#i think inklings has finally born fruit for me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

couchpotatoaniki · 3 years

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Our Fruitless Tree

As children, the three of you were inseparable. To show this, you planted a mulberry tree together--a symbol of your love and ever-lasting friendship that would withstand the test of time. But would it really?

Pairing: Servant!Hongjoong x Royal!Reader x Nobleman!Seonghwa Genre: Royal AU, Arranged marriage AU, Love triangle, heavy angst, fluff, childhood friends to lovers (?), Fantasy AU, Warnings: swearing, mentions of conception, blood, death (unknown terminal illness; tree), unrequited love, extremely poor story-telling, magic torture, Word Count: 5.8k+

@atozfic IT MAY BE SHIT, BUT THIS ONE’S FOR YOU /g

A/N: the bridal bouquet in this is inspired by Princess Diana’s. I dunno, I just really liked it.

“Y/N! Come look over here!” Seonghwa yelled at you, hand waving in the air to beckon you over where Hongjoong and he stood. Even as children, the two were taller than you, as if their bodies had not cared you were of a higher status.

You were the only child of the Kingdom’s royal family, meaning that you had little in the way of friends. Especially when the future crown stuck to you, intimidating any future playmates. Luckily Seonghwa was the son of a family friend--a nobleman with immense power, who’s faithful lineage dated back to the creation of the kingdom.

Hongjoong was similar, the only difference being that he came from that of a servant family than of one of power, a debt made by his ancestors that had sold his life to serve the royal family. But being your servant had taught him from a young age that, unlike what everyone had tried to make you believe, you were pretty much a normal human with feelings, the weight of an entire empire on your shoulders from the day you were born.

“Coming!” you yelled back, hurriedly making your way towards your only two friends, the younger holding something behind his back while the older was practically bouncing with excitement. “What are you hiding from me?”

Grinning, Seonghwa’s hands pulled into sight, unfurling to show off the sapling in his hand. “It’s a mulberry tree! You love mulberries, don’t you?”

You believe that was the first time your heart skipped a beat--at the young age of 11--but you wouldn’t realise until a quite few years later, when life was much different, though the relationship between the three of you had not changed all that much.

That day was a precious memory, where the three of you had planted the young mulberry sapling in a secret garden that your father had built just for you, but you had opened it to Seonghwa and Hongjoong; a place where none of you had to bare the titles hovering over your heads.

Even the Earth was indiscriminate when it came to dirtying your clothes as you all kneeled to plant the young sapling easily becoming the most important thing in your friendship.

Had the three of you acting as if it was your shared child, arguing who would water the roots, talking to it as if it could respond.

As the years went on, life was much different than when you were all naïve children, but the care and love you had never weakened, even during the occasional arguments that burst between you all.

With age, Hongjoong’s untameable burnt-chocolate hair lightened to a gentle chestnut, long enough that he had to tie it back into a little bun. Seonghwa’s hair, on the other hand, had changed from a soft platinum to a dirty blonde, messy strands now pulled down into a neat style.

The two were lean. Both still taller than you, though Hongjoong was only a few inches from you.

The three of you truly believed you could withstand the test of time. That your relationship would never change no matter how long it had been.

“Are you ready for tomorrow?” you whispered, hand clamped to the stone railing of your balcony. “It’s your last chance to back out, Seonghwa.”

You could hear chuckling beside you, deeper than what you used to hear as a kid, though you dared not to look at the boy--the man beside you. “You know very well I can’t do that, Y/N. Would rather it be me that’s marrying you than some officious fool who knows nothing of your happiness.”

Sighing, you leaned over, letting your necklace dangling slightly in the air from around your neck. “Doesn’t mean you have to sacrifice your own happiness.”

You felt two colder hands wrap around your exposed arms, feeling nice against the humid summer night. Seonghwa’s chin rested down on your shoulder, as he looked on the same scene you were. Soft breaths against your skin had it erupting with goosebumps, and you prayed your friend had not noticed.

He did, but didn’t pay much heed to it--as per usual. If only he would put a little more though into the strange quirks you developed over time--developed around him and him only--maybe he would have realised that you loved him.

More than a friend.

Both of you were too lost in the moment to realise someone had entered your room. The final person to complete your trio. Hongjoong, dressed in his crisp cream and gold uniform, overlooked the scene of you two.

He didn’t know why his heart hurt so badly.

Clearing his throat certainly got your attention, ripping away from each other in fear that someone had caught you two a night before the wedding doing something you shouldn’t have. Was nothing like that, but people--especially those in the castle--tended to blow things out of proportion.

Upon seeing that it was only Hongjoong, you two had released a breath of relief. “For heaven’s sake, Hongjoong! You almost gave me a heart attack,” you said. Seonghwa had his eyes averted to the polished marble floor, unable to meet his friend’s, cheeks flushed.

You thought it was because of embarrassment that someone had caught the two of you so late at night.

It wasn’t.

“I think it would be best for you to return to your room, Seonghwa. Before someone actually does come looking for you. Don’t want someone to see you too,” Hongjoong laughed, now an expert at making a light-hearted aura around him with years of practice.

“Alright then. Good night,” the nobleman smiled, finally bringing his sight up to see his best friend, heart beating feverishly when he saw the gentle smile pulling at his lips. Couldn’t tell it wasn’t real, not even as he left the room.

Now it was just you and Hongjoong.

“Come, let’s take a walk.”

For as long as you could remember, the boy had been attentive to your needs (despite his occasional silly behaviour), long before he was told that it was his job. You’d like to think of it as his sixth sense; knowing how you were, what you needed, when you needed him.

Maybe that’s why he could tell that you had pre-wedding jitters, feeling so sick you barely had the life in you--skin looking more dreary than usual. You needed time away, even for a few minutes, to take a breather from all the commotion.

The two of you walked in silence in the sleeping halls, like two thieves in the night, careful not to wake anyone up.

Hongjoong was aware you liked Seonghwa, but he knew it was unrequited. Why, he could not his finger on. You were prefect, a person who deserved all the love in the world--in the universe.

You knew better than to ask where he was taking you; after all, you trusted him. And maybe because you also knew him well enough to know where he was taking you.

To the secret garden.

“She’s withstood all the storms and droughts the earth has threatened her with. No wonder her bark is so thick and her roots so tough.” His voice was tender as the tips of his fingers brushed against the rough bark, the trunk appearing darker under the absence of the sun. “Gotten so big, hasn’t she?”

As if his actions were a trigger, your hand reached out to stroke the mulberry tree too. “She has...” Tender look in your expression had his breath caught in his throat. Your eyes shifted to meet his, which were already gazing at you. “Do you think she’ll bare fruit this time?”

“The frost has long passed, so not this year, I believe.” Hongjoong couldn’t bare the instant hollow look in your eyes, saddened to his core until the light reignited in your irises--almost glowing in the dark like the fireflies surrounding them.

“But she will next year, right?”

“And she will bare the tastiest fruit. Better than those sold on the markets,” he reassured, though he had an inkling of suspicion that this fruit would not come any time soon. Not after all these years. But that spark in your eyes was the only thing he could not bare to extinguish, so he kept his lips pursed.

“I was reading up on the symbolism of the mulberry trees across cultures,” you said, moving to sit on the wooden swing that hung from one of the stronger branches; the rope had rose vines growing around it, which Hongjoong made sure to maintain so it was safe for you whenever you came. This was your favourite spot, after all.

He raised a brow, moving behind you as his hands rested on your back momentarily before pushing you slightly. “Is that so? Mind telling me?” He already knew from his extensive research to look after the tree, but there was no harm in hearing it again.

Excitedly, you let a wide grin play against your lips as he gradually pushed you higher and higher. “So, in Xiqen, it’s seen as a link between Heaven and Earth, and in Mika, it represents a support, nurturing and self-sacrifice.”

“Is that all?”

“Uh...yes.”

“Strange... I could’ve sworn there was some significance of the mulberry tree in Zepheth.” He began to slow down when he saw your back slump over slightly. Probably because he knew that it wasn’t a happy story.

“There is,” you mumbled, eyes downcast to the evergreen grass rather than meet his soft chocolate ones. “Just... it’s very sad.”

He held your hands in his larger ones, both of you loving the warmth it provided despite the slight heat of the night. “Not all stories are happy. Need to hear the sad ones too, to truly understand the picture.”

Words were a bit cryptic, even for him. Regardless, you had continued. “In Zepheth, there were these two lovers who were forbidden to wed, so they secretly arranged to meet under the mulberry tree. However, they were found out, and killed under the tree, staining the white berries red... It symbolises star-crossed lover and the final union of death.”

