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daenerystargaryen06 · 4 months

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Melisandre was robed all in scarlet satin and blood velvet, her eyes as red as the great ruby that glistened at her throat as if it too were afire. "In ancient books of Asshai it is written that there will come a day after a long summer when the stars bleed and the cold breath of darkness falls heavy on the world. In this dread hour a warrior shall draw from the fire a burning sword. And that sword shall be Lightbringer, the Red Sword of Heroes, and he who clasps it shall be Azor Ahai come again, and the darkness shall flee before him." -A Clash of Kings - Davos I

"Jhogo spied it first. "There," he said in a hushed voice. Dany looked and saw it, low in the east. The first star was a comet, burning red. Bloodred; fire red; the dragon's tail. She could not have asked for a stronger sign." -A Game of Thrones - Daenerys X

"The Dothraki named the comet shierak qiya, the Bleeding Star. The old men muttered that it omened ill, but Daenerys Targaryen had seen it first on the night she had burned Khal Drogo, the night her dragons had awakened. It is the herald of my coming, she told herself as she gazed up into the night sky with wonder in her heart. The gods have sent it to show me the way." -A Clash of Kings - Daenerys I

The first sign of Azor Ahai being Daenerys is she is the first to see the bleeding comet. When she goes to sacrifice Mirri Maz Duur in Drogo's funeral pyre, she sees the comet arrive. She takes it as a sign to not only progress in lighting Drogo's pyre and beginning the ritual of hatching her dragon eggs, but also as an omen that the gods are showing her the way. This leads her to the Red Waste, to where she eventually comes across Vaes Tolorro, wherein she is discovered by Xaro Xhoan Daxos, Pyat Pree, and Quaithe. They then lead her to Qarth. This was the only 'safe' place Dany and her small khalasar could go after her hatching of her dragons. The comet bled for her, and showed her the way to a place of relative safety for her and her people. It aided in her decisiveness to light Drogo's pyre, burn Mirri Maz Duur, and begin the ritual for hatching her dragons into the world.

"Burnt," said Salladhor Saan, "and be glad of that, my friend. Do you know the tale of the forging of Lightbringer? I shall tell it to you. It was a time when darkness lay heavy on the world. To oppose it, the hero must have a hero's blade, oh, like none that had ever been. And so for thirty days and thirty nights Azor Ahai labored sleepless in the temple, forging a blade in the sacred fires. Heat and hammer and fold, heat and hammer and fold, oh, yes, until the sword was done. Yet when he plunged it into water to temper the steel it burst asunder. -A Clash of Kings - Davos I

"Cradling the egg with both hands, she carried it to the fire and pushed it down amongst the burning coals. The black scales seemed to glow as they drank the heat. Flames licked against the stone with small red tongues. Dany placed the other two eggs beside the black one in the fire. As she stepped back from the brazier, the breath trembled in her throat [...] She watched until the coals had turned to ashes. Drifting sparks floated up and out of the smokehole. Heat shimmered in waves around the dragon's eggs. And that was all.." A Game of Thrones - Daenerys VI

When Azor Ahai began to forge his sword, Lightbringer, he worked upon the blade and forged it in the sacred fires. But when it was plunged into water, the steel had "burst asunder". Daenerys carries her dragon eggs and pushes them down into burning coals, and they drink the heat, but do not hatch. Both Azor Ahai and Daenerys placed something in fire, but it did not go as they wished.

"Being a hero, it was not for him to shrug and go in search of excellent grapes such as these, so again he began. The second time it took him fifty days and fifty nights, and this sword seemed even finer than the first. Azor Ahai captured a lion, to temper the blade by plunging it through the beast's red heart, but once more the steel shattered and split. Great was his woe and great was his sorrow then, for he knew what he must do." -A Clash of Kings - Davos I

"The brazier was cold again by the time Khal Drogo returned. Cohollo was leading a packhorse behind him, with the carcass of a great white lion slung across its back. Above, the stars were coming out. The khal laughed as he swung down off his stallion and showed her the scars on his leg where the hrakkar had raked him through his leggings. "I shall make you a cloak of its skin, moon of my life," he swore." -A Game of Thrones - Daenerys VI

Both Azor Ahai and Daenerys both have a lion parallel. When Azor Ahai slays a lion in his attempt at forging Lightbringer, it fails. When Daenerys pushes her eggs into the burning coals and has a small wish for them to hatch, it fails, and Drogo returns to gift her the white lion he had slain.

Both Daenerys and Azor Ahai fail in some sort of way. Azor Ahai fails to forge Lightbringer in his seeking to do so, and Daenerys fails to hatch her dragon eggs despite hoping they might. That is, until the deaths of their two lovers:

"A hundred days and a hundred nights he labored on the third blade, and as it glowed white-hot in the sacred fires, he summoned his wife. 'Nissa Nissa,' he said to her, for that was her name, 'bare your breast, and know that I love you best of all that is in this world.' She did this thing, why I cannot say, and Azor Ahai thrust the smoking sword through her living heart." -A Clash of Kings - Davos I

"And when the bleak dawn broke over an empty horizon, Dany knew that he was truly lost to her. “When the sun rises in the west and sets in the east,” she said sadly. “When the seas go dry and mountains blow in the wind like leaves. When my womb quickens again, and I bear a living child. Then you will return, my sun-and-stars, and not before.” Never, the darkness cried, never never never. Inside the tent Dany found a cushion, soft silk stuffed with feathers. She clutched it to her breasts as she walked back out to Drogo, to her sun-and-stars. If I look back I am lost. It hurt even to walk, and she wanted to sleep, to sleep and not to dream. She knelt, kissed Drogo on the lips, and pressed the cushion down across his face." -A Game of Thrones - Daenerys IX

Azor Ahai had killed Nissa Nissa purposely, Daenerys on the other hand, had killed Drogo out of mercy. Despite this, the deaths of their two lovers aided into their successions. Lightbringer was finally completed by Azor Ahai. And Daenerys' dragon eggs finally hatched from Drogo's funeral pyre.

When Drogo is left in a vegetative state and Rhaego forcefully killed from Dany's womb- her dragon eggs feel full of life, and not just stone:

"When she woke the third time, a shaft of golden sunlight was pouring through the smoke hole of the tent, and her arms were wrapped around a dragon's egg. It was the pale one, its scales the color of butter cream, veined with whorls of gold and bronze, and Dany could feel the heat of it. Beneath her bedsilks, a fine sheen of perspiration covered her bare skin. Dragondew, she thought. Her fingers trailed lightly across the surface of the shell, tracing the wisps of gold, and deep in the stone she felt something twist and stretch in response. It did not frighten her. All her fear was gone, burned away." -A Game of Thrones - Daenerys IX

Ser Jorah and Mirri Maz Duur entered a few moments later, and found Dany standing over the other dragon's eggs, the two still in their chest. It seemed to her that they felt as hot as the one she had slept with, which was passing strange. "Ser Jorah, come here," she said. She took his hand and placed it on the black egg with the scarlet swirls. "What do you feel?" -A Game of Thrones - Daenerys IX

When Azor Ahai kills Nissa Nissa and forges Lightbringer, it "leaves a crack across the face of the moon". Daenerys hears a tale from Doreah of moon being an egg, and cracking when it wanders too close to the sun, thus producing dragons; and that one day, it will happen again.

"It is said that her cry of anguish and ecstasy left a crack across the face of the moon, but her blood and her soul and her strength and her courage all went into the steel. Such is the tale of the forging of Lightbringer, the Red Sword of Heroes." -A Clash of Kings - Davos I

"He told me the moon was an egg, Khaleesi," the Lysene girl said. "Once there were two moons in the sky, but one wandered too close to the sun and cracked from the heat. A thousand thousand dragons poured forth, and drank the fire of the sun. That is why dragons breathe flame. One day the other moon will kiss the sun too, and then it will crack and the dragons will return." -A Game of Thrones - Daenerys III

Daenerys is the moon, as given by her moon related imagery in her chapters. Drogo is the 'sun', as given by his sun related imagery. When she lights Drogo's pyre, she walks into the flames; this is the moon "wandering too close to the sun". When she does, her dragon eggs begin to finally hatch, and crack loudly. Drogon's egg being the last to hatch, and the crack being referred to as so loud it sounded as though the breaking of the world. Daenerys is part of the sacrifice of hatching her dragon eggs in this ritual, the last central piece needed for her dragons to hatch.

After Azor Ahai forges Lightbringer, it was never cold to the touch, but warm:

"The Jade Compendium. The pages that told of Azor Ahai. Lightbringer was his sword. Tempered with his wife's blood if Votar can be believed. Thereafter Lightbringer was never cold to the touch, but warm as Nissa Nissa had been warm. In battle the blade burned fiery hot..." -A Dance with Dragons - Jon III

Daenerys' dragons are hot to the touch, and are considered 'fire made flesh':

"When she had her handmaids char the horsemeat black, the dragons ripped at it eagerly, their heads striking like snakes. So long as the meat was seared, they gulped down several times their own weight every day, and at last began to grow larger and stronger. Dany marveled at the smoothness of their scales, and the heat that poured off them, so palpable that on cold nights their whole bodies seemed to steam." -A Clash of Kings - Daenerys I

This occurs when Azor Ahai fights against a monster using Lightbringer:

"In battle the blade burned fiery hot. Once Azor Ahai fought a monster. When he thrust the sword through the belly of the beast, its blood began to boil. Smoke and steam poured from its mouth, its eyes melted and dribbled down its cheeks, and its body burst into flame." -A Dance with Dragons - Jon III

When Daenerys kills Kraznys Mo Nakloz, this occurs:

"A lance of swirling dark flame took Kraznys full in the face. His eyes melted and ran down his cheeks, and the oil in his hair and beard burst so fiercely into fire that for an instant the slaver wore a burning crown twice as tall as his head. The sudden stench of charred meat overwhelmed even his perfume, and his wail seemed to drown all other sound." -A Storm of Swords - Daenerys III

The coming again of Azor Ahai indicates that a few certain things must occur for the person to fulfill the role:

"He is not dead. Stannis is the Lord's chosen, destined to lead the fight against the dark. I have seen it in the flames, read of it in ancient prophecy. When the red star bleeds and the darkness gathers, Azor Ahai shall be born again amidst smoke and salt to wake dragons out of stone. Dragonstone is the place of smoke and salt." -A Dance with Dragons - Jon X

Daenerys fulfills these points. Not only was she born at Dragonstone, a place of 'smoke and salt', but you can also say she was "reborn" when she hatches her dragons from Drogo's pyre. This fulfills the 'born amidst salt and smoke" as Daenerys sacrifices herself to hatch her dragons from the pyre and is "reborn" along with her dragons. Smoke from the fire, salt from her sweat:

"Another step, and Dany could feel the heat of the sand on the soles of her feet, even through her sandals. Sweat ran down her thighs and between her breasts and in rivulets over her cheeks, where tears had once run. Ser Jorah was shouting behind her, but he did not matter anymore, only the fire mattered. The flames were so beautiful, the loveliest things she had ever seen, each one a sorcerer robed in yellow and orange and scarlet, swirling long smoky cloaks. She saw crimson firelions and great yellow serpents and unicorns made of pale blue flame; she saw fish and foxes and monsters, wolves and bright birds and flowering trees, each more beautiful than the last. She saw a horse, a great grey stallion limned in smoke, its flowing mane a nimbus of blue flame. Yes, my love, my sun-and-stars, yes, mount now, ride now." -A Game of Thrones - Daenerys X

Daenerys also wakes dragons from stone. When she first receives her dragon eggs, they are told to be merely stone. Not alive. Considered only as pretty 'rocks'.

"Dragon's eggs, from the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai," said Magister Illyrio. "The eons have turned them to stone, yet still they burn bright with beauty." -A Game of Thrones - Daenerys II

"Stone, she told herself. They are only stone, even Illyrio said so, the dragons are all dead. She put her palm against the black egg, fingers spread gently across the curve of the shell. The stone was warm. Almost hot. "The sun," Dany whispered. "The sun warmed them as they rode." -A Game of Thrones - Daenerys III

Yet in my previous points, after the death of Drogo and Rhaego, the eggs begin to feel alive. And after Daenerys sacrifices Mirri Maz Duur and herself in the ritual to hatch the eggs, the dragons finally hatch.

