stared at him fearlessly, “It was you who told me to go! I wanted to stay, but you said you could handle things until I returned! I believed in you, so I went, only to come home to my family in shambles, my husband lost to me - in love with someone else with me forgotten! You did this, nobody else....”

Elijah continued to be lost to his darkness, unable to stop. He held her in his grip, enjoying the way she seemed helpless against him in her apparently weakened state.

“Elijah,” Niklaus called authoritatively, speeding down to grab the arm of his choking hand. “Let her go! You don’t want to do this! You love her!” When that didn’t seem to reach him, his brother tried a different tactic, “What about your daughter who is watching this foolishness from the balcony in horror? Surely she is worth stopping this madness for.”

Immediately, the older Original released the ethereal beauty, letting her drop to the floor, where she wheezed and coughed. He stared down at her, horrified by his own actions. Then he heard Ari’s sobs and turned to see Hayley holding her as she cried with the female hybrid glaring at him.

Unable to deal with the pain of guilt he felt over what had just transpired, along with the rest of his agony, Elijah sped away, returning to his study to hide away from the cries of his daughter and the hurt of her mother. He did not leave the room. Instead, he let put everything he felt upon the room. All the pain and the frustration and the regret tore through the study, tearing it apart throughly, before he collapsed as his great despair overwhelmed him.

To Be Continued....

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Tag List: @elejah-wonderland @dendrite-lover @xanderling @elizamonet @hawaiianohana31 @inmylifeilovedthemall @missnmikealson @freshsuitcasewinnereagle @loulouisa @lalabluues @elejahforever @teekillerin @x-memi12 @lolelijahishot

#elijah mikaelson #daniel gillies #original characters #elijah x eternity #elijah x antoinette #romance #drama #alternate universe #sad story #the originals #the originals fanfiction #the vampire diaries #the vampire diaries fanfiction

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ariela-of-aedyr · 5 years

Text

Reunion

Ariela and Eder take a detour on their way to find someone who might be able to help them to fix up their wrecked ship, and end up meeting an old friend. Under a read more because this got waaaay longer than I’d ever intended it to be.

They had been walking for miles.

It wasn't that Ariela was opposed to walking, in fact she rather liked it, in the right circumstances. She'd enjoyed a good stroll in her leisure time back in Aedyr, taking in the beautiful sights that surrounded her hometown, often with a pretty companion of her choosing to keep her company. She'd even found a nice trail near Caed Nua, after settling there, which she'd taken to walking with Vela, teaching the young girl about the flowers and animals that they saw along the way. But trekking for hours through an unfamiliar land, in the aftermath of a storm, still sore and tired from the shipwreck, and... well, whatever it was that had happened to her before that... was not exactly her idea of fun.

The Dawnstars that they'd met along the road a couple of hours before had pointed them in the direction of the nearest town, but Ariela had been beginning to worry that they'd somehow managed to get lost along the way, until the day's light began to dip as the evening came upon them, and she saw the gentle glow of streetlights on the horizon. The end of their walk was finally in sight.

"Doesn't look too much further now." Eder remarked, turning his attention from the road ahead to flash her an encouraging smile. "You holding up OK?"

Ariela let out a long breath. "That's a big question. But, in the short term... I think so?"

"Good." Relief flooded her friend's face, before he added, "You know, you had me pretty worried back there for a while."

"You mean when I died?" Ariela tried to lighten the mood with a smile, making out like she thought the whole thing was trivial, but in reality, that was the part of her recent experiences that she wasn't handling so well. She'd been starting to remember, as they walked, what exactly had happened back in the Dyrwood. Though she didn't quite have a clear picture of everything- she suspected that she'd been in and out of consciousness for a lot of it- she remembered enough. The ground rumbling; erupting. Pain wracking her body. Screams.

The screams of people who had trusted her to keep them safe, begging for help, as she laid there powerless to do anything.

She averted her gaze from Eder's quickly, not wanting to cause her friend any more worry, and swallowed heavily, trying to shake the memories from her mind. "I don't rightly know what happened to you, Ari, but I'm glad that you're..."

"Eder, look!" She hadn't meant to cut him off in the middle of what she was sure had been going to be a heartfelt message of support, though it was true that she didn't particularly want to dwell on the subject any longer. But in her attempt to look anywhere but his eyes, not wanting to let on how she was truly feeling, she had noticed that something off with the ground not too far away. "It's a footprint! A massive footprint. Eothas must have went that way."

"And so you want to go that way too?" Eder looked dubious, his eyes drifting back and forth between the lights on the horizon and the huge indent in the ground, heading off in a different direction. "We're not far from that town. It might be a safer bet."

"I know." Ariela bit on her lower lip, nibbling anxiously. "But the ship can wait a little longer. The crew managed to salvage some supplies, they'll be alright for a little while. If there's people that way..." Her eyes fixed on the direction that the God had apparently traveled. Pain. Screams. Disaster. She didn't want anyone else to suffer. "Please, Eder. I couldn't help anyone in Caed Nua. If anyone else was caught in his wake... If there's still someone that can be saved here, I have to do all that I can for them. I won't be able to live with myself if I don't at least try."

It was just when Ariela had decided that there was no-one along this path that needed her help, as the last of the evening light that had been guiding them through the unfamiliar terrain was beginning to fade completely, that they reached the first signs of civilization. It was a ruin of some sort, Engwithan, but the well-maintained and well-lit route deeper into the structure suggested that it was still regularly accessed, or, at least, had been recently.

"You know, I might have plenty to say to my God, but if he's standin' just around the corner, I don't know that me and you can take him all on our own." Eder remarked, dodging around another of the footprints as they moved along the path. Ariela tried not to dwell on how deep the impact of just one foot had been, tried not to remember the keep she'd rebuilt being crumpled into rubble. "I figure we're gonna need at least another person, maybe even two."

Ariela chuckled, despite her nervousness. "Well, perhaps you should have thought about that before you put me on a boat and headed out to sea to chase a God."

"True enough."

"Perhaps I didn't mention enough how much I hate boats while we were traveling together. Though, in my defense, I did have other things on my mind at the time." Ariela's eyes darted about, looking for any sign of life as she walked, relying on the torches that had been set up along the pathway to light her way.

It was as the path widened out into a clearing, at the top of a wooden staircase which seemed to be a more recent addition to the site, that she saw them. She might have mistaken them for statues at first, were it not for the unusual positions that the figures were in, forever frozen cowering in terror, and for the fact that she had seen something like this before, all those years ago, when her soul had first been Awakened. These were people, had been people, before their bodies had been turned to ash, souls ripped from them.

"Gods." Ariela breathed, fighting back tears that had begun to well in her eyes. Had this been the fate of everyone back home, the people she had been supposed to protect? Swallowing heavily, she turned for the staircase, leading the way down into ruin. "Come on, let's just... let's see if there's anyone left."

Moving down and into the ruin properly, it became apparent that this had been some kind of digsite; tools and equipment were left scattered across the ground where they had been discarded by users in the moments before their deaths, and a few benches were set up along the way, covered in papers and the occasional relic. She kept moving past it all, searching for any sign of survivors, against all reason.

The first sign of movement raised her hopes, until a blast of flame crashed into the ground just in front of her, and she realised that it was a wurm- two wurms, in fact- and not a person, that she had seen moving. She jumped back quickly, thankful for the quality of her boots and the poor aim of the creature, that had helped her avoid harm. Eder began to move past her, hand already moving towards the hilt of his weapon, but she reached out to stop him.

"Wait!" The creatures weren't supposed to be here, they'd probably been displaced from their actual homes as the God that that she was following had strode through them. They were lost, and scared. This didn't have to end in violence. "I can handle this. We don't need to hurt them."

Reaching out with her mind, it wasn't difficult to influence them, convincing them to leave this place and head back to their homes. It wasn't a permanent solution, when her influence faded, there was every chance that they would eventually make their way back here, but for the time being, the creatures turned and left without any further fuss.

"Hey, that was pretty good!" Eder smiled at her encouragingly. "You should do that for every fight."

"Well, frightened creatures are easier to influence than angry kith, but I'll certainly keep it in mind."

Moving across to a wooden ramp, leading down to a lower level of the ruin, Ariela found a pair of panthers and a large contraption made out of equipment that Ariela vaguely recognised as having some kind of relevance to the animantic sciences. The panthers she dealt with quickly, scattering them back into the surrounding forest without any need for confrontation, but the contraption required further study. It seemed to be a cage of some sort, she could figure out that much, though there appeared to be no way to open the thing from the outside that she could see. Moving closer, she caught sight of some kind of movement behind the clouded glass walls, and with a little focus was able to make out the silhouettes of several kith inside.

"Hello?" Ariela called out, moving up to the machine properly and trying to focus her eyes on what was inside. "Is someone in there? Are you alright?"

"Are the beasts gone?" A voice asked from inside, and she saw one of the figures move up to the glass, stopping right in front of her, moving their face closer as if trying to get a better view.

"I can't guarantee that they'll stay gone forever." Ariela admitted. "But I drove them off, so it's safe right now."

There was some murmured discussion between the residents of the cage that Ariela couldn't quite make out, but relief flooded through her veins all the same. Whatever they chose to do now, at least there were some survivors coming out of this mess. She was glad that they had come this way, even if it had delayed finding someone to help them fix the ship, because at least now she knew for certain there was some hope. People in Eothas' wake may still yet survive.

There was a rattle and a loud clank, followed by the whirring sound of machinery, and Ariela moved back a few steps as the door to the cage began to open, the people inside spilling out. They looked tired, a little shaken, but physically not too worse for wear.

A young man towards the back of the group began cheering that they were saved, but the woman who stepped to the front of the group seemed less enthusiastic. She was human, not yet middle aged- though Ariela was notoriously terrible at judging the ages of younger races- and wore a serious expression on her face.