The air seemed to be still, despite the rustling of the leaves and chirping of the hidden crickets. Hongjoong kneeled down, pressing a hand onto your cheek to soothe even the slightest bit the grief in your face. “Good thing the other two have nice symbols. Cancels the bad things out.”

Chuckling slightly, you rested your own hand on his, nuzzling into his palm as your eyes shut. Stark contrast between your skins, yours being softer than silk while his were calloused and rough. But it felt nice against the supple flesh of your cheek.

You both thought so.

But with the moon so high and hair beginning to stick to your necks from the humidity and heat, you thought it best to return. “Escort me to my chambers? After all, it is a very big day tomorrow and we both have to rise early for the final preparations.”

As if he needed reminding of that. “Very well then.”

Your servant wasn’t happy with the proceedings--not when he knew that Seonghwa’s eyes did not meet the passion you had in yours, despite your many years of friendship. But he had to agree with him on one thing.

Seonghwa was the best and safest choice you (and the kingdom) had in this moment of time.

So Hongjoong didn’t protest when you walked down the isle in the most breath-taking attire, adorned with pearls and jewels, and a gorgeous bouquet of green and white; gardenias, lily of the valley, earl mountbatten roses, freesia, and ivy--and most importantly, white mulberries.

He didn’t challenge when the vows were spoken and Seonghwa promised to love you and only you forever.

He didn’t object when the Priestess gave the crowd one last chance to speak or forever hold their peace before the deal was sealed with a kiss.

Despite his gut and every other fibre in his being screaming at him otherwise.

Another two decades passed, and now strands of white hairs were peeking through, but unlike before, much had changed. You were now a parent of three--triplets, conceived within the first few tries.

Yunho, San, and Wooyoung. The mulberries of your eyes.

You suppose that’s when the rose-tint on your married life began to fade. Though he was extremely affectionate in the beginning, Seonghwa never touched you like that again after the birth of your children. Though the three kids never really noticed it much as it was all they had known, you could see it clearly.

How he would spend more and more time in his office. How he would climb in bed and talk about your day, but doing nothing more. It was if you two had reverted back to friends--that very thought breaking your heart when you had loved him so dearly.

Felt as if he looked at your feelings as if it were a trinket in a shop before putting it back, not finding it suitable enough for him.

But for Seonghwa, that wasn’t the case at all.

He tried--he really did--to love you.

By now, time had made him wise enough to know of your compassion for him and he begged himself to return your feelings. Spent many nights while you were asleep praying to the entities residing in the Heavens, crying on the hard floor of the palace’s temple until his arms grew sore and his legs went numb.

But he could not look at any other. Seonghwa could not stop his heart knocking against his chest, his cheeks pooling with heat, whenever he saw Hongjoong smile, or laugh, or do the most menial of tasks.

Could not stop the thoughts of him being by his side rather than you--and it killed him to think that, especially when you have been nothing but kind and loving to the both of them--never giving your personal servant too much work or being too stubborn in wanting your husband’s affection. Instead of pressing too much, you worked on the kids and kingdom.

You were kind, selfless.

Maybe Seonghwa should have let someone else marry you. Maybe they could love you back for all those times he couldn’t.

But he supposes that the best thing out of this marriage was his children. Despite Yunho’s hyperactivity, San’s clinginess, and Wooyoung’s mischievousness, he loved the three to the moon and back.

Helped you in raising them over the last two decades into great people.

It was the only thing he couldn’t bring himself to regret.

That, and how it had given him the excuse to be closer with Hongjoong too, the two of them learning how to look after the triplets (one already proved to be a handful, but three was a nightmare) while you were unwell or busy with other business.

There were times where he glanced at his childhood friend, playing games with the young kids or feeding them or changing them, and had completely forgotten about you. All that swirled in his head was if this is what it would look like if Hongjoong and he had a family together.

Then Seonghwa would snap out of it a spilt second later, cold shame eating away at the warmth in his chest because how could he ever think of such a thing about the mother of his kids?

Meanwhile, Hongjoong--your intelligent and faithful servant--had figured this out too. Figured out the reason why he felt so sick to his stomach when he saw you be so loving towards a man who doesn’t love you back, and why said man could not reciprocate your feelings.

If Seonghwa felt guilty, then Hongjoong felt a million times worse.

Felt as if he was the reason you were in so much pain--and he could tell you were, because he was the one you came running to in the beginning, when your husband kept his wall up around you and you became so frustrated and upset that you spilled waterfalls of salty tears onto his jacket, mumbling words of pain and heartbreak that stayed within the walls of the secret garden.

It stayed safe there, as Seonghwa no longer visited.

Not even you had visited less, despite being consumed with your children and the work of the kingdom. The tree was a sign of your love for each other, it was your very first child.

Hongjoong, too, had stayed. Continued to care for it, to keep it company on his breaks, to talk about his problems since he certainly could not tell you or Seonghwa. His own tears often landed on the roots of the tree, nurturing it with his pain.

Perhaps that’s why the tree had not bore any mulberries, from the saltiness of the water or the anguish it carried.

But he kept whispering the same thing to you whenever you asked, that the mulberries would definitely come, and they would be tastiest you would ever have. Better than those from the markets.

Five more years had passed and you grew ill. Hid it well, so well that no one except the royal physician knew of your condition. Not even Hongjoong knew, so you took that as an achievement. Rarely anything got by him, especially when it came to you.

Dr Yeosang had looked at you with dreary eyes, putting his equipment away which had signalled the end of your appointment. “Anything?” you inquired, coughing into a blood-stained napkin.

“I’m afraid there is still no diagnosis. None of the symptoms match up to any known illnesses and it appears that it is not spread by people since everyone else in the palace is as fit as a fiddle.”

Your smile was small as you chuckled. “Everyone except me, it seems,” you joked in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Yeosang simply sighed. “I believe it’s time. Tell your family before it gets even worse--which it has been doing since the first appointment. At least Hongjoong.”

“You know very well I can’t do that. We’re in the middle of a drought and there’s raids going on in the North--”

“Every kingdom faces those, and yours has already dealt with such situations in the past very well.”

You looked away, cheeks now starting to sink in from the lack of appetite. “I know,” you whispered, ”but I can’t bring myself to say it.”

He licked his lips in contemplation, understanding why you wouldn’t want to tell anyone. A monarch is as strong as the kingdom--any instability in the family will cause instability for the nation. And the same goes for a parent and their family.

“I suppose I can try to hide it a little longer... but a month is all I can do--from the rate your illness is progressing.”

Lips tightening in a thin line, you nodded. There was never going to be enough time. Would go greedy, wishing for a month, then another, then another. But your timer was non-negotiable.

So the first thing you did when you left the royal physicians was go see your sons. If there were anyone who needed your attention, they would be your boys.

Short on breath, you tried to travel swiftly through the hallways--bones, now weary with age and sickness, no longer moving the same way as you used to. As you made your way to the royal family’s private wing, you overheard wisps of conversation through a nearby door.

Slowing to a halt, you listened closer, recognising the voices but not seeming to put names to them--brain too muddled to think straight.

“--know.”

“You can’t do that, Seonghwa. Not to her.”

“I can’t force myself to stop caring about you, Hongjoong!”

Your heart stopped mid-beat.

“Keep your voice down!” There was a pause while the floorboards of Seonghwa’s private office creaked, most likely Hongjoong’s habit of pacing while he was thinking. “You need to. I care about you as a friend, but nothing more.”

“You think if I could, I would’ve done so already?” your husband’s voice was seething. “Heavens know how hard I have tried to love her, b-but I just can’t!”

“Well I can’t love you back, if that’s what you’re asking for.”

Another stretch of silence passed, and you could almost imagine the two glaring at each other as they normally did in a fight. “Because you love her. Am I correct?”

A soft sigh came from who you assumed was Hongjoong, quiet but still loud enough for your ears to capture (greatly timed to cover your own gasp at the revelation).

“I don’t know...”

“What do you mean by that?”

“...Nothing.”

“Hongjoong, you know you can tell me anything. Regardless of our positions before or after this conversation, we will always be friends.”

“This is better kept between me and the Heavens.” He sighed once more. “All you need to know is that we can’t be together because I don’t love you and I have my loyalty. End of discussion.”

Had it been anyone else, Seonghwa would’ve had them arrested for speaking that way to their king. But neither of you could ever so that to him. He was your rock, your old friend--his loyalty shining bright even after all these years of serving you.

Before Hongjoong could open the door, you had fled the scene, not wanted to be caught eavesdropping on such a private conversation--even if the topic had concerned you.

Just before entering the Princes’ linked chambers, you caught your breath, willing your pounding heart to stop beating so feverishly.

There was too much going on. Too much, and your brain can’t seem to wrap itself around it all.