We could also say that both the forging of Lightbringer and the dragons hatching involved blood magic.

Lightbringer was only successfully finished when Azor Ahai plunged the blade into the heart of his Nissa Nissa, and her "blood and her soul and her strength and her courage all went into the steel". It is also said that the blade was tempered with Nissa Nissa's blood.

Daenerys' dragon eggs hatching involved blood magic from Mirri Maz Duur, and a ritual sacrifice.

There is speculation/statement that Azor Ahai is not just one person, but I believe that Daenerys is the main focal point for being Azor Ahai reborn, and her dragons Lightbringer.

"It may be that I am mistaken in you, Jon Snow. We both know the things that are said of bastards. You may lack your father's honor, or your brother's skill in arms. But you are the weapon the Lord has given me. I have found you here, as you found the cache of dragonglass beneath the Fist, and I mean to make use of you. Even Azor Ahai did not win his war alone. I killed a thousand wildlings, took another thousand captive, and scattered the rest, but we both know they will return. Melisandre has seen that in her fires. This Tormund Thunderfist is likely re-forming them even now, and planning some new assault. And the more we bleed each other, the weaker we shall all be when the real enemy falls upon us." -A Storm of Swords - Jon XI

"There must be one more," he said, though whether he was speaking to her or the woman in the bed she could not say. "The dragon has three heads." He went to the window seat, picked up a harp, and ran his fingers lightly over its silvery strings. Sweet sadness filled the room as man and wife and babe faded like the morning mist, only the music lingering behind to speed her on her way." A Clash of Kings - Daenerys IV

". . . three heads has the dragon . . . the ghost chorus yammered inside her skull with never a lip moving, never a breath stirring the still blue air. . . . mother of dragons . . . child of storm . . . The whispers became a swirling song. . . . three fires must you light . . . one for life and one for death and one to love . . . Her own heart was beating in unison to the one that floated before her, blue and corrupt . . . three mounts must you ride . . . one to bed and one to dread and one to love . . . The voices were growing louder, she realized, and it seemed her heart was slowing, and even her breath. . . . three treasons will you know . . . once for blood and once for gold and once for love . . ." -A Clash of Kings - Daenerys IV

"The dragon has three heads. There are two men in the world who I can trust, if I can find them. I will not be alone then. We will be three against the world, like Aegon and his sisters." -A Storm of Swords - Daenerys VI

Daenerys is the main focal point and leader as Azor Ahai. She will be the one to lead the war against the Others/WW, with the possibility of two others working beside her with her three dragons. She and Drogon are the center point for the AA/Lightbringer roles, only they won't be working alone, and it will be a conjoined effort.

It is likely that Daenerys will be the one (possibly joined by Jon or the other main central characters of ASOIAF) to unite the people together and lead them against the cold and the dark. She has the main criteria of being the one to do so. Powerful armies, the right family name, being viewed as the last true living heir to the IT, and her three dragons. She has the most potential to influence the other people into following her and working together to defeat the Others when the time comes.

Her victory over the Others alongside those that aid her will bring a summer that will never end. This is the coming conclusion to the 'Song of Ice and Fire'. Daenerys is the fire, the Others being the ice.

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contentloadingandstuff · 11 months

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Unfaithful - Undead!Reader x Ganyu & Ei

CW: Non-canon Necro AU, graphic descriptions of violence, Reader death, Male!Reader, Evil!Reader, Undead!Reader, named character death.

You and her fought valiantly among the dust and fire, side by side against the foulest of The Bearers. Plague was one, but his skill was on par with that of you two combined. With his halberd he deflected blow after blow, but your relentless assault left him no openings to retaliate.

A moment of distraction was all he needed to turn the tides. A Wight approached her, forcing her to divide her attention. Sunqu used that and struck her with the side of his weapon, leaving her stumbling back. You screamed after her, and in a burst of rage you swung sloppily, allowing him to slash right across your chest.

You fell with a scream. The black sludge covering his blade burned your flesh, bubbling and sizzling. Your muscles spasmed uncontrollably, leaving you writhing on the ground in agony. The suffering clouded your mind and senses, but you still caught the image of her fleeing, Plague following.

Your mind wouldn't give out. You suffered, screaming until your throat gave out and you could taste blood. Most of your muscle fibers were ripped after the first hours, leaving you paralyzed. Nobody came to deliver the killing blow or to aid you. You were left alone, blood dripping to the ground.

It is hard to kill an immortal.

You don't know how much time has passed. Unable to blink, your eyes withered away rendering you blind. The poison still flowed within you, instantly killing any vermin that tried to feast on your helpless body. You tried to move, but you couldn't. But you wouldn't die either.

It is hard to kill an immortal.

At one point, some people came, hoisting you up by your bloodied limbs. They unceremoniously tossed you into a ditch. One by one, other bodies were dumped on top of you, wooden logs placed in between layers of carrion. You were suffocating, lungs filling with the stench of decay, worms crawling on your skin, mouth dry and full of dust, but you wouldn't die.

It is hard to kill an immortal.

Heat started rapidly rising. Your pale skin was engulfed in flames, bringing forth extreme pain. You couldn't move. You couldn't scream. You could only lie there, begging for it all to be over.

How much time went by? Hours? Days? Weeks? You couldn't tell. In a futile attempt, you tried to move your body. Much to your surprise, it obeyed. Your hands worked. Your legs worked. Your eyes worked again. All of the pain was gone.

You crawled out of the ash filled ditch. Taking a moment to overlook your vessel, you discovered that your body was gone. No more skin, no more hair, no more fingernails, no more eyes… Everything was lost. You were nothing but a skeleton wrapped in little burnt flesh. You screamed in anguish, horrified and enraged at all you have lost. Yet your ire was not directed at Plague, no. It would be idiotic of you to hold a grudge against your opponent. You were just an obstacle in his way, a nameless one at that.

Your allies were the ones at fault. She was at fault. She left you for dead, not even checking if you survived. Not even finding your body and giving it a proper burial. You were tossed into a pit and burnt like trash. Like scum.

You wrapped yourself in pieces of stolen cloth and leather, and made your way to your former opponent's lines. Your 'friends' didn't deserve you.

They took you in. They gave you a new life, a new purpose. A second chance, an opportunity to right all the wrongs you suffered. You swore your loyalty to The Father, swearing that should vengeance be yours, you will serve Him to the end. He gave you His blessings.

An armor was forged, made to withstand nearly all blows. The remaining charred meat was scraped away, and your bones were infused with Necro, granting you fair element resistance. For the hundreds of years that followed you trained with only the best. Your skill was soon recognised, granting you your deserved station of general. Hatred built inside your undead soul with every drop of mortal blood you spilled. Your very being grew darker and darker, uncaring for pleas of mercy or moral reasoning.

Before you moved to achieve your goal, you had one final test of martial might to pass. War's realm. You fought him, dying over and over under his blows. But the lands of eternal war were not physical - it was a test of the soul. You died, but you came back, for hundreds of years. You fought until you were capable of reliably blocking his blows. Only then were you ready to take her on.

Armor on, sword and shield in hand, you took off to the mortal realm.

Much to your amusement, Inazuma didn't change that much. Makoto was long dead, leaving her traitorous sister to rule over the nation.

You could tell she was doing great by the poverty, famine and civil war you arrived at.

It turned out she implemented a decree meant to target Vision bearers. That would be extremely helpful during conquest, as nearly no one could stand against the elite undead units you brought along.

Since Ei was the Archon of Inazuma, finding her was not hard at all. Your spies observed her daily routine, and found something interesting. She never ate any sweets during her day. You remembered how fond she was of those, so you found that unusual. Around this time Aether, the notorious nuance wandering through the nations, arrived at Inazuma's shores. Your spies traced his every move and wrote down his every word. From his not-so-discreet conversation with Miko you learned that the deity ruling Inazuma was not, in fact, your former lover. It was a puppet soul inhabiting her machine body. Ei has been locked in her mind-realm since the war. How childish.

You smiled at the news. Inazuma could really use a new ruler…

As soon as you were made aware that Aether was fighting a pawn of Tsaritsa named Signiora, you arrived at the palace, your color guard in tow. You waited for Aether to leave, expecting the puppet to follow. Her programming was predictable, she would use every opportunity to kill him, an enemy of eternity.

When Raiden Shogun stood behind Aether, the Musou no Hitotachi brandished, you jumped into action. Pushing him away, you took the hit on your shield, barely even flinching.

"You've grown weaker, my dear. Erosion getting to you, hm?" You said as she recovered.

"Who are you?" She hissed, preparing another strike.

You charged, pushing the blade against her body with your shield. "The one you left behind. The one you left to burn, the one you left to rot."

"Impossible! You are dead… You should be dead!" She retaliated by stabbing the blade into your neck, but the armor held firm.

"But I'm not. Your actions took my life away from me. And for every action, there is a reaction." You smiled, but no lips were there to show for it. "Prepare to die."

Ei blocked your attack, and pulled you into her pocket dimension in a flash of purple light.

There, your weapons crossed time and time again, sending sparks and splinters of wood in all directions. Her elemental attacks were strong, but you came prepared. The plates covering your body were infused with Electro, allowing her element to flow harmlessly through them. Despite her best efforts, you've landed hit after hit. She stood little chance against you, one trained by War himself, the one who was preparing for this very moment for 500 years. Cogs, gears and pieces of metal littered more and more of the realm.

Your blade sliced through her lower stomach, sending shrapnel in all directions and knocking her down. Her polearm, battered and chipped, landed next to her. Before she could grab it, you stomped on her hand, grinding it into the dust. She looked at you, hatred burning brightly in her mechanical eyes.

"You're a fool." She spat. "You have no control over your own body and mind. You traded both for this."

"Maybe yes, or maybe no." You hummed, kicking her weapon further away from her. Her head dropped in defeat. "It's none of your business."

"You're a monster! This is not you, Y/N!" Using her arms, she started to drag the remains of her vessel away from you. "How…How can you do this?!"

"For a long time my motivation was just vengeance. But after I've seen what you did to our Inazuma… MY Inazuma, I see killing you more as my duty. The land deserves a better ruler. A more competent, wiser, more just… Everything but what you are."

You line up your foot with where her heart would be. You stomp, caving the metal in and piercing through it like butter. You move your other foot over her head.

"Sweet dreams, Ei."

Her vessel's head is in pieces, and her resistance ceases at once. With nothing to possess, she is but a spirit on the wind. You chuckle as her realm crumbles into darkness. Before you are pulled back to reality, you snatch her emblem.

After inspecting the broken piece of metal, you look around. Blood and bodies are scattered on the palace's entrance. Your men, the finest of warriors you could find, stand behind the kneeling captives.

Ei is dead. Her servants are at your feet. Inazuma is yours to take.

"In Your name!" You shout, and toss her last remnant into the sea.

Ei's spirit can only watch.

Ganyu

You didn't have to search for Ganyu for long. She didn't lead the most stealthy of lifestyles. Her routine remained nearly identical to that you remembered - get up before the first light, go to work, get home past midnight, rinse and repeat. Dull and boring. She never reflected on her actions, did she? Even despite your reassurances, propositions, pleas. She couldn't care for herself.

But soon it wouldn't matter anymore.

The only problem was catching her outside of the city. She went to meet Cloud Retainer on a weekly basis, so finding an opportunity was not that hard. The issue was the last Yaksha - Xiao. He was barely holding onto life, the karmic debt weighing over his soul clouding his senses. He was nowhere as sharp as back in the day, but a simple visual camouflage wouldn't fool him. The solution was simple - wrap your vessel in freshly removed skin to imitate the aura of life. Coupled with a distraction in the Chasm, the way was clear.

