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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 5 months

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When The World Is Crashing Down [Chapter 13: Condemned From The Start] [Series Finale]

Series summary: Your family is House Celtigar, one of Rhaenyra’s wealthiest allies. In the aftermath of Rook’s Rest, Aemond unknowingly conscripts you to save his brother’s life. Now you are in the liar of the enemy, but your loyalties are quickly shifting…

Chapter warnings: Language, warfare, violence, serious injury, alcoholism/addiction, references to sexual content (18+), death, angsttttttt, more children than usual, Wolfman!

Series title is a lyrics from: “7 Minutes In Heaven” by Fall Out Boy.

Chapter title is a lyric from: “Sophomore Slump or Comeback of the Year” by Fall Out Boy.

Word count: 8.1k.

Link to chapter list: HERE.

Taglist (more in comments): @tinykryptonitewerewolf @lauraneedstochill @not-a-glad-gladiator @daenysx @babyblue711 @arcielee @at-a-rax-ia @bhanclegane @jvpit3rs @padfooteyes @marvelescvpe @travelingmypassion @darkenchantress @yeahright0h @poohxlove @trifoliumviridi @bloodyflowerrr @fan-goddess @devynsficrecs @flowerpotmage @thelittleswanao3 @seabasscevans @hiraethrhapsody @libroparaiso @echos-muses @st-eve-barnes @chattylurker @lm-txles @vagharnaur @moonlightfoxx @storiumemporium @insabecs @heliosscribbles @beautifulsweetschaos @namelesslosers @partnerincrime0 @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics @yawneneytiri @marbles-posts @imsolence @maidmerrymint @backyardfolklore @nimaharchive @anxiousdaemon @under-the-aspen-tree @amiraisgoingthruit @dd122004dd @randomdragonfires @jetblack4real @joliettes

Thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoy the finale.🦀💚

In the Eyrie, one of Rhaena Targaryen’s three dragon eggs has hatched at last; the creature is small and pink, and she has named it Morning. When Rhaena’s tears fall onto the scales of her diminutive wings, they glitter like flecks of rose quartz. Deep within the snow-laden labyrinth of the Mountains of the Moon, Nettles is in hiding with Sheepstealer; already the nearby clans are bringing her offerings of meat and treasure, axes and clubs and daggers, hairpins carved from the ribs of enemies and necklaces made of bear teeth. Silverwing is settling into a lair on an island in the Red Lake at the northwestern corner of the Reach. Word of this has travelled back to King’s Landing, and Borros Baratheon implores Aegon II to seize Silverwing for himself; but the king does not want a new dragon. He wants Sunfyre back. That grim truth aside, Aegon is unable to trek across the continent to tame the beast anyway. Some days he cannot even cross a room. At the bottom of the Gods Eye, bodies are dissolving into bones, threads of long white hair breaking loose to flow in the currents like weightless strands of spider webs torn free by cold drafts. And only a few miles from the border of the Crownlands—preparing to cross the icy waters of the Blackwater Rush—the army of Northmen camps under a full moon in a clear, indigo sky heavy with stars like glinting coins.

“There are passageways under King’s Landing,” Clement Celtigar says. He stands by the bonfire with his sword in his hand, his face flame-bright and eager, forever licking up drops of the Kingmaker’s approval, a stray cat lapping milk splashed in an alley. Increasingly, Cregan Stark finds him tiresome. Clement is brash and dramatic, forever swearing vengeance, reveling in his newfound position as the head of his house. The Warden of the North has never had to beg for attention, admiration, acclaim. These things come to him like snow falls to the earth in winter: effortlessly, inevitably. Yet Cregan tries to be patient. Clement is soon to be his brother-in-law, and it is dishonorable to fail to extend courtesy to one’s kin. Furthermore, it seems, Clement has his uses.

“Are there really?”

Clement nods. He wears the banner of his house on a strip of fabric looped around his upper arm: crabs red like blood, a backdrop of white like snow. “That monster’s disciples used them to kidnap my sister from the Red Keep. But she fought hard. When we searched her rooms, all the furniture was upturned and the sheets ripped from her bed.”

“She is brave,” Cregan murmurs in agreement, though he is distracted now. The air tastes like smoke and ice, the wind rubs raw spots into the soldiers’ faces. They are arriving just in time. The depths of winter is no time to wage war. Cregan Stark imagines how you will greet him when he liberates you: a desperate embrace, hands that refuse to let go, whispered gratitude and breathless kisses on his earth-stained knuckles, bones of steel softened by the innate weakness of womanhood. You will love him, of course you will, fervently and entirely. Then when the realm and succession are secured, the Kingmaker will take you North and wed you in the tradition of his people, under the heart tree where the Old Gods can witness it. And then there will be the wedding night. In Cregan’s understanding, women receive little pleasure from the act itself. It is a burden they bear for the men they love, for the children they are divinely tasked with bringing into existence. Cregan Stark intends to alleviate your suffering in this regard as much as possible…yet he has already begun to choose the names of the sons he will make with you. He especially likes the sound of Brandon, sturdy and grounded and thought to mean leader or prince. “This is the last night your sister will ever spend in the clutches of the Usurper.”

“Praise the Seven.” Then Clement adds diplomatically: “And the Old Gods too, of course.”

“It’s the end of the world,” Cregan Stark says, gazing up into the night sky where constellations tell the stories men deem worthy of remembering. “And the start of a brand new one.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“How did you learn to braid hair?” little Jaehaera asks you in her lilting, reedy voice like a bird’s. You are sitting behind her on the floor in Alicent’s bedchamber. Nearby, Autumn is flipping through a child’s book with Rhaenyra’s ever-solemn son, murmuring as she points to colorful illustrations of ravens, dolphins, bears, dragons, crabs. They are learning to read together.

“My sisters taught me,” you tell the princess. Firelight turns her silver hair to gold, her pale skin to flames. Logs crack and pop as they melt to glowing embers. Alicent glances over at you and sighs despairingly. The dowager queen, so thin she might disappear, is hunched in a chair by the fireplace. She has an unshakeable, rattling sort of cough that reminds you of how Sunfyre sounded on Dragonstone when he was near the end. Her long auburn tresses are falling out in handfuls. She will not survive the winter, this is a certainty.

“You have sisters?” Jaehaera says, surprised. “How many?”

You smile faintly as you weave her hair into one thick braid like the kind Aemond once wore when he went to battle. “Three. Piper, Petra, and Penelope.”

“Where are they now?”

“Back on Claw Isle, where I came from. With our mother.” Mourning Father, mourning Everett, writing letters to Clement to keep his spirits high as he and the Warden of the North march towards King’s Landing to slay the Greens’ king and bind me to a different man’s will.

“What’s Claw Isle like?” Jaehaera asks with a child’s clear, boundless curiosity.

“Rocky, misty, grey. But the ocean is beautiful.” You think of Aegon’s eyes, the same as his daughter’s, a murky storm-blue that is deeper than it looks.

“What brought you here?”

You consider this before you answer. You see it, you feel it: cinders like dark snow in the air, Aemond’s iron grip on your forearm. “When your father was burned at the Battle of Rook’s Rest, he needed someone to help heal him. Your uncle Aemond found me.”

“And he asked you to stay with us?”

He would have slit my throat if I said no. “Yes, he asked very politely, as any gentleman would. And of course I agreed. I wanted to make the king strong again. I wanted to take his pain away.”

Jaehaera stares down at her tiny hands, palms crossed with lines that are long and shadowy in the shifting firelight. She does not speak of Aegon. She does not know him, and he frightens her: the burns on his skin, the suffering in his glazed eyes. She has no memories to impress his true character upon her. If she does not make them herself, she will believe whatever she is told. “I miss Aemond. I miss Daeron.”

“I know, sweetheart.” They were formally laid to rest yesterday on two funeral pyres. Daeron’s bloodied, charred, seafoam green cape was burned to ashes on one. All that was left of Aemond—his favorite books, his quills and ink, small leather eyepatches from when he was a boy—were torched on the other. “I miss them too.”

Jaehaera’s braid is finished. You reach into a pocket of your emerald green velvet gown to retrieve what you have brought for her: a thin golden chain necklace with Aegon’s ring as a pendant. He can’t wear it anymore. His fingers are too swollen. “What is this?” Jaehaera says as you place the chain around her neck. She lifts the ring and peers at it, gold wings and jade eyes.

“It’s supposed to resemble Sunfyre,” you explain. “Your father loves you very much, Jaehaera. He wanted you to have this ring and keep it with you always.” Aegon didn’t say that; he rarely mentions Jaehaera at all. Sometimes you think he forgets she exists. But she is a part of him, she is his legacy, and you cannot look at any piece of her without seeing the man you love.

“He gave it to me? Like a gift?”

“Yes. A gift.” A gift, an inheritance, a relic, a reminder.

Jaehaera turns around and looks up at you hopefully, vast wave-blue eyes like winter oceans. “Do you think I’ll have another dragon someday?”

Her own infant beast, Morghul, was killed in the Dragonpit before Rhaenyra fled the city. “Maybe,” you tell her. “There are eggs that could hatch someday. And there are a few unclaimed adults left, Silverwing and the Cannibal. Perhaps you’ll tame one.”

She wrinkles her nose in confusion. “What’s a cannibal?”

Someone who murders, devours, fuels their body to the detriment of their soul. “Someone who eats their own kind. Like a dragon who feeds on other dragons.”

“So just like in the war. Dragons killing dragons.”

“Exactly,” you say, a shiver crawling down your spine. “Now go show your new necklace to Grandmother.”

Jaehaera wobbles to her feet and dashes across the firelit bedchamber to where Alicent is slumped in her chair. “Look, look! It’s Sunfyre!” you hear Jaehaera chirping. Alicent examines the ring—skeletal hands trembling, large dark eyes slick with tears—and dutifully fawns over it, telling the little girl how beautiful she looks, how brave she has been. Then she bundles Jaehaera into her boney arms and holds her like she’ll never let go. Autumn catches your gaze from the other side of the room, and when you leave to return to Aegon she follows.

“What is your plan if the Greens lose the battle?” she says in the hallway under an arc of grey stones. Her tone is urgent, her hazel eyes sharp. Everyone knows the Northmen are within days of King’s Landing. Borros Baratheon—a large, loud, abrasive man, but with a bottomless appetite for combat—and his soldiers will march out of the city tomorrow to meet Cregan Stark’s army on the fields of the Crownlands, sparse and grey with winter. The Lord of Storm’s End has spent hours locked in the council chamber discussing strategy with Larys Strong, Corlys Velaryon, and the misfortunate yet courageous Tyland Lannister, maimed by his months of torture at the hands of the Blacks.

“We won’t.” We can’t.

Autumn slams her palm against the wall behind you; the sick thud of flesh against stone reminds you of the day Helaena died. “Wake up. We might. You’d better have your options figured out.”

And you recall Larys’ words on Dragonstone: I think it’s time for you to consider what your options are if a Green victory no longer appears to be viable. “We’ll run,” you say weakly. “We’ll take Aegon and we’ll escape through the corridors under the Red Keep, just like he did before. Cregan Stark will kill Aegon if he finds him. I can’t let that happen. We’ll have to run.”

“Run where?” Autumn snaps pointedly, pushing you towards a conclusion you refuse to acknowledge.

“I don’t know.”

“Where? Where could we go that is beyond the grasp of your wolf if he seizes the capital?”

“Dorne, Essos. Somewhere, anywhere.”

“The king won’t survive a journey like that.”

You cover your face with your hands, feel the biting cold of snowflakes melting in your hair, see the stains of earth on your thighs as Cregan Stark forces them apart. How can I lie with a man who hailed the deaths of people I loved? How can I spend the rest of my life listening to him being called a hero for killing Aegon? How can I give him children? How could I love a baby that was half-made of him? “We ran before. We’ll have to do it again.”

Autumn scoffs. “You have no idea what it means to be a woman on your own in the world. What will you become without a great house, without protection? A prostitute? A peasant? Will you eat scraps covered with rot or mold? Will you live in a tree? Will you beg some family to take you in? And then when the father who is oh-so-gallant in daylight starts fumbling under your blankets once the candles are blown out, will you let him inside you? Or will you fight him off and risk a blade in your guts, your throat? You have no fucking idea what it’s like out there.”

“I don’t care what happens to me if Aegon’s gone.”

“You would abandon Jaehaera? You would abandon me?” Autumn demands. “You speak for us now. You are the only one who can. Our fates are twisted up with yours.”

That’s true. And I promised Helaena I would look out for her daughter. You can’t imagine a life without Aegon; there was a time when he was only a name—and an infamous one, a terrible one, soulless and monstrous—but now he has broken down the eaves of what you were once resigned to call your life and painted colors in the sky you’d never glimpsed before, never even dreamed of. You ask Autumn with genuine, painful bewilderment: “What is the point of learning that something exists only to have it taken away? Why would that happen? Where is the justice in it, where is the reason?”

Autumn smiles, sad and patient. “Ah, this is an affliction of the highborn. You still believe that there is a design, and that life has some amount of fairness in it. There is no divine judgment being passed, my lady. There is no god weighing the worth of your dragon or your wolf or yourself. Life is random, and it is ungovernable, and it is very often cruel. And that makes it all the more remarkable that you knew the king for the time you did. That you ever met him.”

It wasn’t enough. And I can never go back to who I was before. “I’m sorry. I should not complain to you. Your losses have been terrible.”

“It is no contest,” Autumn replies, weary now. “But I should go back to check on the children. They need me.”

“No. They love you.”