“So that’s why,” you whispered, lacking breath in your lungs. “His heart belongs to another...” Then a fit of coughs burst once more and your hands scrambled to retrieve a fresh napkin tucked beneath your sleeve to catch the blood.

Upon hindsight, it was a bad idea to stop in front of your son’s private room, because your extreme coughing had caught his attention. Yunho’s confused eyes melted away to concern, especially after seeing the dark red liquid tainting the pure white cloth.

“Mother!”

His cry had attracted the attention of your other two sons, who swarmed around you as Yunho cradled his arms around you, guiding you to his bed.

San brushed the strands of hair that had escaped from your tight bun away from your face while Wooyoung rubbed your back in attempt to sooth your violent coughing. “What’s wrong, Mum?”

“We need to tell Papa!”

“We need Dr Yeosang--”

“He knows,” you tried to say, doing your breath to bring your breathing back to normal. “The doctor. He’s known... for a long time.”

“What do you mean ‘a long time’?” San asked, his hands clasped around yours, a desperate look in his eyes begging for an explanation. “What’s going on, Mama?”

Not right now. You were supposed to have a month extra. They weren’t supposed to find out so soon. “I...” you throat felt tight and dry, “I’m very unwell. The doctor doesn’t know what’s wrong because he’s never seen anything like it before.”

“Then we get a new doctor!” Yunho piped in, voice raised and slightly frantic. You really didn’t need them panicking.

“If Yeosang doesn’t know, then no one will.”

“What about Dad?” Wooyoung asked. “Does he know? Uncle Hongjoong has to know, right? Uncle Hongjoong always kn--”

“Neither of them know. We must keep it that way. So you need to pretend that I’m healthy and well for just one more month. That’s all I ask for. One month.”

You looked between all your children, trying to memorise their faces because Heavens know how long you have left.

As promised, the boys kept your secret for as long as they could--caring and tending to you as much as they could without arousing suspicion from Hongjoong or Seonghwa.

But before your month was up, you had collapsed just after a dinner--slipping in and out of consciousness while your old friend carried you up to Yeosang’s office, the rest of your family in tow, beyond worried.

Yeosang later explained, when you were fully awake, that whatever illness you had was growing at a much faster rate than he anticipated, and you had a few weeks at most.

Now, you were bedridden in your chambers, limbs too heavy and painful to move, lungs feeling like they were being pressed down from the gravity and it got harder and harder to keep your eyes open.

Not a day went by where your sons or husband visited you, and Hongjoong had rarely ever left your side. As strong as they all tried to be, their puffy crimson eyes and sniffling noses were all too obvious.

“Seonghwa? Hongjoong?” you said, voice faint and dry. “Could you go out... for a few minutes. I need to... talk to the boys.”

They exchanged glances, before following your quiet word. “What is it, Mama?” San said, crouched beside you as he held your hand once again.

Even as a man in his mid-twenties, your little baby still called you ‘Mama’ and refused to let go of his mother’s hand. Found you as the most comforting thing in the world.

“Remember... the mulberry tree? The one I showed you?”

“Yeah, Ma,” Wooyoung said leaning against the wall that faced you. Despite his playful and nonchalant nature, you knew he was the most emotional one out of the three. Which was why you were very concerned over his silence for the past few days until he finally spoke now.

“I want you three... to look after it once I’m gone.”

“You’re not going, Mother,” Yunho sniffled, tears in his eyes threatening to drop. He was the oldest (by a few minutes) and was still the most respectful. But even then, he was still a kind and soft-hearted boy, much like his brothers.

“But promise me... regardless. That you’ll look after her. And when she finally bares fruit...”

“It’ll be the tastiest fruit,” your sons recited in unison, eyes glossy with unshed tears, “better than any other on the markets.”

With the little strength you had left, you mustered a weak smile. “My good boys... You will become... fine kings one day. I have no doubt.” You let go of San’s hand, hand instantly being consumed by the cold from the lack of insulation and warm blood pumping through your veins. “Now... call in your Father and Uncle.”

And they did so, leaving the room to leave the three of you alone. “What is it, my dear?” Seonghwa caressed your cheek lovingly, but you both knew that it was more of a platonic gesture than a romantic one--more for you than it was for him.

“I know...about your love for Hongjoong.”

You could feel the tension in the air thicken to such a degree that you could slice it with the letter opener that resided on your bedside table. It was Hongjoong who spoke up. “Y/N, you need to know that we never--”

“Did anything... I know.” You look to him, that same weak smile plastering on your face. “Such a loyal friend. Never did deserve you, did I?”

He shook his head as he came down to hold your hand. “No--don’t say that. If anything, I didn’t deserve you as a friend.”

You chuckled softly, careful not to trigger another one of your coughing fits. “If I can’t say things like that... then neither can you. But I would like you both to do two final things for me.”

“Anything,” his voice was still strong, unwavering, but you knew Hongjoong long enough to see the stormy ocean behind his calm gaze, the turmoil he must be feeling right now from losing his closest and oldest friend.

“First thing is.. be happy,” you shifted your gaze over to your husband, “and you too. If you can’t with me... then at least with each other.”

For the first time, your servant let go of your hands, denying your request. “I can’t be happy without you.”

“Then learn to do so. After all, you have... the rest of your life.”

He couldn’t verbally agree to that, not when what he said was true. Not when his own heart lay in your possession--and would to until the day he passed as well. So Seonghwa took the painful step in asking what your second wish was.

You recalled the Zepheth’s symbol of your most beloved possession. Star-crossed lovers and the final union of death. Though the three of you were stuck in a sick triangle of unrequited love by the Heavens, it felt fitting for your story.

And perhaps, with your permanent presence, the fruit would finally grow.

“Bury me under the mulberry tree.”

Extra, alternative ending below If you’re not a fan of fantasy or torturous spirits or man-eating trees, just stop here.

Two young travellers searched around the ruins of a lost palace, greenery overflowing, filling every nook and cranny of the battered stone walls--a rather beautiful sight of Mother Nature reclaiming her lands.

“Where even are we, Mingi?” the shorter, more muscular one of the pair said, stumbling over vines and rubble as he followed the much taller man.

“Not where we’re meant to be, I think,” he quipped, looking at the architecture to find some clues of their whereabouts.

The other rolled his eyes. “This would’ve been a lot easier if you didn’t drop the map in the river.”

“Hey! In my defence, it was really windy and the rain made the ground slippery. Leave me alone, Jongho.”

“Not until you give me a damn map.”

Like the archaeology student he was, Mingi studied the tattered tapestry and engravings on the walls until it had hit him. “Holy mother of fresh, sweet hell.”

“What?”

Without answering his best friend’s question, the man too off running, as if he already knew the layout of the place. Jongho ran after him, screaming and almost tripping over the vegetation in the way of his heavy boots.

Once Mingi stopped, his friend held his knees, heaving to catch his breath. “What... the hell... was that for?”

Swivelling on his heel, the tall explorer had sparkles in his eyes. “This is it! The Lost Kingdom! The thing we’ve been looking for!”

Jongho’s head snapped up. “You mean you’ve been looking for? I was just dragged along by your antics as usual.” He narrowed his eyes when he finally saw where his friend took him. “A tree? You took me to see a goddamn TREE?!”

Mingi got closer the enormous mulberry tree, gazing at it as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. “Not just any tree. It’s the Queen Y/N’s tree!”

“Okay, let me get this straight,” Jongho sighed, feeling the rage burn within him like a furnace, “you took me to see a dead woman’s tree?”

“Yes, but--”

“WE ALMOST DIED, MINGI! TWICE!” He held up two fingers, expressing his point further. “AND ALL THAT FOR A GODDMAN TREE?!”

“The lore surrounding it was well worth the trip,” a voice said, the two boys’ head spinning to see a person dressed in old, fancy clothing, perched upon the swing--now completely covered with vines and moss. Both of them swore they hadn’t noticed them there. Yet, they brushed it off anyways, thinking that they just had silent movement.

“Who are you?” Mingi asked, head cocked to the side as he became familiar with the sight of them.

“The protector of this tree,” they replied. “Who are you?”

“Some travellers...sightseeing,” Jongho piped in, sceptical of this person who looked like they were in their twenties, just like them.

“You were talking about lore?” The older of the two inquired, already greatly invested in the whole place. “Are you familiar with it?”

“Why, I must be. After all, I look after her,” they said, lovingly stroking the trunk of the tree. “Would you like to hear it?”

“Yes, please!” Mingi sat down, like a child excited for story time despite knowing the book by-heart, while Jongho stayed stood up beside him.

“Well, once upon a time, there was a very strong and powerful Kingdom--”

“The Lost Kingdom!” the child-like man shot out, too giddy to hold back.