You found her asleep on one of the meadows. With a powerful punch to the nearest rock you woke her up. She was dazed, but upon seeing your bloodied, armored skeleton, she screamed in terror. She drew her bow at lighting speed, aiming it down at you with shaky hands.

"W-who are you?!"

"500 years and you have not changed at all, Ganyu." You smile, malice plain to hear in your voice.

"... Do I… know you?"

You groan. "Y/N."

She falls silent. Her bow starts to drop down as her mind speeds up. Tears start to form in her eyes before she lifts it up again. "You're l-lying! Y/N i-is dead…"

"No! I wasn't dead. You left me… Left me to rot. They burned me alive. You didn't even come to check my body." You spit out, voice growing louder by the second. "You betrayed me, and so I came here to claim my due. Your life."

Ganyu is crying. She drops her bow to the ground and covers her ears, squinting her eyes shut. "N-no! That's… T-that's impossible! Y/N h-he…"

She falls to her knees, weeping. You grip your sword tighter. "Fight me. Kill me, and you will live, or die trying. Don't spend your last moments in pathetic defeat."

She refuses to answer. Angered, you approach her and pull her up by her collar. "Fight me!"

Ganyu sobs silently. Her grip on your arm is weak. In between her cries, she whispers. "I d-deserve this… I l-left you t-to die… D-do what y-you must… I d-don't deserve to live…"

"What?" Your eyes would be open in shock, if you still had them.

Before you can continue, you hear a sound behind you. Turning around you drop Ganyu to the ground, summoning your shield just in time to block Xiao's attack. You riposte with a low sideways slash, but he dodges in time.

"Leave her alone, demon!"

"Or else?"

Both of you move to attack, but Ganyu quickly gets up and stands in between you.

"S-stop! P-please!"

"Ganyu, what are you doing?! Get away from it!" Xiao pushes against her, but Ganyu holds firm. You lower your weapon.

She turns to Xiao. "I-it's about me… Y/N w-wants me… You d-don't have to get hurt, X-Xiao…"

"Y/N?" Xiao relaxes his stance. "How is he…?"

Ganyu stands before you. She lowers her head to the ground, arms straight on her sides. "P-please…"

You raise your sword, but you stop. This… is not what you expected. You imagined a duel. A chance for her to live. A test of your might, a long and tight fight… But here she is, offering her life to you so willingly. You're completely out of your element. This is not what you wanted.

Her tears awaken something inside you. A long repressed feeling, one that was lost in the fires of the pyre, drowned out by screams of dying enemies, covered up by the blood you spilled.

Compassion.

Your hand slowly lowers. You drop down the sword and shield, and carefully embrace her. She immediately wraps her arms around you and bursts into tears. Your gloved hands caress her hair, staining the blue with crimson blood.

"I'm s-sorry… sss-so sorry…" She wails. "I w-was s-scared a-and w-we h-had to fight a-and w-when I g-got back y-your body w-was gone…"

So it was… A mishap. You just missed each other. You were revived before she even had a chance to look for you.

All this time. All this hate, all this pain, all this anguish… Just to learn that she was innocent. All the lives you've taken. All the dreams you snuffed out. Just to learn that it was misguided. Misdirected.

You pull away. You can't cry anymore, but the sight of her so broken shakes your very soul. You wipe a tear from her cheek. "It's okay Ganyu… I understand."

You get up, and step away from her. With quick, expert movements you start unbuckling the straps of your chest plate. You expose the ribcage, bloodied and pulsing with a faint, purple light. A strong grip and a hard pull is enough to rid you of the ribs and expose your glowing core, a crystal prison for your soul. Your hand reaches into one of your belt packs, and draws a matchbox.

Ganyu and Xiao watch in shock and surprise as you light a match and discard the box.

"I love you, Ganyu."

You press the small flame against the crystal, and your body explodes to pieces before she can say anything.

Thanks for reading!

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ladystarksneedle · 7 months

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Veritas in medio est

(Virtue stands in the middle)

Alicent’s pov

Word count: 378

A/N: Thank you @barbieaemond for helping me choose an appropriate title💚

"Good morrow your grace"

"Seven blessings your grace"

She feels as if she’s floating through the hallways, gliding like an apparition, haunted beneath the giant seven pointed star she’s adorned with, clinking musically with each step. Each greeting is met with a polite yet empty smile as she walks ahead, filled equally with purpose and defeat. She has a goal in mind that she strives to achieve. To protect her family, to serve the realm, tend to her husband and muster as much dignity and grace each day to go about her duty.

The word itself tastes like ash in her mouth.

The years spent in the capital should have her accustomed to it by now, surrounded by dragons both withering and soaring alike, yet it has only deepened her dislike. Ash signifies victory to a house built on glory, praised so often one forgets about the aftermath of conquests, forged in the name of their very words, Fire and Blood.

Fire leaves nothing but destruction in its wake with no ghosts left to haunt the halls. She would know, she's been at the receiving end of many a flame over the years, yet her own beacon remains alight, burning green amidst the darkness.

The Gods tower above her as she kneels before the Mother, hands clasped in prayer. Her mind wanders far away from the statues peering down at her, seemingly judging her reverence.

The Pious Queen. Alicent the Dutiful.

Her bloodied hands are witness to her virtues, more of a curse than a blessing. They keep her chained within herself, perpetually at the receiving end for her quest to seek absolution for every doubt that festers within.

The gnawing increases in ferocity as the days pass, their cause residing in stone across the Bay.

"What have I done but what was expected of me, forever serving the kingdom, the family, the crown."

Duty and Sacrifice.

She wears them like a veil concealing her yearning. The lady she once was is long gone, buried under the very altar she kneels at. Hues of red rustling beneath her eyelids mimic the warm glow of the candles on her face. As flames of red give way to burnt orange, the Queen rises in green.

Taglist: @witheredoffherwitch @starstrucksnowing @hieronymph

#house of the dragon #alicent imagine #zae's fics #alicentedit #queen alicent #alicent hightower #hotd alicent #team alicent #alicent fics

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bestworstcase · 1 year

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All the Ash Burnt Roses Leave

I know the bottom, she says. I know it with my great tap root: It is what you fear. I do not fear it: I have been there.

Hope never comes easy, but oh, does Cinder Fall know anger: charcoal black and red as flame. The furnace, the forge, the fire—the forest that grows after. When a phoenix rises from its ashes, does it still feel the inferno roaring in its chest?

Sometimes it takes a smaller, more honest soul.

This time, it takes a pyre.

#it's been. [checks] ...like nine months since i wrote the first draft for this chapter. christ alive.#ANYWAY. IT BEGINS.#time does this #<- au name

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therrerium-valkryonia · 1 year

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The Runes Of Sparta

In a war far north a land of freezing cold and dead bodies, Midgard had come to known an extreme imbalance in undead spirits, reavers, hel walkers and revenants had risen and began to rid the land of it's beauty, and because a strong force has entered the lands, a legend.

She had black hair and amber eyes a red mark streaked across her body, as she had pale skin as white as snow but she was known for one thing, the very destruction of Olympus.

Her name was Croneya, the Ghost of Sparta and the destroyer of Greece but she had left her very homeland and had gotten pregnant ever since then, even after her last family's ashes got onto her skin permanenetly for eternity.

Armored with her leather pauldron, and gloves adorned with her now dead wife's shield. Her belt was tight below her waist and had been causing discomfort recently. The daughter of Zeus and Mortal personification of the River Styx was expriencing extreme discomfort.

Her belly was big and distended making fighting with all the undead, reavers, raiders, hel walkers and animals a bit difficult with all the cramps and contractions as she wandered the cold, snowy ground trampling dead plants along the way ahead, then she eyes down a camp.

It was destroyed and burnt down, and all the huts we're covered ashes and bodies. No one was there it was abandoned but a small group of reavers passed by and she hid behind a hut as the fire's light got closer, gripping her axe forged with the magic of an Ice giant.

The axe head covered in ice and swung down the reaver, and released a shockwave of extreme power blasting the men afar with a loud bang slamming down to the ground and breaking bones on impact, many died and barely lived.

They got up and made a small group and so she she changed her weapon, and gripped the hilt of her blades, as they burned with the very fires of chaos, chains wrapped onto her arm beneath her leather gauntlets as the chain build with magic and she runs out and swung the blades to the reavers, and slashed, thrashed, and burned them fatally but the pain struck her abruptly!

Off focused and vulberable a reaver ran and had rammed her with his shield, and she moved far back as a heavy shock of pain kept her occupied another reaver with a club swung at her and hit her belly, and she stepped back hand holding her belly and a steady gush of fluid flowing down her thighs, dripping onto the snow.

The pain fogged her mind but she kept a good eye, she opened the shield and parried a reaver's sword strike and countered him sending him afar and killing him and two others, that got hit by the flying body but by then she had felt pain.

The baby began it's descent down and filled her entire canal, and burned her thoroughly and she put her arm close to her belly gritting her teeth.

The two mace-wielding reavers imbued their weapons in poison, and they closed in and with great force swung the mace and she dodged out the way, running off as the smoke of poison had begun fading and taking the opportunity.

With the faded poison, she gripped the hilt of the blades and stabbed them both into the ground causing a eruption of powerful, and many bursts of explosions burning and ending the two reaver grunts to valhalla.

As their screams faded into nothing, she slowly stabbed the cave wall with both blades and gripped both tightly, as the pain grew so did her screams of agony and she pushed with might and leant against the rocky cave wall.

All her mind had was pain, and she could barely withstand the intensity of such pain and let out a scream of pure intense suffering, when the pain grew unbearable still barely standing with her mind still fragmented in terror and unease.

Yet, after the sun fell down and as the pain had burned her out, a surge of pain struck her to extreme measures and she pushed with all her strength and the child had completely tore through her garments, and she felt relieved.

She gently carried the small child and slowly chuckled in sore happiness, her smile grew.

It left her speechless and tired and so she rested hidden in the empty reaver camp, and once she recovered she took the road home with blood.

And honor as the very last Spartan Warrior.

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ehill3957 · 3 months

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"Are you sure you want to do this?"

Lucerys stands on a hill far from kingslanding, but he can still see the city in a distance.

"My family brought to slaughter for their greed"

He turned back to the witch.

"You will burn them for deeds that can no longer be taken back?"

He huffs.

"If they are true dragons like they proclaim, they will not burn"

He walks past her and towards the beast.

"I can not allow them to prosper from the death of my family"

He mounts the dreaded dragon.

"For your help, I let you leave alive"

The witch nods lightly.

"Goodbye Alys"

The beast takes off into the sky.

The witch watches as it moves into the clouds flying in the direction of that blood stained city.

-----

The city is in celebration, the pretender and her family slain by the kind king.

Green dragon banners litter the streets.

The royal family sits inside their stolen castle, smiling at the peace they have brought.

That peace is shattered by the ringing of the bells.

The noise echoing around the city.

Followed by the screams of the sheep.

The city can do nothing but watch as a black shadow falls from the sky and leaves nothing but ashes behind it.

Targeting buildings of faith.

Towers with flames built to light the way for the people.

The tiny ants below the dragon either burnt or crushed beneath the rubble.

The city cries, no dragon will defend them, all slain or dead, no eggs have hatched for the green dragons.

-----

Aegon watches in horror as the beast turns, showing its monstrous wing span.

"Cannibal" Helaena says standing behind him.

"The dragon that eats its own kin" She continues.

"Come to burn us, false dragons that we are, covered in true dragon blood" Alicent snatches her daughters hand.

"What are you talking about?"

Helaena just shakes her head.

"We committed the gravest sin. Our actions have doomed Westeros, no dragons left to defend it from Aegons dream, his nightmare"

Alicent pales.

"How do you know about that? Aegons dream?"

Her daughter just looks at her with disappointment. Then to everyone else, the small council as well.

"You knew he wasn't talking about your son, but you needed an excuse so you wouldn't feel guilty taking what belonged to Rhaenyra." her mother shakes her head.

"What's Aegons dream?" The council asks.