And now she beams, sparkling eyes and copper ringlets. She doesn’t need to say it, you can both feel it in the winter-cold air. She loves them in return. She loves them fiercely. As long as they live, she will have reasons to.

When you reach Aegon’s bedchamber, Grand Maester Orwyle is just leaving. He bows to you and grins, pleased that you have both survived the fall and retaking of King’s Landing. He is haggard from his months in the dungeons when Rhaenyra ruled the capital, but he endured. Who would have guessed at the start of this war that the old man had more years left than Aemond or Daeron or harmless little Maelor? You wait in the hallway for the maester to amble sluggishly by, but then when he is gone, you peer through the slit of the half-open door to see that Lord Larys Strong is speaking to Aegon, who is propped up in bed on a mountain of pillows and wearing only his cotton sleeping trousers. He is thin, frail, ghostly pale with the exception of the scars that are a mosaic of white and scarlet and bruise-like violet. Aegon and Larys have not noticed you. You linger just outside the doorway, watching, listening.

You can take care of Aegon as much as you wish now: feed him, clothe him, clean sweat from his brow, dose him with milk of the poppy, rub rose oil into his scars, stretch his legs, test the heat of his skin for fever. He’s too weak to stop you. He can’t walk, can’t stand, can’t stay awake for more than an hour or two at a time, can’t even pour his own wine or milk of the poppy; the glass bottles are too heavy when full. Yesterday, Aegon had to be carried outside in a litter to see the remnants of his brothers burned on the pyres. And he had exchanged a brief, somber glance with Autumn that you neither anticipated nor understood. He acknowledges her so rarely. And yet her small hazel eyes had been alarmed, knowing.

Larys is saying with a grave expression and his restless hands propped in the handle of his cane: “Lord Borros Baratheon is asking for your assurance that as soon as the war is won, you will take his eldest daughter Cassandra as your wife.”

Aegon stares at him, incredulously, impatiently. Aegon has not called you his wife in the company of others since his homecoming. You do not ask why. You already know. It is not because his intentions have changed; it is because if he is not the victor, your life is in less danger as his captive than as his queen. “Surely even a man as brainless as Borros can surmise that there would not be much benefit for the lady now. I am a worm. Useless, pathetic, deformed, no longer virile.”

“He is willing to take the chance, I gather. And he is placing his eggs in more than one basket. He would like another daughter, Floris, to be married to me.”

“Seven hells,” Aegon mutters. Then he turns determined. “I cannot marry another. I won’t do it. I am claimed already, body and soul.”

“I fear how enthusiastically Borros’ men will fight for you if you do not agree to the match. He is risking his life for your cause. He will expect generous repayment.”

Aegon is quiet for a long time. He stares fixedly at his bedside table: a full cup, a large glass bottle of milk of the poppy. His dagger is still there from when you cut and braided his hair for him this morning; he cannot do it himself anymore. At last Aegon says, almost too low for you to discern from the doorway: “He’s not cruel, is he?”

“Who? Borros Baratheon?”

Aegon glares at Larys. “No.”

After a moment, Larys realizes what his king means. “Cregan Stark isn’t cruel. I’ve heard many whispers from many mouths, but I’ve never heard that.”

“Look at me. Don’t lie to me.”

“He isn’t cruel,” Larys says again. “Perhaps the truth is worse. He is measured, competent, merciful, wise. He is honorable. The Manderlys want to torture everyone and the Boltons itch to sharpen their flaying knives but Stark forbids it. He respects the laws of war. He tries to avoid the slaughter of noncombatants. He forbids his men from burning farms or raping women. He is devoted to the woman you call your wife. He takes no mistresses, visits no brothels. Cregan Stark is not a monster. He’s not soulless. He’s just on the wrong side.”

Aegon nods slowly, then his face breaks into a humorless smirk. “Tell Borros Baratheon that I’ll marry whichever daughter he wants me to when the war is over. I’ll marry all four if that is his preference, and bed them all on the wedding night too, one right after the other. Agree to anything he asks for. It doesn’t matter anyway.”

It doesn’t matter because none of it will ever happen, even if the Baratheon army does win the Iron Throne for the Greens. It doesn’t matter because Aegon does not believe he’ll still be here in a month, or two weeks, or perhaps even days.

But he can’t mean that. He’s not thinking clearly. He’s confused, he’s exhausted, he’s in pain, you tell yourself, before remembering that Aemond said it first.

“Yes, Your Grace.” Larys is subdued, sorrowful. He bows deeply to his king. Then he turns to depart.

“One more thing,” Aegon says, gesturing to something on the side of his bed you can’t see from where you’re standing. “I hate to impose upon you further, but I can’t manage it myself. Can you take that and empty it somewhere? I don’t care where. But you must keep it hidden from my wife. The red-haired girl Autumn knows, and so do the maesters now. They are all sworn to secrecy. Can I trust you to exercise the same circumspection?”

Larys is gaping down at an object that is a mystery to you. He begins to stammer out a reply, stops to collect himself, and starts again. “Yes. Yes you can.”

“Good.”

Larys picks up the object; you are puzzled to discover that it is a chamber pot, white and porcelain. And as he navigates around Aegon’s bed and towards the door where you wait, you see that the vessel is full of blood.

You gasp before you can stop yourself, a razor-sharp inhale of breath that both men hear. They spot you, lurking in the doorway like someone lost, someone far from home. Shock bolts across Aegon’s face, and then frustration, and then defeat, and then profound misery.

“I didn’t want you to worry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to lie to you, I just knew…I knew you’d be upset and I…I didn’t want to hurt you. I’ve never wanted to hurt you.”

“How long?”

“It doesn’t matter, Angel.”

“How long?” you ask again. “Just since this morning?”

“Four or five days now.”

“Four or five…?” Your mind whirls like storm winds. He’s dying. He’s really dying. His kidneys are failing and there’s nothing I can do. I can’t cut him open and stitch him back together. There’s no wound to scrub clean with vinegar and then bandage with honey and linen. There’s no brew that can restore the rhythm of his blood and bones and nerves. He’s just dying. That’s all there is. That’s the beginning and the end of it.

“Please don’t cry,” Aegon says, reading your face. “Don’t do that, please don’t, I’ve hurt you enough already.”

His hands stretch out to close the space between you, and as Larys slips from the room you go to Aegon, climb into bed beside him, collapse into him as his arms catch you and rest your head against his bare, scarred chest, his feverish skin mottled with the history of wounds you helped close all those months ago. “I’m sorry,” you sob. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have let you go after Baela and Moondancer on Dragonstone. I should have stopped you. I should have dragged you inside the castle to wait until Aemond and Vhagar could help you. I shouldn’t have let Aemond go to Harrenhal. I shouldn’t have let Daeron fly south. I shouldn’t have let Autumn go back to King’s Landing, and I shouldn’t have let Everett stay there. I shouldn’t have let Helaena leap from the window. I should have stopped Maelor from being sent to the Reach. I should have stopped Rhaenys and the Red Queen from taking flight to burn you in your armor at Rook’s Rest. I should have stopped this! I should have done something! The only good thing I’ve ever had to offer the world was healing but I can’t save anyone, I can’t stop their suffering, I can’t do anything!”

“None of it was within your control, and none of it was your responsibility. I am the king. The fate of my kingdom and my followers rests with me. I wear their spilled blood, not you. I am so full of red I’m overflowing with it.” And he chuckles, sardonic, exhausted. He’s already battling unconsciousness again; you can hear his heartbeat slackening, the slow laborious expanding and contracting of his lungs.

“Aegon,” you say softly, as if afraid to speak it into existence. “What happens if the Baratheons don’t win tomorrow?”

“They will. They have to. There’s nothing I can do for you if they lose.” Then he winces and groans. It’s his back again, his failing kidneys, overrun with so much ruin—burns and breaks and pressure and heartache—that their cadence faltered and then ceased. You grab his cup of milk of the poppy and tilt it against his lips; and how many times have you done this since you met him, burned nearly to death and half-mad at Rook’s Rest? A hundred? Aegon drinks it down, his arms still tight around your waist. They do not loosen until he’s out like a snuffed candle.

You refill the cup on his bedside table with milk of the poppy in case he needs more when he wakes, pick up the dagger you use to cut his disheveled hair, take it to the dresser. And in the cascade of silver moonlight flooding in through the windows, you practice laying the gleaming blade against your wrists, pressing it to the throbbing arteries of your throat, angling the sharpened point of it between a gap in your ribs and towards your racing heart.

Autumn. Jaehaera. Aemond’s child that Alys carries. I still have promises to keep. I still have tasks that cannot be left unfinished.

Helaena’s words surface like a drowned man dredged from the waves: You must whisper into the right ears.

You set the dagger down on top of the dresser and roam to the castle library where Aemond once spent so many hours. You collect a stack of anatomy books and carry them back to Aegon’s bedchamber. There, before the roaring fireplace, you devour them for any scrap of hope, any last resort. You turn pages until one illustration stops you. It is an unclothed man, his major veins etched in blue and his arteries in red, his nerves a faded yellow, his bones white and unshattered, his body a roadmap of the bricks and mortar used by the architects of nature. You have seen this image before. It is the same page Aegon teased you for studying when you were travelling by carriage back to the capital from Rook’s Rest.