She peered past Ariela curiously, as if expecting someone else to be there. "Governer Clario must have sent you to rescue us, no?"

"Um, no, actually." Ariela corrected, with an apologetic expression. "We just... well, we happened to be in the area, and I had to see if there was still anyone to be saved."

"She's like that." Eder remarked, from beside her. "You just kind of have to get used it."

"Well, you are here, and that is what matters." The group spokeswoman seemed somewhat dejected that they had not been an official search party, but considering Ariela was not entirely sure where they were, let alone what local politics might be at play, she decided to let it go and not probe any further into the matter.

"What were you all doing out here?" Ariela queried, supposing it was a natural change of subject. And now that she knew there were survivors, she had to admit to being a little curious about the ruins.

"Hiding, of course!" The young man, the same one that had been cheering as he came out of the cage, remarked.

"We were taking measurements of the luminous adra when something strange began happening." The first woman explained, somewhat more helpfully.

The ground rumbling; erupting.

"It was fascinating." The young man continued. "The pillar started to dim. The ground shook, and our instruments showed unusual variations of-"

"That's when those of us with a grain of sense got into the cage." An older woman from somewhere in the middle of the group piped up, cutting of the younger man mid sentence.

"What exactly is the cage?" Ariela asked, glancing past the group to look at the work of animancy behind them. It wasn't a topic she knew a lot about, though she'd always found it somewhat fascinating. It was outlawed where she had grown up, after all, so naturally she'd always wondered what all of the fuss was about.

"Something we made to protect ourselves from surges in the luminous adra." Ariela glanced at Eder, dropping her voice a little. "If Eothas is using the adra statue to collect soul essence, that would explain why they were protected inside, while everyone outside..." She trailed off, the end of the sentence apparent without her having to say it.

"What would he need with souls?"

"I... don't exactly know. And frankly, I think I'm a little terrified to find out." Turning back to the survivors she asked; "Did you see what happened?"

The woman at the front of the group nodded solemnly. "The colossus. Some kind of construct made from luminous adra. It passed through towards the pillar. The pillar went dark, and all of our colleagues outside the cage froze. Like they were turned to ash."

"I'm very sorry for your losses." Ariela added, respectfully. "If you need to take a moment..."

"After that was when the panthers and wurms showed up!" The enthusiastic young man took over. "They started going through the tents, it was awful. But Engferth-"

The woman that had been speaking shot a terrifying look in his direction, and he fell quiet so that she could speak once again. She addressed Ariela with a somewhat desperate look. "Some of our people are still missing inside the ruins, including our lead researcher, Oderisi. It could be possible that he managed to hide."

"I... don't know how likely that is." Ariela admitted, carefully. "But I'm perfectly willing to help however I can. I can go and take a look inside, if you'd like? See if I can find more suvivors?"

"You would?"

"Of course. We want to help, that's why we're here." She glanced in Eder's direction, and to Ariela's relief he gave an approving nod.

"Well, if you're going below... you should take Engferth with you." She turned to motion somebody to the front of the group.

"Oh, don't worry, we're quite capable-" Ariela began, not wanting to drag anyone from the group into potential danger.

At the exact same time, Eder remarked; "Hey, he looks just like-"

Ariela followed her friend's gaze, confused as to why Eder had cut himself off. Her confusion was short lived, however, as her eyes landed on the person being ushered to the front of the group. She knew the face well, and had, in fact, dreamt about those pretty features regularly over the last few years. The woman may have identified him as 'Engferth', but the man now standing before her was most definitely Aloth Corfiser.

She cocked an eyebrow in his direction, but carefully schooled her expression to be as close to neutral as she could manage as he discretely tapped a finger to his lips. She wasn't a fan of dishonesty, but she trusted Aloth, and if he felt there was a need to keep his identity concealed, then she would respect his decision to do so.

But... that didn't mean she couldn't have a little fun with him. Five years was a long time to go without even so much as a letter to your dear friend, after all. Tilting her head curiously, she tried not to let the smirk threatening to play on her lips show. "What else can you tell me about 'Engferth'?"

"I... I don't think that's really-" Aloth began to insist, but the woman had already begun to answer.

"He has only been with us for a few weeks. He's inexperienced, but he came from a glowing recommendation from an academy in Selona."

"Oh, I'm sure he did." Ariela murmured, to herself.

"That's surely a generous overstatement." Aloth interjected, shooting Ariela a look.

She feigned innocence, returning her attention to the other woman, pointedly. "A glowing recommendation, you said?"

"'A pupil of unnatural talent' is the phrase I recall." The woman elaborated, ignoring the further attempts at protest from the man himself. "It seems he was loved and regarded by almost all of his instructors, though misunderstood, I gathered, by his fellow students."

A deep blush had spread across Aloth's cheeks by now, reaching up to the tips of his ears, and despite the glare he was leveling at Ariela, she couldn't help but think that he looked adorable.

She knew that she should stop her line of questioning now, that the task in front of her was far more important than this, but she'd been wound so tight with the tension of everything that was going on, and now that she'd allowed herself even a few moments of release, she wasn't entirely sure how to stop. "That's all very impressive. He doesn't even sound Vailian."

"Engferth's story is especially sad!" The young man at the back of the group announced. "He was only a boy when both his parents died. In a fire."

"Wishful thinking, surely." Ariela remarked, somewhat more loudly than she had intended. Thankfully no-one questioned her comment.

"He came to the Dyrwood and lived at the manor of a wealthy old aunt from Aedyr until she also died... in a fire."

Ariela turned her attention back to her former travelling companion, and found a sheepish look on his face. She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously.

Clearing his throat awkwardly, Aloth remarked; "Well, if that's all, then perhaps we should be off. That is... if you want my assistance?"

"Of course. I'd like nothing more."

"Your wealthy old aunt!?" Ariela moved in front of Aloth as soon as they were out of view and earshot of the animancers, a mock frown on her face. "Really?!"

He grimaced. "It seemed like a convenient story. Besides, you do have the oldest soul of anyone I know."

"I'm still younger than you, you cheeky-"

"Don't mind her, Aloth." Eder remarked, clapping a hand on the other man's shoulder with a chuckle. "She's been in a funny mood ever since she died again."

"You..." Aloth's gaze snapped to her face once more, a briefly horrified expression plain to see, before his eyes began roaming over her, searching for something. "What happened? Ariela, are you...?"

"I'm fine." That wasn't exactly true, but she said it all the same. It seemed easier than the reality. "What's more important is what you've been up to. 'Engferth'. Five years since I saw you last! You don't visit, you don't write."

She wasn't entirely sure why it bothered her so much that he hadn't been in contact with her since he'd left Caed Nua all those years ago. She'd encouraged him to follow his heart, to do what he thought was best, even if it meant parting company with one another. It wasn't as though one year of adventuring together meant that he owed her a lifetime of acquaintance. No, that wasn't quite right. Ariela did know why it bothered her so much. It was obvious, really. The feelings she'd developed for him during their time together had been beyond those of friendship, and though she'd kept those feelings to herself, she knew that she had been really quite smitten with him. The fact that he had broken off contact with her so entirely, it surely meant that he didn't return those feelings. And, as much as she knew that it shouldn't, that hurt her.

"Ah. Yes. Thank you for your discretion back there. Well, 'discretion' in the loosest definition of the word, anyhow."

"Sorry," Ariela smiled. "Once I started, I couldn't seem to stop."

"All the same, I appreciate that you didn't reveal my true identity. We can speak more freely about my movements once we're away from the island."

"Of course." Ariela made to walk on, to head deeper inside the ruins in search of more survivors that she suspected they would not find, but before she could take a step, she quickly changed her mind.

Turning back to face Aloth, she wrapped her arms around him in a sudden embrace, releasing him after a brief moment to find that ever familiar, incredibly adorable flushed face.

"It's good to see you again."

A genuine smile overtook his face, and, horribly, Ariela could feel herself falling in love all over again. "And you as well."

#pillars of eternity #deadfire #watcher ariela #Eder Teylecg #Aloth Corfiser #Ariloth #(kinda)#Em-J Writes

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champagnememoirs · 6 years

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Soft as a Rose, Sweet as Wine - A Clexa AU - Chapter I

Her roommates were gone already. Octavia and Raven loved going to the farmer’s market on early Saturday mornings. They never bothered to try and take Clarke anymore though. Not since the day she threw a pair of shoes at them for waking her up before noon on a weekend. There was still a small dent in her door from where the heel of her stilettos had made contact. Octavia had closed the door just in time to escape the damage herself.

Normally, Clarke made it a habit to stay in bed as late as possible on any day she could. Today, she was restless with memories of a past she tried so hard to forget.

“Get it together griffin! We don’t have time to wallow,” she thought to herself, as she jumped off the counter.

Once showered and dressed, Clarke left her apartment and headed into the busy city. She had errands to run and she couldn’t put them off just because she was in a particularly dreary mood.

At two forty-five, Clarke looked at her phone to see that she had missed three calls from Raven. She opened her messages to text her when suddenly, with a small jerk of her feet, she began to feel weightless. The weightlessness was quickly shattered by the feeling of her entire body slamming into the concrete floor. She shut her eyes tightly in pain.

“Oh my god! Are you alright?”

In her daze of pain and vertigo, Clarke wasn’t quite sure where the voice was coming from. She slowly opened her eyes and looked around, squinted, and looked up to try and find the voice.

“I am so sorry!”

A sloppy wet tongue licked the side of Clarke's face causing her to quickly come out of her stupor and stand up. Wiping her wet cheek, she looked down to see the culprit of her ungracious fall. A white and gray ball of fluff was smiling up at her with his tongue out and a glint in his eyes that showed no remorse. Clarke had been so involved in her phone that she didn’t see the furball’s leash and triped.

“Are you hurt?” came the voice again.

“No, but you should really - “ Clarke stopped talking as she looked into greenest eyes she had ever seen. So deep it was impossible not to get lost in them. “You should be more cautious of your dog” she finished, in a much gentler voice than she initially intended.