"Viserys said he wanted Aegon to succeed him, to bring peace!" She tried to argue but her daughter shut that down.

The roars of that beast louder then the bells.

"Aegon the Conquerer would have gone east. But a dream made him come west, Daenys dreamed to doom of Valyria, he dreamed the doom of man. A wall made of ice that towers so high it blocks the sun is not to keep wild men back. It's to keep monsters thought dead and gone from killing us all"

Otto and the other council members don't believe it but Helaena pushes on.

"From my blood come the prince who was promised and his will be the song of ice and fire"

She says, taking Aegons dagger and heating it to reveal the Valyrian words.

"Aegons dream forged in Valyrian steel, passed from king to heir" She looks at Aegon.

"You are not that heir"

She looks at the rest of them.

"It is not our blood, it was Rhaenyras"

She just puts the blade on the table.

"But that no longer matters, you have sealed all of Westeros' fate with your greed." She looks at the council members "We must be able to do something?" Daeron asks.

"We are cursed, kinslayers in the eyes of the gods"

Otto steps in.

"The gods understand that it was needed for a male to sit the throne, no woman should have that power"

"Not your gods you parade around, the fourteen"

Alicent grabs the Seven pendant around her neck.

"We are kinslayers, killed our blood for a chair of metal. They have cursed us"

Aemond frowns.

"How?"

Helaena smiles sadly.

"They cursed us with infertility of babes and beasts"

"SPEAK CLEARLY GIRL!" Otto loses his temper.

"No more children, no more dragons"

The beast roars again and they see nothing but flames and smoke in the distance.

"Let us meet our fate"

With that, Helaena takes her husbands hand and leads him away, the rest follow numbly quickly.

None the wiser as the beast turns to the looming keep.

-----

The beast burns everything in its path.

Finally the rider directs it to land on the walls.

Bells that were ringing of attack now ring of surrender.

He just snarls as the beast roars again.

That cursed throne sits in that keep as do the people who took everything from him.

The beast screams its riders rage and flies towards the castle.

-----

They wait outside in the courtyard and can only watch in fear as the beast lands on the walls, almost crushing it under its weight.

It roars down at them and set fire to the keep behind them. Stone giving out from the strength of its flame.

They watch as a rider descends from its back.

Moving closer they see a ghost come alive again.

-----

"Lucerys?" Aegon murmurs.

His dead nephew apparently not so dead.

"Kinslayer"

He says in return.

He watches them, they watch him, no swords are drawn only because the Cannibal looms of Lucerys like a shadow.

"Kneel" he says.

They hesitate but comply in the face of Cannibals teeth, baring at them in some semblance of a smile. A gruesome smile, the promise of death.

"Please Lucerys!" Alicent begs.

"Don't do this!" The council begs.

"Well give you anything you want!" A desperate lord yells in plea.

"Anything?"

He smiles darkly at the nods of agreement to pay him to leave forever.

"My mother"

"My father"

"My brothers"

"My sisters"

"MY FAMILY!"

He roars at them.

"Give me back my family and I will let you continue with your pathetic lives!" He snarls.

The start to cry, the beg.

"You can't can you? BECAUSE YOU KILLED THEM!"

His beast yells with him in his anger.

"Killed for greed! Envy! Jealously!" He walks forward and yanks Alicents hair "Tell me why!"

"Let her go!"

"TELL ME WHY!"

"Leave her be!"

"TELL ME WHY!"

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

"TELL ME!!"

"BECAUSE I WAS SCARED!!"

She screams and yelps when he yanks her hair again.

"TELL ME WHY!"

"SHE WOULD KILL ME CHILDREN, MY FAMILY, I HAD TO PROTECT THEM!!"

she shrieks as lucerys moves his face closer to hers.

"SHE DIDN'T KILL YOUR CHILDREN, YOU KILLED HERS, THEN YOU KILLED HER AS WELL! FED HER TO THAT BEAST!"

He drags her, and they attempt to stop him, but the Cannibal puts them in their places. He throws her towards the Cannibal.

"LUCERYS DON'T!!"

Aemond yells, as does his siblings.

He turns to them and smiles.

"Don't?"

He laughs.

"Let's ask the others!"

"I WILL LET YOU LIVE, LET YOU GO! BUT ONE LIFE MUST BE PAID!"

The people yell as Alicent cries in fear and watches supporters throw her under the axe.

"I'LL TAKE HER PLACE LUKE!!" Aemond yells in desperation.

"NO! A mother for a mother!"

He says.

"What say you?"

He spreads his arms wide questioning the crowd.

"KILL HER!!"

"KILL THE QUEEN!"

Alicent cries heavily as the people abandon her.

"Do you think this is how my mother felt?" She looks up to see Lucerys looking down at her, Aegons dagger in his hand.

"I'm sorry! I never meant to do this! I didn't want this! I'm sorry Lucerys, Rhaenyra! I'm sorry!" She breaks.

"Sorry won't give me back my family"

He takes her arms and cuts a quick, deep line down her arm. It bleeds. The Cannibal smells it and leans down.

"Daor" he murmurs and pets the beasts face.

"It will scar, just like my mother's"

She continues to cry.

"You will live"

She looks up at him.

"I will not kill you, I want you to be hated, like you lead all these people to hate my mother. The people will blame you for this death today, and you will be remembered as the catalyst for the death of the dragons, the death of man and the destruction of Westeros"

"You will be hated more times, a million times more than my mother ever will"

He walks towards his dragon. His new mount. So bigger then his sweet Arrax.

"You have been punished by the gods I know, but that sentence will take too long. I know your curse, and I thank the Fourteen for this. Know now that there are now more dragons, that they are all dead and there will never be another, all eggs have turned to stone, and it is because of Alicent Hightower!" He points at the broken woman and the people yell at her.

"MURDERER!"

"DRAGON SLAYER!"

"DRAGONS DEATH!"

"WARMONGER!"

"CURSED WOMAN!"

Her children watch as the people turn against her.

Yell profanities and curses at their mother. Throw rotten fruits and vegetables, other unmentionables.

"YOU LIVE TODAY! ONLY AS I KNOW THAT TOMORROW AND EVERY OTHER DAY AFTER THAT YOU ARE DOOMED TO DIE!" He mounts his beast.

The Cannibal lifts its wings.

"Pirta zaldrīzoti issi ry ao pretenders jāhor mirre sagon"

He motions the Cannibal up and flies around the castle.

"DRACARYS!" He yells and sets fire to the castle these pretenders have stolen.

The walls break and in the corner of his eye sits the Iron throne.

He directs the Cannibal towards it.

"DRACARYS!" Underneath its flame it melts.

Dragon flame forged it.

Dragon flame destroyed it.

He turns the Cannibal away, and the city watches as the beast and the dragon leave. They don't look back.

-----

The city burns still, the flame do not go out.

His declaration of blame lying solely at the feet of one woman, the most hated woman in Westeros. Guarded very heavily as all try to kill her but she has tried, the wound, not only a scar but a curse.

She will die when the Fourteen Flames will it.

She can no longer keep to her faith. They cast her out. She has killed millions and has doomed millions more. A demon. She has cursed her children. Cursed all children.

Any sympathy for the demon falters at word from the north. The wall is breaking.

They hear screams of monsters and roars of revived beasts behind it.

It cracks with every sunrise and sunset.

No promised prince. Taken by the unwarranted fear of a woman who doomed Westeros with her paranoia.

Waters freeze, boats breaks, storms cover the oceans.

They can not escape. They have tried.

Westeros blames her for their doom.

Lucerys is gone. As is the Cannibal.

They have righted a wrong.

But the next is up to him as well. Slavery needs to end, and the dragon who would be strong and brave enough to do this is nothing but a memory of a possible life.

So he shoulders the burden and does the tasks she would have fulfilled greatly, her shoes big but he shall fill them.

He builds a home. A lemon tree in his garden and a red door. To remember a great woman who will never be.

-----

Could she be?

-----

He smiles down at the bundle who blinks up at him with purple eyes.

"Hello Daenerys!"

-----

Fin.

Pirta zaldrīzoti issi ry ao pretenders jāhor mirre sagon = False dragons are all you pretenders will ever be.

-----

Hi everyone! 👋

So this took a long time to write. It was in my drafts but I powered through it.

I wanted to have Lucerys burn them all, but I felt that was so quick and a little clichè. It was a inspired by the burning of kingslanding.

I feel like this way was a great way to really punish the greens and Alicent in particular because as you can see I feel like she is a little to blame more than the others but that's my opinion. (Which I am entitled to). This is just an au.

Also, again, these are free ideas. Anyone may take them and use them for their own stories.

#lucerys valeryon #lucerys strong #lucerys targaryen #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon fic

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talesfromthegameff14 · 4 months

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Fire and Stone - Arrosez

Writing Music: Everything Changes in Time by Madds Buckley

The snow fell on the Shroud, covering up the worn paths of the village. In the summer the paths were the main markers that the place existed, buildings worked cunningly into the trees and foliage as to remain easily hidden from casual observation. In the fall the paths became harder to see as some of the village buildings became easier to see, tucked up against trunks and built into the tree branches far above the forest floor. There were exceptions of course, the plume of smoke rising from the forge in the center of the craftsman’s circle a prime example of that.

It made Rose feel less alone as they wiggled out of Ren’s bedroom window to pull theirself up onto the sod roof that hid his home from view no matter the season. The air was colder than they expected, but it didn’t stop them from climbing up the nearby tree. They went as high as they dared, far higher than most would deem safe, but they knew that the tree wouldn’t drop them. Not one would in this place, it was theirs after all. Balanced on a precariously skinny branch. Rose leaned against the trunk and closed their eyes. Where are you Blaise?

The candles surrounding the outcast Bois de Coeur were snuffed out with a growl of frustration. It should have worked! It was Weitnacht! Blaise knew that Renard always celebrated the holiday in his sentimental way. Cinoix always fussed about it, upset that his Grandson wasn’t more interested in... There was a crash as a candle and holder were thrown against the wall in pure frustration. Pointless! It had all been for nothing! And it was all Renard’s and his damnable twin’s fault. If they had just had the grace to stay dead like they should have then none of this would happen. But oh no, they had to come back and Renard had to go running back to them like a besotted fool. And now the Duramen was dead and he hadn’t been picked as her replacement and when he fixed that oversight the ungrateful wretches called him on it and... It was all so wrong now.

He should be tucked into his bed back at Thistleburrow, sleeping off a pleasant evening of good food, drink, and company at Cinoix’s house with Renard on his arm. And now his Warder wouldn’t come to heel when called all cause of their bitch of a twin. Flames licked up around the broken glass shards and candle, leaving nothing but a faint scattering of ash from the wick behind. The mess disposed of, Blaise stood up and stalked out of the small cave he sanctified for spell work into the larger one he was living out of. Ignoring everything, he strode outside, turning sharply to climb up the hill to look out over the Shroud. He couldn’t say why he wanted to be outside in the chill morning air, maybe to clear his head of the failure? If so, why did he find himself clearing off a rock and sitting on it with his knees pulled up to his chest looking to the east, to home? Instinct had Rose turning to the west, pale eye gleaming as they looked across the bare tree tops of the Shroud. The occasional pine tree stood out against the snow, but most of the branches were like skeletal hands reaching towards the sky, beseeching the sun to come back and give them warmth. They couldn’t see their twin, but Rose knew where he was nonetheless. They could renounce ties of family with the man, but neither of them could undo the ties of birth except in the nothingness of death. It was a fact that Rose depended upon, drawing aether from the sleeping Shroud, trickles here and there as to not disturb the balance. Earth and water gifted what they could at the Bois de Coeur’s call before they turned their attention inwards. It was an easy path to follow. Ren slept below, tangled up in Blaise’s spell work. A touch along the vines of fire burnt, but not enough to dissuade Rose from the hunt. Along the line between Ren and Blaise they sent their awareness, shrouded in stone and sped on by the tide of the Star. A prickle ran up Blaise’s spine as he sat there, moodily staring in the direction of home. No, no longer home, they cast him out. Unwanted, unloved just like his father told him, not in words but by the utter indifference the man had for his son. It was only matched by his mother’s lack of care, both of her children inconvenient mouths to be fed, clothed and little more. Occasionally shown off to her peers whe... Blaise’s ruminations are interrupted, that prickle turning into a full blown wave of panic. He barely summoned up the fiery aether to protect himself from the initial force of Rose’s blow. Fire makes a poor shield though, particularly under the fury of love and water and stone. It fizzles out quickly, leaving the man vulnerable to the remainder of Rose’s attack. It drove into his core relentlessly, trying to wash him away in the tide of rage. Clinging to the trunk of the oak, Rose sank down to their ass on the slim branch, eyes wide and staring as they put everything they had into the attack. The force trickles away as the aether they gathered, and a bit more, is spent. It leaves them panting and shivering up against the tree, tears flowing freely down their cheeks.