You rip out the page, crumple it violently, pitch it into the fire and watch it burn.

~~~~~~~~~~

At dawn, Lord Borros Baratheon leads his men out of the city. You hear them through the glass panes of the windows, closed against the winter chill and flecked with frost: boots marching, hooves of warhorses clomping against cobblestones. They carry with them swords and spears and bows and morning stars like the one Criston Cole was famed for using. Meanwhile, throughout the city, civilians are arming themselves with anything they can find to ward off an invasion of Northmen, creatures they believe to be bestial and mindless. Men carry kitchen knives and clubs fashioned out of bits of furniture or driftwood. Women hide their young children in cupboards and under creaking wooden floors.

“I should be going with them,” Aegon says. He’s just taken another dose of milk of the poppy and is struggling to keep his eyes open. His long, slow blinks close his vacant eyes for ever-increasing intervals. You’ve changed his clothes and cleaned the sweat from his skin as best you can, but he’s burning from the inside out.

“You’re not able to fight, Aegon. Nobody faults you for that. Everyone knows you were wounded in battle.”

“They must think I’m a coward.”

“No, you inspire them. They love you. I love you.”

Aegon doesn’t say it back. He never says it back. He only offers you the same drowsy, mournful phrase of High Valyrian he always does, not knowing that Aemond told you what it means: To your misfortune.

Autumn is with the children in Alicent’s rooms. The castle is tense and as quiet as a crypt—Alicent weeps soundlessly, Larys paces the halls with Corlys and Tyland Lannister, everyone peeks out of windows constantly to see if bannermen of the victor have appeared on the horizon—but she keeps them distracted with stories and games. You cycle between Alicent’s bedchamber and Aegon’s. He is in and out of consciousness; sometimes you perch beside him on the bed, sometimes you lie curled up against him counting the beats of his heart, sometimes you help Autumn read to Jaehaera and Aegon the Younger. It is just after noon when the city bells begin to toll and screams rise from the streets outside the Red Keep. You and Autumn hurry to a window. In the distance, beyond the city gates, there is a swarming mass of infantry, cavalry, archers. Their banners, when you strain your eyes to decipher them, are not the brazen, vivid yellow of House Baratheon. They are night black and an icy, steely grey. They are the colors of House Stark.

“No,” Autumn says, denial in a protracted, helpless exhale. Alicent shrieks, frightening the children. You grab Autumn’s hand and lead her out into the hallway to warn the others if they don’t know already.

Lord Corlys Velaryon comes bounding up a staircase. “There are soldiers down in the secret passageways!” he booms. “Northmen! Armed! I’ve helped our guards bar the doors, but that won’t hold them back forever.”

Autumn looks to you. “Get the children ready to travel,” you tell her. “Find Larys and inform him.”

“Yes, my lady,” she says, and is gone. You sprint in the opposite direction towards Aegon’s bedchamber. You blow the door open like a strong wind, and Aegon startles awake. You rip through his dresser for things he will need: warm clothes, boots, his dagger, bottles of milk of the poppy.

“Get up, Aegon. We have to go. We’ll run, we’ll flee, there are Northmen in the tunnels but we’ll find another way out, we have to try, we have to, if they catch you they’ll—”

“Come sit with me,” he says from the bed, calmly, like you have all the time in the world. He is reaching out for you with one hand.

“What? No, we have to hurry—”

“Angel,” Aegon says. “I need you to come sit with me now.”

Why isn’t he afraid? Why isn’t he frantic? You cross the room with slow, numb footsteps. When you reach the bed, Aegon takes both of your hands in his own. And suddenly you know exactly what he is going to say. You remember what he told his brother in High Valyrian the last time Aemond left Dragonstone. Your voice is trembling and hoarse. Your throat burns like embers. “Aemond was supposed to be here to help us win. But he’s gone. Daeron, Criston, Helaena, Otto, Everett, Jaehaerys, Maelor, Autumn’s baby, so many people are gone.”

Aegon whispers, smiling softly as tears spill down his cheeks, one scarred and the other pure: “I’m not going to get better this time.”

“No,” you moan. “No, Aegon, no. You can’t say that, you can’t tell me that—”

“I’m not going to get better.” Now his palms cradle your face, forcing you to listen. “I’m not. And it’s okay. I’m not angry, I’m not scared. You’ve done everything you could and you’ve bought me more time and I’m so grateful. But I don’t want it to hurt anymore. I’ve been in pain for so long. I’ve been in pain my whole goddamn life.” He kisses you, like tasting something rare and fleeting. His thumbprint skates along the curve of your jaw, memorizing the angles of your bones, the rhythm of your pulse. “Please, Angel. I don’t want to try to run and die on the side of the road somewhere. I don’t want to die with Cregan Stark’s blade at my throat.”

You shake your head, unable to believe, unable to understand.

Aegon glances to the empty cup on his bedside table, to the large glass bottle of milk of the poppy. Then his eyes return to you. “You know how to do it.”

No. Never. But beneath those cold, dark, stormy waters: It would be painless. “I can’t,” you say, overwhelmed with horror.

“Listen, listen to me—”

“No—”

“Angel.”

“I can’t do that to you. Not to you. I can’t, I can’t.”

“When I’m gone, go to Cregan Stark,” Aegon says. “He is an honorable man, he will ensure your survival. He is the only person who can now. He wants to put his mark on the world. He wants to play Kingmaker. Let him. He can decree that my daughter will marry Rhaenyra’s son and ascend to the Iron Throne. He can end the war. Cregan will keep you safe. Tell him that I kidnapped you, that I forced myself on you. Tell him that I wanted an heir with Valyrian blood. Tell him that I was a drunk, a degenerate. Tell him whatever he wants to hear.”

“You would become a monster?”

“To protect you? I would become anything.”

He’s holding you, he’s pulling you into him until you can feel the fever bleeding from his flesh into yours, until you can number the knots of his spine and the ladder-rungs of his ribcage, counting them with your fingers through the sweat-drenched fabric of his cotton shirt. You draw back to look at him, to really look at him, sunken bloodshot eyes and rasping breaths, scar tissue of the body and the soul. You remember the day you met him, how he’d begged to die and been refused, how you brought him back. You postponed a debt, but you never paid it. It’s not possible to ever pay enough. You stack up gold coins in a vault until they touch the ceiling and still the Stranger comes knocking, jangling his purse sewn with scorched skin and chanting: more, more, more.

Aegon glances to the cup again. “How much?” he asks you, hushed like a prayer.

You don’t answer. Instead, you stand and go to the dresser. You open a small wooden door beneath the mirror. Your reflection is a woman you don’t know, someone who walks through fog and memory, someone made of ghosts. You take four clean cups from the cabinet and set them on Aegon’s bedside table. As he watches—eyes glassy with agony, lungs rattling—you fill them all with smooth, pearlescent, lethal liquid, as well as the empty cup that was already there. “Five,” you say, and it sounds nothing like you. “I think three at once would be enough. Five to make sure.”

He sobs with relief, and only now do you realize how badly he needed this. “Thank you. Oh gods, thank you.”

Your own words come back like an echo: I preserve life, I don’t take it. But that was a different lifetime, a different you. Aegon’s fingers are lacing through yours. He is drawing you back onto the bed, he is brushing your hair back from your face, he is kissing the path of tears down your cheeks so he doesn’t waste a drop of you. He’ll never get another taste, another chance; not in this life, not on this earth.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to the end with you,” he says. “I really tried.”

“I know, Aegon.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough.”

“You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known.”

He looks down at his left hand, then remembers where his ring has gone. He chuckles, darkly, bitterly, dismayed by all the failings he is built of. “I don’t even have anything to give you.” Then he remembers. “My dagger. Can you get my dagger?”

You are petrified. “Why?”

He grins, dull teeth beneath dazed eyes. “I’m not going to hack off a finger or my exemplary cock or something. I promise. Just get it.”

You fetch the dagger and bring it to the bed, and only then do you realize what he means for you to have. He points to it, then threads it through his pale, swollen fingers: his thin lock of hair that you’ve been weaving for him since the day you met. He wants you to take his braid.

“You’ll have to cut it yourself,” he says. “I don’t think I can.”

You hook the blade beneath the top of his braid, and with a few cautious slices of the dagger it is free. You tuck the braid into a pocket of your gown, thick black velvet to guard against the winter cold. Then you lay the dagger on the bedside table and pick up one of the cups filled to the brim with milk of the poppy. Your tears are scalding and torrential; it is almost impossible to see through them. You smooth back Aegon’s white-blond hair as you pour the blissful, deadly brew through his lips and down his throat, hating yourself, knowing it is the kindest thing you can do for him.

Suddenly, when the cup is half-drained, Aegon pushes it away. “You don’t have to be here. You don’t have to watch,” he says. “I can do the rest. Go, now. Right now. If the Boltons or some other house finds you before Cregan does, they might not recognize you. They might not care. You’re only safe with Cregan Stark. He has to find you first.” Aegon takes the cup with one shaking hand and presses a palm to your shoulder with the other. You haven’t moved. You can’t move. “Go. Leave me. Now. Please go. I love you, but you have to go now.”

“I can’t,” you choke out.

“You have to.”

“I’ve never wanted anyone but you.”

“Angel,” he says tenderly, smiling. “I’ll see you again. Just not too soon.”

“Okay,” you whisper, and you kiss him, traces of milk of the poppy on his lips that deaden the thunderstruck horror faintly, powerlessly, like small clouds drifting over the sun.

“If there’s anything interesting on the other side, I’ll find a way to let you know.”

The dreams, you think. “Okay,” you say again, barely audible.

“Now go. Right now. Go.”

You wipe tears from your face with your sleeve as you turn away from him. You can’t look back; if you do, you’ll never be able to walk out of this room. You take the dagger from the bedside table. Your bare feet pad across the cold floor. As you step through the doorway, on the periphery of your vision you can see Aegon swallowing down each cupful of poison as quickly as he can. It won’t take long to stop his heart. Minutes, perhaps. Seconds. You walk into the hallway. Autumn has just arrived with Jaehaera’s tiny hand clasped in her own. A few paces behind her, Alicent and Larys stand with Rhaenyra’s son. Two orphans without choices, two pawns in a much grander game.

Autumn is panicked. “Where should we go? What should we do?” Then she takes another look at your face. Her eyes go wide with terror. “What? What happened?”

“Follow me.” Your voice is low, flat, dark like deep water. Your eyes flick briefly to Lord Larys Strong. “Keep the boy here. He’s not safe with the smallfolk yet. But the Northmen won’t harm him.”

Larys knows. It’s over. He is devastated; and yet you think a part of him might be relieved as well. “Yes, Your Grace.”

“I’m not the queen anymore. I never really was.” You give him Aegon’s dagger. “I don’t think you’ll need this, Lord Larys, but now you have it in the event of any danger. Or in case I can’t convince Cregan Stark to spare you and you decide you’ve had enough of this world. You should get a say in how your life ends. You’ve earned it.”

Then you break away from them and glide through the Red Keep, Autumn and Jaehaera trotting swiftly behind you to keep up. You pass the rookery where Aemond wrote his letters. You sweep through the gardens where Helaena loved to collect her insects. You gaze down to the beach where Daeron landed on Tessarion under a dazzling sun before winter came like a plague to King’s Landing. From inside the castle, you can hear Alicent wailing as she discovers her last child’s lifeless body. What was all of this for? Why did this have to happen? Why didn’t anybody stop it?

Out on the streets of the city, the smallfolk have flocked with their makeshift weapons to defend their homes from the Northmen. But their eyes are darting everywhere and their faces are uncertain as they clutch their clubs made out of the legs of chairs and their rusty kitchen knives. They haven’t decided if it’s futile. They don’t want to be butchered for nothing.

“That’s Autumn!” they shout and sigh, especially the women. “The mother of the king’s bastard son, the one murdered by the half-year queen!” They reach out to skim their hands over Autumn’s gown, her long coppery hair, as if she is a saint or a spirit who can impart good luck upon them, who can change their fates. They fall to their knees to bow to Jaehaera, their king’s only living child, and she blinks at them with benign confusion.

But the smallfolk have a different reception for you. You hear their venomous chattering: “Is that the Celtigar woman?” “Her family put this city through hell.” “They served Rhaenyra.” “She’s a traitor, she’s a thief.” A few of them venture close enough to tug at your gown, to strike at you. A woman’s knuckles rap against your cheekbone, raising a bruise there like lavender in a dusk sky. You think dully: I wonder if they’ll gouge out my eyes with those knives like they did to Everett.

“Get back!” Autumn hisses, shoving the smallfolk away. And when she speaks, they listen. “She is going to the Wolf of Winterfell. She is my protector. She is your protector now too. She is the best chance you have left.” And the crowds open up and the three of you pass through King’s Landing unimpeded, though cloaked in thousands of fascinated gazes.

The King’s Gate has been abandoned; the guards must have feared the Boltons’ flaying knives or Lord Stark’s dark justice. Autumn instructs several hulking men of the smallfolk to open the gate if they wish to be spared from the wolf’s wrath. They are reluctant at first, but do as she asks. When the massive doors creak open, the people of the capital huddle behind the wall and peer out skittishly as you, Autumn, and Jaehaera advance to meet the Northmen, who are bloodied from battle and now within a hundred yards of the city. Above, the sky is thick and iron-grey and frigid. Snowflakes—the first of this winter to touch King’s Landing—begin to fall and land in your hair, and you are reminded of how embers rained from the smoldering pine trees at Rook’s Rest.

“Can you catch one on your tongue?” Autumn asks Jaehaera, and the little girl giggles as they both try.

The Warden of the North rides an immense, shaggy warhorse at the head of what remains of his army. He recognizes you immediately, dismounts, approaches with determined, unbreakable strides. Clement is close behind him.

“You’re alive!” your brother shouts joyously. “And apparently not pregnant with a Targaryen bastard! Praise the gods!”

Cregan Stark does not act as if he’s heard this. The Warden of the North is not as you remember him; he is larger, heavier and broader from the muscles won in battle, coarsened by weather and war. His hair is long and dark and pulled back from his face. He wears a sword at his belt that is taller than you are when it’s unsheathed. He is entombed in leather and furs. He does not hesitate before he lays his hands you. You are betrothed to him, you are his property, would a man ask before he grabs his horses or his dogs?

The Warden of the North does not seize your forearm roughly like Aemond once did. Instead, his massive palms and fingers clasp your face as he marvels at you. You can feel the stains of dirt and ashes he leaves there. You want to scream when he touches you, but you can’t. You want to burn with rage and heartache until you crumble like ruins. Your life is already over. Your life has just begun.

“You have suffered greatly,” Cregan Stark says, a marriage of shock and reverence.

“You have no idea.” Perpetual Resurrection, you think. It doesn’t mean you come back better. It just means you’re still here.