The person giggled, his antics reminding them of someone they used to know. “Yes, I believe that’s what you call it. Well, there were three children that lived here; one was of royalty, one of nobility, and the third was a servant--but they were the best of friends, despite their status.”

The muscular boy narrowed his eyes at the childish tone the person was using, not liking how it sounded--how it started to make him feel weary.

“They planted this tree,” they tapped the trunk with their hand, “right here, and nurtured it for as long as they could. As they grew older, the royal and nobleman got married and had children together, while the servant dedicated his life to helping them.”

Jongho sat down, feeling more dreary than normal, coughing a little, while Mingi did the same, not feeling so well either.

“They were all still close, regardless of personal disputes between them, but their love for each other began to weaken only once the tree remained barren of fruit. But they kept up hope, saying that it will the next year.”

The travellers had found it hard to breath, as if there was a pressure on their lungs, squeezing them flat.

“But then, the royal found out they were dying, so they asked to buried under the mulberry tree. In their mind, their body would give the tree the nutrients it needed to finally bare the mulberries they so desperately craved. But no fruit had bore, making the spirit of the royal restless.”

Jongho coughed violently, thick red liquid dribbling down his chin, looking over to Mingi who was hunched over in pain. "But... that’s a fruitless... mulberry tree.”

It appeared to be the wrong thing to say, as their brows furrowed, scowl pulling at their lips, the swing stopped swinging. “And who are you to say that?”

“Because I study... goddamn plants.”

Then it clicked in Mingi’s head--what was going on. “Jongho... shut up--” His chest squeezed harder, a yelp escaping his lips as he toppled to the side.

“Carrying on from that rude interruption,” the person glared at the younger of the two, who was now lying on his side, curled into the foetal position, “the nobleman and servant then died a while after, and were buried side-by-side with the royal.”

Overgrown roots of the tree began to soften, becoming more flexible like snakes as they began to slither their way to the two young boys.

“But even their bodies weren’t enough. So the royal’s spirit swore to use whatever they could to make the tree finally bare fruit.”

The roots wrapped around each boys ankle, spiralling up until it wrapped the two of them in a cocoon. And neither of them could do anything, too tired to yell or move around, succumbing to the sweet release of sleep.

Getting up off the swing, the person rested their forehead on the trunk of the tree.

“And it will be the tastiest fruit. Better than any other on the markets.”

A/N: If you didn’t get it, the tree not growing any fruit was a metaphor of unrequited love. I feel like I didn’t really explain that properly, but there you go.

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razieltwelve · 4 years

Text

Grand Design (Final Rose x GOT)

This goes with The Prince and the Rose.

X X X

Ned Stark read through his daughter’s proposal carefully. For a girl of only eleven years, her writing was impeccable. However, it was her logic that impressed him the most. She had always been cleverer than any girl her age had a right to be, but she also tempered that intelligence with practicality. She was not given to losing herself in flights of fancy. Instead, she was ruthless in applying her intellect in service to their family and the North.

Her proposal was no different.

It laid out in clear terms how she had studied everything she could about the great, productive mines of the Seven Kingdoms. She had paid particular attention to the environment and surroundings of those mines in a bid to identify patterns, and she had succeeded. If her reasoning was correct - and she’d yet to be wrong about something this important - then she had identified a method to find potentially productive mines through examining their surroundings.

Moreover, she had used her newly developed technique to identify dozens of potentially fruitful locations throughout the North. Iron. Silver. Coal. Copper. Gold. Those were just five of the resources she claimed to have identified. By the gods, if even a quarter of the potential mine sites turned out to be correct…

“You have read this proposal, have you not?” Ned asked Maester Luwin.

The old man nodded gravely. “I have, my lord.”

“And what do you think?”

The maester took a deep breath. “You already know my thoughts on your eldest daughter. She is… brilliant. Had a fellow maester submitted such a proposal, I have no doubt he would be feted throughout the Citadel. For a child to come up with such a thing… truly the gods have blessed her.” He nodded firmly. “I have examined her proposal from every angle, my lord. I see no reason to doubt her method. All that remains now is to test it.”

“Indeed.” Ned took a deep breath. If this worked, then the North would profit most handsomely indeed. “I will send men to the locations she had identified. If the gods are kind, then my daughter’s method will prove accurate and the North will find itself much richer for it.”

X X X

Ned called his daughter into his solar. As always, there was a solemn air about her, one that lightened slightly as she sat opposite him. He bit back a smile. His serious daughter never failed to show warmth around her family and friends. “Lyara, I have finally received word from the men I have dispatched. Of the locations you suggest, around a third look to be extremely promising.”

“Only a third?”

She frowned, and Ned chuckled before pulling her into a hug. “Do you truly not understand what this means, my daughter? For generations, the North has been the largest of the Seven Kingdoms, yet we have not been blessed with the wealth of the West or the bounty of the Reach… or so we thought. Indeed, we have often been looked down upon by the South. Yet now…” He couldn’t stop himself from grinning. “It will take time for the mines to be set up, but to have gold, silver, copper, iron, and coal in the North is like a dream come true, and the North has you to thank.”

“Everything I do is for our family and the North,” Lyara replied. “It always seemed odd to me that the North should be so big yet have so little in the way of mines. Studying what the mines of the South had in common seemed as good an idea as any.”

“You are full of ideas,” Ned replied. “And all of them seem to work out.” Indeed, he had enjoyed one of those ideas earlier in the morning. Lyara had invented a dish she called ‘pancakes’ along with something she called ‘maple syrup’. Who knew that something so delicious could come from the sap of a tree? He had no doubt it would prove popular throughout the rest of the North and even the South. Better still, the trees it came from were found almost exclusively in the North. “It is like you were born knowing things.”

His daughter’s smile had a hint of mischief in it. “Perhaps I was, father.” He brows furrowed. “But do you think you could speak to the kitchen staff? There are a few more things I’d like to try…”

“Of course, Lyara. If they are anywhere near as good as pancakes and maple syrup, I see no reason to stop you.”

X X X

The first inkling that Edward Baratheon - who had once been Diana Yun-Farron - ad that someone from his old life had made it to Westeros as well was when Lord Eddard Stark sent a shipment of maple syrup to her father, the king. Now, maple syrup was something new in the Seven Kingdoms. Indeed, Edward had wanted to make it only to be told that maple trees didn’t grow in the south. Along with a good supply of the stuff, Lord Stark had also sent a recipe for pancakes.

“By the gods,” Robert groaned as he shovelled a pancake covered in butter and syrup into his mouth. “Is this what they eat in the North?” He laughed. “Cersi, tell the children we’re headed north.”

The queen chuckled. She was eating in a more refined manner than her husband, but it was clear she was enjoying the food every bit as much. “Robert, we’ll need a better excuse than that to go north. Besides, I’m sure your good friend, Lord Stark, would be happy to provide more of this…” She glanced at Edward meaningfully.

“It’s called maple syrup, mother.”

“Ah, right. I’m sure Lord Stark will be happy to provide more maple syrup.” Cersei ate another slice of pancake. “Although these pancakes are an interesting idea too. I am curious to see how they taste with other things.”

“He said his girl came up with both,” Robert rumbled. “She must be blessed by the gods if she can come ups tin stuff like this.” He stopped eating for a moment and straightened. “He also mentioned they’d found some goodly deposits of gold, silver, copper, iron, and coal in the North as well.”

“Truly?” Cersei raised one eyebrow. “I had thought the North lacked such things.”

“So did I.” Robert lowered his voice and looked sternly at the Kingsguard in the room. It was clear he wished the next words kept secret. “He said his daughter came up with some method to find mines.”

“But… she must only be a girl still. Where would she learn such things?” Cersei wondered.

“Aye,” Robert replied. “But look at our boy here.” He pointed to Edward.

Edward grinned charmingly, giving his father what the powerfully built man had come to call the ‘Lannister smile’. “Me, father?”

“Don’t be daft or overly modest, boy. The maesters tell me you’re a genius, and I’ve talked with your uncle enough to know most of the schemes that company of yours is using to make coin are your idea. You’re a boy still, but you’ve managed to drive the price of steel down by more than half with your new methods, and I’m told that’s only the beginning. Likewise, those potions and liquors you’ve come up with are worth their weight in gold.”

“Well, I can’t say that I’m completely hopeless.” Edward grinned toothily, his smile all Baratheon this time. “Although it would be nice if I could borrow some reliable men.”

“Oh?” Robert grinned back. “What are you scheming now, son?”

“I have heard rumours of how silk is produced, credible rumours.”

Cersei stared. “Truly?” The price of silk was exorbitant at the best of times, and as much as she wished to have more of the lovely fabric, it was difficult to procure in large quantities.