By the Three, is it done? No, he lives.

Damnit!! A bell passes before either of the twins move from where they fell, Blaise slowly sitting back up and trying to wipe the dried blood off of his face from the nosebleed he gave himself trying to survive. A mad cackle broke the silence of the woods before Blaise started to mutter to himself, “You failed Rose, you always do. Poor excuse for a Bois de Coeur. You think you could kill me? Fool.” A grunt and he tried to stand, swaying for a moment before falling to his hands and knees, coughing up blood into the snow. He stared at it for a moment then Blaise started to crawl, making it back to his cave to collapse onto his bedroll to sleep.

It’s the constant fussing and pecks from a small blue bird that’s tucked up against Rose’s neck that finally gets them to move. Carefully, they half climb, half slide back down the tree. When they are almost to the bottom, Bloo flies off, down to another window of the house and makes another ruckus, pecking at the glass and screeching until something inside happens.

By the time Rose makes it to the roof of the house Gautier is waiting for them. He catches the exhausted Elezen and then picks them up with minimal effort to carry them silently into the house. He doesn’t bring them to Ren’s room, but to his own and sets them down on his bed. Rose looks around, pushing theirself up to one elbow. “This isn’t..”

“I’ll stay with him, you’re staying here.”, the man interjects, pulling back his hood to expose the horns that jut upwards from above his temples.

“But, I...”

“You’re in no shape to stop him if he tries to go. Why don’t you spend your breath telling me why you aren’t in shape instead of arguing with me.”

Rose huffs and thumps back on the bed, “I attacked Blaise.”

“Did you kill him?”

A long pause before they shake their head.

“Foolish and a wasted opportunity, you should have called for me. We could have done it together.”

Rose bristles slightly, “You couldn’t have helped, not like this.”

A doubtful noise comes from the Green Man, but he doesn’t argue further. “Did you gain anything from this at least?”

Indigent, Rose’s reply snapped back, “He’s hurt, badly.”

“And you're weakened.”

“I’ll recover faster than him.”

“Are you sure?”, the question paired with the lifting of a single, shaggy eyebrow.

“Yes! Damnit! I’m simply tired. I almost killed him. It will take him more than a few days to recover.”

Another grunt, clearly Gautier is not as convinced. “I’ll bring up food and tea.”

“Something for a migraine, please.”

A long suffering sigh and the man nods, “That too. Rest Arrosez, hopefully your right and I’m wrong.”

“I am.”, their reply growled and full of annoyance.

“We’ll see.”

Gautier leaves and Rose grabs the nearest thing, a pillow, and throws it at the door as hard as they can. It barely makes it half the distance before thumping uselessly on the ground. They stare at it for a moment before flopping back on the bed to curl up on their side and sob brokenly.

Failure...

#ffxiv rp #oc stories #arrosez #no gods no editing #just twin things

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pearlescentpearl · 1 year

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doomed of you do, doomed if you don't for the ask game?

(also, you're the author of the among us au??? that was so much fun to read)

I am indeed that very author! xD Surprise! I was the turkey all along.

doomed if you do, doomed if you don't has a fun little premise where I asked myself, 'if the silmarils can suffer a mortal's touch if it means getting to meet their Doom (getting into Elwing and Eärendil's hands), and the power of Fate/Doom can circumvent the best laid plans of elves and ainur, what happens if you turn that up to 11?' So now the silmarils are very, very proactive about finding their destined places in Arda, and dragging the Fëanorions along in their wake.

Fëanor is in Much Distress.

here, a snippet of my rough draft :D

“Their Fate is tied with Arda’s,” Námo proclaims of the Silmarils at Máhanaxar on the tail end of Varda’s hallowing, and in the days to come Fëanáro is seized by the strong urge to grab the Doomsman by the shoulders and shake vigorously until the reticent Vala spits out what he means by that.

He doesn’t realize whatever cryptic nonsense Námo was spouting now had any significance compared to Varda’s contribution at the time, of course. Why would he? On the scale of Valar’s opinions Fëanáro gives a fuck about — even if it’s only a little — the Elentári ranks way, way above that dark-cloaked weirdo.

Fëanáro’s regretting it now.

“Okay, now that everybody’s calmed down, tell me what happened,” Fëanáro sternly demands, but his hands are gentle as he bandages a shuddering Nelyafinwë’s burnt right hand. Atarinkë braces his eldest brother’s shoulder, Singing healing and soothing coolness into the burn.

All of Fëanáro’s children are adept at healing Songs for burns, he would let none into his forges until they were proficient, and of them Atarinkë turned out to be the best.

Better than Fëanáro even, something that suffused him with no little pride.

“I really don’t know,” Nelyafinwë says, pain-paled and bewildered, and it is only the sheer uncharacteristic nature of events that has Fëanáro believing him unquestionably. “I just picked it up, that’s all. I picked it up and— and then Tyelko was pulling my hand out of the brazier and I dropped it.”

‘It’ being the gleaming Silmaril discarded carelessly on the table after Morifinwë fished it out of the coals with a pair of fire tongs. It was none the worse for wear, of course, being made of no earthly element vulnerable to such a mundane fire, and unnaturally clean, not even dusted by the faintest smear of ash.

“You looked far away when you were holding it,” Turkafinwë says pensively, hand clasped on Nelyafinwë’s other shoulder. “Like Findaráto when he’s cheating at cards.”

“Findaráto doesn’t cheat at cards, Tyelko, you’re just bad at bluffing,” Kanafinwë says by the table, glancing awkwardly now and then at the Silmarils like he wasn’t quite sure he needed to keep an eye on them but damn certain he needed to keep himself between them and the twins who he was clutching close, Pityo teary eyed and Telvo clingy.

“All the sons of Arafinwë cheat at cards,” Morifinwë mutters uneasily.

#doomed if you do

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mvndrvke · 1 year

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SHIREEN VERSE INFO. A SONG OF ICE & FIRE

this is just a compilation of shireen’s asoiaf verses for both got and hotd. please do not reblog.

trigger warnings : death / fire

ASHES OF A STORY UNREAD. canon to game of thrones

shireen is the first and only daughter of stannis baratheon. this follows the course of the show with shireen’s plotline of following stannis’ army with her mother around westeros until melisandre convinces stannis to burn his daughter alive. shireen is killed in that sacrifice.

THIS IS MY TORCH SONG; TOUCH ME AND YOU’LL BURN. survival au ( got )

the details of this verse can be found in this post here, but the main gist of it is that shireen is not burnt on the pyre, and is protected by the lord of light from being sacrificed. shireen travels to rejoin ser davos, and joins him, jon, and later daenerys in the battle against the night king.

I’M NOT SCARED OF DEATH; I’VE GOT DREAMS AGAIN. rider of viserion ( got )

this builds off of shireen’s survival verse. when she and daenerys meet, shireen is introduced to the dragons. she and viserion form a bond, and with daenerys’ permission, shireen becomes viserion’s rider. more tba, and the details of this are flexible.

TRAPPED INSIDE THIS HELL THAT HOLDS ME. the young lady baratheon ( hotd )

shireen’s story is mostly the same as it is in game of thrones, and she lives at storm’s end with her uncle borros baratheon. she is kept mostly out of sight due to her scar from greyscale when she was an infant, and spends much of her time educating herself. more tba.

I’LL RAISE MY HANDS AND PAINT MY SPIRIT GOLD. the red sowing / rider of grey ghost ( hotd )

during the dance of dragons, prince jacaerys velaryon promised a knighthood and lands to anyone who could master a dragon and become its rider. shireen had no plan on doing so, but her father stannis was determined to win this honor for their family. he took shireen and they traveled to dragonstone, where he searched in vain for any sign of the wild dragons there. shireen did not go with her father on the hunt, and spent her time wandering around the island instead, finding peaceful spots to read and enjoying her time outside.

during one of those times, she spotted the wild dragon grey ghost. shireen decided not to approach for now, but spent the rest of her time on dragonstone searching for him each day and getting closer and closer with each sighting. he was shy like her, but she was patient. eventually, he stopped flying away when he saw her, and she was able to approach him. there was an instant connection the moment they were face-to-face; grey ghost lowered his shoulder, and shireen climbed onto his back. their bond was forged in that first flight, and they became inseparable after that. shireen swears loyalty to jacaerys and rhaenyra and joins the dance of dragons on their side.

#( muse || shireen baratheon )#death tw #fire tw #long post /

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imm0rtalassh013 · 10 months

Text

I’ve got a whirlwind in my head

and a spire in my heart

In my soul you made a bed

but your blizzard tore me apart

With a heart weld of ice

and eyes that gods did forge

…so much pain you did inspire…

My Angel in The Fire

You burnt my heart

You burnt my soul

You left me curled up in your hole

Of Fire

My Angel in The Fire

My Angel oh-the Choir

Oh the Choir they did sing

Screaming sounds of Angels fallen

Shattered Cries

Muffled Bawling

I ran into your arms

In your grip I found my calm

My heart it slowed

My love it growed

You sowed my pain like seeds you lain

But why, tell me why, do I I still feel this pain?

I pray to God she’s worth it

These years down the drain

My heart is in your pit

And your eyes burn in my brain

You rise up from the ashes

Your wings are whole again

Your heart is healed

You are my shield…

Till it crashes down again…

and again…

…and again

and again…

…and again

My sweet

My love

My pacifier

My angel

My Angel in the Fire

-Until We Meet Again-

-Ell-

#short poem #poem #poemsbyme #original poem #poems and quotes #poemsdaily #poems on tumblr #poets corner #poetsandwriters #young poets #poetscommunity #writers and poets #self expression #creative expression

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thysia · 2 years

Text

Revisiting the Frenzied Flame from Elden Ring, mentally.

While I already liked it, looking at it again with a greater understanding of alchemy really makes it shine for me. Fire is the primary agent of transformation in alchemy, namely Calcination, the first of the seven operations. This is the means by which Nigredo, the first stage of the great work, is achieved. Specifically, Nigredo is the state of matter being so reduced to ash that it is in no way discernable from itself as anything but ash. Any individuation burnt totally away, wholly reduced to uniform matter.

The Frenzied Flame’s goal is, of course, to transform the whole world into a state of Nigredo. Assumedly, but not necessarily, to the end of moving into Albedo, the purification stage. Then through Citrinitas the world moves into Rubedo. The birth of a new, unsullied world.

Fire is transformation, both in a symbolic and material sense. Forest fires clear the way for new growth. The fires of the forge make weapons from steel. The phoenix burns to death and is born anew from its own ashes.

Fire is holy power. The grand implement of forward motion. It is the heat under God’s crucible. It is the death and rebirth of men, nations, and all the world.

Stagnation is sin. Conflagration is divine.

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kitsunzoro · 4 months

Text

The Liberation Chronicles book 1

The Liberation Chronicles

Chapter 1: Shadows of the Past

In a land where peace once flourished, a shadow had fallen. The vibrant communities of bunnies and chickens, which had once thrived in harmony, were now fragments of a forgotten dream. This was the world that Edwin, a young grey bunny with eyes mirroring the twilight sky, had been born into – a world of oppression and faded memories.