“You are safe now,” Cregan swears. “The Usurper will never harm you again.” And it ends the same way it began: with a man mistaking your allegiance and beckoning you into a destiny that he wholeheartedly believes is greater than any you could have envisioned for yourself.

“He’s dead.”

This stuns Cregan. “When? How?”

“Today. Of old wounds sustained in battle.”

He looks at Jaehaera, noticing her for the first time. “Is that his daughter?”

“Yes,” you say. “She must always be treated with kindness. She must be protected.”

“You have an affinity for her,” Cregan notes, intrigued.

You hear Aegon’s voice, so clearly it cuts like a blade: Tell him whatever he wants to hear. “We have been through great trials together. We survived the same monster.”

The Warden of the North nods. This is a story he craves to be told. “Very well. If it is your wish that she not be discreetly disposed of as a Silent Sister, I will betroth her to Rhaenyra’s surviving son. They will unite the noble houses of Westeros and end this war.”

“The worst of the Greens are dead already. Those who remain should be shown mercy. Alicent is old and ill and broken from loss. She poses no threat. She should be permitted to remain in the company of her granddaughter. Corlys was loyal to Rhaenyra until she falsely imprisoned him for treason, and he belongs on Driftmark with Rhaena. Larys Strong, Tyland Lannister, and Grand Maester Orwyle, if no pardon can be arranged for them, should go to the Wall instead of the scaffold. And Autumn, my companion there with Jaehaera…she was a true friend to me. I owe her my life several times over. She must be permitted to stay with Jaehaera and Aegon the Younger as a caretaker, and reside in comfort in the Red Keep for the remainder of her days.”

“Who do you think you are, sister?!” Clement exclaims. “You’re speaking to the Kingmaker, not some handmaiden! You do not command him!”

“I am not commanding,” you counter levelly. “I am pleading for mercy on behalf of imperfect souls who showed me kindness during my captivity. If granted, I will consider these my wedding gifts.”

“She is remarkable, is she not?” Cregan Stark says, grinning to Clement and several other men who have ventured closer. They wear the sigils of Northern houses: Bolton, Cerwyn, Manderly, Hornwood, Dustin. They chuckle in agreement, stroking their wild beards with huge filthy hands. “Dauntless but merciful. Clever but obedient.” And then the Warden of the North claims your lips with his, chaste but overpowering, the first of a thousand kisses you never desired, a thousand acts of affection for a woman who isn’t really you, feigned resignation and bitten-back rage, eternal war with the interminable knowledge that there is something more, more, more…you just aren’t permitted to have it. It was taken from you, it was ripped from your hands like stolen treasure.

All your life you will have to murmur in wounded agreement when people recount the terrible sins of the Usurper. All your life you will have to praise Cregan Stark for killing millions to rescue you. And the days will pass, weeks, months, years, summers and winters, the births of your children and their own marriages; and when Cregan’s boy Rickon, born of his first wife, produces only daughters, your son Brandon and his descendants will become the heirs to Winterfell. In the desolate North—so far from the ocean, so far from everything Aegon ever knew—your greatest solace will be letters from Autumn as she learns to read and write, books that your husband orders for you from the Citadel, setting bones and treating burns, a tiny lock of braided silver hair that you keep in a hidden drawer of your jewelry box, dreams that you never want to wake up from.

But one day, decades after you leave King’s Landing, you will receive a raven from Queen Jaehaera Targaryen, and she will ask you: You knew the Greens in your youth, Wardeness Stark. You knew Aemond, Daeron, Helaena, Alicent, Otto, Maelor, Aegon the Usurper. What can you tell me of them? What was my father like? Who was he really?

And you’ll pick up your quill and begin writing.

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen ii #aegon ii #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader

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leportraitducadavre · 1 year

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“Sarada is the first Uchiha that awoke her MS out of a sense of pure love, unlike the rest of them that were rooted in hatred –she’s the first one to break the “Hatred Cycle” of the clan.”

*sighs* Listen, there’s nothing I’d like more than to leave Boruto and all of its byproducts behind for good, yet over and over again the rabid anti-Sasuke fandom comes back to trash on the original characters of the show for the sole purpose of chanting “old Uchiha bad, new Uchiha good” around a barely lit pit fire.

Allow me to quickly break this notion, as it doesn’t need much more inspection than a faint passing of our eyes through the original series to debunk it.

After hearing Naruto is sealed away alongside Hinata and everyone blames Boruto, Sarada starts crying and, in desperation, asks her dad to “help Boruto”, awakening her Mangekyou Sharingan.

[Contrary to what I initially believed as I thought she might be asking for help as she couldn’t move, she’s not injured, she appears to be (at most) in shock due to everything that Boruto has to face, so, in case you’re one of those Naruto fans that are used to have pretty plot-relevant, emotional moments after the initial awakening of an Uchiha’s MS, let me tell you: That’s not happening, at all.]

Regardless of the minuscule and for real, for real, not sarcastic at all, very-well thought and constructed attempt to empower a character whose relevance to the main plot lies in the fact that she is the only daughter of Boruto's mentor, many stans of the child saw this opportunity to trash on Sasuke’s power as an Uchiha (you know, the reincarnation of Indra itself), and to justify such an awakening of one of the most powerful forms of the Sharingan under the premise that “it’s a different type of awakening because it’s linked to love, not hatred.”

So, in order to fact-check such affirmation, let’s see how other characters achieved the Mangekyou:

Sasuke:

Sasuke awakes his MS originally from learning the truth behind his family’s genocide; before this (and I mean, chapters before this, as his MS is dedicated a total of three chapters) Obito explained that the Uchiha were planning a coup and that Itachi, to protect Konoha and his brother, committed the annihilation of his entire kin following the government’s orders. We see him crying before a new resolution is reached: destroy Konoha. His MS awakes due to his pain which turns to complete anger.

However, you wouldn’t believe how Sasuke has conscious access to both Mangekyou:

That’s right folks, he has conscious access over his right MS by thinking of those he wants to protect, Team Taka and Team 7. So this “hatred” cycle that powers up his Sharingan is fuelled by one thing and one thing only: love.

Furthermore,

Sasuke got conscious access over his left MS technique when trying to save Karin, as she’s a very dear comrade of his. Something similar happened when he awakened his Sharingan versus when he got conscious access to it when trying to save Naruto.

[Sasuke awoke the Sharingan when he was eight years old, so the idea that “haha, Sarada awoke her MS when she was younger than him so she’s better!” is stupid as he awoke it when he was at least four years younger when facing the genocide of his people, unlike her that got it from daddy issues. In fact, awakening MS or the Sharingan before or after has nothing to do with the person's capacity as a ninja as it solely depends on the traumatic events that said person experiences. It's safer to say that her emotional threshold is significantly lower than her father's given the "peaceful" times in which she grew up than to claim a "superiority" based upon the age they both experienced traumatically enough events to influence their chakra and develop or evolve their doujutsu.]

Obito:

Obito, somewhat similar to Sasuke (and this is due to their feelings, as they’re heartbroken and such pain triggers their raw hate), awakes his MS when he sees the girl he loves get killed by the boy he started to consider a friend when he was twelve/thirteen years old. His feelings are so strongly connected to his Sharingan that they also evolve the doujutsu that Kakashi possesses.

However, there’s a striking difference between how Obito awakened his Sharingan (basic form) and how Sasuke or even Sarada did as he achieved such power when trying to save his comrades.

[Sasuke awoke the Sharingan due to the pain he felt when seeing his parents get killed by his brother, which turned into hatred when Itachi "explained" his reasons. Meanwhile, Sarada got her Sharingans due to the pain she felt when her father didn't recognize her, which turned into fear when he threatened to kill her.]

Obito’s Sharingan was completely awakened by a sense of protectiveness over those dear to him, in other words, love.

Every single Sharingan or evolution of the same doujutsu is driven by the same emotion. From there, it either derivates to different states (pain, hate, grief, and so on), or it doesn’t, but no Uchiha can access either form without feeling a strong positive connection with someone or something they are trying to protect.

P.S: Unrelated, but look how pretty Kishimoto's art is compared to Ikemoto's (who also sexualizes minors constantly, as this is the cover of the newest volume), Sasuke looks so ugly and Sarada's MS is the most awful thing I've ever seen. No wonder the manga is flopping. Yikes.

Edit to add: It’s devastatingly hilarious how the whole point of Sarada’s Mangekyou wasn’t even about her; nor her power, nor the relevance of her bonds, it was about making a powerful enough moment for Sasuke to believe her and help Boruto! Everything becomes, yet again, about Sasuke.

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xximpressions · 4 months

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The Duchess (7)

Anthony Bridgerton x Duchess!reader

Series Summary: After coming into a title you did not expect, you have a chance encounter with a handsome rescuer.

Chapter Summary: You arrive at Clyvedon

Word Count: 1,404

A/N: Happy New Year!!!

Bridgerton Masterlist

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It never did occur to you how effortless your first few days at Clyvedon felt.

Though you were initially anxious upon your arrival to the lavish estate, the unexpectedly warm welcome you received from the Duke and his wife helped to alleviate such worries.

And the rest of the Bridgerton clan was also paramount in reducing such anxieties since the enthusiasm from a certain child could only be met with your own sincerity while also forcing you to put aside any lingering hesitance you subconsciously felt about being an imposing guest.

“Oh Duchess! I am so very glad you are here to stay with us!”

Exclaimed the young lady you were quickly becoming fond of.

“And I am so very glad to be here with you all, Miss Hyacinth! The honor is truly mine.”

You said with a curtsey and a smile following your arrival in the foyer.

“I am afraid,” interceded the Viscount, “that I must cut such a happy reunion short since I am sure the Duchess would like to get settled in her accommodations before dinner after such a tiresome journey here.”

“Indeed!” Echoed his eldest sister as she turned to direct her housekeeper.

“Mrs.Coulson, will you see her Grace to her room and ensure that she has everything she needs for her stay?”

While the older woman confirmed the necessary final arrangements with her house mistress, you took the chance to inconspicuously lean toward the Viscount in order to quietly whisper,

“It was my understanding that we had agreed to do away with such titles, did we not?”

Though he had to momentarily pause in order to tame his humored grin at your playful question, his amused hushed reply only came seconds later.

“Well, since my family happens to already be aware of the admiration I have for you, I thought it might be a bit impertinent to make it any more obvious.”

Looking at you from the corner of his eyes and directing a teasing smirk your way, he coyly finished by asking,

“Was that not correct of me, my Lady?”

Because you failed to contain the elated grin at his words, Anthony was able to catch a glimpse of the appreciation your external expression displayed at his sincere comment while you felt the internal blooming warmth of joy begin to spread within your chest at the honor of hearing yourself be referred to as such.

However, before either of you could dwell on your conversation any longer, you were being approached by the housekeeper.

“If you will come with me, your Grace, then I can show you to your room.”

With a nod and a thank you, you began to follow the woman named Mrs.Coulson.

As you took your leave from the foyer and the rest of those present began to disperse, the Lady of the house made sure to announce,

“Dinner will be in an hour, so we will all meet in the drawing room once everyone has finished changing.”

And with that final piece of information, you made your way up the stairs behind your guide.

Initially, the main emotion you felt at Aubrey Hall had been perplexion given the first time you had been seated for dinner with them at one of their country estates.

Because you had been raised by an elderly aunt all your life, most of the family meals you had any memory of essentially consisted of you sitting at different ends of a very long table in silence with your guardian since her frigidly cold demeanor made it explicitly clear that any words from you were not at all wanted, nor would they be at all appreciated.

So, because you had never dined in any other manner with the last of your kin, you suppose your mind had just assumed that all families conducted their meals in such a fashion.

Therefore, you found yourself pleasantly surprised during your first night at Aubrey Hall when it became more than obvious that the coldness you were unconsciously expecting simply did not exist in such genuine warmth.

Even when the inevitable sibling squabbles broke out between youngest and eldest alike, there was never any doubting the affection that clearly accompanied every insult.

Seeing the surprise on your face at such familiarity being allowed at the table, Lady Bridgerton commented with a touch of sheepishness,

“I know it may seem unfashionable, your Grace, but what can I say? We like each other!”

She finished with a shrug as well as a joyful and unapologetic smile that only grew more amused when her son-in-law, the Duke, followed up her statement by teasingly interjecting from his place at the head of the table,

“Most of the time.”

With a humourous smirk aimed at Lady Bridgerton as if speaking from a place of experience.

From that dinner onward, any lingering anxieties you had about being an imposing guest seemed to have vanished since the Basset’s and Bridgerton’s alike made it clear that your presence was not only welcomed, but it was undoubtedly wanted and thoroughly enjoyed each day that you were there.

By the end of your first week at the country estate you had happily fallen into the routine of being sociable with those that were present in the house.

In fact, it was actually becoming a bit of a tradition that after Lady Bridgerton escorted her younger children to bed following dinner, the remaining young adults would gather in the drawing room for a few drinks and some lighthearted conversation.

And on this particular evening, a full week after your original arrival, the drawing room was occupied by merely yourself sat on one couch, the Lord and Lady of the house sat across from you on the other, as well as Lord Bridgerton who was happily seated next to you.

And with the almost inaudible roar of the fireplace filling the dimly lit room, there was a very cozy atmosphere surrounding your group.

Currently, you all were struggling to hold in your laughter at the outburst Anthony had and was continuing to make after jumping up from the couch you shared with him.

When you had asked the Duchess how it was she found herself married to a Duke, you did not think any of you expected the Viscount to shoot up upon learning what fact truly brought his best friend and sister together as a couple.

“A ruse??” he exclaimed once more to everyone’s further amusement.

“Hastings?! You mean to tell me that I could have killed you for a ruse?!?” Anthony bewilderedly repeated with emphasis.

Having to hold back your tickled surprise after he sprung up with such a statement, the Duke only chose to reply to his friend with a teasing nonchalance.

“Oh please, Bridgerton. You have always been a terrible shot, so my life was never really in any danger.”