“I know, I’m so sorry. We are still in training. We were walking fine but he saw a bird and ran off. I wasn’t fast enough to catch his leash.” The green eyed girl explained as she picked up the furball’s leather leash and held it firmly in her hand. She gave the dog a stern look which was quickly softened with a small smile.

Clarke looked down at the dog. It was impossible to be mad at him when he was looking up at her as if he had no care in the world. “It’s alright. What’s his name anyway?”

“Aries” she replied with a soft smile that made Clarke’s heart skip a beat.

“As in the god of war?” Clarke bent down to pet the little fluff and he immediately flopped down and turned his tummy for a rub. "He sure doesn’t seem very fierce."

“Yeah, well I figured a fierce name would keep him from being bullied by the bigger dogs,” she laughed. “My name is Lexa, by the way.”

“Clarke.”

“Were you hurt Clarke?”

“No, not really. I might have a bruise on my knee but it’s not a big deal”

Clarke smiled at Lexa and she lit up at the shy smile that came across her lips as she looked down and tucked her loose waves behind her right ear.

“Well Clarke, it was a pleasure meeting you. Aries is delighted as well even though he's sorry to have been the cause of your fall,” she gave the dog another stern look that somehow didn't seem so threatening. Lexa didn’t want to be too obvious but the way Clarke was looking at her made her want to both run away and fall into her arms right then and there.

“Likewise. Aries is very adorable. Much like his owner” Clarke wanted to slap herself. Did she just say that? What was wrong with her? She had let herself get lost in those green eyes and no longer had control of her own words. A slight blush crept up on her cheeks and she looked down in embarrassment.

“Thank you” was the only reply Lexa could muster. Her cheeks red and an inevitable smile on her face. “Perhaps we will see you around?”

“Perhaps” Clarke replied.

“Come on Aries, you have caused enough trouble for one day. Let’s go home.” Lexa turned and walked away. When she reached the corner, she looked over to where Clarke was standing and gave her a small smile before disappearing.

Clarke made her way back to her apartment and opened the door. There stood the ever impatient Raven Reyes, she must have heard her keys in the lock. Without even allowing her to set her keys down on the hallway table, she dove in with the Reyes Inquisition.

“There you are! Where have you been? Did you forget we were are having our monthly roommate bonding lunch today? Octavia and I have been waiting for you for the past 30 minutes! The food is cold now!”

Damn it! She thought to herself. I KNEW I was forgetting something today! She had to think of a good excuse - and fast. Last time she missed roommate lunch, she got guilt-tripped into volunteering to wash the dishes for two weeks. “I will have you know that I didn’t forget. I was about to call you and let you know I was on my way when I was attacked by a dog.”

“Oh my god! Are you alright? Were you bit?” Octavia appeared from the dining room with a concerned look on her face. ��Do you need a doctor? A rabies shot? Should I call your mom?” She was already reaching for her phone and searching for Abby's number.

“No! Don’t call my mom. It’s alright. I’m alright” She said as she reached out and lowered Octavia’s phone.

Raven rolled her eyes. “Octavia, you always overreact. She is just saying that because she doesn’t want to have to wash the dishes for two weeks again”

“I wouldn’t lie!” Clarke put on an indignant look and tried to look innocent.

“Right. Well, lunch is served. Let’s eat, because I am starving and you’ve kept me from Octavia’s delicious cooking for too long already.” Raven started to move into the dining room and Octavia followed with a little concern still showing in her face.

The dining room had been arranged with flowers in all colors. The food looked amazing and Clarke’s mouth watered at the sight. They each took a seat around the small round table and took a moment to appreciate the display of food in front of them.

“O, this looks amazing!” the appreciation and pride in Clarke’s voice evident. Octavia had worked very hard to become one of the top chefs in the city, and despite their years of friendship, she still blew clarke away with her skills.

“It really does” chimed in Raven. Although not the most affectionate, she always praised Octavia on her work.

“Thanks guys,” Octavia smiled and started eating. “I tried a few new things so you have to be honest if you don’t like it,” after a few bites, she turned her attention to Clarke again. “So, tell us more about this dog attack”

Clarke looked a little sheepish. “Dog attack ... is a little bit of a strong statement," she started hesitantly. "It was more like I didn’t see him and tripped on the leash. I fell and hit my knee but I’m fine” she said quickly noticing Octavia's concern.

“I knew you were lying. You still think you can lie to me Griff, but you should know better,” was Raven’s smug response.

Clarke rolled her eyes and proceeded to tell them about Lexa and Aries. She told them about gray and white patches and Aries’ sloppy kiss and about green eyes that seemed to mesmerize anyone who looked into them.

“So did you get a number?” Octavia was fully invested in the story.

“No. I was nervous and afraid of doing something lame so I just watched her walk away” Clarke took another bite to keep from grimacing at her own stupidity.

“Right. Because THAT’S not lame at all” retorted Raven. “Where’s your game at Griff? You don’t just let a pretty girl walk away like that! You get the digits! ALWAYS ask for the digits!”

“I don’t know, maybe I’ll see her around and I’ll get a second chance” Clarke was hopeful that fate would be in her favor. For once. “Maybe I’m not ready and that’s why I choked”

“Well, you’ll never know if you don’t get back out there and try. It’s been three years since Finn” Octavia spoke his name with caution. Always gauging Clarke’s reaction as she spoke.”I think you’ve waited a good amount of time. You deserve to find happiness,” her voice was gentle and showed her concern.

“O is right Clarke, you don’t want to be alone for the rest of you life do you? I know that only you know what’s best for you; but, perhaps this is a sign that it’s time to let go,” Raven was always uncharacteristically gentle when she spoke of Finn.

Clarke pushed the memories out of her head and smiled at her roommates. “Maybe you’re right. I don’t know. For now, let’s just eat and enjoy our day” She took another bite and the girls quickly dropped the subject. As they always did when Finn was brought up.

They moved on to lighter topics. Catching up on the week’s events and planning what they were going to do that night. The day was full of laughter and teasing. There was shopping and dancing and drinks and food. By the time they returned home, tired and feet aching from a night of going from club to club, it was almost four in the morning.

Clarke laid in her bed, a faint smell of alcohol and cigarettes in her hair. She closed her eyes and tried to sleep, but from the depths of her mind, all she could see were bright green eyes looking back at her as if they knew the secrets of her soul.

Get it together Clarke, you’ve only even met her once!. She tried to push away the thought of piercing green eyes and get some sleep, but as she closed her eyes and drifted into a dream, all she saw was green. Green, like a forest on a rainy day.

Not too far away, Lexa slept with Aries at her feet; dreaming of eyes the color of the sky on a sunny day.

Chapter 2

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jodiwalker · 6 years

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Every Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Thing Arie Did in Part 1 of the Awful, Riveting, No Fun, Painfully Mesmerizing 'Bachelor' Finale

So, as it turns out: "needle dick" was a pretty solid assessment of a highly thoughtless person, gifted to us during The Bachelor's season 22 “Women Tell All” special a few weeks ago. Yes, it was an assessment made by a pathological narcissist with a YouTube channel and a WebMD printout of "laryngitis" symptoms, but still...

On Monday night, The Bachelor decided to air three hours' worth of their chosen testicle-in-charge Arie repeatedly telling his final two sister-girlfriends that he was so in love with each of them, choosing one to propose marriage to, and then breaking off the engagement with That One while a camera crew filmed the whole thing because he figured out he was actually in love with The Other One. Now, let's be clear: Becca K. as she's known around the Bachelor Thunderdome, has dodged the most boring of bullets. When all is said and done — or in the case of Arie and Lauren, when all is just done — this situation will ultimately be nothing but a win for Becca K. She comes out looking like a Minnesota rose with the most treasured quality of all: not being engaged to Arie.

But this entire show is designed to make Becca fall in love with Arie, and she did that. Becca did exactly what The Bachelor asked of her, and they repaid her by having a dude whose personality amounts to "cars go vroom vroom" break up with her in real time on national television. Obviously, the very worst thing Arie did on Monday night was setting his fiancé up for a blindside, and agreeing to film it for mass consumption. But in The Bachelor world, it's near impossible to know what's contractually obligated and what kind of behind-the-scenes manipulation is at play. I put the burden of airing Becca's heartbreak on this franchise; at least until the final two hours of this trainwreck air on Tuesday night when perhaps Arie will explain himself [ed. note: hahhahahahaha omg srsly, wut am i thinking?].

Even with that benefit of the doubt given to Arie about just how callous and insensitive we could believe him to be to the women he claims to love, our Bachelor still spent the entire three hours of Monday's filmed finale in "hold my beer, watch this" mode. Truly, he had moves we've never seen — and a few we've all seen. Without needing to hear a single thing he has to say live on Tuesday night, these are unequivocally The Worst Things Arie did in Monday night's Bachelor finale:

TELLING BOTH WOMEN HE LOVED THEM EVERY TIME THEY GLANCED IN HIS DIRECTION

At some point, Arie decided to replace his most-used catch phrase, "I love that," which is entirely devoid of meaning, with a variation—"I love you"—which is one of the most important phrases in the English language. When Ben Higgins told both of his final two women that he loved them, he immediately knew he'd made a mistake, and spent the rest of the finale looking like he was going to throw up on his penny loafers. Because Ben realized telling them such an important thing would make both women feel extremely confident, and eventually one of them would be extra hurt and confused, knowing that he loved her a day ago when they were making out by a waterfall, but he's now rejecting her next to a pedestal from Home Goods with Chris Harrison lurking around in the background. Basically, Ben took one single moment to consider his girlfriends' feelings and was like, Ohhhh, I'm a fucking idiot.