“Aye, and I might even be able to start producing it too… if the right men could be found to carry out a mission for me. They’d need to be cunning men, ingenious too, and dependable above all.”

“I’ll look into it,” Robert promised. He’d never been much of a merchant, but his son had done a good job of explaining many of the more boring concepts in ways that were interesting. “Silk, eh? That would definitely help fill our coffers.”

“It certainly would, father.” Edward looked over to where his siblings were enjoying their food. “But enough of that. We should focus on enjoying this fine meal.”

His father laughed and went back to wolfing down his own pancakes. Normally, Edward would have been doing the same, but his attention was elsewhere. After all, he recognised the recipe for the pancakes. It was one he knew himself. In his old life, his parents had used it, and he had lovingly passed it down to his own children as well. Was it a coincidence, or had someone else from Remnant made it to Westeros?

Still, the introduction of maple syrup had reminded him of something he should have done long ago. His efforts until now had all been directed at earning enough coin to fix the parlous state of the royal coffers. Now that he - and the royal family as a whole - was practically swimming in money, he could turn his attention to food, namely, condiments.

Oh, yes, he couldn’t wait to make some proper condiments.

X X X

Ser Barristan eyed the ‘laboratory’ as Prince Edward called it with no small amount of wariness. The boy was undoubtedly brilliant, but his enthusiasm occasionally reminded the old knight of the pyromancers that had served the Mad King. Of course, it helped soothe his worries that prince’s efforts were usually devoted to either enriching the royal family or helping the kingdom’s people.

“What are you working on, Your Highness?” he asked.

The prince merged, a tall boy of twelve, with half a dozen men at his heels. Two were maesters, and the other four had been hired by the prince himself as apprentices of a sort. All of them looked at him with something approaching adulation for the knowledge and wisdom that seemed to emerge from him like some kind of gods-given gift.

“As you now, Ser Barristan, contaminated water is one of the single greatest causes of illness amongst the people.”

“Aye,” Barristan said. “That has always been the case, Your Highness. I wish it were not so, but…”

“Well,” the prince said, smirking. “That will no longer be the case!”

“Truly?” Ser Barristan asked. Oh, he had waited so long to serve a worthy king. Robert was doing much better now, but it was the boy before him that he truly believed in. Aye, Edward would be a great king one day, a king who could work wonders for the sake of his people. “How?”

“This.” The prince brought forth a jar of powder. “Although the ingredients are not exactly uncommon, extracting them in the correct purity and concentration was the tricky part. When this powder is added to unclean water, it cleanses it and makes it safe to drink.”

“It is a wonder,” one of the maesters said. “And to think it all came from a theory the young prince had regarding disease…”

“A theory?”

“We can talk about it later,” the prince said. “What matters is that if you add a certain amount of powder to water, then it will be made clean and safe for drinking.”

“But… surely such a thing would be expensive,” Barristan murmured. Certainly, he knew many people who would pay handsomely for it.

“It would have been had I not devoted time to honing the process of making it, and I know I could beggar people who wish to ensure their safety. However, I have no intention of asking too much for it. I am sure a family of even modest means will be able to afford the price I set.”

“That is… noble.”

“Yes, but it is also practical.” The prince grinned. “You see, Ser Barristan, the crown gets much of its income from taxes. We can only tax people if they can work. Sick people cannot work. In a very real sense, making this powder affordable will actually ensure the crown collects more taxes.”

“Ah.” The knight smiled. “A fine reason if someone asks you why you are willing to sell such a potent substance so cheaply.”

“Money is nice, set, but it should not be the only concern,” the prince replied. “Besides, I am to be king one day. What kind of king would I be if I chose to watch them suffer when aiding them was within my power?”

Ser Barristan inclined his head. “It is an honour to serve you, Your Highness.”

X X X

Robb Stark would forever the first time that he ever saw Lyara truly angry. Oh, sister could be grumpy, and she did scowl and glare rather more than was normal, but he’d never seen her truly angry before. And he was glad he had not, for the expression on her face, the sheer, murderous fury in her eyes was enough to terrify even him, and he wasn’t even the target of her ire.

The wildling holding Bran froze, his knife still held near the boy’s throat.

“Drop your swords!” he stuttered. “Drop them now!”

Robb and Jon looked at each other. Behind them, bow at the ready, Theon looked unsure of what to do.

“Let me brother go,” Lyara growled - and it was most definitely a growl. “And you and your fellows may live. Don’t and I promise that every single one of you will die today.” The sheer coldness of the words put the snow and ice around them to shame.

When no reply came, Lyara continued. “Bran, do you remember that trick I taught you?”

The boy was trembling with fear, but he managed to nod. Robb smiled faintly. Bran was a Stark, and Starks were not cowards.

“Good. Do it.”

Two things happened very quickly almost at the same time. Bran jerked his gloved hands up, bracing them between his throat and the knife. In the instant the wildling’s attention shifted to Bran, Lyara moved.

There was a flash of movement, and a pair of knives whistled through the air. One buried itself in the eye of the man holding Bran, and the other lodged in the eye of the only archer amongst the wildlings. Even as the men were falling, Lyara rushed forward, sword drawn, and put herself between Bran and the rest of them.

“Bran!” she barked. “Get behind Theon!” Jon, Robb, Theon, attack!”

What happened next was a blur. Robb was glad for his training and for his father and Lyara’s ruthless insistence on drilling him until fighting and proper technique were things he could do on instinct. By the time it ended, all of the wildlings were dead, and he, Jon, Lyara, Theon, and Bran were all still standing.

“Gods…” Robb’s stomach heaved as he realised he’d cut down a pair of men and injured another. Jon looked much as he felt, pale and staggering as he eyed the carnage. Even Theon, always so eager to talk of battle, was swallowing thickly in a bid to master his to mach. From the looks of it, he’d hit three of the wildlings although only two had been killed by his arrows. The third had been hit in the leg. Robb shook his head. Theon was a better archer than that, but, well, this was the first real battle he’d been in. Father always said that fighting for real wasn’t the same as practicing in the training yard. He’d been right, like he always was.

And Lyara…

Jumbled images filtered through his mind. His sister had been like a whirlwind of steel. She’d cut down man after man, and the look on her face now… it was frightening.

Nothing.

She looked as though she felt nothing, as though the men she’d cut down had only been obstacle to remove. It was Bran, he realised. Until they’d threatened him, she’d been perfectly happy to let them go on their way. But the instant they’d threatened him, she’d changed.

It must be the wolf’s blood. HIs father had told him about it once, and he’d said it was fiercest in Lyara out of all of them. Aye, Bran was part of her pack, and the wildlings had been foolish enough to threaten him. Little wonder she’d cut them down so ruthlessly.

"Robb,” Lyara said, and he flinched before settling as warmth returned to her gaze. Yes, this was the sister he’d grown so fond of. Outwardly stern, yet warm and caring all the same. “We need to go. There may be more.” She looked at Bran. “Bran, come here.”

The boy hurried over and all but buried himself in her arms.

“You did well,” Lyara murmured. “Father would be proud, I know it. But you must be strong for a little longer. We won’t be safe until we get back home.”

“Shit…” Theon muttered as some of the tension left his frame. “Shit…”

“Aye,” Jon agreed with a shudder. “Shit.”

Absurdly, Robb found himself laughing. “That about sums it up.” He shook himself. The horses had returned now that it was quieter. “Come on. My sister is right. We’d best ride for home while we can.”

Lyara helped Bran onto one of the horses and then put a hand on his shoulder before nodding firmly to Jon and Theon. “Rob, Jon, Theon… you all did well today. Bran lives because of your actions. Be proud of yourselves.”

X X X

Edward sat down beside Joffrey. “You’re scowling brother. What’s on your mind?”

“Why can’t I beat you?” the younger boy grumbled.

“Hmm…” Edward fought the urge to ruffle his brother’s dark hair. In his past life, Averia and often done hat, and there was something amusing about being the older sibling this time around. “First and foremost, you’re younger than me Joff. Oh, that won’t matter much once we’re full grow, but you’ve still got a lot of growing to do. We both do, actually. But your biggest mistake is how you approach the fight.”

“Oh?” Joffrey had their father’s temperament, but his build was more Lannister than Baratheon.

“Your build is closer to our Uncle Jaime’s, Joff, whereas mine is more like our fathers, which means I’m bigger and stronger.” Joffrey scowled, and Edward patted him on the back and grinned. “Peace, brother. Do you really think size and strength are all that matter? Look at our Uncle Jaime or Ser Barristan. Neither of them are giants, but you’d be hard-pressed to fight a single man in the kingdom who’d want to face them in single combat. Rather than relying so much on meeting strength with strength, you need to leverage your speed and agility. Moreover, I’ve seen you fight other people, Joff. You’re cunning.”