His accompanying smirk also let everyone know that all had truly been forgiven between the two.

Buzzing with intrigue as Anthony gave an indignant, but humored huff while returning to his seat, you could not help saying to the other Duchess in the room,

“What an exciting way to get betrothed! My own betrothal was more of a legal agreement than a proposal, and even then, it was my aunt who did the signing.” You finished with a chuckle that came out more weak than content.

The minute shift in the jovial mood at the reminder of the poor treatment you had received in your life from people you thought you could trust made you try to lift it again by happily continuing with saying,

“But alas! I am glad to hear it was love that brought you two together and not obligation.”

You said with a kind smile.

However, after the thought passed in the other Duchess’ head that your statement was not exactly true, a devious idea began to form in her mind as she replied by saying,

“Well, if you think about it, a thought-out ruse has already helped one debutante avoid an unsuitable suitor…so who is to say the same strategy could not work again?”

She questioned the room with a certain coyness while aiming a specifically delicate smile at her brother across the way to emphasize exactly where she was going with this.

And who was the Viscount to say no to such a brilliant idea that had already been proven to work once before?

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bonefall · 8 months

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Bonefall's Forgotten Warriors

If you've ever set out to make a WC fan project, you've surely heard of Su Susann's Missing Kits. It was a series of authorial statements giving names to previously unnamed cats, and adding interesting little stories to many of them.

But there's also a TON of "Forgotten Warriors" that were created through timeline inconsistencies, offhanded authorial statements, or single throwaway lines in super editions. By their nature, finding these cats on the wiki is a pain in the butt. In this post I hope to compile these cats as a resource for the fandom.

So first, let's define a Forgotten Warrior.

A Forgotten Warrior does not have a big presence. Primrosepaw was first named as a Missing Kit with no mention of her name on the page or in the allegiances. Over time, she has appeared in several books and is now a widely known name in the fandom. But Blossomkit, whose only appearance is in Su Susann's Missing Kits and the worst field guide, will count as a Forgotten Warrior.

A Forgotten Warrior is not just a nondescript Clan cat. For example, if a "ThunderClan warrior" speaks up at a gathering and their name and description is not mentioned, that could be anyone. Same applies to a description that could easily describe an existing character in a Clan-- if a "White ShadowClan Warrior" appears in a modern arc, that may just be Stonewing, BUT, the "Tabby Queen with Distinct Black Markings" of TPB doesn't match any other, so she is a Forgotten Warrior.

A minor appearance inconsistency is not a Forgotten Warrior. Just to pre-empt wiseassery. Blue-eyed Dovewing and Green-eyed Dovewing are not two separate cats-- but I will note down MASSIVE appearance changes in background characters, like the magic color AND gender-changing Stoatfur (just add water!)

(also, I will not be compiling all of the random kittypets, rogues, and loners because there is too many of them. I could, however, be persuaded to compile all cats of a specific group, like The Kin, Sisters, BloodClan, etc.)

This post is an updating list as I find and catalogue more cats. Last update: 8/21/23, version 1.1 Added new category: Sudden Elders

Key: X = No gender F = Female M = Male

Su Susann's Missing Kits (WIP; will update with full descriptions later)

Cranberrypaw

Thistlepaw

Drizzlepaw

Rustlepaw

Elderkit

Tulipkit

Lynxkit

Cherrypaw

Chestnutkit

Cricketkit

Duckkit

Dragonflykit

Rubblekit

Turtlekit

Quietkit

Lavenderkit

Waterkit

Oatkit

Carpkit

Morningkit F Dead child of Graypool. Gray-cream with a white dash.

Splashkit M Dead child of Graypool, gray with lighter flecks.

Swankit F Silver-and-black child of Graypool who lives just long enough to see her take Mistykit and Stonekit as fosters, and then dies.

Splashpaw F RiverClan apprentice of the RiverClan Swallowtail, appears in the allegiances of Dawn, said to have drowned in human nets while fishing with Stonestream.

Storkkit

Quailkit

Eaglekit

Hillkit

Downkit

Swampkit

Blossomkit

Spirit Cats

Skunkpaw M From Goosefeather's Curse, an ancient ThunderClan apprentice who helps him cheat at Hide and Seek. Has a white stripe that parts his face and heterochromia (right blue eye and left green eye)

Fenneldust F A Dark Forest cat killed by Thistleclaw in Spottedleaf's Heart. Light brown tabby from ThunderClan

Batear M Spottedleaf's Heart. Black and white with a disfigured half-face. From ShadowClan

Palefoot M Gray tabby in Night Whispers who speaks to Flametail.

Lightningpaw M Gives Crookedstar a life, from RiverClan

Lilyflower F Gives Crookedstar a life, from RiverClan

Shiningheart, Brightspirit, Braveheart FFM Cats modeled after a real family of WC fans who died in a natural disaster, appearing in Long Shadows

Mallowfur F Spirit who greets Featherwhisker on his first trip to the moonstone.

Inconsistencies and Replacements

Cypresspaw F Brown and white; appears in Thunder and Shadow and is replaced by four Lakeheart kits.

Wavepaw F Silver and white; appears in Thunder and Shadow and is replaced by four Lakeheart kits.

Stoatfur X First appearing as a ginger tom, they become a tortie-and-white molly between books.

Happykit M A fan name for a kitten killed in the Great Battle which the author approved of. Changed to "Weaselkit" by the family tree.

Silverpaw X Appears in the allegiances of Fire and Ice and Forest of Secrets and then vanishes.

Greenflower F Supposed to be the foster mother for Feathertail and Stormfur, forgotten between books and replaced by Mosspelt.

Gorsetail M A pale tom warrior who is trapped by humans during the destruction of the Forest, suddenly replaced by ANOTHER Gorsetail who is a silver-and-white molly in the Po3 arc

Unnamed Background Cats

Distinct Tabby Queen From Into the Wild, greets Goldenflower as she leaves the nursery. ThunderClan.

Tortie Molly From Fire and Ice, seems to be a friend of Morningflower. From WindClan.

Gray Tom From Fire and Ice, another exiled warrior of WindClan who alerts the Clan to Fireheart's presence.

Tabby Tom

From Fire and Ice, another exiled warrior of WindClan. Carries Morningflower's kitten; May be Onewhisker.

Field Guide Exclusives

Smokepaw X From Secrets of the Clans. May be a consistency error, given that the authors forgot that Smokepaw TNP fell off a cliff and they could be Smokefoot. Close with Tawnypelt, likes to climb trees and watch boats.

Pikepaw M Large, dark gray. The only serious apprentice in his training session of BOTC while the siblings squabble. RiverClan.

Duckpaw F Mean to Rushpaw while training. Sister of Tangle and Rush. RiverClan.

Tanglepaw M Large, big-pawed, long-furred. Mean to Rushpaw. Brother of Rush and Duck. RiverClan.

Rushpaw F Short legged, tiny, and pathetic. Awful at swimming. Girlfail. Sister of Duck and Tangle. RiverClan.

Silverpaw X Sees Onestar and the POV kittypets on RiverClan territory, and brings them to Reedwhisker.

Adderkit M Lost spirit baby in Cats of the Clans from WindClan. Killed by an adder and named after it. Forced to listen to Rock say dumb shit about Nightcloud at the world's most uncomfortable sleepover.

Spiderfoot M Anxious, battle-averse ShadowClan warrior fresh out of Apprenticeship at the Eclipse Battle, tormented by RiverClan warriors while hiding in an abandoned building. Said to have left to become a kittypet

Rabbittail M WindClan ancestor of Webfoot who was caught in a human trap for REAL rabbits, but chewed his way out.

Sudden Elders

These cats suddenly appear as elders despite never having been seen before.

Darkfoot M Appears as a WindClan elder without warning when the Clans get to the lake.

Oatwhisker M Appears as a WindClan elder without warning when the Clans get to the lake.

Snaketail M Brown ShadowClan elder with a striped tail

Ivytail F A brown tabby in RiverClan who dies of oil poisoning

#warrior cats #Forgotten Warriors #Su Susann's Missing Kits #Resource

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mommyclaws · 4 months

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Opinions on Leopardstar? I haven't read leopardstar's Honor yet, not sure what happens there, but I've heard it's somewhat disappointing.

I was always somewhat angry that she never really mentioned Tigerstar after the whole Tigerclan thing, and we never really got to see how she felt about the whole thing, just that the people she sent to die really didn't like her.

A Shadow in Riverclan also kinda did the same thing where she gave a little pep talk and suddenly everything was ok for Feathertail, after she had horrible ptsd from Leopardstar

I want to like her but she's such a nothing character imo to actually have an opinion on because I think she was done pretty dirty, as Riverclan and her weren't really the focus of the series for so long

I consider myself a Leopardstar fan. I’ve been wanting to talking about my feelings/view on her for a while so i’ll put all my thoughts here!

The direction they took with her in canon is dissatisfying but she has alot of groundwork that gives her interesting potential. Her father is a medic- formerly warrior- who changed his position because he is against violence. She turns into everything Mudfur wanted to escape from. Too proud, itching for a battle, apathetic to the suffering of the other clans. And even if it was a let down, I can appreciate the authors at least tried to do more with her character than let her off the hook as easily as Blackfoot.

I like her mostly in comparison to my dislike for Blackstar's character. He teamed with Brokenstar and Tigerstar, committed murders and didn’t protest to the abuse of his own clan. He does nothing to atone and doesn't even seem particularly remorseful but he's still rewarded by being made leader. Leopardstar was already in power when she made the decisions that cost cats their lives. Cats trusted her to protect them and her neglect threw them into savagery and death. Standing by to allow kits and her own deputy be slaughtered is GRUESOME. I read her as someone blinded by ambition, just another product of the code. She misjudged then got in over her head with Tigerclan and was willing to toss others aside to save her own tail. Maybe she truly is remorseful, but it doesn't change what she did. Nothing can.

Crookedstar's leadership was very relaxed and she considered him weak. He gave up land to Shadowclan, he could never keep Sunningrocks, he allowed Thunderclan to take refugee on multiple occasions, and all of the half clan cats he accepts are seemingly only because they're his kin. She had thoughts of making Riverclan powerful and feared once he was out of the picture, it's why she completely disregarded his dying wishes- She couldn't bring herself to respect him.

The politics of Riverclan change drastically with her nine lives. Closed borders and no tolerance for Thunderclan, not even Graystripe, who only wanted to be with his kits. Riverclan is strong. But it could be stronger, couldn't it? She and Tigerclaw served as deputies together, even if he was the enemy, she thought well of him. He is a fierce and respected Thunderclan warrior. Or so he was. While she initially thought it a red flag he was now serving Shadowclan, she couldn't disagree with him for leaving Thunderclan when she already had so much resentment for them and ruling Shadowclan, it was true. They had been weaken for many moons, it was Tigerstar who reunited them and made them powerful. So when he promises to make her clan just as powerful, together, she doesnt refuse.

She very consistently and vocally had a dislike for half-clan cats. She exiled Graystripe. She calls Featherpaw and Stormpaw liabilities. She banishes Stormfur and Brook. I think she has very genuine hateful beliefs but at the same time she’s horrified at what happened to Stonefur. That was a cat she was trusting to become the next leader of Riverclan. And he was killed for defending innocent lives. She knows she was wrong, she regrets it, she has nightmares about the bonehill. (<- This was confirmed by an author apparently!) but her attempts to “atone” are surface level and shallow at best. She wants to be forgiven without changing. She makes Mistyfoot deputy to show she’s better now, but what meaning does that position have after Stonefur was slaughtered? She apologizes to Feathertail and Stormfur, but they still feel like complete outcasts. They’re more friendly with their former clanmates in Thunderclan and Leopardstar later exiles Stormfur over a faked sign. I think her attempts were never to better herself or right her victims, but to relieve her own guilt. She’s always prioritized herself above others.

#Short answer? I like her as a complicated DISlikable character #people can do bad things they regret and still be a bad person #I think her leadership is interesting because despite how much she doesn’t deserve it- shes the leader. she gets to stay the leader.#and continues to make bad choices sprinkled with few and far between moments of apology #because she feels more sorry for herself and her guilt than the cats affected by it #warrior cats #txt #Leopardstar #infodump tag #thanks for the ask! you get. giant paragraph

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zablife · 1 year

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Tachipen (Part 1)

Tommy x female reader

Summary: With the flip of a coin, Tommy makes a deal to bring a 20 year old gypsy girl into the Shelby clan. Considering her too young to marry, he employs her as a nanny. When tragedy strikes, he’s forced to confront the truth he has always known.

Author’s Note: This was requested by @honey-im-hotdog who asked for a fic about Charlie’s nanny. I decided to turn it into a series. The story will be told through flashbacks, but I will note the year. Tommy meets y/n in 1919 and the story goes thru present time which is the year of the vendetta, 1925.

Warnings: language, slurs, mention of arranged marriage, fighting, mention of blood

1924

“Step out of the picture, please,” the photographer called out loudly enough to make you jump. Feeling you startle, Charlie erupted in tears and you did your best to soothe him as Polly stretched her arms out to receive the child. “M sorry Pol,” you mumbled, attempting to step aside. “You’ll stay right here, y/n,” Tommy said firmly. Polly gave him a surprised look, but said nothing as she dropped her hands by her sides. “She’s family,” Tommy said with a small nod of his head and ushered you to stand between him and Arthur. As you took your place, you glanced at Linda. Her lips were tightly pursed in disapproval, one hand resting over the swell of her stomach. You tried to hide your discomfort behind an air of respectful silence, as today didn’t belong to her. Today was for remembrance and out of love for little Charlie, you would do all you could to keep the peace.

As the bulb above the camera flashed bright white, you thought of the moment you met Tommy Shelby. The glint of the gold coin winking at you in the afternoon sunlight as though it knew the cruel hand it would deal you. “That’s heads, Esmerelda comes with us,” Tommy stated matter-of-factly, picking up the coin from the lush green grass and placing it carefully in his pocket. No one spoke as your father’s eye drifted toward you and your sisters.

“Esmerelda is already promised, Mr. Shelby. Unless you want a war with the Lees, you’ll leave her right where she is,” he warned through gritted teeth.

“Those weren’t the terms of our wager,” Tommy reminded him. “Did I not say the horse and a daughter of my choosing?”

“No, you didn’t,” your father countered, puffing out his chest toward the gangster.

“Calling my brother a liar?” John Shelby asked, marching toward the two men in large strides. You could tell by his swagger he liked to prove himself in a fight and he was spoiling for one now. Two other men in your camp sensed as much because they came to stand behind your father.

Johnny Dogs rushed forward placing himself between the two factions, laying his hands on Tommy’s shoulders and pushing him backward gently. He spoke in a frantic voice saying, “Tommy, get your family out of here and go enjoy the fair before they start a war, huh?” Then he turned and spoke in Romani to the men behind him advising them, “They come from good people. His granddad was a king!” Tommy straightened his coat, placing his peaked cap on his head when a voice in the crowd shouted, “Yeah, but his mother was a diddicoy whore!”