Arie is a fucking idiot who will never, ever realize it, as is evidenced over and over again in his final, excruciating breakup with Becca. He loved that Becca and Lauren both felt so confident about their relationship with him, almost like he never once considered that one of them would be completely traumatized once they hobbled down a Peruvian hillside in the name of an engagement to the man they loved—and who loved them!—only to get a swift Kanye to the face [ed note: you know, Imma let you finish, but Becca had the best wife potential of all time]. Arie telling both women he loved them repeatedly, often, and with mounting conviction wasn't his worst mistake, but it was his most fundamental mistake. It's the infrastructural jackassery upon which his Mount Rushmore of his jackassery stands. Shall we proceed?

ASKING HIS FAMILY WHICH OF HIS TWO BELOVED GIRLFRIENDS HE SHOULD MARRY

Okay, I did kind of savor how rude Arie's parents were without seeming to have any idea how awful they were being. While I could empathetically understand that it would suck for Becca that Arie's family kept being like, Yes when we met Arie Jr.'s other girlfriend Lauren yesterday, we enjoyed her exactly as much as we are currently enjoying you…it was also a little hilarious how insensitively clueless they were. Heyyyy, it's almost like that characteristic runs in the family or something! Food for thought.

My family's opinion matters to me too — wanting to keep that opinion hovering around "only slightly worried about her delayed progression into adulthood" is one of the many reasons I would never go on The Bachelor (the other reasons are that The Bachelor wouldn't take me because I have curly hair, have never been a catalog model, and unabashedly ate a cookie for breakfast last week). What I'm saying, is your family's opinions go out the window the minute you decide to do any of this. But Arie clearly couldn't get past his family's assessment of two women they'd spent maybe three hours with, and whose only immediate differentiating features are: one is shy-nice, and one is outgoing-nice and they have two different hair colors, though I can't for the life of me remember which belonged to which woman. I want to say there was a Sarah. Was someone named Sarah, Arie Jr.??? Anyway, pick Becca—she talks!

AT LEAST ARIE'S FAMILY COULD EXPLAIN WHY THEY CHOSE BECCA OVER LAUREN

This situation was doomed from the moment ol' Pillow Lips himself explained that he wanted to be able to tell Lauren something that would help her understand why he was breaking up with her, "But I have no real reason to give her."

All I wanted to say to Arie throughout the entire finale was: TRY, Arie. Why don't you just try to explain it? It's a good practice, trying! I get that it's hard, but if you put in the work, and try even a little bit to understand your feelings, I swear you can ink something out, even if it's just: I do love this, and I don't love this. Those words are very solidly in your vocabulary, I know it. Just TRY to relay your feelings to the people you supposedly love, you weak-willed doofus!

LETTING LAUREN LAY OUT ALL THE REASONS SHE LOVES HIM BEFORE TELLING HER HE'S BREAKING UP WITH HER

Rude, so rude. This woman literally hates to speak, Arie—that is what you love about her! (I think!) And you're going to let her go on and on, quite eloquently might I add, about how you've inspired her to let her walls down and how she's soooo glad she finally let herself believe that this love could be real??? This man's spine is made of pudding cups.

TELLING LAUREN HE LOVED HER AS SHE GOT IN THE BREAKUP LIMO

At this point, the idiocy truly became astounding. Not only has he blindsided and traumatized a woman who he has been telling that he loves for weeks by choosing another women over her, but now he's going to tell Lauren that he loves her moments before proposing to Becca? Has he considered that might be painful for his alleged future wife? Of course not! I think if you told Arie that other people have internal thoughts and feelings just like him, his head would explode, and then he'd just go on living his exact same life as a headless torso being told what to do by the Bachelor producers. But at least this brings us to...

HONORABLE MENTION: THE BEST THING LAUREN DID

I know this will shock you, but the best thing Lauren did during the finale was speak a series of words out loud — and boy were those words dead on the money. In the limo, feeling shocked and betrayed, she repeats out loud one of the idiotic things Arie told her when he broke up with her: that he didn't know who he was going to choose until just that morning. "Does that not terrify him?" she asks. "How could you get down on one knee if you weren't sure, like, three hours ago?" An excellent question, and proof that even Lauren would have been a more equipped Bachelor than Arie.

PROPOSING TO BECCA

Obviously, Arie's biggest mistake, from which there is no turning back—although he sure does try, that stinker!—was exactly what Lauren couldn't wrap her head around: he got down on one knee and proposed marriage to Becca when he had been completely in love with another woman and unsure of who he wanted to spend the rest of his life with just hours before.

Never has it been clearer how toxic the construct of this show is than now, when it's been thrust upon a canvas as blank and malleable as Arie. He spends the entire finale saying he's not sure about one woman, spending time with that woman, and then being completely reassured that he's in love with her, basically because she is in love with him; lather, rinse, repeat with the next one. I truly believe that if Becca had the first final date with Arie, and Lauren had the second spot, Arie would have chosen Lauren instead. He has the emotional retention span of a drunken dance floor makeout. I think a baby trying ice cream for the first time might have a stronger grasp on what love is than Arie.

Oh, and let's not forget this standout line from Arie’s proposal of marriage: "I choose you today, and I choose you every day from here on out." Arie apparently thought "here-on-out" was like one of those Old English words like "wherefore" or "fortnight" where it sounds like it means one thing (forever), but actually means another (two months, or whenever the camera crew is available to come out to this mansion in the Hills).

THE ENTIRE BREAK UP CONVERSATION WITH BECCA, START TO (ATTEMPTED) FINISH

Assessing the production genius and emotional sociopathy of the decision to show Arie breaking Becca's heart in real-time split-screen is for another time. For now, let's just block off the next four hours to discuss every single stupid thing Arie did during said exploitative disaster. First, after sitting Becca down for a serious talk, Arie tries to ask her how a recent trip to Las Vegas was and compliment a new tattoo. [Ed. note: The distraction of trying to figure out if the tattoo had anything to do with Arie, and ultimately, the immense relief that it did not but was merely your average bumblebee wrist-tattoo, was at least appreciated.]

Becca, however, is like, cut the shit and tell me what you want to talk about; that is our first sign that Becca is equipped to deal with the fuck boi nonsense that is about to be presented to her. I would like to be clear though, that just because Becca is strong, and Arie is weak, would not make this any less painful for her.

Arie then proceeds to explain in great detail how he can't explain why he's breaking up with her, except to say it in the absolute harshest, and most callous way possible: "The more I hung out with you, the more I felt like I was losing the possibility of maybe reconciling things with Lauren." I honestly think the worst part of that awful statement isn't saying that you've been thinking about someone else the entire time you’ve been with Becca; it isn't saying that you're leaving her for another woman; it isn't naming that woman by name just to really drive the knife right in the bumblebee tattoo; it's calling your engagement "hanging out." GROW UP, ARIE!!!

Becca's flawless response: "Are you fucking kidding me?" NEVER CHANGE, BECCA!!!

Arie goes on to say just about every wrong thing possible. He didn't think "it would be fair" to stay with Becca if he was only half in the relationship. "So are you going to be half in with her?" Becca asks. Nope, Arie's gonna full-love Lauren, and he feels like he's been "pretty upfront" with Becca about how he's been struggling to get past his feelings for Lauren. That's when Becca's left hand with her giant engagement ring briefly dips below the split-screen, and without saying anything, comes back up diamondless. And that's when I fall in full-love with Becca. Perhaps, Arie says, he didn't let Becca know "the extent" to which he hadn't moved on from Lauren. "Clearly," says Becca, a queen.

Then this martyr-ass-muthafucka tells the fiancé he's breaking up with in order to go chase after another woman that he "thought it would be good for us to talk about this now," rather than doing it on After the Final Rose. Becca tells him it would have been good if he hadn't proposed to her in the first place. She says she's done here, and goes in the back of the house to start re-packing the suitcases she brought with her when she was assuming this would be a romantic weekend with her fiancé…

NOT FUCKING LEAVING WHEN BECCA ASKED HIM TO FUCKING LEAVE 100 DIFFERENT TIMES

People talk to me about The Bachelor a lot. Even when I'm not writing about a season, or not really watching it, they know I'll be down to clown about The Bachelor and I love that — always talk to me about The Bachelor, I beg of you.

The number one thing I've heard from women who watched last night's slow-motion disaster, is how sick they felt watching Arie hang around that house and follow Becca around, and ask her to talk to him, even after she’d repeatedly told him that she wanted him to leave and had nothing to say to him. Because there is a certain type of immature man than many women (and men, I'd imagine) have dealt with: men who want women to reassure them that they're still good men even though they're doing a bad thing. Arie begged Becca to talk to him some more, and when she relented, he stared at her in silence. Because he was waiting and waiting for her alleviate the emotional weight of his guilt for him, so that he wouldn't have to feel it anymore.

Becca refused to do that: she refused to hug him goodbye. She refused to tell him that it was okay. She refused to tie an ugly situation up with a pretty bow in order to take this man's emotional baggage onto her already heaving load. And that is the admirable, strong, very good, incredibly courageous thing Becca did.

#The Bachelor #The Bachelor Recap

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ferelden-loser · 6 years

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Fireside - The Herald and the Inquisitor

Also available to read on Archive here! Please drop by to give us any thoughts or kudos, as it all means the world to us - http://archiveofourown.org/works/13799823

Written by @thursdaysshepard and myself, about our slightly canon-divergent characters Arahiel and Mahinnah Lavellan. Hopefully there will be more little doodles like this to come, sooner or later.

The clan they had found past the outskirts of the Exalted Plains was far more approachable than anyone had been expecting. Dalish here tended to keep to themselves, Mahinnah told the Inquisition. In a place so crowded with history, most of it tainted by anguish, many of the elves still couldn’t see beyond the ghosts of Orlais’ long-gone march. Bitterness lacing the infrequent transactions of elves and shemlens was not uncommon across the scarred landscape. In recent years fewer Dalish wandered the Plains in favor of lands with more profitable resources; those who stayed here were hardened, their trust not easily given.