“I suppose...”

“Be confident in yourself. Cunning is a good thing. Ask Ser Barristan, and he’ll tell you the same and that it’ll win you more fights than just being big and strong. When you fight against the other squires and lads, you use your cunning. Against me, you’re too concerned with trying to outmuscle me. That’s not going to work. You’ll need to be quick on your feet and quick with yours wits if you want to beat me, brother.”

Joffrey nodded slowly. “Perhaps…” He shook himself. “How about another bout?”

“By all means. I’m always happy to help.” Edward grinned. “As your future king, it is my solemn duty to help my younger brother in all of his endeavours.”

“Could you not grin like that?” Joffrey grumbled. “It makes you look crazy.”

X X X

Author’s Notes

Just more snippets from the lives of Diana/Edward and Averia/Lyara. It won’t be long now before they meet. Of course, they’ll be overjoyed, but you can bet their parents are going to misinterpret things when they seemingly get along instantly.

If you’re interested in my thoughts on writing and other topics, you can find those here.

You can find my original fiction on Amazon here. In fact, I’ve just released a new story, Attempted Adventuring. If you like humour, action, and adventure, be sure to check it out.

#final rose #game of thrones #fanfiction #averia yun-farron #diana yun-farron #ned stark #robert baratheon #barristan selmy #cersei lannister

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iturbide · 4 years

Note

One of the things that upsets me about 3h’s writing is the existence of Edelgard’s siblings is actually dubious. She said she only became heir because all her other siblings were dead or insane. She wasn’t the heir or the spare yet no one else talks about her siblings. When an heir disappears, people talk. And it’s not like all the kids were the same age, there would’ve been several pregnancies. The only proof the kids exist is because Edelgard said it and she’s not above lying to others.

Okay, I have seen that theory before, and for as much as I take issue with Edelgard, I personally think that theory is complete bullshit.

[[MORE]]

Edelgard is a woman of remarkable composure. Even before the timeskip, she is very cool, very guarded, showing minimal emotion (most of which seems to be for show, providing the expected response for the benefit of those around her). There are only a handful of occasions where we see her slip, see her truly and deeply shaken -- and one of those times is associated with her speaking about her family. I’m not going to deny that Edelgard is a very capable liar, but she was very obviously disturbed by the dream that brought on the conversation, and I don’t think even she could cobble together a lie that fast under those circumstances.

Also, let’s talk for a moment about just how Edelgard lies. Her lies are primarily comprised of minor changes to information (”The Church used forbidden magic to destroy Arianrhod” only replaces the perpetrator, not the details), denials of knowledge (she says she has no knowledge of where Flayn is when she does), or omission of information (not telling Byleth that she’s the Flame Emperor despite having several opportunities to do so). She’s not stupid: lies fabricated whole-cloth require careful construction, often require the same amount of repetition and practice a trained actor would require for a stage role, and in general are really hard to maintain. Tailoring a lie from truth is much easier and caries significantly less risk. Under the circumstances, I don’t think Edelgard could have concocted such a lie, and especially not such a powerful one.

It’s also worth mentioning that Lysithea describes an almost identical series of events taking place in Ordelia territory after House Hrym’s revolt:

Eighteen years ago, House Ordelia was involved in a civil conflict within the Empire. All we did was respond to a call for aid. We weren't involved politically. But once the rebellion was crushed, my family was held responsible for the aid we gave, and the Empire gained some sway over us as a result. At the time, the noble houses of the Alliance took a passive stance. No one lent aid to my family. As a result, some key officials within the family were killed, and people from the Empire were sent to replace them. Among those people were some mysterious mages. They were...unsettling, in a word. Skin pale as death. One after another, they captured and imprisoned the children of our household. They began performing terrible rituals on the children... Though it's probably more accurate to call them experiments.

With the Empire monitoring our every move, my parents could do nothing but watch in horror as all of this unfolded. One after another, the children died, until the only one left...was me. You know, my hair wasn't always this color. During their experiments, they'd been doing things with my blood. One morning, I awoke like this — a shock of white hair, all trace of pigment, gone. Upon seeing me, the mages were delighted. They realized that their experiments had finally succeeded. Sure enough, they ran a test and saw that two Crests coexisted within me. Losing pigment from my hair wasn't the only loss. The mages informed me that my lifespan was now greatly shortened. Five more years at most. Perhaps less.

Shortly thereafter, the mages lost interest in me, and we never saw them in the Ordelia household again.

This is pretty much exactly what happened to Edelgard: young members of the household taken captive and experimented on by a mysterious group of masked mages, no aid from outside, parents forced to bear witness as their children died en masse. Nobody calls bullshit on Lysithea’s story -- so why are people trying to call Edelgard a liar? Lysithea and Edelgard’s B support doesn’t unlock until after Byleth makes the choice to side with Edelgard, and their C support makes no mention at all of the experiments, so Edelgard couldn’t have learned it from Lysithea and used it for herself. The experiments on House Ordelia were the precursor to the experiments in Adrestia, and their loss of interest very likely ties in with them moving on to bigger things -- namely the Imperial lineage and their attempts to imbue the Crest of Flames within a Hresvelg heir.

And this ties into the next point: why nobody talks about it. And that boils down to propaganda.

Propaganda relies very heavily on control of information. And empires in general have an ongoing propaganda campaign related to their ruling families: that these are immensely powerful people blessed by gods, goddesses, saints, what have you, and ruling by divine right. This is especially true in the Empire, where their imperial lineage traces its roots back to Wilhelm von Hresvelg, who forged a pact with Seiros. Now, in the Empire, an absolute premium is placed on the presence of a Crest -- to the detriment of all else, including human life. Hanneman’s sister lost her life and Mercedes’ family was ripped apart all because of the extreme Crest bias present in the Imperial territories. But with Ionius, there was an even bigger issue: his ‘Divine Right to Rule’ is intrinsically linked to the Crest of Seiros, the physical proof of his bloodline’s pact with the Saint.

And that bloodline is fading fast.

In Edelgard’s B+ support with Byleth, she says this:

My siblings and I were...we were imprisoned underground, beneath the palace. The objective was to endow our bodies with the power of a Major Crest. I have always possessed the Crest of Seiros, inherited through the Hresvelg bloodline. But it was only a Minor Crest, and most of my siblings bore no Crest at all. In order to create a peerless emperor to rule Fódlan, they violated our bodies by cutting open our very flesh. Now here I stand, the fruit of that endeavor: Edelgard von Hresvelg! But that came at too high a price...the others were sacrificed. Ours weren’t the only lives devastated by that terrible process. Innocents died as well, without even knowing what they were dying for. And there you have it, the truth of the Hresvelg’s Empire.

Out of eleven children Ionius IX sired, only a few bore any kind of Crest (and we don’t know if they were even the Crest of Seiros). The fact that Edelgard’s Crest was a Minor one rather than a Major one also seems to have been a point of contention. Which makes sense: in a territory that relies so heavily on Crests as signs of legitimacy, having a Crest appear so infrequently in the Emperor’s progeny would be a frankly alarming sign of weakness. So I would not be at all surprised if Ionius had been carefully controlling the information moving from the Imperial household to the wider Empire...such that they didn’t know how many kids he really had.

Unlike the Kingdom, where Lambert only had one wife at any given time and whose pregnancies would therefore be talk of the Kingdom since she’s a public figure, the Empire allows (and perhaps even encourages) the use of consorts. And immediately after being crowned, Ionius started seeking out suitable ones -- but their identities were not required to be public knowledge. Sure, the wider Imperial household would have been aware, and it’s likely that the heads of some major noble houses with a presence in the palace knew, as well -- though even they may have been tight-lipped about it with their families to control the spread of information (and this has in-game precedence, given that Ferdinand von Aegir has no idea what happened with Hrym or why people hate his dad so much). But the only Empire-wide announcements came with the birth of children who actually possessed Crests. And even then, it’s entirely likely that Edelgard’s place in the line of succession might have been superseded had one of her younger siblings borne a Major Crest of Seiros.

(If this seems far-fetched, I think Alexei Romanov makes a striking point of comparison here: the youngest child and only son of the Romanov Dynasty, he was set to become the next Tsar of Russia -- because his hemophilia was a closely guarded state secret. It might be common knowledge now, but the Russian public had no idea what was really wrong with him.)