Five thousand years of history echoed through the streets of the mining town, a testament to a past where different species had lived side by side in mutual respect. But now, under the iron rule of the foxes and their allies, the cats and ferrets, this legacy was reduced to mere whispers and hidden tales.

Edwin's life was a daily struggle, each day a mirror of the last. He worked in the mines, a labyrinth of darkness and toil, where the only respite was the fleeting moments of rest. The oppressive regime of the fox ruler loomed over everything, a constant reminder of the freedom that had been stolen from them.

Amidst this bleak existence, stories of a resistance began to surface. Quiet murmurs of defiance spread among the workers, bringing with them a flicker of hope. Edwin listened, his heart stirring with a mix of fear and longing. Could there truly be a chance for change, or were these just fanciful dreams?

One evening, as the sun set beyond the desolate landscape, a hushed conversation captured Edwin's attention. Two fellow workers spoke of a secret meeting, a gathering of those brave enough to imagine a different world. The location was hidden, known only to a few. Edwin knew he had to find it.

Navigating through shadowed alleys and deserted paths, Edwin found his way to an old warehouse on the town's outskirts. Inside, a small group of bunnies and chickens, their faces marked by the same hardship and resilience as his, awaited. A sense of unity filled the air, a bond forged in the fires of shared struggle.

A young bunny, not much older than Edwin, stepped forward. His coat was a deep chestnut, his eyes ablaze with determination. "I'm Marcus," he said, his voice resonating with quiet strength. "We're here because we believe in a future where we're no longer bound by fear and oppression."

Edwin felt a surge of adrenaline. Here, in this dimly lit room, was the spark of something new, something daring. Despite the danger, he felt a sense of purpose he had never known. He had found his place among those who dared to dream of freedom.

As the meeting unfolded, plans were discussed and hopes shared. Edwin and Marcus, their lives previously defined by the limits of their world, now saw the possibility of breaking those chains. Together, they began to sow the seeds of a rebellion, not knowing where it would lead, but understanding that the journey itself was a declaration of their unyielding spirit.

Chapter 2: Ashes and Resolve

The night air was heavy with a sense of foreboding as Edwin made his way to the secret meeting place, his heart burdened by the extra shift he had been forced to endure. The injustice of not meeting the quota, a result of his exhaustion and dwindling hope, had kept him in the mines longer than usual.

As he approached the old warehouse, a chill ran down his spine. The usual faint glimmer of light that seeped through the cracks was absent. In its place was an ominous stillness, a silence that spoke volumes. Edwin's steps faltered, a knot of dread forming in his stomach.

Pushing the door open, a horrific scene unfolded before his eyes. The warehouse, once a haven of whispered rebellion and unity, was now a charred shell. The air was thick with the stench of burnt wood and something far more sinister. Sir Thornwick, the evil bunny known for his ruthless allegiance to Sir John Arundel, had been there.

Edwin's heart sank as he realized what had transpired. Sir Thornwick, with his cruel reputation and unforgiving nature, had extinguished the flicker of hope that had begun to grow within the hearts of the oppressed. The small group that had dared to dream of a different world was gone, reduced to nothing but ashes.

Tears blurred Edwin's vision as he stumbled through the remains, each step a painful reminder of the brutal reality of their world. It was then that something caught his eye – a glint of metal amidst the ash. Approaching cautiously, Edwin discovered it was a knife, somehow spared from the destruction.

Picking up the knife, Edwin felt a surge of emotions. Anger, sorrow, and a newfound determination mingled within him. The cold metal in his hand was a stark contrast to the warmth of the lives that had been lost. In that moment, something within Edwin shifted. The grief and despair that had gripped him gave way to a resolute clarity.

Sir Thornwick's act of cruelty had been meant to instill fear and suppress their spirits. But as Edwin stood among the ashes of his fallen comrades, he realized that their sacrifice could not be in vain. The fire of rebellion that had been kindled in the warehouse may have been physically extinguished, but its essence remained, now ignited within him.

Clutching the knife, Edwin made a silent vow. He would carry on the fight that had been started in that room. He would become the embodiment of the resistance that his friends had believed in. Sir Thornwick and his ilk would not have the final word.

As the first light of dawn began to break, casting a somber glow over the devastated warehouse, Edwin stepped back into the shadows of the town. His heart was heavy with loss, but his resolve was stronger than ever. He knew the path ahead would be fraught with danger, but he was no longer the same bunny who had entered the mines that day. He was now a beacon of rebellion, a symbol of the undying spirit of those who yearn for freedom.

Edwin's journey had taken a tragic turn, but it was far from over. The ashes of that night would be the foundation upon which he would build his fight. And in his hand, the knife was not just a tool; it was a testament to his commitment to the cause.

Chapter 3: A Desperate Escape

Under the cloak of darkness, with the relentless rain pouring down, Edwin waited. The knife, now a symbol of his resolve and his only ally, was carefully hidden away. His mind raced with the gravity of what he was about to do. Escape was not just a choice; it had become a necessity.

The oppressive regime had tightened its grip on the town, especially after the tragedy at the warehouse. Fear and suspicion hung heavy in the air, making every move risky, every decision a matter of life and death. Edwin knew he had to act fast, to slip away under the cover of the storm.

As night deepened, the guard's silhouette became visible near the exit. The guard, a mere pawn in the regime's game of control, was oblivious to the storm raging inside Edwin. With each passing moment, Edwin's plan crystallized, fueled by a mix of desperation and determination.

Feigning weakness, Edwin staggered toward the guard, his steps unsteady, his breathing labored. The guard, lulled into a false sense of security by the harsh weather and the late hour, barely paid him any attention. This was the moment Edwin had been waiting for.

As he drew closer, Edwin's heart pounded in his chest. The rain masked his approach, and the darkness cloaked his intentions. Just as he was within arm's reach, he made his move. In one swift, fluid motion, he pulled out the knife and plunged it into the guard's heart. The act was quick, silent, and deadly.

The guard collapsed, and Edwin, his hands now trembling, took the keys from his belt. With a mix of guilt and adrenaline fueling his actions, he unlocked the door and stepped into the stormy night. The rain washed over him, as if trying to cleanse the deed he had just committed.

Running through the rain-soaked streets, Edwin's mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. He had taken a life, a heavy burden that he would carry with him. But in his heart, he knew it was a necessary act in his quest for freedom – a freedom not just for himself, but for all those who suffered under the oppressive regime.

The town, usually familiar and mundane, now seemed like a labyrinth of shadows and danger. Every corner could hide a threat, every sound could be an alarm. But Edwin pressed on, driven by the memory of his fallen comrades and the burning need to continue their fight.

As he reached the outskirts of the town, the realization of what he had accomplished began to sink in. He had escaped – not just from the physical confines of the town but from the chains of fear and resignation that had bound him for so long.

The rain continued to pour down, blurring his vision but not his purpose. Edwin knew that his journey was just beginning. Ahead lay uncertainty, challenges, and the daunting task of joining the wider rebellion. But for now, he was free – free to fight, free to hope, and free to dream of a better world.

With each step away from the town, Edwin left behind the remnants of his old life, stepping into a future where he would be known not as a mere worker in the mines, but as a symbol of resilience and hope. The night was dark, and the path was uncertain, but his spirit was unbreakable.

Chapter 4: An Unexpected Awakening

After a night of harrowing escape and a heart heavy with the weight of his actions, Edwin sought refuge in the shelter of a dense forest. The oppressive world he had fled felt both distant and hauntingly close as he nestled into a thicket of bushes, the damp earth beneath him a small comfort in his turbulent reality.

Fatigue overcame him quickly, his body and mind succumbing to the exhaustion of his flight. As he drifted into sleep, the events of the past few days swirled in his mind – the tragic loss at the warehouse, the desperate struggle in the rain, and the stark realization of the path he had chosen.

His sleep, however, was restless. Edwin's dreams were a chaotic blend of memories and fears, echoes of his past life mingling with the uncertain future that lay ahead. He saw the faces of his fallen friends, felt the weight of the knife in his hand, and heard the distant whispers of rebellion and hope.

It was a gentle nudge, rather than the nightmares, that abruptly pulled Edwin from his uneasy slumber. Disoriented, he blinked open his eyes, struggling to make sense of his surroundings. The early morning light filtered through the leaves, casting a dappled pattern on the ground.

Standing over him was a figure that Edwin did not recognize at first – a ferret, his expression a mix of curiosity and caution. The ferret extended a paw to help Edwin up. "You're a hard one to find," he said, his voice low but not unkind.

Edwin, still groggy from sleep and the shock of being discovered, scrambled to his feet, instinctively reaching for the knife he had kept close. "Who are you?" he demanded, his voice laced with suspicion.

The ferret held up his paws in a gesture of peace. "My name is Alex," he replied. "I'm not here to harm you. Quite the opposite, actually. I've been looking for you."

Edwin's grip on the knife loosened slightly, but he remained on edge. Alex, noticing Edwin's apprehension, continued, "I know about the warehouse, and what happened there. I know you're fighting against the regime. I am too, in my own way."

The revelation took a moment to sink in. Edwin studied Alex, trying to gauge his sincerity. There was something about the ferret's demeanor that suggested he was telling the truth. "Why are you looking for me?" Edwin asked, his voice tinged with a mix of curiosity and wariness.

Alex's eyes met Edwin's, a spark of resolve shining in them. "Because we share a common enemy, and perhaps, a common goal. I've heard about what you're trying to do, and I think I can help."

Edwin, still cautious but intrigued, lowered the knife. The forest around them seemed to hold its breath, waiting for his decision. A new path was unfolding before him, one that could potentially lead him closer to the freedom he sought – not just for himself, but for all those oppressed by the regime.

"Alright," Edwin said finally, the words feeling like a leap of faith. "Tell me more."

As Alex began to speak, outlining his own experiences and plans, Edwin realized that the rebellion was larger and more complex than he had imagined. Allies could be found in the most unexpected places, and the fight for freedom was a tapestry woven from many different threads.

In the heart of the forest, under the watchful eye of the rising sun, a new alliance was born. Edwin and Alex, two unlikely companions, began to chart a course that would take them deeper into the heart of the rebellion. Together, they would face the challenges that lay ahead, united by a common cause.

Chapter 5: A Noble Encounter

As Edwin followed Alex through the forest, a sense of uncertainty mixed with a tinge of wonder filled him. The ferret moved with a confidence and ease that spoke of his familiarity with these woods. After a journey that seemed to stretch for miles, they arrived at a clearing. Before them stood an impressive mansion, its architecture a stark contrast to the humble homes of the mining town Edwin had known.

Alex led Edwin through the grand entrance, the opulence of the interior striking Edwin with a sense of awe and discomfort. The walls were adorned with intricate artwork, and the floors were polished to a mirror sheen. It was a world away from anything Edwin had ever experienced.

In the grand hall, Alex introduced Edwin to his family. There was his older brother and sister, both carrying themselves with an air of quiet confidence, and his parents, whose kind yet discerning eyes quickly took in Edwin's disheveled appearance.

"Edwin, this is my family," Alex said. "We may be nobles, but our hearts and resources are dedicated to the cause of fighting the regime." His family nodded in agreement, their expressions showing a mix of curiosity and warmth towards Edwin.

*Alex's father stepped forward. "Our specialty lies in technology," he explained. "We've been using our resources to develop tools that can aid in the rebellion. One of our key inventions is the microphone."

Edwin, who had grown up in a world where such technology was unheard of, looked puzzled. "What's a microphone?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.

Alex's sister, a bright-eyed bunny with an enthusiastic demeanor, chimed in. "A microphone is a device that can amplify your voice. It captures sound and converts it into electrical signals, which can then be broadcasted over distances. It's a powerful tool for spreading messages and rallying support," she explained, her eyes sparkling with a passion for the subject.

Edwin listened intently, the concept both fascinating and foreign to him. The idea that one's voice could be carried beyond the natural limits of sound was astounding. It opened up possibilities he had never considered – possibilities that could change the dynamics of their struggle.