It had taken months of careful approach to win the acceptance and eventual admiration of the clan. Small favors led to bigger endeavours in an effort to prove reliable. After a time, the approach of their party would be met with a welcoming gleam in the eye of the clan’s Keeper. There was little motive to their interactions, save for a chance to forge new connections where none had been in such a long while.

Mahinnah and Arahiel saw it was a chance to breathe easy among familiar settings for the first time in just over a year. The human’s Herald and their army’s Inquisitor were not regarded so highly in the beginning, but stilted honorifics gave way to softer adorations in the elvish tongue after a time. The clan wasn’t as large as the one they knew best, yet it still felt homely.

Some weeks after the final foray into the abandoned forts of the dead, the party were nursing new wounds around the Dalish campfire. The corpses they had fought were not the only concern. Bands of Freemen still roamed the Plains, apparently having nothing better to do than attack whatever and whoever they came across. A surprise ambush of eleven to four had left them all in a sour - but otherwise glad to be alive - mood.

Mahinnah takes a sweeping look around as he slips between the aravels. The sun is finally beginning to set overhead. A pleasant smell of something unidentifiable cooking in the near distance fills the air. At this point, it could be roast mabari and he’d still eat it.

“Lethallin.” he says quietly as he approaches Arahiel and the others around the fire. He sits gingery on the earth beside his clan mate, favoring his left shoulder. Healing magics from the Keeper here had taken most of the sting away but a dull ache lingered.

“Still won’t let you take that off?” he says, gesturing to Arahiel’s face with a poorly concealed smile. A bandage wrapped around the other’s head, covering most of one eye, definitely should not have looked as funny as it did, especially when the vision of Arahiel getting whacked in the face with a blunt club was fresh in his mind.

Arahiel hums, adjusting the wrapping where it’s clearly annoying him. “Awful lot of fuss over a little head wound. I’ve done worse to myself sparring. Still, it would have hit Varric if I hadn’t leapt in, heroically as always.”

“I appreciate it, Snowflake.” The dwarf himself replies, looking up from a letter in his lap, from the Merchant’s Guild probably, or one of Hawke’s other associates.

Arahiel shifts his gaze from Varric to Mahinnah, smiling warmly, even though only one eye is visible in the expression. “How’s your arm, da’len? Has the bruising gone down any?”

“Greatly,” he says, thankful. “It’s a shame Varric had to be the dwarf in distress, otherwise you could have leapt heroically in for my sake.”

Varric grunts in disapproval, though a smile flickers about his face in the firelight.

“I would argue our Inquisitor’s leap could be viewed as reckless,” Dorian says from the otherside of the circle. He sits with his staff across his lap, an assortment of books beside him. No one could quite gather where exactly they had been procured from.

“Then again,” he adds cheerily, “recklessness only adds to the odd charm you Southerners seem to have.”

Mahinnah rubs his arm, glancing away from Dorian’s not so discreet wink.

“You should be more careful, you know.” he says to Arahiel. His concern was not reproachful, but still plain to see.

“Don’t you worry, Hinnah. I’m made of sterner stuff than most - namely our squishy, though undoubtedly attractive, northern companion.” Arahiel replies, grinning back at Dorian playfully, “Besides, as long as there is a Herald to serve and an ancient blighted magister to overcome, I’ll be around. That’s what necromancy is for, after all.”

“I’d rather it didn’t come to that. After a while you’d start to smell dreadful.” Dorian says, cringing at the thought.

“And you wouldn’t be nearly as charming with half of your face starting to rot away, Inquisitor.” Varric chips in as he adjusts the reading glasses on the end of his nose.

Cassandra makes a quiet noise of disgust as she nears the fire. “Must you all be so morbid? I’d rather avoid conversation of death, even if only for a while. We did well today; we must remember that.”

“Our Lady Seeker is right, as always.” Arahiel agrees, smiling with delight as a blush fills her sharp cheeks. “We did very well indeed. The Freemen are starting to hold back. We’ll teach them not to mess with the Dalish, or the Inquisition. Or in our case - both.”

“I feel a little guilty.” Cassandra admits, “If I had been there to help—“

“Nonsense.” Arahiel insists, “We left you to defend the clan. You did just that, and quite impressively. The Keeper has assured me that they’ve never felt so safe, even surrounded by shems.”

He casts a mischievous look at Mahinnah; somehow referring to humans as shemlens to their face always gave him some kind of childish thrill, like cursing had done for them both as young boys.

“Easy,” Mahinnah leans in to whisper in elvish, his humor obvious. “Cassandra still takes some strange offense to that one.”

“Not so much anymore,” Dorian says with a lazy flip through the pages of one of his books.

In the odd silence that follows, Mahiannah stares, incredulous, across the circle.

“You’ve learned elven?”

“Learning,” Dorian corrects with a snort. “How else am I to keep up with Andraste’s Herald and Inquisitor in all their adventures if I can’t eavesdrop on their little private conversations?”

He leans up to accept a small bowl of steaming stew, offered by a younger elf. Amidst the small circles clustered throughout the camp other members of the clan were distributing dinner among themselves.

“I’m full of many marvelous and hidden talents,” Dorian adds, raising a brow as he takes a sip of the stew.

Mahinnah accepts two bowls for himself and Arahiel to the tune of Cassandra’s quiet, disgusted huff.

The conversation comes to a companionable lull as they each focus in on their food. The warmth seems to settle into Mahinnah’s skin, easing some of the soreness from earlier, and the taste is simple but familiar. After meetings with dukes and the associated feasts therein, or bare rations foraged from fruitless battlefields, he had begun to miss flavors like this, of home.

Around the camp the overall noise begins to fall as well. Everyone was enjoying the meal in earnest; save for two small figures at the edge of the furthest campfire, sequestered off in the fading light. Curious, Mahinnah gently bumps his arm against Arahiel’s, motioning in their direction.

A human or dwarf would perhaps have to squint in the dark to make out the figures, but elves with Ari and Hinnah’s keen eyes saw more than others. The two people are different in size on further examination; a mother and a child, it seems. The young boy, sits sniffing at his mother’s side as she strokes his hair, their still-steaming bowls of stew forgotten momentarily.

It is not immediately audible, but it soon becomes clear that the boy’s mother is humming a lullaby under her breath as she caresses her child’s head tenderly. The boy stops sniffing and leans into his mother where they sit away from the clan’s fire. As Arahiel and Mahinnah watch on, experiencing a strange familiarity from this exact scene, more mothers drift from the glow of the flames to the shadowy spot away from them. Following them are children, mostly young girls; daughters and sisters. That’s when the voices lift through the dark, reaching the ears of those seated at the fire in a haunting, soothing choir.

Arahiel goes rigid as Mahinnah’s body shrugs into relaxation, his head turning from the sight of the clan singing their soothing lullaby to the glowing embers at the base of the crackling fire. His uncovered brown eye stares, unseeing and unfocused, his mind lost in the rising voices of the clan.

Countless years, it seemed, had passed since they last heard that song. It was old, but not uncommon. Mahinnah could remember his own mother singing it to him during moments like these, past sunsets and calm nights he could no longer visualize with any perfect clarity. Nostalgia runs deep in the pained look he hides behind a quiet dip of his head. The ancient words come easily to his lips, but this moment doesn’t belong to him, and he restrains them in favor of listening without interruption.

Cassandra, Varric, and Dorian watch with interest, eyes narrowed as they peer through the evening dusk. Cassandra looks strangely touched as the chorus progresses, such a soft expression rarely seen on her features. Varric sits completely still, another rarity in itself. He faces away from the gathering, a curious smile barely visible in the low light.

Dorian stares neither at the clan nor towards the fire; he meets Mahinnah’s gaze instead, both wondering and reverent. On any other man, one might have called it humility.

It takes a long moment for him to look away.

“Ari.” Mahinnah says softly, the nickname almost unfamiliar for how long it had gone unused aloud, “I’d almost forgotten what that lullaby sounded like.”

“So had I.” he replies, barely more than a whisper, his focus still lost in the base of the fire. He no longer felt comfort from the warmth of its flames. Instead visions came to him - a sight he knows he could not remember, of burning aravels, the heat of vicious and unforgiving fire. The screaming and crying of innocent elves rattles around in his brain, and somewhere among it all, a woman’s voice that he is sure he knows echoing the self-same words of the lullaby, like a mourning spirit wailing over the site of a massacre.

Arahiel is overwhelmed by the sudden urge to get away, before this strange pseudo-memory consumed him. His stew flies from his lap as he suddenly stands and marches away. He has no direct goal from this point; nearby the rushing of a river calls to him. The water is shallow - the Plains have a longer dry season than most temperate areas in Orlais - but he wades in until the water laps at his knees, his bare feet consumed in the icy dark stream.

Voices call for him, urging him back, but he ignores them. Conflicting desire gnaws at him; one half of his brain clutches to these parts that he thinks is memory, and the other forces it away out of his reach, begging him not to go near, almost in the sound of Istimaethoriel’s own voice when she was younger, when she used to plead for Arahiel to concentrate or behave…

In frustration, Arahiel yells and kicks the water. The camp behind him falls silent. Many stare on at him, and he can feel the weight of their gaze on his back like the survivor’s guilt he had almost forgotten which now bares down on him all at once.

It is Cassandra who reacts first, rising from the fire, her own stew forgotten and going cold at her feet. Across the way Mahinnah sees her fingers flicker instinctively towards her side where a sword is not currently present, as if the cool touch of a weapon would allow her some means to fix whatever is wrong. He is familiar with the feeling, as unproductive as it might currently be.

One or two murmured conversations begin to pick up as he stands, holding a placating hand out towards the Seeker. She looks to the lone figure in the water. Confusion echoes through her and in the faces of their other companions, but neither Varric nor Dorian speak.