You gulped at the words, watching the three Shelby brothers fly into a fit of rage, brandishing their razor caps skillfully. In mere moments, they had your kin on the ground and you watched helplessly as they were sliced open, kicked and beaten. Your sisters screamed by your side and you all huddled together for protection.

“Run,” your youngest sister suggested to Esmerelda. “She can’t now. They’d find her no matter where she traveled,” you replied logically. As you looked from one sister to the other, the only possible solution to stop the bloodshed came to you. If you offered yourself you could save Esmerelda. The product of your father’s first marriage, no one held a candle to her in your father’s estimation. However, you didn’t blame her for that. After your own mother died she had lovingly watched over you when your father was too drunk to care. You would never forget that and now you felt it was time to repay her kindness.

“Stop! Stop! I’ll go. Take me!” you shouted over the chaos and the men broke apart in surprise long enough to watch you approach Tommy. He stood as you placed a hand on his arm tentatively. He struggled to regain his breath after the fighting, running a hand through his hair to smooth it back into place. Looking at you incredulously he asked, “How old are you?”

You stood tall, chin held high and replied, “Twenty…Old enough to become your wife.”

Tommy suddenly turned his back to you shaking his head at the ground and your heart thundered in your chest, panicking at the thought of his rejection.

“No, no. I didn’t come here for this,” he said gesturing back at you. He’d barely noticed you before, thinking you a mere child and he hadn’t been far off. What he was asking suddenly felt very wrong when he considered the decade that separated you.

“Well what the fuck did you do that for then, Tom?” Johnny asked, gesturing toward the men lying bloodied on the ground.

Tommy took his head in his hands and turned back to you, pointing a finger. “I won’t take you as a wife. I won’t do it,” he said unable to look you in the eye. He bit the inside of his cheek as he thought then asked, “But me brother has four children who run barefoot through the streets at all hours and they need someone to look after them. You could come work for us,” he said, setting his jaw and finally meeting your gaze.

You took a deep breath feeling relieved at the prospect and you nodded in agreement. Tommy glanced at your father who was dabbing at a cut lip and they shook on it. Despite your father’s preference for this outcome, he was still angered by the events of the day. You could tell by the twitch of his mustache and the flicker of anger that had yet to extinguish from his deep brown eyes.

You crossed to him slowly, twisting your hands together in nervous anticipation, but he had little he wanted to discuss with a woman who gave herself to a gangster so freely. “You’ll pack your bag and get out,” was all he said.

Tears welling in your eyes you nodded and went to get your possessions. As you finished packing, you hugged your sisters goodbye, wondering when or if you’d ever see them again. “I’m sorry, y/n. I’m so sorry,” Esmerelda cried into your shoulder.

“Don’t be. It isn’t your fault,” you comforted her.

“Take this,” she said passing you a small blade with a pearl handle to place in your boot. “You’ll have to look after yourself now, but I know you can,” she said, attempting to convince herself more than you.

As you exited the vardo, Tommy accepted a dappled gray mare from an old woman in camp. The horse was one of your favorites and it comforted you to know you’d have one friend with you as you journeyed away from your camp. Tommy motioned for you to join him and you slid along the bench seat, taking your place next to him in the car. It would be the first time you’d ever ridden in an automobile, though you couldn’t bring yourself to find any excitement in it. As the car lurched forward and eventually gathered speed, taking you away from your family, you glanced around the car of stone like faces feeling your earlier sense of confidence slipping away. You were left with a stinging loneliness that would not cease.

———————————————————————-

1919

It was late when you arrived in Small Heath. You were shown to a room and told you would meet the children in the morning. After a brief introduction to a formidable woman named Aunt Polly, you trudged upstairs for some rest. As you climbed into bed you heard them speaking in hushed whispers downstairs, Tommy explaining how you had come to stay with them. You could tell from her tone that Polly did not approve.

Alone in the kitchen, Polly stamped out her cigarette with a warning to her nephew. “Tommy this is how it started with your mum. Brought here against her will, forced to live with a man she barely knew. She came to despise him. Gypsies have to move around or it all gets to be too much.” Polly stopped speaking when she noticed the distant look in Tommy’s eye. He didn’t need anyone to remind him of the day his mother walked into the cut. How could Polly think he would allow that to happen to you? You were here to do a job and would be allowed to leave whenever you pleased. You’d come of your own free will. At least that’s what he tried to tell himself that night before the opium took effect.

But in his dreams that night he watched you walk toward a stream, sunlight shining through your hair. You turned to speak to him with tears in your eyes, but the words were carried away on the wind. You pointed over the hill and as he followed your line of sight he saw the beautiful dappled gray mare dead beneath a hazel tree and he woke with a start, sweat dripping from his brow. As he sat up and reached for his cigarettes he heard you quietly weeping on the other side of the wall. What had he done?

Cont. reading Part 2

————————————————————————————-

Tag list:

@peakyswritings

@evita-shelby

@tommydoesntpayforsuits

@shelbydelrey

@alanadetigy

@wandawiccan60

@easilyobessedbutflighty

@severewobblerlightdragon

@lovemissyhoneybee

@theshelbyslimited

@kittycatcait219

@peakyrogers

@christinasyellowflowers

@notyour-valentine

@theshelbyclan

@peaky-cillian

@kpopgirlbtssvt

@celticmelody

@cillmequick

@dreamlandcreations

@there-goes-thefighter

@rangerelik

@raincoffeeandfandoms

@babayaga67

@kmhappybunny240

@look-at-the-soul

@runnning-outof-time

@l1-l4

@floraroselaughter

#Peaky Blinders fanfic #Peaky Blinders imagine #Tommy shelby #Tommy Shelby fanfic #Tommy Shelby imagine #Tommy Shelby x reader #Tommy Shelby x y/n #Tommy Shelby x you

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warrior-cats-rewritten · 17 days

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So I have a LOT of AUs, not all of them get talked about! A little list if some of the ones I like.

Cloud!Three - Leafpool and Crowfeather leave permanently, having their children in Skyclan. Cloudtail and Brightheart have their second litter earlier, Ambermoon, Snowbush and the renamed Dewrush as the Kin of Firestar's Kin.

Prophecy!Scourge/Tiny!Fire - Bluefur takes Tiny into Thunderclan, only to realize he is the subject of a Prophecy: The Night Alone will save our Clan.

Anthro AU - Exactly what it sounds like but every character exists all at once, mostly just for fun.

Power of Stars - Rather than being Firestar's Kin, there are multiple sets of Prophecy Cats, all related to the OG founders. Lionblaze, Hollyleaf and Jayfeather for Windstar. Heathertail, Galeshine (Galekit), and Harespring for Shadowstar (through Sun Shadow). Minnowtail, Willowshine, and Cloudsnap for Skystar (through Blackclaw, Primroseheart and Reedwhisker's dad). Flametail, Tigerheart and Dawnpelt for Thunderstar. Things get complicated when Skyclan shows up early for OOTS, bringing along Firefern, Harrybrook and Stormheart for Riverstar.

Warriorclan joins the Clans - Very self-explanatory. They come with Graystripe in the end, settling in a more remote spot in-between Sanctuary Lake and The City.

50% left version 1 - Great Battle was far more disastrous, every cat barring few has a 50/50 chance of getting killed.

50% left version 2 - Post-Avos. Darktail's massive fire along with a horrific storm puts all cats barring few on the chopping block.

Lakeclan - As The Great Journey comes to an end, the majority of Clan cats cannot bare to be rigid, separated groups once more. The Lake is governed by the 4 Leaders at respective camps, but borders are a thing of the past, cats are completely free to go where they please and get close to who they want. Of course, not everyone agrees with the new arrangement...

My Clangen AU - If I could draw, I would have made a comic series for these guys. A newly formed Clan, Moonclan, fights for its place to survive amongst the already pre-established Songclan, Leafclan, Moleclan, and Weevilclan. (Each Clan is tracked through alternate Clangen files, each with a different biome. Leafclan is Classic Forest, Moleclan is Tunnels, Weevilclan is Shipwreck, Songclan is Wasteland, and Moonclan is Crystal River)

Feel free to send asks about any of these AUs!

#warrior cats #warriors #warriors au #cloud!three #tiny!fire #prophecy!scourge #anthro au #power of stars #lake!warriorclan #50% left oots #50% left avos #lakeclan #clangen #leafclan #moleclan #moonclan #songclan #weevilclan

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halcyon-days-no-more · 5 months

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Gargoyle Transformation: Fox

I'm not 100% sure this is going to be final version of a species swapped Fox.

My rule for shape shifting magic is that there's always something left behind from a forced transformation. I'm just not sure how much of Eye of Oden were-fox transformation should have carried over. Though I head-canon that Oberon's Children and their part human children are a bit more resilient when it comes to shapeshifting magic.

#clan and kin series #gargoyles #the walking dead #crossover #traditional art #species swap #Gargoyle Fox #Fox Xanatos #character sketch

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navycat305 · 1 year

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Warrior Cats Novellas in 10 Words or Less (mostly 10 words):

So I started explaining the super editions to my friend who’s only read the first series and then this just happened. I’ve read a majority of the novellas and I’ve at least seen review for pretty much all of them so this may be somewhat accurate. Without further ado:

Hollyleaf’s Story - presumed-dead murderer delays confronting mistakes (with ghost love interest???)

Mistystar’s Omen - local leader conflicted about her atheist doctor (real main character)

Cloudstar’s Journey - entire people wiped out in series of tragic events (sad)

Tigerclaw’s Fury - coup leader recruits goons (several things go wrong)

Leafpool’s Wish - doctor has illegal affair and children (sister deals with it)

Dovewing’s Silence - I cried at the mass funeral (not kidding)

alternatively; Dovewing’s Silence - woman struggles with perfectly fine hearing (featuring annoying creep Bumblestripe)

Mapleshade’s Vengeance - everyone is somewhat to blame (please don’t kill me)

Goosefeather’s Curse - baby prophet gets bullied (and causes numerous disasters)

Ravenpaw’s Farewell - gay cats are the best cats (rip OG Alderheart)

Spottedleaf’s Heart - they didn’t think this one through well enough (questionable)

Pinestar’s Choice - had to look this one up (guy thinks life sucks?)

Thunderstar’s Echo - don’t know this one (mundane stuff happens in ancient Thunderclan?)

Redtail’s Debt - the writers didn’t pay attention (still a good story tho)

Tawnypelt’s Clan - old lady sick of everyone’s shit (and rightfully so)

Shadowstar’s Life - state leader paranoid about assassination (tensions temporarily resolved with death)

Pebbleshine’s Kits - pregnant woman wanders around a bit (allows kinda weird cameos)

Tree’s Roots - genuinely nice character backstory (will warm your heart)

Mothwing’s Secret - doctor rejects religion (good conclusion - the gods are a scam)

Daisy’s Kin - babysitter thinks she’s purposeless (she’s actually too good for everyone)

Blackfoot’s Reckoning - cool, but I don’t get the hype (sorry Blackstar fans)

alternatively; Blackfoot’s Reckoning - president reviews obvious mistakes during inauguration (while making several excuses)

Spotfur’s Rebellion - woman assists coup that fails (she’s not like other girls)

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the-owl-tree · 2 months

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There’s so many toms that I hate because they were shoved into the plot to steal a she-cats story for themselves… it’s SO OBVIOUS when the Erins do this. The she-cats deserve to have just as much of an arc and character depth as the toms do, yet the writing team consistently devolves it’s female cast into accessories for their male counterparts.

Examples:

- Alderheart (blatantly having been written to strip sparkpelt of an arc that so clearly should’ve been her own - ie “the spark that remains” - sparkpelt is then twisted into a xenophobic jerk at the drop of a hat to make alderheart look better than her, when previously she was VERY MUCH in support of SkyClan’s return. What the fuck, Erins??? Sandstorm is also iced for this loser’s manpain.

- Nightheart (basically every she-cat has their personality altered to fit his victim complex, and we all KNOW that Finchlight would’ve been more interesting and deserving of a pov than him. If they kill off spark, finch, or sun to further his angst, I will be so pissed off…

- Tree (violetshine’s character growth, struggles, and arc completely disintegrates with his introduction. in tbc, she’s reduced to your typical background protag mother… while tree remains a major character, and is not only hugely valued by the plot, but also by its characters. violetshine deserved so much better than to be shoved to the sidelines by this random-ass character who was *totally not introduced just to make her into a a generic wife and mother*. that’s not even getting into how stupid the Sisters fiasco is, where ‘waaah tree was oppressed by all the women in his life and kicked out, isn’t he just so tragic and sad???’… good god. that was bizarre

- brambleclaw: probably one of the worst offenders of this, right alongside alderheart. Tawnypelt should’ve gotten his pov, considering her personality in TNP… it seems liked they flipped their stories around just because she’s a she-cat, and they just *had* to make the main protagonist of the arc a tom. very disapointing

- rootspring: bristlefrost’s character arc was absolutley DERAILED by this character, and it’s such a shame. even her most iconic scene, her sacrifice, was primarily focused upon rootspring and his pissbaby manpain. also… needleclaw, anyone? she’s the one who should have the sisters’ abilities, after all, but instead she has none… how does she feel about that? I think exploring that would be much more interesting than ‘whiny loser is upset and feels weird that he can see ghosts in a society that values the ability to see ghosts, gets a girl by being weirdly pushy and not taking ‘no’ for an answer, and goes through extreme manpain after she’s iced to further his development’.

- crowfeather: I don’t have any qualms with early crowPAW, but what I DO have an issue with is just how much feathertail’s death is twisted to revolve around *him*, when, in reality, it should’ve focused on Feathertail herself, as well as her brother. FeatherCrow was just awful in general though… especially considering that her name is only invoked later on as an excuse for crowfeather to be an abuser, implying that he’s justified in hurting his wife and son, as well as leafpool and her kits, ‘because manpain’.

real & true, it sucks seeing how many mollies in the series will have really interesting stories and potential conflicts then have the writing team choose whatever supports the main dude around them. more i think about tree the more annoyed i am that it wasn't violet, the big prophecy kitten who had survived the kin and would have more reason to want to keep the clans from tearing each other's throats out. the mediator role is a dumb one (i say with my mediator oc) but it would have been nice if it was actually a character who we followed who got the position instead of "my mommy is mean to me :(" rando dude who just shows up.

#would be very nice if the writing team cared about these characters outside making rpotagonist babies or main pain

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one-in-a-million-fishsticks-blog · 3 months

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Banished Fireheart AU

I am being perfectly normal about the fictional cat series right now and need to get this off of my chest.

What if when Bluestar banished Tigerclaw, she banished Fireheart too?