Now, we don’t know a lot of details for this particular time period. We know Edelgard had ten siblings, but we don’t know if Ionius kept trying to sire heirs and had no success (issues with impotency, miscarriages, etc) or stopped trying and took a different tack. What we do know is that he instigated a series of reforms meant to concentrate the Emperor’s power. We don’t know why he did it, but it’s entirely possible that he was trying to look out for his kids and pave the way for more radical reforms that would do away with the Crest bias as a form of choosing ‘legitimate’ heirs to the throne. But whatever his plan might have been, it backfired terribly on him and led to the Insurrection of the Seven, where the Emperor was stripped of all power and his kids were subjected to Twisted experiments, likely initiated when they replaced Lord Arundel and had him float the idea to Duke Aegir -- and once again, that control of information even within families is out in force, because the nobles now controlling the empire probably don’t want it to be common knowledge that they’re committing atrocities for the sake of making a perfect figurehead.

In the end, every one of Edelgard’s siblings died. And because the people of the Empire didn’t know about them? She can’t even mourn them publicly. The Empire has no inkling of the great tragedy that occurred within House Hresvelg, and that only further fuels the lone survivor’s desire to make sure that nothing like this can ever happen again.

#answered #anonymous #fire emblem: three houses #fe:3h spoilers #headcanon #look i have thought a lot about this #and while i might not really like edelgard for what she does #there's a frankly shocking amount of evidence supporting her #once you start putting the pieces together it's a really ugly picture #edelcourse

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marketingadvisorvietnam · 6 years

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Scaling a peak and feeling new highs - Travel - Vietnam News | Politics, Business, Economy, Society, Life, Sports

Marketing Advisor đã viết bài trên http://www.ticvietnam.vn/scaling-a-peak-and-feeling-new-highs-travel-vietnam-news-politics-business-economy-society-life-sports/

Scaling a peak and feeling new highs - Travel - Vietnam News | Politics, Business, Economy, Society, Life, Sports

Viet Nam News

Getting to the top of Chiêu Lầu Thi Mountain is hard, dangerous and scary, but the reward is memories for a lifetime. Thanh Nga recounts the experience.

We did not expect that climbing a mountain would be as scary as it was thrilling, but atop Chiêu Lầu Thi, we felt it was the Everest we were standing on.

I know that this a bit of an exaggeration, but making it to the top of this mountain in the northern proince of Hà Giang had become an adventure full of danger that we hadn’t reckoned with.

The mountain, said to be the second highest peak in Hà Giang, stands 2,402m above the sea level. It is located in Hồ Thầu Commune, about 52km from the centre of upland border district of Hoàng Su Phì.

Not many tourists visit this place because the district only opened the road to Chiêu Lầu Thi two years ago. The road has been damaged seriously by landslides and floods, and is accessible only on foot or by motorbike.

“There are four milestones in my life. Getting married, two times that I welcomed my new-born babies and experiencing Chiêu Lầu Thi,” said my fellow-traveller, known to his friends as Mr Bean for his ability to laugh and make others laugh.

I could see from his face that he was not joking about the mountain.

The road snaked its way around the edge of several mountains as we covered about 300km from Hà Nội to Hoàng Su Phì.

Knows his way: We were very lucky to have a really good guide in Vũ Thế Phương. VNS Photo Trương Vị

A bath with natural water at the Sông Chảy Hotel in Vinh Quang Town refreshed us and we enjoyed a local meal at the 666 Restaurant.

There are two ways to reach the Chiêu Lầu Thi Mountain – from Hồ Thầu Commune or Nàng Đôn Commune. We chose the second one.

We were lucky to have a good guide. One of our friends, Vũ Thế Phương, a district official, was born in the central province of Thanh Hóa but grew up in Hoàng Su Phì and knew the terrain well, including roads that aren’t on tourist maps.

Up early in the morning, we breathed in the cool air of a mountainous town. It felt good to be in such a beautiful place, home to the good-natured ethnic people of Nùng, Dao, Tày, Mông, La Chí, Hoa Hán, and Cao Lan.

We hired four motorbike taxis for the trip with a fare of VNĐ600,000 per person.

“You shouldn’t flinch, because the price is well worth it, for the skills of these drivers and the risks they take,” Phương told us.

The 30km from Vinh Quang Town to Nàng Đôn Commune is asphalted road, but narrow, winding and steep. Of course, the scenery is truly breathtaking.

The rice terraces, evidence of the agricultural skills of the ethnic communities, are stunning at harvest time as they turn a golden yellow with ripened rice stalks.

As we passed high mountains, deep valleys and many streams, we also met and befriended several Mông, Tày and Red Dao families. Giggling school kids on wobbly bicycles paid no mind to the traffic as they smiled and waved at us.

On these roads, herd of buffaloes or goats are prone to putting in guest appearances, we discovered.

It took us more than two hours to travel just 30km on a decent road as we stopped frequently to admire the scenery and take photographs.

But we had no inkling that what lay ahead was the real challenge.

Sentinel: There are tens of thousands of precious trees on Chiêu Lầu Thi Mountain. VNS Photo Trương Vị

From Nàng Đôn to Hồ Thầu Commune, the asphalted road gave way to a very rough path hewn on a mountainside. On one side loomed the mountain-wall, and the other plunged into an abyss. It was scary, but we were expecting something like this.

Phương carried me on his own motorbike. Our progress was very slow as small and huge rocks on the path made riding a bike more tiring than walking.

This was a muddy road, courtesy flooding and erosion. A landslide had swallowed a small road, so there was no question of riding the bikes. We had to walk, and the bikes had to be pushed on after another. The tension on the drivers’ faces was palpable. However, the worst was not over.

Another landslide had occurred along the next stretch. There was nothing to cling on to now, and to make things worse, a Honda bike had a puncture.

Phương kept us somewhat calm: “Don’t worry too much. Đường (one of the drivers) is a native here. He will know how to solve the problem.”

There were four motorbikes left for our five-member group. Phương suggested that he would carry one more person on his motorbike. There was no other choice.

With two persons riding pillion, Phương showed he was an expert driver, consistently getting ahead of the group and waiting for others.

As difficult as this trip was, it did not prevent us from enjoying what a very diverse ecosystem had to offer. There were tens of thousands of old and precious timber trees like pơ mu (Fokienia hodginsii) that grows only on Chiêu Lầu Thi.

The mountain is also home to rare, valuable medicinal herbs as well as many kinds of orchids.

We saw many tea trees, too. Phương told us they are San Tuyết tea. I picked a leaf and chewed on it: bittersweet and then a persistent sweetness in the throat. The tea buds are covered by fog through four seasons and kissed by winds from four directions at a height of 2,000m. They have medicinal values, we were told, and we could well believe it.

Wild boars, monkeys, snakes and deer live on the mountain. One specialty is the dầm xanh fish which can be found in the high mountain creeks of Hà Giang.

Rocky path: The way to the Chiêu Lầu Thi peak is not easy. VNS Photo Trương Vị

The occasional sight of a flock of goats sure-footedly strolling on the mountain slope was also one to remember.

And as we took in the sights, one of us Mùa Quýt Chín would let out a loud cry and make us jump. She is crazy about wild flowers and fruits, and each time she saw a beautiful strange flower or small wild berry, she would scream in delight.

At the height of 2,200m, the weather was foggy and the temperature dipped to about 15oC. We stopped a while before trying to conquer the Chiêu Lầu Thi peak.

A trail led to the top, but it was hard to find it because not many tourists visit and the place is covered with wild growth, including big trees.

We took a stick to balance and support ourselves, but Phương didn’t need one, even though the ground was wet and slippery, the trees were bathed in dew and, as always on this mountain, a chasm on one side. No handrails.

Phương went ahead to guide us, stopping sometimes to help us over the difficult parts.

Then we reached stone paths like ladders at the height of 2,327m. Each stretch was about 10m. Crossing nine such stretches, we reached the mountaintop.

Elated embraces were shared, but it was a misty day, and we were not lucky to see the sea of clouds and the stupendous scene that would have unfolded before us on a sunny day. We would have looked over the whole district of Hoàng Su Phì, its neighbour Xín Mần, and a large mountainous area to the northwest of Hà Giang.

Phương assuaged our wistfulness: “I have reached the Chiêu Lầu Thi peak 10 times, but only twice have I seen the sea of clouds stretching out in paradise.”

Chín, the most romantic of us, pulled out yet another surprise, emerging from behind a bush in a pink áo dài. She must be the only one with a photo of herself on top of Chiêu Lầu Thi in an áo dài, the long, traditional dress worn by Vietnamese women.

Going up was difficult, but climbing down the mountain was even more so. It was scary, and one of us decided to sit and drag herself on her bottom. After falling once, I became even more careful, but still missed my footing and went into a free-fall. I can’t bear to think what would have happened if I had not crashed against Phương, who was standing in the middle of the path and stood firm.

“I could hear that you were taking false steps, so I waited to help you,” he said.

After we got to where we could get on bikes again, Đường, was waiting with the motorbike repaired. The joy of conquering Chiêu Lầu Thi safely was enhanced on knowing Phương wouldn’t have to carry two people any more.