After a brief moment of hesitation Cassandra nods and stiffly takes her seat once more, abiding by Mahinnah’s silent request. He mouths a brief ma serannas and begins to pick his way across the landscape towards the water glinting in the rising moonlight. Behind him, he hears the lullaby pick up once more, fainter this time.

Arahiel is still, unmoving as the statues that loom over old Chantry sites in the Emprise. Mahinnah wades through the gentle current to stand beside him, shutting out any lingering eyes of the others following his progress.

“Lethallin?”

“I’m sorry.” Arahiel murmurs, and it’s not immediately clear even to himself if he means those words for Mahinnah. As he turns, his attempt at an embarrassed smile is tampered by the fact that it does not meet his unwounded eye. He drops his head and stares at the ripples around their ankles. They bump and glide over one another, making room for each other. Much like he and the other elf at his side. Accommodating, part of the same whole. It restored the sense of belonging he had lost for a moment.

“It was too much.” he admits as he continues in a lower voice than his apology, so only Mahinnah can hear him. “We used to hear it as children, I know, which ought to have been a good memory. But there was something else, a different version underneath it all. And that, with the fire, and the fighting today, it was just…. too much.”

Arahiel glances up, focusing on his companion now, his expression drawn into a confused and frustrated frown.

“I thought I heard her voice, Hinnah. I thought… I thought I heard my mother. My real mother, from before the Lavellan clan found me. Perhaps it’s because the Veil is thin here, but that’s never happened before. It scared me, lethallin.”

How could you hear what you hadn’t ever known, Mahinnah thinks, but doesn’t dare speak it. Arahiel was a Lavellan in everything but birth and the topic had gone largely undiscussed for most of their lives. There wasn’t anything to discuss, really. Most clans adopted city elves and foreigners often enough for it to become widely accepted without question. Few had circumstances as strange as Arahiel’s, however.

“It’s possible you could have.” he says thoughtfully. “What we know of the Veil encompasses very little of what we could hope to understand.”

He pauses, choosing his words carefully. “What exactly did you hear?”

“Screams.” Arahiel says bluntly, once again not meeting Mahinnah’s eyes, “”The crackling of fire, but not from the camp. I saw burning aravels -- I felt the heat of them on my face. And over all that, just audible in the chaos, a woman’s voice, and that lullaby.”

It sounds ridiculous, he is well aware. After all, even if it was because of some sort of connection to the Fade, Mahinnah was the one with the Anchor. It’s true that Arahiel had felt more connected to the other side of the Veil than he had been aware of before the Conclave, but that didn’t explain his visions. Perhaps he was just tired. The day had been stressful for everyone, for a multitude of reasons. Perhaps it would be best if he just called it a night, settled into his tent to sleep, and see if the vision lingered on him come the morning.

“Solas or Dorian might have a better answer than I.” Mahinnah offers after a long moment of silence. Nothing was worse than the sensation of helplessness, especially when concerning someone close, but he truly could offer little explanation. Shouts through imaginary fire were clouding his conscious. If he listened hard enough, perhaps he would hear the lullaby too.

“I know that probably isn’t helpful,” he adds with a weak smile. “We could always leave in the morning, if you wished? Or now, in fact. The others could catch up with us tomorrow. Unless you’d fancy to see shems blindly following us in the dark?”

Arahiel turns over his shoulder to their friends, who are trying their best - and failing - to not seem as though they are watching on with concern. The frown lines fade from his brow and his expression is replaced with one of amused and grateful appreciation for their fellows. Cassandra had not always looked kindly upon the two of them, but she had grown into a close companion over time. Varric had hit it off with them right away. And then there was the mage Dorian - Mahinnah had found love in this charismatic man, and Arahiel himself a good friend as well.

“No, we’ll stay the night. It’s been a tough mission for everyone. I’ll be alright, da’len.”

He pats Mahinnah reassuringly on the shoulder and leads them both back to the fireside, clearly wearied by his experience but determined as ever to not let the cracks show. They knew the stakes placed on them; any sign of fragility or weakness, even in front of those who did not believe that they were chosen such as the Dalish, could affect the strength of the Inquisition as a symbol for all in times like these. They had to maintain strength and determination, and the dedication of the Inquisition would follow. In time, they might come to believe it of themselves too.

#arahiel lavellan #mahinnah lavellan #arahiel and mahinnah #the herald and the inquisitor #herald of andraste #the inquisitor #my ocs #ocs #dalish inquisitor #dai #inquisition #dragon age #lee #zeke #wildredrose14

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medicalmarijuana-news · 7 years

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High Horoscopes | Jan. 12, 2017

The HIGH TIMES weekly astrological forecast, complete with strain recommendations!

Ask Aelie anything! Find her on Facebook and Twitter.

Aries

In the original Star Trek series, audiences were introduced to their first Vulcan, Mr. Spock. Like all good Vulcans, he was cool-tempered, controlled, and had the quintessential observing mind. Spock, however, was half human, which left him vulnerable to silly emotions. Being raised on Vulcan he aspired to contain his humanity, only ever showing his smile or anger when dosed by hypnotic flower dust or forcibly time travelled to an era when his people were still barbarians. You are doing a wonderful Spock impression these days, and a cooler head now is definitely what’s needed; but know that your human side will continue to pester you. It’s your nature and you mustn’t hate yourself for it. See it for what it is, allow it, but keep on track to clearer thoughts. Live long and prosper. Strain recommendation: True OG

Taurus

Your recent frustrations are akin to those of original Star Trek’s Dr. Leonard Horatio McCoy, aka Bones. He was endlessly grabbing people about the shoulders and exclaiming with buggy eyes and a veiny forehead how much humanity they were lacking. Why can’t everyone just live with the understanding that life is precious, and no one can be left behind? Your intentions are admirable, though like Bones’, sometimes impractical. Perhaps borrow a little calm from your Vulcan colleague Spock when expressing your beliefs to the unconverted. You might not be so easily dismissed as a raving hothead or overly emotional do-gooder with a cooler demeanor, even if secretly you are proud to be one (and so you should be). Strain recommendation: AK-47

Gemini

As Captain Kirk so aptly put it: KHAAAAAN! In the original Star Trek and its second motion picture, plus the reboot 31 years later, we witnessed the powerful Khan Noonian Singh, an augmented human with a passionate hate on for James Tiberius, commit interplanetary crimes in the name of rebellion and revenge. Despite being widely regarded as a villain, he is loved by audiences of all ages. You have a Khan vibe about you lately; you are strong, relentless, uber-smart and super angry. I’d like to you think about how to retain this energy and charisma while channeling it towards causes that are slightly less self-concerned and rage inspired as your current obsession. Strain recommendation: White Widow

Cancer

I find Cancerians to be well protected from the outside world by a layer of shielding; not vulnerable to the ebbs and flows of external emotionality but still intensely connected to their own inner journey. In way you’re the opposite of Deanna Troi, the half-Betazoid councillor on Star Trek: The Next Generation. As an empath, she feels what others feel—which often leaves her cowering somewhere, rocking back and forth while obsessively repeating a list of maniacal thoughts forced upon her by a villainous alien species. This week, a little Troi is pushing in on your well-constructed wall. Try to learn what you can from this temporary period of susceptibility to others without letting it bog you down in mushy flopping about. Remember that your form of sympathy, not empathy, is what makes you such a formidable person. Strain recommendation: Blue Dream

Leo

Star Trek: The Next Generation’s Lieutenant Reginald Barclay is a hypochondriac who has difficulties socializing. He typically suffers from a variety of symptoms simultaneously, and then inevitably discovers that they are due to his lack of confidence. He is your symbol this week. Your self worth is directly affecting your body, leaving you with persistent flu-like symptoms and achy muscles. Of course you could do some stretching and take vitamin C, but as the ever-growing pile of tissues around the garbage can attest, the usual remedies aren’t helping. Take some time to heal your inner sad little kid who has forgotten how truly brilliant you are. Strain recommendation: Cheese

Virgo

The character of Kes on Star Trek: Voyager was an Ocampan; they have 9-year life spans and heightened mental abilities. Kes, on top of having inherited skills, learnt how to develop even more with the help of her guide Tuvok. You are having a Kes-inspired week: one where opportunities to deepen your self, explore your best qualities and make some magic is abundant. Try on a new you, unafraid and excited, curious and free, but make sure to employ the help of a trusted advisor who can keep you from blowing up the ship. Strain recommendation: Dutch Treat

Libra

One of the best characters on Star Trek: Enterprise was Captain Archer’s beagle Porthos. He was loyal, loving, always there when the captain needed a cuddle, uncomplicated, happy, cute AF, and had great comedic timing. You are the zodiac’s Porthos this week. Nothing too much is going on, you are content and wonderfully supportive to those who need you. Keep on being the beautiful soul you are. Enjoy this drama free moment, take many naps and go for lovely walks with your favorite humans. If anyone gets in the way of this, just give them a wee snout nuzzle and remind them that life can be simple and joyous. Strain recommendation: Trainwreck

Scorpio

Data, an android on Star Trek: The Next Generation, is the embodiment of a classic trope: the manmade object that longs to be human. He is a modern day Pinocchio, without the compulsive lying. As these stories go, in his desire to achieve a kind of humanity he ends up displaying more compassion than most humans. You, similarly, have an aspiration. A secret ambition to be more than you perceive yourself to be. And, just like Data, you are already are more this thing than most. You must trust in your insides, despite your outsides. Strain recommendation: Northern Lights

Sagittarius

A lesser-known character in the Star Trek universe is Lieutenant Commander Shelby. Featuring in a few key Next Generation episodes, she is young, highly capable and super ambitious. Always pushing a little too hard to advance herself, she ultimately learns the tough way to back off a little, which finally allows others to discover her skills for themselves. You also know exactly what you want, and how to get it; but success is rarely a straight path and yours does not lie directly through other people. Your time will come as if you are patient. Meanwhile, you’ve been serving as a great reminder to those just one step above you to get their shit in gear quickly, or be replaced. So at least there’s that. Strain recommendation: Pineapple Express