This AU would rely entirely on Bluestar losing her mind completely during her mental breakdown, but imagine that instead of trusting Fireheart more because he saved her from Tigerclaw and previously tried to warn her about the tabby tom, she takes the entire incident as proof that Fireheart's loyalty should also be doubted and decides to kill two birds with one stone?

This obviously makes zero sense, but Bluestar is beyond logic when she makes the decision, so to her Fireheart has already proved his own disloyalty by sneaking around and looking for answers behind her back.

AU timeline:

Blue banishes Tiger AND Fire

Fireheart is forced to become a rogue, obviously he can never live with being a kittypet again, so rogue life is his only option

Fire tries to contact other cats in Thunderclan, but he either can't reach them or they chase him away on Bluestar's orders, so he can't help them like he wants to

Tigerclaw becomes Tigerstar the 1st and the Riverclan/Shadowclan alliance happens

Fireheart decides to try his luck with Windclan, and Tallstar actually hears him out, but doesn't want to risk any potential alliances with Thunderclan by offering Fireheart shelter

Fireheart leaves Windclan feeling utterly defeated

Windclan refuses to align themselves with the River/Shadow alliance and Tigerclaw retaliates by executing several Windclan cats, including Gorsepaw

Onewhisker says "to hell with this!" and goes to find Fireheart, because at this point Bluestar has made her disinterest in alliances clear and Windclan needs more warriors to defend it, so why NOT take Fireheart in?

Fireheart is destroyed by the loss of Gorsepaw and his spirit very nearly breaks, but a heart-to-heart with Onewhisker motivates him to keep it together and he decides to return to Windclan with his friend

Tallstar officially names Fireheart as an ally and guest of Windclan

Graystripe comes looking for Fireheart because he needs help to rescue his kits and Sandstorm is the only other volunteer so far

Ravenpaw finds out what is going on through the gossip mill because it's Windclan territory and he is right there, how could he not overhear something?

Ravenpaw joins the raiding party against River/Shadow and reveals his identity to Windclan, who take the knowledge that he is a former Thunderclan cat pretty well

Onewhisker and Morningflower also join the rescue patrol

Tigerstar, who has been looking everywhere for Fireheart except in Windclan territory, expects sneaky and low-key resistance to come from Fireheart at some point: what he does not expect is for Fireheart to launch a full-scale raid on Shadow/River camp while he, Leopardstar, and a shitton of their cats are at the gathering

Fireheart is fucking feral at this point and decides that the warrior code doesn't apply to people that shove little baby apprentices in prison, he injures Blackfoot so badly that the wounds are almost fatal and outright kills two other cats himself. Morningflower also gets a kill in, Sandstorm blinds a Riverclan cat, and Onewhisker rips somebody's ear off in the ensuing fight while Graystripe and Ravenpaw help Stonefur and Mistyfoot evacuate Featherpaw and Stormpaw (this all happens before Tigerstar has the chance to publicly execute Stonefur)

Fireheart books it back to Windclan with his raiding party and their rescued kin

Tigerclaw realizes exactly what happened way too late and is furious, but he doesn't immediately march on Windclan because he has bigger fish to fry and still wants Thunderclan dead

The newly named Tigerclan moves to attack Thunderclan, but Windclan comes to their defense and the two sets of allied clans are temporarily forced into a stalemate

Tigerstar disappears to work on his strategy, this is when he makes the decision to try recruiting Bloodclan

Thunderclan is very confused but not ungrateful to Windclan for their help, and Bluestar rescends her previous decision to alienate Tallstar in a brief moment of clarity (Whitestorm is her deputy and has become her caretaker, doing his best to keep her comforted and alive)

Fireheart leaves immediately after the battle, not wanting his former mentor to see him there and snap again because he firmly believes that this alliance is more important than anything else right now. It kills him to leave without even seeing Cinderpelt, but he doesn't believe that it is possible for him to stay

Sandstorm tries following him at first but Morningflower stops her and goes instead while Graystripe explains the raiding party to Bluestar, who is almost too preoccupied by the presence of her kits to register the fact one of her warriors just admitted to Fireheart being involved in some capacity

Morningflower catches up to Fireheart and we get another emotional conversation, Fireheart let's her see just how much this entire experience has affected him and tries to apologize for not being there to protect Gorsepaw. Morningflower shuts his apologies down, firmly explaining in excruciating detail why he is the last cat that should be blamed for Gorsepaw's death. This is where a friendship really starts to form between the two, and Fireheart gets a much needed hug.

Bluestar reluctantly requests that Fireheart be brought to her after learning that he helped to rescue her kits, and Whitestorm comes to retrieve him, interrupting his talk with Morningflower

Bluestar grants Fireheart refuge and Thunderclan forms a joint camp with Windclan for safety reasons.

Bluestar and Tallstar decide to call their temporary alliance Lionclan

Lionclan makes plans to continue defending themselves

END OF PART 1

I really like this AU because I am a big fluff/angst person and the idea is ripe with those elements, I also really wanted a reason to retcon a lot of the Fireheart related decisions that the Erins made in later books, so this AU is now that reason. I haven't planned out how the rest of the first ARC will go down in this AU, but I do have some ideas for how this AU would carry into the Firestar's Quest timeline.

Some other random things about this AU:

Stonefur lives to become Stonestar, he is the leader of Riverclan during the great journey

Leopardstar is not allowed to remain leader after Tigerstar dies in this AU, and Blackfoot is removed from the deputy position permanently

Russetfur becomes Russetstar by popular clan vote, she is the new leader of Shadowclan

Bluestar still dies

Whitestorm becomes Thunderclan's new leader, I thought that Whitestar would make a good parallel to Blackstar

Mistyfoot is named as Stonestar's deputy

Fireheart comes very close to rejoining Thunderclan after Bluestar's death, but in the end it feels wrong to him that his banishment be broken over Bluestar's still cooling body, so he continues living as a guest of Windclan until the final battle is won and peace has returned to the forest

This is where we hit post first ARC/super addition territory:

After the first great battle, Fireheart feels as though he has finally fulfilled the prophecy by aiding Windclan and sees no reason to return to Thunderclan despite the way that his heart aches with the absence of Graystripe, Sandstorm, and Cinderheart.

Fireheart is selected by Tallstar to attend the first gathering after everything has settled down in the forest, and is happy to learn that while Stormpaw has rejoined Riverclan with Mistyfoot and Stonestar, Featherpaw has decided to remain in Thunderclan with Graystripe

Mistyfoot's three remaining kits have also all survived, and are doing well as apprentices in Riverclan

Tallstar announces to everyone that Fireheart has officially pledged himself to the black and white leader as a warrior of Windclan, this makes those of his Thunderclan friends who are present horribly sad, but there is also an undercurrent of melancholy understanding between them that prevents any ill feelings from taking root

Later that night in the warriors's burrow, Fireheart is restless as he dreams of Bluestar, tossing and turning in his nest beside Morningflower and Onewhisker as Bluestar tells the still-young warrior that Starclan isn't done with him yet and that he still has a destiny to fullfil

Ultimately Fireheart winds up receiving several more dreams and a few signs from Starclan IRL before finally taking the hint and seeking out the descendants of Skyclan. In this AU, he leaves Windclan solo but Sandstorm decides to sneak away from Thunderclan and follow him, she has been receiving some signs of her own and is frankly sick of her idiot friend trying to recover from all of his trauma with only his Windclan friends for support. The two bond after she saves his ass, and begin to develop a crush on each other (this is Fireheart's first real adult crush, his crush on Spottedleaf was a puppy crush and was never that serious).

Skyclan is eventually reformed, and Fireheart is chosen by Starclan to be it's new leader so that he can bring everyone back to the forest and train Leafdapple to one day succeed him.

They make it home and Fireheart visits the moonstone to become Firestar and receive his nine lives.

Fireheart and Sandstorm eventually become mates and Sandstorm officially joins Skyclan, they have three kits together, two she-kits and a tom.

The kits are named Leafkit, Squirrelkit, and Gorsekit.

The End (or is it?.....)

Author's Note: OC alert, he is a very minor character and barely shows up, but I thought that Fireheart and Sandstorm having an extra kit and naming it after Gorsepaw was the cutest thing in the world.

Ladies and gentlemen, Gorsetail has entered the chat (he looks like Sandstorm, but a bit darker and fluffier).

His main roll in the second ARC is to be the sibling that stayed home, because in this AU Leafpaw pulls a Stormfur and goes on the Journey with Squirrelpaw.

Gorsepaw the 2nd exists to be obsessively mother-henned by Firestar and Sandstorm, who refuse to let him starve and are constantly giving their own food to him as prey becomes scarcer and scarcer in the old forest.

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hardwareabstractionlayer · 1 year

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Nirvana in Fire Historical Parallels: The Warrior Princess

Hua Mulan/花木兰 is unquestionably the most famous woman warrior of ancient China. But how much of her legend actually happened is of debate, while there were many historical women generals who were more similar to Mu Nihuang in NiF. Here are a few of the most notable, in chronological order:

Fu Hao/妇好 (Hao is her family name; before the Qin Dynasty, family names for women were at the end, reversed from the current name order; Fu means married woman now, but could have referred to priestess then), the earliest woman military leader on record, lived during the Shang Dynasty and died in 1200 BCE. Because her time period predated paper, what we know about her came from oracle bone script and the hundreds of weapons in her tomb, which is a burial rite afforded only to generals. As consort to King Wu Ding/武丁, she led an army of 13,000 to many successful military campaigns against the Shang’s enemies. She was not only a general and high priestess, two of the most important roles in that time era, but also owned her own land, which was extremely unusual for feudal women. After her death, the king made many sacrifices at her tomb in hopes of receiving her spiritual guidance to defeat invading enemies.

Mother Lü/吕母 (name unknown, so she is referred to as a mother of the Lü family) lived during the Western Han Dynasty in Langya Commandery and was the first woman rebel leader in Chinese history. After her son was executed for not punishing peasants who could not pay their taxes, she aided peasants under hard times by giving away her considerable family wealth while plotting revenge on the government. During this time, a consort kin to the Emperor had seized the throne and started his own Xin Dynasty/新朝 (literally New Dynasty), enacting many radical socialist reforms such as land redistribution and abolishing the slave trade. A series of natural disasters and poor implementation of the new policies led to great unrest and suffering among the peasant class. Commoners united around Mother Lü, and three years later, in 17 CE, she amassed thousands of loyal followers and declared herself the leader of the rebellion. They took the city, and she beheaded the county magistrate who had killed her son, sacrificing his head on her son’s tomb. As news of her successful rebellion spread, thousands more joined her even as the government attempted to quash her forces. Though she died from illness a year later, many in her army joined the Chimei Army/赤眉军 (literally red brows), a key force in the eventual downfall of the Xin Dynasty.

The most similar to Nihuang is probably Lady Xian/冼夫人, who lived in the 500s CE and served the Liang (the Liang of NiF is very loosely based on this dynasty), Chen, and Sui Dynasties. She was the daughter of a chieftain of a clan of the Li/俚 people and demonstrated great leadership and political acumen from a young age (women in her family could inherit command). She favored diplomatic solutions over fighting as much as possible and was always loyal to the reign, putting down local rebellions and eliminating corruption. Nihuang’s title of commandery princess/郡主 was also one of her titles, and as thanks for her bringing many minority peoples under unified rule, the Sui emperor gave much of modern-day Hainan to her command, much like Nihuang. She lived to around 90 and was given a posthumous name by the emperor as a sign of great respect. Hundreds of temples in the south were built in her honor, where she was deified and remains worshipped today as the Saintly Mother of Lingnan/岭南圣母.

One of many statues of Lady Xian.

Princess Pingyang/平阳公主 (personal name unknown) was the third daughter of the founding emperor of the Tang Dynasty. Her father was an aristocrat who decided to seize the opportunity during the chaos of the failing Sui Dynasty to raise an army in 617 CE, and she decided to help her father ascend to power. With remarkable leadership and recruitment power, she quickly recruited several Jianghu volunteer armies under her wing. More and more people joined as her reputation spread, such that she had seventy thousand under her command by the end in what was known as the Woman’s Army/娘子军. Her forces registered several victories before rendezvousing with her father’s forces to take Chang’an, which would become the capital of the new dynasty. She was given the title of Princess Pingyang and higher honors than her sisters as a sign of her father’s gratitude for her help in starting his new dynasty.

After the coup of Chang’an, there was nothing in recorded history about her until her funeral. A rite officer had objected to burying her with military honors instead of a princess’s rites, but her father and emperor said she always fought at the vanguard of her army, so there was nothing wrong with full military honors. She is the only woman in recorded Chinese feudal history to be interred by soldiers.

Qin Liangyu/秦良玉 (1574-1648) was born to a civil bureaucrat in the late Ming Dynasty who believed in educating women, and she became skilled at riding, archery, and poetry. She looked up to Lady Xian and Princess Pingyang from a young age, and told her father that she would equal their accomplishments if she had military command (倘使女儿得掌兵柄，应不输平阳公主和冼夫人). She was married to a local county commissioner who often led armies to quash invasions from the neighboring Manchu Jin Dynasty, and he gave her command of part of his army. When he died in prison being falsely accused of wrongdoing, she assumed his role, as their son was still young. She defeated numerous Jin invasions across the country, and the Emperor gave her the title of Marquis in recognition of her actions in defending the homeland. She’s famous for being the only female general recorded alongside men in the official histories of her dynasty.

A portrait of Qin Liangyu.

So, what made these women leaders of armies while most women throughout Chinese history couldn’t even dream of such a thing? Fu Hao lived a very long time ago, well before the later Confucian system where wives are supposed to obey their husbands and serve at home. For the others, there are some common factors: growing up in a well-to-do family that educated daughters, demonstrated interest and skill in fighting and leadership, being around military power (true of a vast majority of male generals as well, of course), and some kind of unusual circumstance that gave them power, whether a husband or father allowing them to do so or an environment of unrest that gave them an opportunity.