As the family continued to discuss their various technological advancements, Edwin realized the significance of this alliance. With the support of Alex's family and their resources, the rebellion could reach new heights. Their fight for freedom was no longer confined to hidden meetings and whispered plans; it now had the potential to resonate across the entire realm.

That evening, as Edwin was given a room to rest in the mansion, he reflected on the day's events. From a desperate escape to an alliance with a noble family, his life had taken yet another unexpected turn. But amidst all the uncertainty, one thing was clear: the path to freedom was widening, and he was no longer walking it alone.

Chapter 6: The Skycross Legacy

As they sat in the grand library of the mansion, surrounded by shelves filled with ancient tomes and modern inventions alike, Edwin's question lingered in the air. He looked at Alex's sister, still trying to understand the complex dynamics of this noble family.

*Alex, sensing Edwin's confusion, began to explain. "Our family has a tradition," he said. "When slaves or oppressed individuals escape to our estate seeking refuge, we offer them more than just shelter. We give them a chance to become part of our family, to adopt the Skycross name if they choose."

*Edwin's eyes widened in realization. The notion of nobles adopting escapees was unheard of in his world, a radical act of defiance against the societal norms set by the regime. "And your sister..." he started.

*Alex nodded. "She was once like you, fleeing from a life of oppression. When she came to us, she chose to become a Skycross, to leave behind the name and the life that was imposed upon her. But it's always their choice. We never force anyone to forsake their birth identity. It's about offering a new beginning, a new identity that symbolizes freedom and defiance against the regime."

*Edwin looked at Alex's sister again, seeing her in a new light. She was a living embodiment of the rebellion's ideals – a transformation from a life of subjugation to one of empowerment and choice.

*The concept resonated deeply with Edwin. He, too, had been reborn in a way, from a simple worker in the mines to a rebel with a cause. The name 'Skycross' symbolized not just a new identity, but a new purpose, a commitment to a cause greater than oneself.

*As the evening progressed, Edwin learned more about the Skycross family and their role in the resistance. They were a beacon of hope for many, using their resources and influence to undermine the regime and support the rebellion. Their mansion was not just a home, but a sanctuary and a hub for revolutionary activities.

*That night, as Edwin lay in a bed far more comfortable than any he had known, his mind was abuzz with thoughts. The alliance with the Skycross family had opened up a world of possibilities. With their technological expertise, particularly the use of devices like microphones, they could amplify their message, rally more to their cause, and coordinate their efforts more effectively.

*Edwin also pondered his own identity. The name 'Skycross' was a symbol of freedom and resistance. Did he, like Alex's sister, wish to adopt this new identity? It was a question that weighed heavily on him, a choice that symbolized not just a change of name, but a commitment to the path he had chosen.

As dawn broke, painting the sky in hues of gold and crimson, Edwin knew one thing for certain – his journey with the rebellion was just beginning, and the road ahead was filled with both challenges and opportunities. The name 'Skycross' echoed in his mind, a whisper of the future that awaited him.

Chapter 7: Choices and Paths

As the morning sun cast a warm glow through the ornate windows of the mansion, Edwin and Alex sat in the dining hall, a hearty breakfast laid out before them. The question Edwin had asked lingered in the air, reflecting the complexity of identity and choice in their struggle.

*Alex, pausing for a moment to consider his response, finally spoke. "Yes, there have been a few who turned down the offer to adopt the Skycross name," he said thoughtfully. "We understand that for some, their birth name is an integral part of their identity, a connection to their past, and a reminder of the journey they've endured. We respect that deeply."

*Edwin nodded, absorbing this information. The concept of choice, so rare in their oppressed world, was a cornerstone of the Skycross family's philosophy. It was about giving people the agency they had been denied, the power to define themselves on their own terms.

*"For those who choose to retain their birth names, we still offer our full support and protection," Alex continued. "Being a Skycross isn't about a name; it's about being part of a family that stands against tyranny and fights for freedom. It's about shared values and a common goal."

*The conversation broadened Edwin's understanding of the rebellion and the people who were a part of it. The resistance was a tapestry of diverse stories and backgrounds, each thread contributing to the strength and richness of the whole.

*As they talked, Edwin found himself reflecting on his own journey. His name, the name given to him at birth, was a link to a life of hardship and subjugation, but also to his family and the memories of a simpler time. The name 'Skycross' represented a new chapter, a commitment to the fight for freedom and a symbol of the strength he had found within himself.

*The choice before him was significant. To adopt the Skycross name would be to fully embrace his new identity as a rebel, a fighter in the cause against oppression. Yet, to retain his birth name was to hold onto a part of who he had always been, a reminder of where he came from and the experiences that had shaped him.

*Edwin realized that whatever choice he made, the most important thing was his commitment to the rebellion and the ideals it stood for. Whether he was known as Edwin or as a Skycross, his resolve to fight for freedom and justice remained unwavering.

As breakfast came to an end, Edwin felt a sense of clarity and purpose. He thanked Alex and his family for their support and the choices they offered, not just to him, but to all who sought refuge with them. The path ahead was still fraught with uncertainty and danger, but Edwin was ready to face it, armed with the knowledge that he was part of something much greater than himself.

Stepping out into the bright morning, Edwin looked up at the clear blue sky, a symbol of the freedom they were all fighting for. Whether he chose to bear the name of his past or adopt a new one, his path was clear. He was a rebel, a fighter, a beacon of hope in a world that desperately needed it.

Chapter 9: A New Name, A New Chapter

In the grand hall of the Skycross mansion, under the gaze of both the rebels and the Skycross family, Edwin Brown stood at a crossroads of his life. The ceremony was simple, yet it held a profound significance. Today, Edwin would shed the name Brown, a name that had seen him through years of oppression and struggle, and adopt a new name that symbolized his rebirth and commitment to the cause – Edwin Skycross.

*Alex's father, the patriarch of the Skycross family, stepped forward. His presence was commanding, yet there was an undeniable warmth in his eyes. "Today, we witness a transformation," he began, his voice resonating with a deep sense of purpose. "Edwin Brown came to us as a beacon of resilience and defiance. As he takes on the Skycross name, he joins our family not just in our shared fight against tyranny, but also in our commitment to a future of freedom and hope."

*Edwin felt a surge of emotion as he listened. The name 'Brown' had been a tether to his past, a reminder of the hardships he had endured and the family he had lost. Yet, as he embraced the name 'Skycross', he felt a new sense of identity and purpose envelop him. "I am proud to become Edwin Skycross," he declared, his voice steady and clear. "This name marks the beginning of a new chapter in my life – one where I stand with you, united in our quest to overthrow the chains of oppression."

*The room erupted into a subdued applause, a recognition of the symbolic power of Edwin's decision. Alex and his siblings approached, offering smiles and warm embraces. They understood the weight of what Edwin had chosen, the shedding of an old identity, and the courageous step into a new one.

*As Edwin Skycross, he dove into his role with renewed vigor. The Skycross family's resources and technological expertise opened new avenues for the rebellion. Edwin found himself at the forefront of planning and executing operations, using microphones and other devices to spread their message far and wide.

*Training under the guidance of Alex and his siblings, Edwin honed his skills in combat and strategy. He became a formidable force, respected not just for his bravery, but also for his keen mind and ability to inspire those around him.

*Despite his new name and the changes it brought, Edwin never forgot where he came from. The memories of the mines, of his friends and the life he once had, remained with him. They were a constant reminder of why he was fighting, of the world he hoped to build where no one would suffer as he had.

*One evening, standing on the terrace overlooking the vast estate, Edwin Skycross contemplated his journey. From the depths of the mines to the heart of the rebellion, he had traveled far. Yet, he knew that the road ahead was long and fraught with danger.

The rebellion was growing, gaining momentum each day. And as Edwin Skycross looked up at the stars, he felt a connection to every person who yearned for freedom. His name was a promise, a vow to lead the fight until the day when the skies would no longer be a limit, but a promise of hope and liberation.

Chapter 10: Questions and Revelations

In the quiet confines of the Skycross mansion’s library, Edwin Skycross approached Alex with a question that had been weighing on his mind. The atmosphere was thick with the scent of old books and the soft hum of high-tech equipment that filled the room.

“Alex, I’ve been thinking,” Edwin began, his voice tinged with uncertainty. “You’ve had access to advanced technology like microphones for your meetings. Did you use them for the meeting at the warehouse? If so, why couldn’t we save my friends?”

*Alex looked at Edwin, his expression somber. There was a pause, filled with unspoken understanding, before he replied. “I wish we could have intervened, Edwin. But the truth is, we didn’t use the microphones for that meeting. Our intelligence indicated it was too risky. We feared any electronic surveillance might lead the regime directly to us. It was a hard decision, but we had to prioritize the safety of the larger group and the future of the rebellion.”

*Edwin absorbed Alex’s words, the weight of the revelation sinking in. The decision to not use the technology at the warehouse meeting had been a calculated one, born out of a strategy that balanced risk and reward. It was a harsh reality of their fight against the regime, where difficult choices had to be made for the greater good.

*“I understand,” Edwin said after a moment, his voice steadier. “It’s just hard to accept that they’re gone. But I know that their sacrifice won’t be in vain. We’ll continue to fight, and we’ll be smarter, using every tool at our disposal to ensure their loss wasn’t for nothing.”

*Alex nodded, placing a reassuring hand on Edwin’s shoulder. “Your friends’ bravery will always be remembered. They ignited a spark that will help us bring down the regime. With the technology we have, and the determination of people like you, we’ll keep pushing forward.”

*The conversation marked a turning point for Edwin Skycross. He realized the complexity of leading a rebellion where every decision could have far-reaching consequences. The use of technology, while a significant advantage, also came with its own set of challenges and ethical considerations.

*In the days that followed, Edwin worked closely with the Skycross family to integrate more technology into their operations. They used VR for tactical training, microphones for secure communications, and even began experimenting with new forms of surveillance to gather intelligence on the regime.

*Edwin also became

a key figure in coordinating and planning the rebellion's actions. His understanding of the miners and the common folk, combined with his newfound knowledge of advanced technology, made him an invaluable asset. He bridged the gap between the high-tech world of the Skycross family and the grassroots efforts of the rebellion.

*One evening, as Edwin and Alex reviewed strategies in the VR simulation room, Edwin reflected on the journey he had undertaken. From the depths of despair in the mines to standing at the forefront of a technologically-advanced rebellion, his life had taken turns he never could have imagined.

*“We are making progress, Edwin,” Alex said, pulling up a virtual map of their planned operations. “With your insights and our tech, we’re staying one step ahead of the regime. It’s only a matter of time before we make a significant move.”

*Edwin nodded, his eyes fixed on the glowing map before him. The stakes were high, and the risks were great, but he felt prepared. The loss of his friends at the warehouse was a constant reminder of the cost of their fight, but also a driving force behind his commitment to their cause.

*As he engaged with the virtual landscape, planning their next steps, Edwin Skycross felt a sense of clarity and purpose. The rebellion was more than a fight against a tyrannical regime; it was a struggle for a future where technology and freedom could coexist, where oppression was a relic of the past.

The path ahead was fraught with challenges, but Edwin Skycross, armed with the legacy of his past and the innovations of the present, was ready to lead the way. The rebellion was evolving, growing stronger and smarter, and he was at its heart, a symbol of hope and the unyielding spirit of resistance.

Chapter 11: Unveiling Secrets

In the Skycross mansion's state-of-the-art communication room, surrounded by screens and advanced surveillance equipment, Edwin Skycross turned to Alex with a question that had been lingering in his mind. The room buzzed with the quiet hum of technology, a stark contrast to the rustic charm of the rest of the house.

"Alex, how did you know I had escaped? It wasn’t exactly something I had planned or announced,” Edwin asked, his curiosity piqued by the capabilities of the technology around them.

*Alex motioned towards the screens, displaying various feeds from around the region. “We have a network of informants and surveillance systems. When you escaped, it didn’t take long for the news to reach us. We’ve been keeping an eye on the regime’s activities, and anyone who shows signs of rebellion catches our attention.”