Capricorn

Jake Sisko is not the most compelling character in the Star Trek universe but he does represent the current Capricorn dilemma well. While he is the privileged son of the Commander of Deep Space Nine, Captain Benjamin Sisko, he still longs for even more adventure than one can get from living on massive space station at the border of a wormhole full of celestial prophets. He’s just a frustrated artist who wants to explore his creative persona! He has the undivided attention and complete emotional support of his father who has the safety of around 2000 people to worry about, so clearly it’s hard times for the young lad. So Cappy, are you going to continue to lament your easy life because you aren’t feeling fulfilled or are you going to step up? Strain recommendation: Lemon Haze

Aquarius

I think I can boldly say that most Trekkies are fans of TNG’s Captain Jean-Luc Picard. When he was manipulated by the Borg to lead the offense on the Earth colony Wolf 359, he became unwillingly responsible for losing over 11,000 human lives. Devastated, he returned to his home village in France to do some soul searching. While there he struggled with his purpose in life and did some mud wrestling with his brother. He needed that recuperation time, just as you do now. It’s been a hard year for your sensitive heart, and now that the anger has passed and your priorities are back in line, all you need is a little wine country and witty word play with a cute child to get you back on track. Strain recommendation: Alien Kush

Pisces

Hoshi Sato, the communication officer on the Star Trek series Enterprise is a phenomenal communicator. She can translate just about anything, which makes her a perfect crew member for the first earth ship to explore the galaxy, with one exception: she’s scared of space travel. Of course with the help of her team she conquers her fears, but not without a fair bit of discomfort and angst. Sometimes it’s good to be uncomfortable, and challenge yourself. The trick lies in being able to distinguish between difficult struggles you can learn from and more of the same old pain your fears have always inflicted upon you. Take the time you need to determine which is which. Strain recommendation: Blackberry Hashplant

from Medical Marijuana News http://ift.tt/2j4pLya via https://www.potbox.com/

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eternityunicorn · 5 years

Text

Remember Me? - Part Three

Author: eternityunicorn

Genre: Romance/Drama/AU

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x OC

Warnings: Violence, Smut (*Smut chapters marked +18)

NOTE: OC and original elements are from my up and coming novel series!

AUTHOR’S COMMENTARY: So, I wasn’t going to post a new update for this fic until tomorrow, but because of my lovely friend @inmylifeilovedthemall I decided to post the next part early. Hope you enjoy it!

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Before long, the Original was sitting in a cafe just outside the city limits with Antoinette sitting across from him. He had just finished telling her that Greta was dead, killed by Eternity, but that Roman had thankfully escaped unharmed. She looked mournful for the loss of her mother, but it wasn’t a deep, devastating sort that one might expect. It was a mild sort of mourning that one might feel for a complete stranger that died tragically.

“Are you alright?” Elijah asked her softly, reaching across the table to touch her hand.

“My mother brought this upon herself,” Antoinette replied quietly. “My mother did all these heinous things because of some deluded ideology that vampires need to be pure. She carried on a war that she could not win - that her followers will not win. Not only do they have your family to contend with, but....” She trailed off, looking down.

“Eternity too,” he finished for her, swallowing thickly in speaking the other woman’s name. “Actually, I think that it is only her they’ll have to deal with since the Mikaelsons are scattered and unable to reunite. So, it is only her that will stand against them, and she will slaughter them all effortlessly, I’m sure.”

Antoinette looked at him with an indescribable expression that resembled a mix of curiosity, worry, and jealousy.

It was his turn to look away. Then Elijah confessed, “She told me something at Shiloh Place. She told me that we had a daughter together named Arianna.”

His fiancée blinked rapidly, “A daughter? But that’s not possible. Vampires can’t have children.”

He shrugged and finally returned his gaze to her face. “Apparently, with a little divine intervention, they can,” he sighed, then he spoke his thoughts rapidly from there without thinking, “If it’s true, then I have missed seven years of her life - of my daughter’s life! What kind of father am I, if I intentionally abandoned her? If I left her alone this entire time? I keep thinking about it and I can’t help but feel horrible. Not to mention, I intentionally abandoned my wife too, the mother of this miracle child, erasing them from my mind! Just what kind of man was I to do such a thing?” He scrubbed his hands over his face in frustration.

“I guess that means the wedding is off,” Antoinette smiled sadly, while playing with the engagement ring on her finger. “You’ll be going back to them - to her, yes?”

Immediately, Elijah realized what he had said and part of him wished he could take it back. He sighed heavily, “I-I don’t know. I love you, Antoinette. I do, and I still desire our future together, but this is my daughter we’re talking about. I left her alone, let her grow up without me, and I have no idea who she is. At the very least, I need to see her. I need to meet her.”

His fiancée licked her lower lip, still refusing to look at him. “If you go there, you’re going to get your memories back,” she murmured shakily. “You know that’s what will happen. We both do. Then you’ll forget all about me, because you’ll have your wife and your daughter. You’ll have your old life back and I’ll be nothing to you. These seven years will be nothing compared to the thousand with your family and the many with your wife. I’ll lose you. Forever.”

He didn’t know what to say to comfort her. In fact, he didn’t think that there was anything he could say to do so. He found himself to be very torn between his old life and his new one.

“Well, your daughter is probably at the Mikaelson compound in the French Quarter. Perhaps you can reach out to her somehow,” Antoinette suggested, after realizing that he wasn’t going to attempt to reassure her that wasn’t the case. “Maybe there is a way that you can see your daughter. Though, I’m afraid I can’t go with you. You and I both know that Klaus would capture me, then torture, and probably kill me, if he laid eyes on me because of what my mother tried to do to his own wife and child. I can’t risk being seen there. It’s too dangerous for me.”

Elijah swallowed thickly, knowing what he was implying would hurt her, as he reluctantly proposed, “He might kill you on sight, but he can’t do that to me. I could probably just walk in without too much of an issue, even if Klaus saw me coming. More so, if I explained to him why I had come, he’d leave me alone, I think anyway.”

His fiancée looked sad, but she tried to put on a brave face, “Then you have your plan of action and I suppose this is goodbye for you and I.”

As she moved to stand up, he grabbed her hand to stop her. “Goodbye? I’m just going to see my daughter. I still want to be with you, Antoinette. You are the woman I love. Just wait for me by the river. I’ll meet you there before sunrise and then we can go wherever you want in the world.”

Antoinette smiled slightly, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. “Alright. The river. I’ll be waiting.”

With that, she walked away, leaving Elijah to his mission.

Finding the Mikaelson compound was easy. All he had to do was compel the local bartender at a place called Rousseau’s to tell him where the place was at. From there, he moved at vampire speed to reach the establishment in record time. He did have his lady waiting for him after all and didn’t have time to waste. He needed to find his daughter, see her, and then go.

With the stealth of a predator, Elijah infiltrated the compound, moving into the courtyard, only have a surprise waiting for him. Klaus was standing there with a blonde female vampire and a brunette male one; Rebekah and Kol Mikaelson!

“Ah, Elijah, welcome home,” Klaus greeted him with a wide, mischievous smile. “It’s about time you showed up. Had trouble finding the place, did we? With amnesia and all that, I’m sure it was quite the challenge.” Then he called behind him, “Are you ready, love?”

Eternity came forth, coming to stand in front of the hybrid and his siblings. She didn’t show any sort of emotion when she saw him. She remained cold and stone faced.

“What the hell is this?” Elijah demanded quietly, sensing a trap immediately.

“You are here, so that I can destroy the Hollow, as a piece of it resides in each Original here, you included, if that wasn’t obvious,” she told him clinically. “I cannot allow that evil thing to remain in this world, so I have brought the four Mikaelsons together to extract the spirit and wipe it from existence.”

He narrowed his eyes on her, feeling deceived, “So...wait. Our daughter? Was that just a lie to get me here? Does she even exist?”

Eternity nodded, “She does exist. She is here even. However, you’re not allowed to see her. At least, not as you are. If you want to see your daughter, you’re going to have to agree to having your memories restored. I will not let Ari see this...stranger, who will see her this once for curiosity’s sake and then dart off to some far off corner of the world with his new lover. I won’t let such a father that does not even know who she is, who can’t remember the day she was born or the first time he held her his arms or her first steps, near her.”

“You used her just to get me here,” he realized. “To pull me back into a life I don’t want.”

“I did, because it is the right thing to do,” she answered unapologetically. “The Hollow needs to be destroyed and I need to undo this madness you have put upon yourself in erasing your memories. I knew that the only way to get you back here was to tell you about Ari. I realized that not the bonds you shared with Niklaus or myself would suffice, only her. Now that you are here, I can save the world, along with my broken family, the very one you gave to me because you loved me...the very one you denounce, along with me.”

Elijah didn’t know what to think, except that he wanted to see his daughter and he would do anything to do so.

“You have to decide what you really want,” the ethereal beauty told him with finality. “Your daughter? Or your new existence...without her? You have until I finish the extraction of the Hollow to make your choice. Come.”

With that, Eternity turned gracefully and lead the other three Mikaelson siblings over to a more open space. He didn’t move immediately to follow, but eventually he went over to stand on south side of the pale woman, while his siblings took the north, east, and west positions around her.

“Are you lot ready?” She asked the four of them rhetorically.

Then powerful woman stretched her arms outward and began to chant in a strange language that wasn’t of Earth. A mighty wind picked up around them and flashes of lightning lit up the shadowy courtyard with claps of thunder echoing off the walls.

Soon, a painful burning sensation welled up inside Elijah’s chest, forcing him to hunch over in agony. He vaguely noticed it was the same for the other three too. They all contorted and howled in pain as the evil energy inside them was drawn out. Then with a loud bang and a blinding flash of light, everything went dark.