The warrior princess trope exists for a reason: it’s the highborn daughters and wives of generals who are most likely to get the opportunity to command an army. And their stories are more well-known than, say, women like Chen Shuozhen/陈硕真, who came from destitute upbringings and called herself the emperor while leading a peasant rebellion that eventually failed. All history is biased, and contemporary Chinese history seems to favor those who quashed rebellions and promoted national unity.

Given these historical examples, it’s not so outlandish to imagine that Nihuang was educated by her father in the military arts from a young age, showed great fighting and leadership ability, and was then able to take command when he died during a crisis and while her brother Mu Qing was still too young. She is an exception in a field of men, as these historical women were. And like these women, she was very much still subjected to the expectations and boundaries of feudal women.

In some sense, show Nihuang is an ideal female Confucian role model. She is the perfect daughter and older sister who assumed the family mantle when there are no capable men, doing her duty under a corrupt regime for twelve years, with the implication that she will give up at least some of her responsibilities to Mu Qing when he’s ready. She is the perfect widow who never strayed from her arranged marriage pact. And she is the perfect potential wife who shed all of her commanding aura whenever she interacted with post-identity reveal Mei Changsu—she may question him but she will always listen to him, in the end. Her first scene is of a warrior princess soundly defeating men, and her last big scene is her telling Feiliu she wants to obey her Lin Shu-gege.

This is a far cry from book Nihuang, who moved on in those twelve years and found someone else to love. To be clear, there is nothing intrinsically wrong with characters displaying period-typical attitudes, and other female characters in canon, like Consort Jing, are compelling without being hidebound by tradition. Within the microcosm of NiF the show, the change to Nihuang’s character may only be due to the creators wanting to increase her screen time in a male-heavy show and add a tragic romance element that they felt the book lacked. But media doesn’t exist in a vacuum, and after some prominent examples of one-sided adaptation changes in recent years—The Rise of Phoenixes taking a book starring a strong female character and dramatically increasing the male character’s screen time for the actor to get top billing, Serenade of Peaceful Joy adapting a book centered around a princess’s futile rebellion against feudal expectations for women into a show about her loving daddy emperor trying to do the best for his daughter by keeping her in line, even Reset giving some of the main female character’s heroic moments in the book to the main male character in the show, to name a few—was Nihuang’s change from book to show a harbinger of the male-dominated Chinese television industry increasingly reshaping strong female characters into what they think women should be like?

This issue of media depictions affects historical women generals, as well. For various reasons, they haven’t gotten their big breaks in modern mainstream media, and the most famous Chinese female warriors remain Mulan and a few other very fictionalized characters who have had popular shows and movies made about their lives. A Qin Liangyu drama was supposed to be filmed a few years ago but never aired, and as typical of this era of Chinese media censorship, no one seems to know what happened to it.

With the lack of extant details for most of these military leaders, one can depict them as either true believers of Confucian values or as women who questioned and struggled against societal conventions. It isn’t hard to guess what’s more likely to be made today, with a slapped-on love story and plenty of screen time for the men to boot. If we can’t give a warrior princess a sword without always making her a dutiful daughter, wife, and patriot, perhaps we shouldn’t be telling her story to begin with.

#mu nihuang #nirvana in fire #琅琊榜 #chinese history and culture #long post #a few more women cut for space:#Xiao Yanyan/萧燕燕 #Liang Hongyu/梁红玉

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leportraitducadavre · 7 days

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It's this article even real? I found it hard to believe someone would read the manga or watch the show and decide that Naruto "doesn't need the overdone Sasuke Arc".

First and most importantly, Sasuke singlehandedly moves the entirety of the plot forward, he doesn't have an entire arc dedicated to himself because he's relevant for every single arc the story possesses, and he's the reason key characters behave the way they do; taking away Sasuke's journey to make him a complying tool of the state wipes out the reasoning behind every villain's actions, therefore, it destroys them as well.

It's hilarious how this article exists to take away Sasuke's relevance within the story to give it completely to Naruto, something his fandom has wanted since the very beginning of the manga and that Kishimoto never complied.

In the Naruto series, Sasuke was Naruto's rival in the Hidden Leaf. However, he was training to kill his older brother, Itachi, for wiping out their clan. In time, Sasuke would learn Itachi did what he did to protect Konoha as their Uchiha kin wanted a coup. This enraged Sasuke, who nonetheless vowed to kill Itachi and exact revenge on Konoha.

Okay so, we start awfully, and no surprises there. Sasuke killed Itachi and later on, through Obito, learned about the reasoning behind his brother's actions. It's after this that he vows to bring down those who allowed and encouraged the construction of a system that pushed the Uchiha to rise up against this power dome and forced his brother to murder his entire family.

Regardless of the circumstances, Sasuke hated the fact he had to grow up alone. This is the reason he joined the Akatsuki, formed his own terrorist cell called Taka, and tried to murder Naruto after the wars against Obito and Madara.

No. You cannot use "regardless of the circumstances" when those circumstances are detrimental to his character's actions and the functioning of the system against which he, like other characters throughout the plot, stands. He not only hated having to grow up alone (a consequence of, once again, the genocide carried out BY THE STATE ITSELF through his brother), but also the indiscriminate murder of his relatives, both those who engineered the coup and those who were profiled based on biological conditions over which they had no control.

Also, there was one single war against Obito and Madara that stretched through a couple of days for which he participated in bringing down both of them as his idea of revolution didn't partake in their idea of absolute control of people's minds.

The Naruto movie (and obviously, the sequels) would be better served by doing something unpredictable. The Evil Sasuke arc is overdone, especially since it comes up in the Boruto era. In the latter case, a redeemed Sasuke keeps using it as a lesson to teach Boruto and Kawaki why they should not let rage guide them. Fans don't like being reminded how unnecessary this was in the source material.

Overdone? Did this guy actually watch the anime at least? The entirety of the plot focuses on the system flaws that even the protagonist is "set to change", Sasuke's arc is detrimental to the story as both Naruto and Sasuke observe the same issue from different standpoints, the former wants to keep the system and make gradual changes as not to "bring chaos" and the latter wants its complete destruction as a gradual change only guarantees greater injustices being committed over time until it is "changed".

Take Sasuke off of this equation and there's no reason for Naruto to even go on or have any introspection on the matter of Konoha's political and military system --and I'm being incredibly kind about this as even when Sasuke blatantly exposes it Naruto has a hard time grasping the most basic concepts to rebel against.

Additionally, Sasuke's villain arc would be a lot to condense into live-action, even if it's done over a trilogy. It could be done the way the MCU took 10 years to build the Thanos fight in Avengers: Endgame, but by that time, the story would be stale. Everyone would know what happened. The advantage the MCU had while adapting the source material is that it subverted the lore and crafted an original story. c

Does this author actually know what "adaptation" actually means? Or what it entails? What they seem to want is a reversion of the story as they desire to modify the entirety of the character that is the main plot device within the original product, not an adaptation. Also, what's with the last phrase? How can Sasuke be a loyal rogue? That's a contradiction in itself, is he a rogue of Konoha or is he loyal to Konoha? Pick one -you can't have both.

The advantage of Sasuke being a rebel without defecting from Konoha is that Naruto would have the help needed to fight the big villains of the franchise: the Ōtsutsuki.

Sasuke fought alongside Naruto against Kaguya, bringing the union of former Team 7, without having to compromise his original ideals... did they just... forget?

Kaguya was the first alien who came to Earth, got sealed away, and then tried to return to enslave it. Naruto and Sasuke were reincarnations of her sons (Ashura and Indra, respectively), but the manga and anime didn't spend much time detailing how they would form their clans down the line and the emotional impact Kaguya had fighting her descendants.

Haha, come on, this is clickbait isn't it? Ashura and Indra are not Kaguya's sons, they're her grandchildren that reminded her of her sons, bet your ass this is a Boruto fan that just heard about the original series and wrote whatever this was without eyeing the og manga.

but the manga and anime didn't spend much time detailing how they would form their clans down the line and the emotional impact Kaguya had fighting her descendants.

That's because one of Kaguya's sons went to live on the moon and the other one, Hagoromo, had two sons on Earth (Indra and Ashura) who -as the manga establishes, founded their own clans (Uchiha and Senju respectively) that were at war until Konoha's foundation.

It focused heavily on Sasuke plotting in the shadows, and Naruto forming an army, realizing much later in the story of their link to Kaguya.

What? They learned about their connection to Kaguya through Hagoromo before fighting her, Sasuke also never plotted in the shadows, he blatantly tells them he wants a Revolution and later on decides to kill Naruto as he's his last connection to his past! That's the whole reason they fight!

By switching this up and making lineage a primary and not secondary arc, the movie can dial more into the emotional core: Sasuke and Naruto exploring their family tree and the overall theme of dynasty. Sasuke could learn more about how Indra developed a dark side, which passed down to the Uchiha, while Ashura's light gave way to the Senju and Uzumaki (Naruto's family) clans.

That's incredibly explored throughout the manga. The Senju are the only clan linked canonically to Ashura himself, the Uzumaki obtained Ashura's attention after the Senju disappeared as they were distant relatives.

Also, love the distinction of "Indra developed a dark side which passed down to the Uchiha" and "Ashura's light gave way to the Senju". Hagoromo favored this distinction by granting the totality of his power to one of his sons and expecting the other to be functional to his brother's decisions. If Hagoromo considered that Ashura's position was better than Indra's, why did he not teach his eldest son to make similar decisions? How is it that Indra decided to form a clan and a collective group of people if his idea was to move and gain power alone? How is it that Ashura, the being full of light, decided to fight his brother for power instead of seeking a peaceful solution to work together if what he wanted was power through union? Why did he not question the idea of a single person having the totality of command?

This would allow the movie to not hinge on Naruto and his fate with his Nine-Tailed Demon Fox (Kurama).

This just proves my initial point.

Instead, Sasuke would become a key player by garnering clues as to who Kaguya is. This would also unearth her plan to place everyone in a dream state (via the Infinite Tsukuyomi genjutsu technique) and drain their chakra. In other words, he would be the egotistical brains of the operation, while Naruto functions as the go-lucky muscle.

What's the point of doing all that if this exact thing ends up happening anyway without having to destroy any character's core? Are they serious?

This would not be different from what's been seen with Iron Man and Captain America, and Batman and Superman.

Brain minimized by the same comic story over and over again, what's the point of seeing a dynamic story repeated hundreds of times in different products? Is the main idea of this theme to make audiences like this guy believe that he possesses some kind of intellect because he can predict a plot he has seen thousands of times before?

Such an approach speaks to the legacy of both warriors, which makes them the yin and yang they were meant to be.

Don't believe this fool. Sasuke and Naruto as characters explore the Yin and Yang implications very well as they are, he doesn't seem to understand what this metaphor actually entails.

Such a change fits Sasuke's destiny organically because this is the kind of sleuth he would become in the Boruto era, where he atoned and roamed the lands as a Ranger. This same development felt rushed and left-field in the manga, as he never did that kind of work before.

Making Sasuke a heroic anchor in the Naruto movie also works for the evolution of Team 7. To start with, Sasuke, Naruto and Sakura were all trained by Kakashi, but their story felt disjointed. Naruto was preoccupied with bringing Sasuke home, Sasuke was off seeking Itachi and an army, while Sakura tried to quell the anger in both of them. This took away time from her personal development and detracted from the bigger threat of the aliens. By making the plot so convoluted, fans found it odd the Boruto era would marry Sakura and Sasuke, despite them never being developed as an official romantic couple.

By not splintering the team, Naruto's director, Daniel Destin Cretton, can focus on what made Team 7 work in the first place. Sakura was known to stop arguments and function as the team's mature, responsible leader. Naruto also liked her while she liked Sasuke. Sakura eventually realized she needed to change the views of Konoha and have the village recognize female shinobi more. This worked in the love triangle that allowed Sasuke to develop feelings for Sakura that would pay off down the line. This would also allow Naruto to understand he was meant to lead the Hidden Leaf.

What is removing Sasuke's entire characterization gonna do for the rest of the characters? The author is not saying Sakura realized this canonically, by the way the paragraph goes, what he implies is that she could realize this in the movie. So he’s telling us that Sakura didn’t notice she needed to change Konoha’s views about females because Sasuke wasn’t there to help her or what? It's Sasuke staying that detrimental to her development?

He wants to change everything about the original Team 7 in order to make them fit their Boruto’s characterizations. Hell, I bet he’s a Boruto fan who barely watched the original series, I’ll go as far as to state he used AI to write this garbage.

That also was Tsunade’s ordeal as well. Shikamaru questioned her involvement and was proven wrong when she “consoled” him after Sasuke’s Retrieval Arc and proved herself to be a good Kage. He’s asking something of Sakura that Tsunade already did.

Does he know what character development is? Why should they change everything about the original series to fit better the spin-off? Is the spin-off that it's badly written as it couldn't follow the original's characterizations, not the other way around.

According to his page, Renaldo Matadeen, "author" of this abysmal take, focuses on: As a filmmaker and scriptwriter, Renaldo loves to dissect the nuances of stories, especially narratives involving people of colour, minorities, and the socially-displaced. He believes art is a medium to reflect and provoke, and loves engaging in content that evokes this energy.

So you mean to tell me that Sasuke, a metaphor for the socially displaced people, a survivor of a state-sanctioned genocide, and a revolutionary is somehow better by being stripped of any value inside a story that focused on his struggles, to begin with? That somehow the story would be better if he, a minority, was more complacent with the State that represses him?

#sasuke #sasuke uchiha #pro sasuke #pro uchiha clan #anti naruto fandom #anti boruto

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