*Edwin absorbed this information, impressed and slightly unnerved by the extent of the Skycross family's surveillance capabilities. “So, you’ve been watching over the miners and the townsfolk?” he asked.

“Yes,” Alex replied. “It’s part of our effort to identify potential allies and gather intelligence. When we heard about your escape and the way you evaded capture, we knew you were someone special. Your actions showed resourcefulness and courage – qualities we need in this fight.”

*Edwin leaned back, considering the implications. The Skycross family had resources and reach far beyond what he had initially realized. Their ability to monitor and gather information was a significant advantage in their rebellion efforts.

*“I’m glad you found me,” Edwin said finally. “With what I know and what you can do, we can really make a difference. But I hope this surveillance can be used to protect others who are still out there, vulnerable and fighting in their own way.”

*Alex nodded in agreement. “That’s the goal, Edwin. We want to use our resources to help as many as we can. Surveillance is a tool, and like any tool, its value depends on how it's used. We aim to use it to

undermine the regime and safeguard those who stand against it. Your insights from your time in the mines are invaluable in guiding our efforts.”

*Edwin felt a sense of reassurance. The Skycross family's technological prowess was not just about advancing their cause; it was also about protection and support for the oppressed. This alignment of objectives strengthened his resolve and belief in the path he had chosen.

*As they continued to discuss strategies, Edwin realized the importance of balancing technological surveillance with ethical considerations. He voiced his thoughts, emphasizing the need to respect the privacy and autonomy of their allies and those they sought to help.

*Alex agreed, and they spent the rest of the day refining their surveillance tactics, ensuring they were used responsibly and effectively. They focused on gathering actionable intelligence, planning rescue operations, and identifying key regime targets while minimizing risk to civilians.

*The collaboration between Edwin Skycross and the Skycross family was becoming a powerful force within the rebellion. Edwin's experience on the ground, combined with the family's technological expertise, created a dynamic synergy that propelled their efforts forward.

*In the following weeks, their coordinated actions led to several successful operations. They disrupted regime supply lines, orchestrated escapes for captured rebels, and spread counter-propaganda to weaken the regime's influence. Each victory, each small triumph, was a testament to their combined strengths.

*Edwin Skycross, once a lone rebel, had found his place within a larger movement. His journey from the depths of the mines to the heart of a high-tech rebellion was a reflection of the diverse and multifaceted nature of their fight for freedom.

*As Edwin looked out from the communication room's window, watching the sun set over the horizon, he felt a deep sense of purpose. The rebellion was growing, becoming more sophisticated and more impactful. With each passing day, they were inching closer to their goal of liberation.

*The night sky, once a canvas of stars, now symbolized the vast possibilities that lay ahead. Edwin Skycross, together with the Skycross family and the rebellion they supported, was ready to face whatever challenges came their way. They were united in their cause, armed with the power of technology and the unbreakable spirit of those who yearn for freedom.

#fox #rabbit #bunny #ferret

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monarchsandfireflies · 8 months

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Character Intro/stuff - Khel the Orc Shaman

Lil bit I wrote for a character I made for WoW Classic back when it first re-released. There was a bit inbetween that I had written about some of the companions he lost on his journeys, but it was honestly kind of crap in comparison so I tossed it. The idea was to have a character in Classic who would eventually become one of the Dark Shaman present under Garrosh's regime in the Siege of Orgrimmar raid. Forgive the amateur screenwriting stuff. Anyway: Interior, Durotar caves, Day;

"What is honor to you?" As Khel wiped his brow he cursed the musty heat omnipresent within the cave his mentor called home. It was dark, save for a few torches spread about the walls just enough to provide the barest semblance of vision. Its winding tunnels and maze-like qualities proved frustrating to navigate, but at least the task he had been given was fairly simple: follow the arid tunnels to the very end and meditate.

Khel pondered the last thing he’d been asked before being sent inside. To pose such a question to your own kindred… was it not obvious?

They are Orcs, among the mightiest of all races on Azeroth. They paint fields of battle red with blood and die gloriously should they fall. They rush over armies of men like a raging inferno and lay waste to all in their path. To be an Orc is to forge your destiny in the fires of war and build an empire atop the ashes. In that at least there is honor.

But his mentor was not one to ask things so readily answered. Khel inhaled deeply, silently counting each second as he tried to clear his mind. The slow drip of sweat from his scalp suffocated and dried into dirty stains down his face from the dust he kicked up with each begrudging step. He exhaled and turned a corner.

Before him was a dead end, and sitting atop a pedestal in the center of the path was a small brazier. It was lit just barely enough to give the cave around him a faint orange glow. As he grew near it flickered and waved, hungrily consuming the surrounding air bold enough to exist within its presence.

Of all the elements, Khel thought, surely Fire embodied the Orcish spirit the most. It burned bright and always craved something more to grow its power. But what of the others? Had he neglected them? Was this experience somehow an extension of the elements themselves, craving to be held in such reverence as their cousin? Without missing a beat, a burst of wind swept by Khel and throughout the cave. Water worked in tandem with Air and cooled his sweat-drenched figure. As he sighed in sudden relief, the brazier’s flame fluttered and struggled to consume the now violent gust smothering it. Despite its best efforts, it was small and lacked the power to bend Air in its favor. The cave grew dark and still, and only charred Earth remained to tell of what once lived.

Once again Khel was left standing in the same heat that never seemed to loosen its grip over this barren land. For a while he stood, taking in his brief experience and staring at the spot Fire had once called home. Even burnt out it reminded him of his people, of Draenor. An overwhelming force bringing low such a passionate hunger for change was not unlike how Gul’dan and his demons manipulated the clans. He spat at the name as it crossed his mind.

With nothing left but a smoldering pile of charcoal for company, he turned away. This was as much a trial as it was a simple question to ponder, and to return with nothing but a few words would only get him sent back inside.

Upon further exploring the cave system, Khel discovered the quarters of his mentor. It was a meager room, and the only thing keeping intruders out were a few pieces of driftwood tied together with some thatch. A bed sat at the far end, and a table with some alchemy supplies, candles, and parchment littered with notes were positioned nearby.

However, in the middle of the room lay a set of carving tools and a few large branches perfectly spread along a ceremonial carpet. Without a word Khel set to work, and over a day’s time fashioned the proper means to answer his mentor: four small totems engraved with the symbols of each element - a physical bond between his world and the planes beyond that would now and forevermore define his path in life. As he honored them, so too would they honor him, and with it bring teachings of their own. * * * Some time later * * * Exterior, The Barrens, Day;

As he stared upwards through tearful eyes and waited to gather his energy for yet another attempt to stand, a frightening thought crossed his mind. One of the quillboars held power over the elements, just as he did. They answered its call and attacked one of their own followers, a shaman far more in tune with them than Khel had ever come close to achieving. They cared not for whom their power destroyed, only that they had the opportunity to exert it within his realm.

A pit formed in his stomach, one born of naive shame that came with his newfound infatuation with the elements, and with it came all the waves of betrayal. Khel had been mistaken: the elements were not his allies. They never had been.

There was a certain respect between them and now he knew as much, but they would not be there to protect him unless he commanded it. His totems were merely the first step in making a deal: satiate their lust for his world in exchange for being employed in whatever manner he wished at that given moment.

Mastery was no longer a matter of becoming one with the elements. To form a closer bond with them was wasted effort, as they would hold nothing back should someone direct their power his way. He would call them, but true mastery would lie in how tight of an iron grip he could manage over them once they inevitably took the bait.

Khel took a deep breath once again. It left him quickly and soon a deep, grief-stricken rage began to boil within his soul. His limbs trembled. His teeth clenched. As he called out to the elements, he heard their answer and in the moment exerted every ounce of will he could muster over their power.

Earth rumbled below him, slowly at first but graduating to a pillar that lifted his body upright. Water, and with it, Life, sapped itself from what little existed in the surrounding Air and swept over his wounds. First he took one step, and then another. His rage only grew as he clutched his mace once again and jagged rocks stuck like magnets to its head. Sparks of lightning danced across his form eager to lash out at any that dare lay so much as a finger upon his body.

Fire would answer Khel soon enough, for like Fire the orcish spirit that raged within him longed to consume and grow. It sought more than a single battle; it hungered. It thrashed and roared like the bonfire of a raiding party the night before blood would spill, and despite its heat Khel found comfort.

A new path laid before him. It was one of conquest and of power, paved in the blood and bones of his enemies. It called out like an estranged family member overjoyed to finally meet the grown seed of its brother. "How big and strong you’ve become," Khel heard it say appraisingly. "You’ll make the Horde proud yet, boy."

He saw his future. One where the skulls of pigs and men alike were crushed beneath his boot. The armies of this world would crumble under his overwhelming power and even the elemental lords themselves would bend their knee in his presence. An accord had been struck and the rules of the game had been painted in front of him. It was this, Khel thought, or it was death. Lok’tar ogar. * * * Some time later * * * Exterior, Dustwallow Marsh, Night;

It had been many months since Khel first experienced the throes of battle. Violence had begotten violence, and each new scar only served as a lesson that his mentor could have never hoped to illustrate. Each corpse was a stepping stone that no amount of patient study could plan, nor smithwork could forge. Khel had earned the power he now held within his grasp, and it would only be a matter of time before all the outer planes were subjugated.

Of all the elements he’d bound, Fire required the least coercion. It understood Khel as a kindred spirit and readily conspired against its cousins. Like dominos they fell, one after another until each of the remaining three kneeled as ravenous dogs to be set loose upon the world. No longer were the totems he made simple conduits. Rather, they were the spikes that grounded each chain leash.

A rough beating of wings contrasted against the constant white noise of the marshlands. A pair of green glowing eyes that revealed the barest silhouette of an airborne beast soared down from just above the treeline and stopped a few yards away. It was a drake, though not a very big one. As best as he could tell, Khel surmised it wasn’t much larger than a plains cat if one could grow wings. For a moment the drake remained in the air. It eagerly inspected Khel’s figure and peered about the surrounding area, only for its curious gaze to dull in frustration as its clawed feet finally touched land. “Well,” came a smooth, unenthused voice, “I assume you’ve gathered what I require?” “It is done.” Khel replied. He unlatched a leather pack from his belt and threw it to the ground in front of him. It landed with a dull thud and a clattering of varied trinkets. “Their bones, and each of the signets they once held dear. Now find me what I seek.” The unimposing form of the drake blurred with magic for only a moment, and soon after a human stood in its place. He had light, youthful skin and a mousey stature, the top of his head barely meeting Khel’s chin. Wavy black hair fell just below his shoulders, naturally blending into the black robes he wore. They were simple, though gilded along the edges and opened in the front to show loose red silk leggings and black slippers underneath. With a sigh, he bent down to retrieve the pack. “I have a name,” he said. “And if we are going to continue as partners, you’d be wise to address me with it. “I’m sure history will speak of the great and powerful Khel, yes: an unmatched and terrifying wielder of the elements the likes of which had never been seen.” he continued, brushing dirt from the pack and the bottoms of his robes as he stood. “But also of Adrexian, his loyal companion and a sinister foe in his own right. A dashing saboteur, practitioner of the arcane arts, and veritable terror of the skies from which you call forth havoc.” He posed with a flair, gesturing outwardly. “All the world shall be ours.” “I have no time for your theatrics, Adrex.” Khel said. “With every passing hour the tome I seek stands to be lost forever. Would-be heroes move to burn hideouts of the Twilight’s Hammer even now.” “I understand, dear Khel,” said Adrexian, somewhat deflated at being brushed off so quickly. “But one thing you seem to have failed to learn in all your years of peasantry is how not to be so tightly wound. Honestly, you’re worse than the mages of Dalaran. Do Orcs not drink?” Khel merely frowned in response. “No matter.” Adrexian said with a smirk as he waved for Khel to follow. “Come now, there’s elementary magic to be performed.”

#creative writing #writing #world of warcraft #warcraft oc #warcraft rp #warcraft

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