In his temporary unconscious state, he saw Eternity there, as he did every time he closed his eyes. She was smiling in the distance per usual and calling his name, beckoning him to come to her. There was also a little girl he couldn’t see the face of with the pale woman, giggling and playing near her. Yet, every time he dared to make that step toward her, he found himself unable to ever close the distance between them. There was always the same canyon sized separation between them, no matter what he did to try and get to her.

It was heart wrenchingly painful in such a profound way that he couldn’t stand it.

When he awoke, Elijah was laying on the ground where he had apparently collapsed. He heard the groans of the others and sat up to find his siblings all waking at the same time. At first, Eternity was no where to be found, as he got to his feet and looked around to spot her.

His vision had cemented his decision for him.

Then Eternity came into view, looking rather weary as she was embraced by Klaus, Rebekah, and then Kol in their relief to finally be rid of the Hollow bad to be able to be together again without the world ending. They were all grateful and joyful that the ethereal beauty had saved them all from the dark entity. It was a touching scene, one that Elijah didn’t dare try to participate in.

He waited awkwardly for her to approach him, which she did once the celebratory hugs were done being exchanged. She came to stand in front of him, gazing at him coolly and didn’t speak. Instead, she waited for him to give her his answer to her earlier ultimatum.

“I want my daughter,” Elijah wasted no time in telling her.

Eternity’s expression softened somewhat. It wasn’t as icy as it had been before he’d agreed to her terms. She simply nodded and motioned for him to follow her. “Come this way,” she spoke softly.

The ethereal beauty lead him upstairs and down the hall into one of the bedrooms, where she proceeded to shut them away from the others. She turned to him, leaning against the door, while he watched her curiously.

“This seems a little romantic, don’t you think?” Elijah quipped with a slight grin, trying to lighten the tense mood.

She gave him an unamused look, before she approached him, coming to stand mere inches away from him. He watched as she reached and rested her hands upon his chest, pressing herself into him slightly, while gazing at him with a swirl of different emotions that he couldn’t quite name or perhaps he didn’t want to.

“Kiss me, Elijah,” commanded Eternity softly, averting her eyes slightly as she did.

He hesitated, not quite understanding how his kissing her was going to undo the compulsion. At first, he thought that this was some kind of trick, that she was playing him. Yet, despite his amnesia, he somehow knew that she wouldn’t do that. He chose to believe that she was doing this out of some sort of necessity.

“Kiss me,” the ethereal beauty said again, more urgently. “Please, Elijah.”

Without hesitating further, Elijah threw caution to the wind and let his mouth descend upon hers in a sweet, but cautious kiss.

Immediately, he felt the heat of energy upon his lips. He was mesmerized as the sensation spread over his face upward into his mind, yet he didn’t cease in kissing Eternity, even though the feeling was foreign to him. He grew slightly nervous over it, especially as it grew more and more intense, eventually making his brain feel like it was on fire.

From there, the return of his memories was instantaneous. Everything came back in an swift flood of memories. The visions started from the beginning a thousand years ago and working up to the present day.

He knew who he was! He finally remembered it all, including the woman he held in his arms.

Pulling his mouth from hers, Elijah Mikealson looked down at Eternity. He recognized the woman he loved more than anything for the first time since she started showing up at his bar in France. He cupped her face in his hands and grinned from ear to ear in his happiness. Unable to help himself, he peppered her face with kisses and then hugged her to him tightly, overjoyed to have his memories back and more importantly to have the threat to his family destroyed.

However, Eternity remained stoic, stiff and motionless. She didn’t seem to share in his joy.

Concerned, he pulled back and gazed down at her. He found her head hanging down, concealing her face from his view. Then just as he was about to call to her, to ask her what was wrong, she looked up at him coolly and said, “You have met my terms. Come, I’ll take you to Ari.”

With that, she swept past him, opening the bedroom door and walking out without looking to see if he was following her. He felt guilty and hurt as he watched her go, understanding why she was being so cool to him. He had acted horridly in his desperation to protect his family from the Hollow. A heavy sigh left him, as he followed her out of what was their bedroom.

Eternity took him down the hall to another bedroom, where she knocked on the open door to alert the person inside to her presence. She disappeared into the room then, as she greeting the occupant, “Hello, my little love!”

“Mom!” A young voice shouted excitedly, just as Elijah came to stand in the doorway. “You’re finally back!”

The Original watched as a young girl of nine with long, wavy brown hair hopped off her bed and went to his wife, embracing her tightly. Ari!

“Yes, my darling,” the ethereal beauty replied and then she turned to him, revealing the girl, “and as promised, I have brought your father home as well.”

Arianna Katerina Mikaelson was the most beautiful little girl Elijah had ever seen. She had grown so much in the seven years he had been away. She had she’d her baby fat long ago, was walking and talking as anyone else would, and she looked like a mirror image of himself. That was except for the curls and waves of her long brown hair, as well the large almond shapes to her sapphire colored eyes that were all features of her mother.

His daughter looked at him cautiously, but only for a moment. Then her eyes began to water with joyful tears and she immediately ran to him, to throw her arms around his neck as he crouched down to meet her. He embraced her tightly as his own eyes began to water. His emotions were so profound that he ached painfully, as he felt an incredible joy like no other that was marred by a deep regret.

What had he done?

Elijah pulled back to take a good look at the child he had foolishly abandoned. She smiled brightly at him and it was infectious, for he was soon doing the same. “Hello, darling girl,” he murmured sweetly as he brushed back her hair and kissed her cheek. “I suppose we have a lot of catching up to do, but I must know: can you ever forgive me for being away?”

Immediately, Ari nodded her head rapidly. “Yes,” she said with a shaky voice as she tried to hold back her tears that nearly overwhelmed her. “You’re my dad. Of course, I can!”

The little girl embraced him again, giving Elijah the chance to look at Eternity, whom had silently watched the scene unfold before her. The immortal queen gazed at them with a tender affection that was marred by underline sadness and pain. Yet, she smiled at him as she moved past him to exit the room.

As both the Original and the girl pulled away from each other to stare at her with curious questioning, the ethereal woman spoke her parting words softly to them, “I’ll leave you two to your catch up and I shall return later.”

With that, she swept from the room, giving him time alone with their daughter.

Once Eternity was gone, Elijah sighed heavily again as he watched her go once more, before turning his full attention to the little girl he hadn’t seen in years.

“Mom doesn’t seem very happy,” Ari commented with innocent worry.

“She’s just exhausted from destroying the Hollow and restoring our family,” he explained gently.

The nine year old looked at him in consideration. “No, it’s not that, although I'm glad that she has,” she said matter-of-factly. “She’s cross with you. She’s mad that you had your memories erased and that you left me without a father since I was already without her.”

Elijah smiled slightly, knowingly, “You’ve inherited your mother’s psychic powers, I see.”

Ari rolled her eyes and crossed her arms across her chest authoritatively, “I did, but I don’t need to use them to know why Mom is sad. I’m quite cross with you too, by the way.” Her expression became sad as she asked in a small voice, “Why did you leave? Why did you forget?”

His heart broke. He reached to pull her back into his embrace, holding her close in comfort as he quietly explained, “I’m so sorry, Ari. I left because I had to, in order to keep the Hollow away from your cousin, Hope. I forgot because I thought I was a danger to my family, to you, as I cannot stand aside when any one of them is in danger or in need of help, especially your uncle Niklaus. I didn’t mean to hurt you or your mother. I was simply desperate. We all were, to defeat a great evil that threatened our family - and the world, without your mother here to help us.”

“Yeah, she’s been away off and on all these years, you know,” admitted his daughter. “There was a war or something that kept her from home more often than not. So it’s mostly been just me with Aunt Freya and Aunt Hayley...Hope too.”

Elijah wasn’t all that surprised to hear this news. The war that Ari spoke of had broken out somewhere in space, just as the Hollow had awakened to stir up trouble in New Orleans. Eternity had wanted to stay and fight to protect her family, but her duty to her people elsewhere had put pressure on her to leave. He remembered telling his wife to go, to deal with the war. He recalled promising her that he and their family had could handle the Hollow until she got back. It had been with his blessing, she had reluctantly left.

However, Eternity hadn’t return in time before the conflict with the Hollow reached it’s peak and that had left the Mikaelsons desperate to save Hope from it’s evil, of whom had been possessed by it. They had done what they thought they had to, since none of them had any idea when his powerful wife would return home to save them - and the world.

“I apologize for...everything,” Elijah told the little girl gently. “Neither your mother or I wanted to leave you without us. We were simply trying to do the right thing for everyone.”

“I know, Dad,” Ari replied, reaching to cup his cheek in her hand understandingly. “It’s okay. I get it. Heroes need to save the day.”

He smiled lopsidedly, “Well, I’m certainly not a hero, but your mother is. She’s the light of this family and saves the day often. I know she saves us all from a lot of misery and woe every day she’s with us.”

“If that’s true about Mom, then you need to fix what’s been broken,” his daughter said with a wisdom that was beyond a nine year old...or at least, it should have been. “You need to go make up with her.”

Elijah nodded, “I know and I will. First, however, why don’t we go sit, so you can tell me what you’ve been up to all this time that I’ve been away.”

Ari grinned and agreed readily. She took him by the hands and lead him over to her bed, where they sat and talked, catching up on lost time.

To Be Continued....

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Tag List: @elejah-wonderland @dendrite-lover @xanderling @hawaiianohana31 @esclisa @elizamonet @missnmikealson @elejahforever @freshsuitcasewinnereagle @lalabluues @lolelijahishot @x-memi12 @loulouisa @teekillerin

#elijah mikaelson #daniel gillies #original character #elijah x eternity #klaus mikaelson #hayley marshall #hope mikaelson #elijah x antoinette #romance #drama #alternate universe #sad story #ahgst #the originals #the originals fanfiction #the vampire diaries #the vampire diaries fanfiction

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