Not that the 10km path down was easy. Riding pillion, all one could do was hold tight and be as still as possible. After riding for a while, we reached a newly-built stop station at 2,100m above the sea level.

Here, there was a natural lake covered by fog all day. Scrubby trees growing in the middle of the lake gave it a sense of mystery that we gazed into, bodies numb with cold and breath turning into mist.

It began raining when when we left the stop station, slowing our progress, but an hour later, we reached the warmth of the Chán-Mủi homestay in Hồ Thầu Commune and enjoyed a meal of local specialties like sâu tre (bamboo worm) and wild vegetables.

Soft touch: A tree covered by moss. VNS Photo Trương Vị

Nine ladder layers

At the homestay, we met former chairman of Hà Giang Province Triệu Đức Thanh by chance.

He told us the story of discovering the stone paths like ladders at the height of 2,327m.

“Chiêu Lầu Thi or Kiêu Liêu Ti means nine ladder layers. Nobody new where it was. Five years ago, I asked local residents to find it, but they could not.

“Last year, I asked my nephews Triệu Chàm Chán and Triệu Chòi Hin to come and climb the mountain from a height of 2,200m. We looked hard and finally found the path with stone steps in the thicket.”

Thanh said the French colonialist troops had used this stone path when invading Hà Giang in 1887. After 1954, when they left, the steps were forgotten.

“I hope Chiêu Lầu Thi will develop like Sa Pa town in Lào Cai,” said Thanh.

I wish I could agree with him. I don’t want Chiêu Lầu Thi to become another Sa Pa.

I like it the way it is now. Wild, beautiful and poetic. VNS

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miamibeerscene · 7 years

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Interview – Mike DeLancett, Hourglass Brewing @hourglassbrew

Let’s be honest, one of the hottest and fastest growing breweries in Florida is Hourglass Brewing, based in Longwood. Their bombers are everywhere, and the signature 16 oz. cans are starting to pop up around the state as well.

I recently interviewed head brewer Mike DeLancett about those cans, wild beers, and SMaSH beers.

When did you first discover craft beer? What was the beer that really opened your eyes to brewing?

I first discovered craft beer by way of Belgian import beer. My father and grandmother were born in Belgium and I have always been drawn to history and cultures so I started exploring some of that end of my lineage through brands like Brouwerji Smisje, Gulden Draak, various Trappist breweries, and the like in the mid 2000’s. On the American side, Sierra Nevada and Dogfish Head opened my eyes to what people could do with hops and other unique ingredients and it all sort of spiraled outward from there. I started brewing on my back porch with friends and seeking the guidance of a number of other local brewers like so many people.

When did you start brewing?

I started professionally brewing mid 2013 by volunteering my time here at the old brewery location. I was between jobs and found myself with some free time and the determination to break into the industry, and basically hung around until we expanded into our new location here. I’ve learned a lot along the way and intend to keep learning for many, many years to come.

What would you say is your signature beer, and how did it come about?

We’re a pretty eclectic crew over here and brew a variety of stuff so we don’t like to pigeonhole one particular signature. But If I had to pick, I’d say the most unique things we are doing are our New England Style Sour IPA’s. My partner Matt is from up north and we started exploring that style early on, alongside the famous “Florida Weisse” fruited Berliners. At some point we came to the realization that the fruity character of the hops would play nicely with the tart acidity of the Berliner style and hybridized them into big hop forward sour ipas with a focus on the fruitiest hops we could get our hands on. Another thing we’re really enjoying is the expansion of our wild and sour program, in particular our barrel fermented sours. We found ourselves getting through second and third fill barrels from our clean side and selling them at a loss as décor. So we steamed a few out and started pitching bacteria and wild yeasts right into the barrel itself and ended up taking our first gold medal for it at Best Florida Beer this year, so we’re pretty proud of that.

How did you come about finding your brewing space?

I can’t speak to our original location as it predates me, but our new location was conveniently located up the street, much bigger, and air conditioned with lots of parking. It seemed like a no brainer when it was time to grow, and if you headed to our old spot there was no way you could miss it.

How do you get inspiration in developing recipes and names for your beers?

Matt and I are inspired by a lot of cultural and historical influences, as well as music, pop culture, and much more. In that vein we always maintain that homebrewer spirit of “ooh, I don’t know what that is, let’s make a beer with it”, albeit probably with a bit more of an idea of how things will turn out than in days past. From there it’s a bit of stretching the culinary side of our brains to see what best accentuates a flavor profile. We like beer that tends more towards nuance and complexity, so we try not to slap you in the face too hard with any specific flavor most of the time. We’re also big fans of real ingredients. No extracts or artificial flavoring. You’ll often find a crew of us processing more real fruit than is sensible, or shucking oysters. It’s all part of the adventure and it breaks up a lot of what could be a monotonous daily grind type process.

What was the inspiration behind the name of your brewery?

Brewing is all about timing. From the brew process itself, to landing ingredients, meeting seasonal release schedules, and having the patience to wait for things to get where they need to be. We do a lot of reacting and a lot of waiting, and the hourglass is just our little reminder that we need to be on top of things and patient simultaneously.

There are a lot of people getting interested in joining the craft beer industry. Do you have any advice for these people?

Read. You can learn so much by reading from others experience. Volunteer if possible. Make yourself available to do the things a local brewery needs help with and don’t overlook the value of sweat equity for education. It also gives you a huge lead on if the reality of the day to day hard work is something you’re actually into or if it’s just romance. Above all else, just educate yourself in every way possible and start brewing at home. The more you understand the process, the more easily you’ll pick up the conversion to large scale. A bit of mechanical or bio chem knowledge never hurts either. Find a niche you’re valuable in and never approach any task like it’s below you.

Do you see an end to the recent Florida craft beer boom?

It think we’ll be growing for another few years but I do personally foresee a near future retraction. We’re seeing a lot of folks who may not have the support they need to survive growing struggles for resources and customer base. While it’s true a lot of us do well sharing the same customers, I have an inkling that there can only be so many sharks in the pond, and that we’ll see a trend towards more neighborhood oriented and specialty breweries. Which I think is great, but it all depends on what you’re in it for. We don’t need 700 mass produced lawnmower beers or we just become what we started out pushing against. But that unique allure of local community artisans creating their own twist on something – I don’t think that’s going out of style anytime soon.

After being behind places like Tampa and Jacksonville, it looks like Orlando is finally catching up to being a beer destination. How do you feel about what is happening in the city and environs?

We’re definitely coming into our own over here. It’s great to see so many new breweries emerging and to hear from patrons that they’ve made the trip to our taproom a planned part of their travels. Orlando is a big spread out town hat can easily support a number of breweries, especially with burgeoning tourist traffic, and with the advent of the Central Florida Ale Trail, and support of Seminole County Tourism Board, we’ve really started organizing a collective of breweries toward a common goal.

What were the origins of the SMaSH festival? How much has it grown?

SMaSH was birthed over a few rounds at our weekly meetings here at Hourglass with our friends over at BrewerLong. We were looking for a way to help unify the craft beer communities that had sprung up around Central Florida, do something to give back to the local community that has supported us so well, and help educate consumers further on what makes craft beer so special and how much the process really matters. Smash beers are a big thing in the homebrew community (which most craft brewers have evolved from), and the focus on everyone using the two same base ingredients to create a plethora of vastly different beers demonstrated the importance of process so well.

We wondered why it hadn’t been attempted more on a large scale with pro brewers, and suspected the logistics of interrupting brewing schedules and scale had a lot to do with it. After meeting with some ingredient suppliers and a handful of other local brewers we found there was real interest and people were surprisingly open to and excited by the challenge and with the city of Longwood officially behind it, it just blew up from there. For our second year we’ve doubled in size to over 40 breweries and expanded its scope to include breweries from around the state. The community is even more involved and a lot of local businesses have stepped up to support the cause. It’s going to be a big deal.

You are one of a few Florida breweries canning exclusively in 16 oz. Cans. What made you decide on this format?

We decided on 16 oz. for a couple of reasons. First, we have always prided ourselves on having a true 16 oz. pint in the taproom, and wanted to reflect that serving in our package. Secondly, we’ve got great in house artists and it gives them an eye catching canvas to create some wild and loud cans that draw your attention on the shelf. In an increasingly competitive market for shelf space we felt it was important to echo the character of our brewery through to the retail format.

Who comes up with the phrases for Speakeasy Sunday?

Speakeasy Sunday is a long and ridiculous tradition that we love at Hourglass. We usually leave it up to the manager on shift to have fun with, and if you’ve met our team, you know they’re a colorful group.

Drink Florida Craft,

Dave

@floridabeerblog

[email protected]